on February 15th, 2016
Genres: Contemporary Romance
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I received this book for free from in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
Their love led to a lie
Their truth led to the end
Brigs McGregor is crawling out from the ashes. After losing his wife and son in a car accident and his job from his subsequent downward spiral, he's finally moving forward, getting a prestigious teaching position at the University of London and a new life in the city. Slowly, but surely, he's pushing past the guilt and putting his tragic past behind him.
Until he sees her.
Natasha Trudeau once loved a man so much she thought she'd die without him. But their love was wrong, doomed from the start, and when their world crashed around them, Natasha was nearly buried in the rubble. It took years of moving on to forget him, and now that she's in London, she's ready to start again.
Until she sees him.
Because some loves are too dangerous to ever indulge.
And some loves are far too powerful to ignore.
Their love just might be the life and the death of them.
Ôÿå.ÔÇó*┬┤┬¿`*ÔÇóÔÇó 3.5 Stars ÔÇóÔÇó*┬┤┬¿`*ÔÇó.Ôÿå
IÔÇÖm a big fan of Karina HalleÔÇÖs Dirty Angel series and the Love, in English duet. Like everything I’ve read by Karina, The Lie is packed full of emotions tied to tough predicaments. Briggs McGregor and Natasha Trudeau are two souls broken by circumstances that destroyed the path of the relationship they were developing. Their story is told in past and present, a four year gap, and from both his and her points of view giving us a well rounded perspective. Halle knows how to create a tragic scenario and escalate circumstances beyond everyday struggle.
True to HalleÔÇÖs storytelling, this is a heavy read. Halle makes the reader consider how guilt, whether itÔÇÖs logical or not, damages a personsÔÇÖ sense of worth. ÔÇ£The LieÔÇØ is perpetuated by BriggÔÇÖs feeling culpable for a horrific accident. In his grief his feelings for her are essentially collateral damage. IÔÇÖm used to feeling distressed when IÔÇÖm reading KarinaÔÇÖs stories, still the feeling lasted through a majority of the book. Briggs and Natasha just canÔÇÖt seen to catch a break. Natasha is simply not strong enough to contend with BriggÔÇÖs past and BriggÔÇÖs isnÔÇÖt strong enough to put it fully┬áin the past.
While I love the premise and the connection between Briggs and Natasha, I struggled with some of the smaller things that make a read great for me. Just a few disconnects in tone delivered via dialogue and some abrupt changes in feelings. But that didnÔÇÖt change my feelings about Briggs and Natasha. I so wanted these two to see through each otherÔÇÖs hang-ups and to give each other a chance to be the people they initially were to each other. Also, Halle provides us with a character that so devious and conniving that cheering for their demise kept me reading far into the night. ItÔÇÖs hard to put a book down when youÔÇÖre waiting for the crazy to fully surface.
This is the first of the unofficial ÔÇ£Men of Clan McGregorÔÇØ series/books that IÔÇÖve read and IÔÇÖm interested in the family and the dynamics and will read The Offer, The Play and The Pact. The Lie ended up being a 3.5 to 4 star read for me with Halle once again creating characters that I love to love and love to hate.
~Review by Cyndi
Without even thinking, I end up in NatashaÔÇÖs
neighborhood, on her street. ┬áI pull the car over and stare at her building. I can drive off. I can go blow off some steam with Lachlan. ┬á ┬áI can drive and scream and wish to god that things were different. ┬áBut I donÔÇÖt want to do it alone.┬áI get out of the car and head to her flat.
I knock on her door, wondering if sheÔÇÖs even in, if she might still be sleeping. ItÔÇÖs still early on a Saturday and we donÔÇÖt see each other on the weekends without it being work related, such as seeing a classic film at the cinema. I hadnÔÇÖt planned to talk to her until Monday, her last week of work as my research assistant before going back to London.
My heart pinches at that thought.
SheÔÇÖs leaving me.
What the hell am I doing?
But then the door opens slowly and sheÔÇÖs staring at me with wide eyes, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, a fluffy robe around her body.
ÔÇ£Sorry,ÔÇØ I say quickly, immediately feeling bad. ÔÇ£Did I wake you up?ÔÇØ
She yawns. ÔÇ£Kind of, but I should be getting up anyway. WhatÔÇÖs, um, up?ÔÇØ
I rub my lips together. ÔÇ£IÔÇªI wanted to know if you wanted to go for a drive?ÔÇØ
I shrug. ÔÇ£I donÔÇÖt know. Far away. But not too far. I have to be back by twelve-thirty for Hamish.ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£What time is it now?ÔÇØ
She rolls her eyes. ÔÇ£And you were wondering if you woke me up. I should still be sleeping for at least another two hours.ÔÇØ
I nod, embarrassed at my enthusiasm. IÔÇÖm being inappropriate. ÔÇ£I should go.ÔÇØ
I turn around, but she reaches out and grabs my arm, holding tight. ÔÇ£No, donÔÇÖt,ÔÇØ she says. ÔÇ£I want to go with you. Just give me five minutes, okay?ÔÇØ
I turn to look at her and sheÔÇÖs flashing me a persuasive smile.
ÔÇ£IÔÇÖll be in the car,ÔÇØ I tell her.
Somehow sheÔÇÖs true to her word. In five minutes sheÔÇÖs jogging down the steps of her building, dressed in jeans and a tank top that shows off the tawny warmth of her summer tan. She hasnÔÇÖt touched her hair at all; itÔÇÖs still up in that bedhead bun, and there isnÔÇÖt a bit of makeup on her. She doesnÔÇÖt need it. She looks joyful. She looks absolutely beautiful.
ÔÇ£YouÔÇÖre fast,ÔÇØ I tell her as she slips into the passenger seat.
She giddily drums her hands across the dash and beams at me. ÔÇ£IÔÇÖm fast when I want to be. I love this car. Where are we going again? Oh right, somewhere far away. Can we get coffee first? IÔÇÖm dying.ÔÇØ
I canÔÇÖt help but grin at her as I turn the key. The car starts on the first turn. SheÔÇÖs my good luck charm. ÔÇ£You donÔÇÖt seem like you need coffee.ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£I always need coffee,ÔÇØ she says emphatically. ÔÇ£You know this. So where to?ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£I honestly donÔÇÖt know. You pick.ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£Do you have a map?ÔÇØ
I nod at the glove compartment. ÔÇ£In there.ÔÇØ
She opens it and it falls open with a clunk. She takes out an old faded road map and starts looking it over.
ÔÇ£Anything strike your eye?ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£IÔÇÖm looking for Loch Ness.ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£ThatÔÇÖs too far.ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£Okay, is there like another lake with a swamp monster?ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£Nearly all the lochs are in the Highlands.ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£Arrrrrrrrrr in the Highlands,ÔÇØ she says playfully, imitating my accent.
ÔÇ£Okay, maybe no coffee for you.ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£DonÔÇÖt be cruel, Professor Blue Eyes.ÔÇØ She goes back to studying the map but the mention of my nickname makes a small fire build inside me. And not one of anger.
She points on the map. ÔÇ£Here. Balmoral.ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£ThatÔÇÖs where the Queen lives.ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£I know. I want to say hello.ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£ItÔÇÖs a two-hour drive,ÔÇØ I point out.
ÔÇ£Well, then we better get cracking,ÔÇØ she says. ÔÇ£The Queen is expecting us.ÔÇØ
SheÔÇÖs definitely full of spirit today. It seems to latch onto me and I ingest it like a tonic. SheÔÇÖs erasing all the humiliation and pain from the morning.
We head out of the city, taking the A-90 to the M-90 and speed north. After we get her some coffee and we share a couple of sausage rolls for breakfast, I warn her that we literally will see the estate and have to head back. But she doesnÔÇÖt mind.
And honestly, neither do I. I crank the old radio on the car to pick up an oldies station playing a special on Otis Redding. The day is warm and gorgeous, and even though weÔÇÖre going fast, our windows are down, enjoying the wind and the sun on our skin.
About an hour into our drive, Natasha turns to me and says, ÔÇ£Tell me the truth. Why did you come to get me this morning?ÔÇØ
ÔÇ£Was it that unusual?ÔÇØ I ask without looking at her.
ÔÇ£Yes,ÔÇØ she says. ÔÇ£The last time you came to my house without me knowingÔÇªÔÇØ
ÔÇ£Back then I was following up on an email. I wanted to know if you were all right,ÔÇØ I tell her before she can tell me anything else about that night.
ÔÇ£And now I want to know if youÔÇÖre all right,ÔÇØ she says gently.
I glance at her. ThereÔÇÖs a softness in her eyes that undoes me. I grip the wheel hard, conscious of my every movement and how they might appear to her. A good man, after the night she kissed me, the night I kissed her right back, would have never been alone with her again.
But IÔÇÖm not a good man.
IÔÇÖm a man who is slowly but surely falling in the wrong direction.