Trust Me Book 3 - Jaded Promises by Amy Romine

Trust Me Book 3 - Jaded Promises

Eric Stiles has everything to lose and no matter how hard he fights he can feel his life slipping away. Rebecca Gailen thinks that the love of her life is dead and only the vigor of revenge keeps her fighting to survive.

When a secret reveals more than anyone expected, it changes Eric and Rebecca’s lives forever. The devastating truth puts the couple at odds. Can they overcome their clashing conclusions and learn to trust each other again? Or will they let it rip them apart?

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Amazing Reviews! Nothing below FOUR STARS!! ****


Reader Recommended - "There was not one moment without action, be it a hot romantic encounter between Eric and Rebecca, or a horrifying visit from the psychopath stalker. This book will have you guessing with every page you turn."

A Moment with Mystee - "Romance and thrills at their finest. You'll find yourself attached to the story from the first pages and won't want to put it down until you've read the end. "



Coffee Time Romance - "The characters are easy to relate to, the love scenes are scorching and full of emotion, and the suspense will keep you on the edge of your seat."

Book Eternity - "Get me right, nothing to overheated here, it's very beautiful and clean, but if you like a steamy love scene and a great thriller story, then these books are for you. Amy Romine is a fantastic writer, she knows how to grip you to your seat and to keep you there until the end of the book."

Mike n Michele Reviews - "The manner in which Amy J. Romine goes about illuminating the background and the multiple connections is intriguing to say the least. Each block carefully built on top of the other until the structure is irrevocably one piece."

Excerpt

His conscious lifted out of the cocoon of sleep. Eric opened his eyes to find her still within his arms. The light in the room had changed, shining an orange glow against the walls. He guessed it was early morning. He glanced at the clock, and saw it was a little after six a.m. He watched her sleep. His thumb stroked her temple. He was worried about her.

Beccs is used to taking care of herself and everyone else. She’s not used to anyone taking care of her. She thinks it makes her weak…

He remembered the night Donna had told him that. Little did he know how accurate the statement would be. He didn’t know how to show her that her leaning on him was not a sign of weakness. It was a sign of being human. He wanted her to lean on him. He wanted her to need him, even if it was just a little.

It terrified him that in an effort to be strong, she was going to do more damage than good. He’d seen her try to suppress her anxiety, and pain before, not liking the results. She sighed, and he focused on her eyes. They fluttered open before looking up at him with a smile.

“Good morning,” she reached up, caressing his cheek.

“Morning,” Her face became contemplative as she studied him. “I missed you last night.”

“I’m sorry.” He  brushed a lingering kiss over her soft lips.

“That’s okay, you can make it up to me today,” she said,  curling her fingers into his hair.

“No, I can’t.”

“Why?” She looked back to him in confusion.

“I need to go to the station and take care of a few loose ends.”

“You didn’t take care of them last night?”

“Yes and no.” His arm wrapped around her in an unconscious need to keep her close.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing for you to worry about.” She shifted from beneath him in obvious irritation. “Beccs.”

“What?”

“You have enough—” She lifted the blankets off her legs and got out of bed.

“Just don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t dump a lot of unneeded crap in your lap?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what?” His frustration with the conversation was confusing. He didn’t understand what they were arguing about but, he was glad they were arguing.

“When did you start censoring what we can and cannot talk about?”

“I don’t—”

“Yes you do.” The lack of emotion in her voice evident and frustrating him even more.

“I’m not censoring anything.”

“Fine.” She disappeared into the bathroom and he followed.

“Beccs,” seeing her putting toothpaste on her toothbrush. “I didn’t think it was anything you needed to be worried about.”

“You know part of being honest is not holding back, Eric!”

“Forgive me for trying to protect you!”

“I don’t need your protection!”

“I know that. I never said…” The fire in her eyes grew as she defended herself to him.

She was fighting him.

His Beccs was coming back.

“I’m not some fragile flower you have to treat with kid gloves! I can handle your life, my life, and everything that comes with it or I wouldn’t be here!”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I know you can handle whatever it is that comes into our lives,” he admitted with a deep breath, understanding why she was upset. “I didn’t mean to become a hovering, overprotective guy, I swear.”

“Well you did.” Her expression change as if surprised by her own sudden passion.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed. You’re still recovering, sweetheart.”

“Eric…”

“Okay, fine…fine I’ll stop. I know that you can handle it. I forgot that you are my tough as nails, fiery redhead.”

“Don’t do it again.” He lessened the gap between them, and her eyes softened. “It’s annoying, and I don’t like being mad at you.”

“I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.” His hands enveloped her waist, he pulled her close, and her arms looping around his chest.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine, a little sore.” he replied before planting a tender kiss on her lips.

“You know you’re supposed to be resting,” she whispered into his lips before pressing her lips back to his. He walked her back and she sat against the bathroom counter.

“Intriguing, and what would resting include exactly?” Eric leaned, breathing against her neck before trailing a line up to just behind her ear. Kissing the tender area, he savored her, his hands caressing the lines of her back.

“Well there would be steamy showers, hours of languidly laying in bed, hot oil massages…”

“Massages?”

“Of course, didn’t you know I took a masseur class in college?” He grazed at her ribs with his fingertips. His lips pressed against her collar bone. “I’ve been told my hands are ethereal and demonic at the same time.”

“Sounds exotic,” Her nails skimmed the back of his neck, sending chills up his spine, her legs trapping his waist.

“Exotic enough for you to stay home?”

“Maybe.” He met her eyes, before devouring her lips.

* * * *

©Amy Romine All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.