One is a Promise (Tangled Lies, #1)

by Pam Godwin

As if he’s gathering every molecule in the air, summoning all energy from every living thing around him, demanding the world’s attention merely through the presence of his dominance.

His blond hair is styled to perfection, longish on top, trim around the sides. His fair complexion, chiseled jawline, full lips, and stern brow work together to form a compelling scowl.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You insanely handsome, overbearing Neanderthal. Sweet mercy, why does his bossiness turn me on so much?

“Why are you here?” His scowl darkens. “I already told you.” “Your mouth says one thing, but your eyes say another.”

i have butterflies

“You, my tiny dancer, are an erotic dream dipped in the sweetest honey. A man only needs to look at you to become fiercely protective of your smile.”

oh lord……🦋🦋

The door cracks open, and his crystal blue eyes fill the gap. “Lock. It.”

we love a possessive caveman

In that flicker of time, with something as inconceivable as a look, he claims me, owns me, and ruins me for all others. It’s a look so defining it puts quotation marks around mine, his, us, and forever.

“Are you married?” “I will be.” Resting a leather-sleeved forearm on the gas tank, he leans in. “Does five o’clock tonight work for you?” I sip the coffee and hum. “Is that a proposal?” “It’s a foregone conclusion.” He rubs his jaw with a gloved hand. “I always wondered what you would look like.” “You wondered what I would look like?” “My forever.”

OH CHRIST. HOW AM I GONNA HANDLE BOTH THESE MEN

“Mental patient? You’re the one standing in the street, freezing your ass off, and smiling like you were waiting for me.” “I was waiting for you.” “Perfect,” he murmurs, his gaze transfixed on my mouth.

“Only if you say yes.” His dimples deepen. “Say yes to what?” “Whatever I want.”

“Mrs. Hartman.” Hartman? That must be his last name. “Yes, Mr. Hartman?” I glance over my shoulder. “I need a first name to accompany the thoughts that will distract me all day.”

Little does he know, he can’t hurt me. I’ve been hurt—a hurt so mortally, inconsolably excruciating there’s nothing left in me to break.

this book is going to ruin me…..

He kisses like his mission in life is to devour every breath I take and give it back with an infusion of love.

“My life began the day we met. There is no before. Only you.”

“He left me,” I whisper. “Then he died.”

i knew it was coming but it still hurts…….

an optimist laughs to forget, and a pessimist forgets to laugh?”

Then he reclines, spreads his legs the way a man does when he’s relaxed, and crooks a finger at me. “Come here.”

🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

“I didn’t take you for a Bud Light guy.” I reach for the beer. “I’m not.” He sips from his bottle and makes a face. “But you like it.”

Furtive, because I’m certain he’ll stop touching me if I move. That can only mean one thing. He’s hiding his feelings from me.

Then he bumps against the engagement band, and his breath stops. He yanks his arm away, slips quietly off the bed, and pads toward the exit behind me.

ugh there is so much going on……..

I’ve endured worse. Survived worse. Nothing compares to burying my heart in a grave of ashes, and my body seems to recognize this. My limbs go numb. My chest lifts, and the tingling pressure behind my eyes evaporates.

Rejecting his offer to go upstairs meant I’d be alone tonight. But the same isn’t true for him.

WHAT THEFUCK IS HAPOENING

Except one-night-stands lost their appeal after I discovered what it feels like to be adored, worshiped, and loved by a man who holds my heart.

He’ll be home in a year. I have a year to plan a wedding.

pain…….

He’s a curse, a blessing, and a second chance, like the black walls of desolation collapsing to reveal a glimpse of light. Being near him shakes me to the very roots of my soul.

“It’s more than that. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.” His fingers tighten against my jaw. “I want all of you.”

Because love doesn’t end with death. It doesn’t shrivel and disintegrate with the ashes. It hovers, follows, haunts the living.

Cole might’ve been my favorite smile, but once I discovered the emotional depth in Trace’s scowl, I realized I love it more than any smile.

I heard once that hardship brings the true nature of a person to light. If that’s true, I’m a deeply angry woman, seething with hatred and resentment. The rage is powerful and incapacitating, like a beast roaring and pacing inside me and pointing blame.

He left me. He broke his promise. He lied. He’s not coming back.

I love him, but I don’t forgive him. And as he comes, I see it all in his eyes—his pain and pleasure, remorse and devotion, heartache and passion. He said he loves me, too, but he ruined it.

MOREFUCKINGPAIN

Giving up is a whole lot easier than fighting through the scar tissue.

Love isn’t a choice. Nor is life. We connect, or we don’t connect. We live, and we die. There is no forever. The real fight is in making the best of it, making a difference, and appreciating the small glimmers of happiness.

“Love isn’t a choice, you know.” I finger the fabric of the wedding dress. “You can’t control it. It just…happens, and you better hold on for dear life, because you never know when you’ll lose it.”

“If anything happened to you…” He stands behind me and places a hand on my shoulder, guiding me to lean back against his chest. “If I lost you, if you died, I’m not sure I would be able to move on.”

“We’re spending the next four days together?” “If I don’t make any more mistakes,” he says, brushing a kiss against my wrist, “we’re spending the rest of our lives together.”

“I intend to make myself at home in the house you shared with him. I’m going to make love to you in the bed I assume he once slept in. If I can’t handle seeing a picture of him, our relationship is doomed.”

“I love you.” His breath catches, and he tightens his arms, burying his face in my neck. “I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life to hear you say that.”

Love means different things for different people. For me, love is when his happiness is vital to my own. The way he’s staring at me now, eyes shining with soulful joy, I couldn’t be happier or more in love.

Cole stands a few feet away, biceps bunching as he scrapes his hands over his head repeatedly. “You weren’t supposed to make contact.” His expression contorts between devastation and rage. “I told you to watch over her, not fuck her.”

what the ever loving fuck is happening

“You missed me so much you fucked my best friend? And now you’re what? Getting married?” Best friend. How deep does the deceit go?

SHAT THR FUVK MSN

“Three years.” Trace shifts beside me, his tone calm and steady. “I was in love with her for three years before I made contact.” Three years? The ground spins beneath my feet. “She started dating,” Trace says. “I did exactly what you wanted me to do. I kept the men out of her bed.” His voice hardens. “Which I would’ve done anyway because I love her.”

i……

I love two men, and they’re both here, staring at me with the kind of desperation that destroys a person. “You knew Cole was alive?” I whisper and lift my gaze to Trace. Heartache drains the light from his beautiful blue eyes. “I knew there was a chance.”