My Own Moments

“Pam Godwin’s books always give me chills – her writing is dark and powerful, scraping the edges of my comfort zone. She’s brilliant.
–Joanna Wylde, New York Times bestselling author

Deliver Us, an all new dark, intense and gut-wrenching boxed set from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Pam Godwin is now available and perfect for a binge read!

Are you ready to fall in love with a villain?

Van Quiso’s chilling gunmetal eyes will shiver your blood and torment your heart. You’ll fear him and crave him, for behind the cruel mouth lurks a jealous, possessive devil who will sacrifice everything to protect the woman he loves.

Each standalone is a different couple with its own dark love story, all interconnected in a dangerous underworld of murderers, kidnappers, and cartels. Forget your comfort zones. This world isn’t pretty. But it’s oh-so-delicious and twisty.

With over 1000 pages of passion and suspense, this is your next binge read.

More than 200,000 copies sold and thousands of 5-star reviews. No cliffhangers. Available in digital, print, and audiobook.

Download your copy today for only 99¢!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/334BmpU
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/DeliverUsPamG
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Kobo: https://bit.ly/365Kcp1
Google Play: https://bit.ly/34j2nFx

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Excerpt

The chains fell off his chest and arms and pooled around his waist. His freedom swept through him in ragged breaths.  

She gazed at him with stiff lines of determination on her face, an expression he’d seen a hundred times, the unwavering glare that tortured him, aroused him, conjured his nightmares, and filled his dreams.  

He memorized each twitch of her lashes, the delicate point of her raised chin, every faltered breath. He was consumed with having her and terrified to lose her.  

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” He reached up to brush his fingers through her thick dark hair. 

She recoiled before his hand made contact. A blank mask fell over her face, a wall of ice slamming between them. She moved to the driver seat and faced forward. 

His momentary calm burst into a roaring fire. Hands fisting, heart pounding, he didn’t know what to do with the fury burning through his veins. He tagged his jeans and boots from the floorboard and jumped out. 

He dressed as he walked, jerking on his boots, kicking branches out of his path. His muscles heated, and sweat slicked his bare chest, chilling in the night air. He wasn’t angry at her. He was angry for her. The abuse done to her body. The helplessness of her situation. His inability to free her. 

He slammed a fist into the nearest tree trunk. Again. Again. Pain ricocheted through his hand, down his arm, and fed his breaking heart.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her silhouette standing a few yards away. A slender shadow, shrouded by darkness. And in her raised arms, she held a gun, trained on him.  

He threw another fist. Absorbed the burn. Expelled the rancor. He knew she was holding a gun on him to prevent him from running and putting her family at further risk. Regardless, she wouldn’t shoot him. Not because she needed a slave, but because she loved what was hers with a self-destructing passion.  

He faced her and held out his arms. “I’m yours.”  

The girl and the gun didn’t move. 

“Lose the damned mask and stop hiding from me.” He raked his throbbing hands through his hair. “Scream, cry, hit something. Hit me. But for God’s sake, let it out.”  

The shadowy lines of her body wavered. The gun lowered, returned to her boot. 

He stretched out his arms, savoring the cool breeze brushing over his unrestrained skin. “I stand here without rope or chains, Liv, tethered to you by my own will.” His blood beat with the ferocity of his words. “I won’t be free until you are.” 

Her head jerked back, her body rigid. Then she walked straight to him and unleashed her fists on his chest. She clobbered him over and over, her gasps accelerating with each fall of her hand. 

The lashing didn’t hurt. Not like the whimpers rising from her chest. She was hurting, lashing out for the wrongs that had been done to her. A sharp pain swelled in his throat. The only thing he could do was take it in, try to bear some of it for her.  

He held his arms out and his body open. When her hits ebbed into weak slaps, she stumbled back, hugging herself and clutching her elbows.  

His heartbeat slogged through the ache in his chest. He kept his arms outstretched and whispered, “I’m here.” 

Disbelief widened the whites of her eyes, and her breath caught. He waited. 

In two running steps, she launched at him, climbed up his chest, and curled her hands in his hair. He lifted her, pinning the curves of her thighs around his hips, and took her mouth. His knuckles burned with fever, but the heat from her lips was overriding. She whispered kisses over his jaw, around his mouth, caressing, assuring.  

He angled his head, deepening the reach of his tongue and drinking her in lick by lick. Her hands in his hair, the sweetness of her breath filling his mouth, there will never be another kiss like hers. She knew how to suck his lips and trap his tongue in a way that stroked every nerve ending in his body. More than that, she knew how to reach inside him. She found him, her ferocity defying the odds and pivoting them into place, perfectly interlocked. 

Her thighs squeezed around his waist, her breasts soft against his chest. He palmed her backside with a cautious gentleness, and chased her tongue, spiraling, stretching deeper, falling heart-first into an existence where only she mattered.

About Pam Godwin

Pam Godwin is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author
Pam Godwin lives in the Midwest with her husband, their two children, and a foulmouthed parrot. When she ran away, she traveled fourteen countries across five continents, attended three universities, and married the vocalist of her favorite rock band.
Java, tobacco, and dark romance novels are her favorite indulgences, and might be considered more unhealthy than her aversion to sleeping, eating meat, and dolls with blinking eyes.

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