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“Something bitter and sweet, bird. Like a kiss goodbye.”
If you’ve ever lost yourself in the smoky, sun-drenched melancholy of a Lana Del Rey song—that ache for vintage glamour, poetic heartbreak, and golden-hour yearning—then imagine capturing that very essence not in a melody, but in pages. Sounds Like Love by Ashley Poston isn’t just a story; it’s a whispered incantation for the soul that thrums to Lana’s timeless vibes. Reading this magical romance feels less like turning pages and more like stepping into a waking dream.
It’s the exhilaration of chasing seagulls along a windswept shore, laughter ripped from your lips and carried away on the salt spray. It’s the reckless, breathless joy of running through a sudden summer downpour with a kindred spirit, sneakers slapping wet pavement, the world reduced to cool rain and shared exhilaration. It’s the tender, unexpected brush of a soft kiss against your cheekbone—a fleeting warmth that lingers long after, leaving a trail of butterflies. It’s the tart, sun-warmed sweetness of cherries bursting on your tongue, a simple pleasure turned profound.
Sounds Like Love did more than entertain me. It reached into my chest, wrapped gentle fingers around my yearning heart, and whispered, "This. This is the feeling. This dizzying, all-consuming, beautifully terrifying plunge." It didn’t just make me want to read about love. It made me ache—wildly, gloriously, madly—to feel it, to live it, to drown in its depths and call it home.
" Love is not yours to own forever, Love is borrowed and love is blue. It’s a gift of time we don’t got, baby, So I’ll steal my moments with you And when I’m gone and buried under All the baggage that we found Remember to lose yourself, baby. ’Cause wherever you go, there you are. Wherever you go, there we are Alive in the sound." —“Wherever” by Roman Fell and the Boulevard
Nestled amidst the whispering pines and salt-kissed shores of Vienna Shores, North Carolina, lies a home – and a heart – that successful LA songwriter Joni Lark thought she’d outgrown. Yet, life, with its cruel twists, has drawn her back. Haunted not just by the ghost melodies of her past, but by a profound, echoing silence within – a crippling creative block that descended like fog after her mother’s devastating diagnosis of early-onset dementia. The glittering promise of LA feels hollow now. Joni returns to Vienna Shores carrying a quiet, desperate hope: to reclaim the spark of her music in the place where it first ignited, and to gift her fading mother one last, golden summer of shared memories before the family is forced to sell the soul of their shared history – the beloved, ramshackle music venue, The Revelry.
The Revelry, with its scarred wooden stage and the ghosts of a thousand performances in its rafters, stands as a monument to joy now tinged with melancholy. It’s here, amidst the familiar scent of old vinyl and stale beer, that fate orchestrates a collision as unexpected as a summer storm. Enter Sebastian Fell conquering boy band, and the perpetually overshadowed son of a legendary rock god. His presence is a jolt of faded glamour to the sleepy town. And then, under the unforgiving, playful glare of a "kiss cam" at a local event – a moment of awkward proximity, forced smiles, and a fleeting, almost-chaste press of lips – something inexplicable crackles to life within Joni.
Suddenly, the suffocating silence in her mind is shattered – not by her own muse, but by the rich, resonant timbre of a man’s voice, weaving a haunting, unfamiliar melody. The voice is achingly present, intimate, yet utterly disembodied. Panic gives way to bewildered realization: the voice belongs to Sebastian Fell, and it’s broadcasting directly into her consciousness. The accidental kiss wasn't just awkward; it was a psychic spark, forging an unbreakable, invisible tether between their minds.
Thrust into a surreal reality where thoughts bleed and emotions resonate unbidden, Joni and Sebastian find themselves locked in a bewildering dance of forced intimacy. She hears the raw vulnerability beneath his practiced charm; he senses the storm of grief and creative frustration swirling within her. Their mission becomes painfully clear: sever this intrusive, magical connection. But untangling this ethereal knot proves far more complex than they imagined. Each must navigate their own tempestuous seas – Joni wrestling with her mother’s accelerating decline and the impending loss of The Revelry, her songwriting soul still stubbornly mute; Sebastian grappling with the suffocating weight of his father’s legacy, the disillusionment of faded fame, and a deep-seated fear of never being seen for himself.
As they are thrust together by necessity, desperately seeking a cure for their psychic entanglement, the constant, involuntary sharing of thoughts and feelings begins to erode the walls they’ve both carefully built. Beneath the annoyance and the profound invasion of privacy, something else flickers – an undeniable magnetic pull, a spark of genuine understanding that transcends their bizarre circumstance. The very connection they strive to break becomes a conduit for a startling, slow-burning attraction, forcing them to confront not just the magic binding their minds, but the possibility of a deeper, more terrifying magic beginning to bind their hearts.
“Sometimes the dreams you come with aren’t the dreams you leave with, and sometimes you
just don’t leave at all. Besides,”
The story flows like a melody through deeper currents: grief for a mother fading too soon, family ties tested by loss and change, the raw struggle to rekindle passion when inspiration drowns in silence, and the bittersweet pull of second chances. This last thread shimmers in the quiet presence of Van Erickson, Joni’s ex—a ghost of simpler times, a whisper of "what if" that lingers in Vienna Shores, a subtle counterpoint to the storm Sebastian brings.
And oh, the chapter titles! Each one is a tiny, tantalizing hook—a lyrical tease I cannot resist peeking ahead for. 😭 (That guilty flick to the next page? Pure, delicious compulsion. They’re breadcrumbs of magic, making every turn of the page a heartbeat of anticipation.)
I found you in a summer haze.
With sand and sky in our veins.
I wish that I could keep you.
But the good ones never stay.
So kiss me in the mornings, And keep me in a song.
Love me with conversations That take the whole night long.
We are poetry in motion, We are bittersweet goodbyes.
Your heart sings softly in my ear And it sounds like love tonight. —“Sounds Like Love” by Georgia Simmons, written by Joni Lark and Sebastian McKellen.
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“Bird, you are the first person I want to hear in the morning and the last person I want to say good night to.”
“You should cry as much as you want. It’s not a bad thing. It never is. Grief is just a love song in reverse.”
“It’s not given, it’s not stolen—love is borrowed, she always said. It’s borrowed, and how lucky we are to be afraid of losing it.”
“Here, you’re like poetry in motion.”
“Oh, we’re a story never told before.”
“Kiss me in the morning, and keep me in a song. Love me with conversations that take the whole night long”
“there is nothing about you that I won’t like. And if there is, I’ll just write a song about it.”
“You’re addicting, like candy.”
‘‘Sounds like—like what? Hearts, stars, horseshoes, clovers, and blue moons. Bullshit.”
“She used to make this look so easy,”
“No one told you what to do after you made it to the top, after you accomplished what you set out for—no one told you that the grass wasn’t greener, that you didn’t feel any more whole, that whatever you were chasing and finally caught didn’t fill you with the permanent kind of happiness you expected.”
“It scares me a lot, bird, because you know more about me than…anyone else. But what scares me the most is that I don’t know what you’d want.”
“I’d rather be alone than surrounded by people who just want something from me.”
“You are all those things, bird. Older, wiser, and beautiful.”
“I liked the feeling of being in someone’s eye.”
“Like a songbird. You seem happiest when you’re playing music.”
“And I don’t care about making it big—I just want to make it. I’d rather be ten people’s favorite thing than a hundred people’s tenth-favorite thing.”
“She tastes like cherries.”
“I’ll whisper it in your ear like poetry. Make you feel like the lyrics could be real.”
Shakespeare once wrote, “If music be the food of love, play on.”
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