Lottie and Blake are very attracted to each other and acted on that chemistry twice with both times not ending very well. Blake walked away from Lottie because of a past relationship nightmare. He hasn't let anyone close until her, so he comes to her asking for a second chance. Lottie can't resist him and they begin a sweet and sexy love story. There are a few bumps along the way with the problem being trust. I really loved this sassy Brit who had quite the way with words and Blake had some serious talent with the naughty words himself. I so enjoyed their story.
I give Trusted By You 4 hearts!
They say that trust is the key to any relationship.
That it’s the one thing that can make or break one.
That it’s the glue.
Blake Walker knows this better than anyone.
He lives by it.
Five years ago, the one person he thought he could rely on shattered his trust. After that he swore off relationships, turning into a womaniser. You know the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind.
Until he meets Lottie Carter…
She comes storming into his life with her sass, her wit, her Britishisms that he loves, and her beauty.
But every time Lottie tries to get close, he pushes her away; scared that past events will repeat themselves.
But when Lottie finally breaks through that wall that Blake has built up like a freaking fortress, their love story is immense.
But when outside forces threaten to break them apart, can they withstand them?
Do they trust each other enough to not let them?
Or will Blake's trust issues be the one thing that will make him lose Lottie for the rest of his life?
Read and find out…
(C)Amy Muscat 2014
They say that a picture is worth a thousand words… Well, I've just received two pictures, so does that mean two thousand words?
I don’t know, but I do know I can’t think of two thousand words to describe how I feel right now: two thousand expletives maybe, but not two thousand actual, structural words.
I can tell you how it feels like my heart is breaking right now. What I thought I felt a couple of days ago, the heartache and the pain, is nothing like I'm feeling right now. My legs shake, and I collapse on the sofa in my living room.
I look back down at my phone and see that dreaded first picture that no one person wants to receive. The screen blurs, and I watch as a fat teardrop falls onto the glass screen. And then another until my phone becomes soaked with my tears. A sob hitches in my throat, getting caught for a second before it flows out of my mouth like it’s a natural sound coming from my body, when in actual fact; it’s not. Laughter and sarcastic remarks are what I'm used to coming out from my mouth, but not this. Not these horrible sounds that my body seems to instinctively know.
I feel the pain start to radiate through me, my chest burns and my heart is collapsing in on itself. I can feel pins and needles start to tingle from my toes all the way up to the tips of my fingers, and I feel goosebumps form on my arms, indicating the coldness running through me.
If it weren’t for the pounding in my head, and the sound of my blood rushing in my ears, I would have said that my body had frozen. If one’s blood freezes, then it doesn’t circulate through the body and the heart fails… Well, that’s what it feels like anyway; my heart was failing.
I'd never known heartbreak before. I had seen it, numerous times through friends and family, on TV and in movies, but I had never felt it. And if this is what it feels like, I never want to be in love with someone… but it was too late. I already was, and he had broken me into pieces. Teeny-tiny pieces. I don’t think even the best surgeon in the fucking universe would be able to put me back together again- sort of like Humpty Dumpty.
And all of this is because of one man. One man that I loved- that I thought loved me!
It was fourteen words that broke me two days ago. Two pictures worth two thousand words, that completely shattered me not even two minutes ago, and it was six words that I spoke out loud right now that seemed to echo around my living room and steel my resolve to forgo men in the future…
“Fuck you, Blake Walker. Fuck you.”
About the Author
Amy Muscat is twenty-three, a London girl, a bookaholic, and when she’s not writing or reading, you can find her pulling a pint behind the bar where she works.