Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Forrest Powell is a liar.
For the first time in my life, I trusted a man, and in return, he broke my heart.
He lied about everything. Who he was. Why we met.
I dumped him, but he didn’t leave. He gave me space, but he was there. Hanging around town, working for the family business. Waiting for me to forgive him.
Not going to happen. We were over. I was never speaking to Forrest Powell again.
Except for one thing. The treasure hunt. Forrest’s father left behind a fortune hidden beneath layers of codes and clues.
Not a single person on the planet had been able to break his codes. Until me.
The problem? I can’t go after the money without Forrest.
And I'm not sure if a fortune is worth risking my heart again.
Broken Heart is a standalone romance with a happy ending. It’s seventh in The Hearts of Sawyers Bend series, featuring the Sawyer family of Sawyers Bend.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
STERLING
“Give me the statue.”
Forrest stared at me, his hazel eyes surprised, then carefully blank. “What?” he asked, shaking his head.
Of course, he was confused. After refusing to speak to him for over a year, I was standing on his doorstep just before midnight, demanding he hand over a priceless family heirloom.
“I need to see the statue,” I clarified, impatient. “Let me in.”
“What?”
Forrest still wasn’t getting it. But why would he? He didn’t know that the statue had been haunting me. Teasing me. Demanding I come here and see if I knew what I thought I knew.
For most of the last year, that ugly little statue of Emperor Vitellius had meant nothing to me. Nothing and everything. The statue was the reason for my broken heart. It was the reason Forrest Powell had come to Sawyers Bend and taken a job at my family’s inn. The reason he’d pursued me and made me think he loved me. The statue was the cause of all my heartbreak.
Except that it wasn’t. Forrest Powell was the cause. He was the one who’d chosen to lie. He was the one who’d used me for his own ends. The statue of Vitellius was innocent. And while Forrest’s secrets had broken me, the Vitellius held its own secrets. Secrets that might have the power to set me free.
Even after a year, the sting of his betrayal hadn’t faded. I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. I stared carefully at his left ear and said, “I need to see the statue. Just let me in.”
Without another word, Forrest stepped back to allow me through the door of his house. I’d never been here. He bought the place after I dumped him, putting down roots when I’d expected him to walk away. He had what he’d come for, after all.
It had been weird, not knowing where Forrest lived. Too many nights, I woke, dreaming of the statue of Vitellius, haunted by it. Until I’d hunted down Hawk, our head of security, and asked him for Forrest’s address.
Hawk knew all; he had a file on Forrest. He gave it to me grudgingly and only after asking, “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Nope,” I’d answered. “But I need it anyway.” Feeling the weight of his brotherly concern, I’d added, “It’s about the statue. It’s not personal. I promise.”
He’d grunted and given me the address, saying only, “Be careful.”
At the moment, I didn’t care about careful; I just wanted to see the statue. Following Forrest through the entry into the rest of the house, I had an impression of high ceilings, wood beams, and glass, but that was it. I didn’t bother to look around. I couldn’t risk letting my heart crack open even a little bit.
We came to a stop in his modern chrome and concrete kitchen, and I turned to face him, my eyes on the frayed collar of his T-shirt, ignoring the way it stretched over his broad shoulders. If I looked at him too closely, I’d be lost. Those dark, soft curls. Messy, as if he’d been running his hands through them. Cheekbones that would have made his face austere if not for his full lower lip and the golden warmth of his hazel eyes. I couldn’t look at his face and not remember everything I wanted to forget.
“Why do you need to see the statue?” he asked.
“I can’t explain until I look at it. I know it’s late, but this is important.” I could have waited for a better time. I could have come to see him in his office. But after months of that fucking statue teasing me, the answer had come to life the night before like a puzzle piece snapping into place. And I couldn’t wait a second longer, no matter how much it hurt to be this close to him.
I could feel Forrest’s eyes on my face, assessing me. “I’ll get it,” he finally agreed, turning to head for a hallway off the kitchen.
“Get a pad of paper and a pen. I forgot to grab one on the way out of the house,” I said, yanking out a chair and sitting at the kitchen table, then popping back up, prowling around the room for the switch that would turn on the light above the table. “I need a light. Do you have a magnifying glass?” I called after him.
I sat back down, tapping my fingers on the table. I was so close to finding out if I was right. I needed to know, needed it enough to put myself through this pain. I’d lied when I said the sting hadn’t faded. This wasn’t a sting. Being this close to Forrest was fucking agony.
People say time heals all wounds, but it wasn’t doing a fucking thing for this one. It was all my own fault, too. Not the breakup—that was one hundred percent Forrest’s fault. His lies, and his stupid attempts to convince me that he’d made a mistake, that he cared about me. I wasn’t falling for that bullshit again. Losing him the first time was bad enough, the ache in my chest a raw thing that never went away. Not that I could admit that. Like the perverse creature I could be, I’d convinced my brothers not to fire Forrest, setting myself up for the torture that was sharing the small town of Sawyers Bend with the man I never wanted to see again.