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If someone had invented an award for talking without taking a single breath, eighteen-year-old Violet Parker would have won it years ago.
She could start a conversation with a stranger, a cat, or even a plant if it looked lonely enough. Silence wasn't exactly her enemy-it just never had a chance around her.
Her laughter had a habit of filling every corner of a room, and somehow, people found themselves smiling before they even realized why. She had a heart far softer than she liked to admit.
Life, according to Voilet, wasn't meant to be planned down to the last detail. It was meant to be explored-one bad decision, one embarrassing moment, and one unforgettable adventure at a time.
She was loud, hopelessly curious, wonderfully dramatic, and completely incapable of minding her own business.
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There were two things everyone at Rosehill University could agree on.
First, Chase Kingsley was the best hockey player the university had ever seen.
Second, he smiled so rarely that some students genuinely believed it was a myth.
At twenty-one, Chase had everything people admired-captain of the hockey team, broad shoulders sculpted by years of relentless training, a face that could make half the girls on campus forget what they were about to say, and a reputation that kept most people at a safe distance.
