SALVATORE

by Cecy Robson
Publication Date: March 13th 2019
Genres: Adult, Gritty, Contemporary, Romance, Standalone

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The Book Junkie Reads . . . Review of . . . SALVATORE (An In Too Far Novel) . . . Opposites attract and make some complicated things even more so complicated. Sal finds that for the first time in his adult life he is attracted to a woman that has good intention, good reputation, and completely opposite from all that he knows. Sal becomes father figure to his two younger brothers which prove to not be easy. Aedry finds herself in a position to help two young boys. The boys happen to have a very sexy, dark, and alluring brother. He is the opposite of all that she has ever known. Sparks fly. Chemistry. Desire, Danger, Darkness.

Cecy Robson brings what she is known for. Romance with depth and layers. The story carries itself. You get the characters, the plot, the intensity and more. There are characters you want more from.

BLURB

Desperate men do desperate things . . .

Salvatore Torre is a dangerous man. If you’ve lived the life Sal has, rage is to be expected and maybe so is heart. After his father killed his mother in a jealous rage, Sal was left to raise his two younger brothers, becoming a parent long before he was ready.

Desperate for money to support his family, Sal sought help from his old friend, Vincent Maggiano, the son of New Jersey’s top crime boss being groomed to take over his ailing father’s empire.

Sal never planned to join the mob. He also never planned to fall for his brother’s sweet and ultra conservative counselor, Adrianna Daniels.

Aedry isn’t the type of girl Sal is usually drawn to. Her skirts are longer, her hair is tamer, and her heels aren’t clear. But he can’t deny the attraction he feels. And Salvatore’s dark, sexy, and dangerous persona is the exact opposite of the clean-cut business men who usually catch Aedry’s attention.

Neither planned on a life of crime nor did they plan on love. But now, both are in too far.

EXCERPT

I drive my trusty white Volkswagen Beetle through one of the rougher sections of the city, but when my navigation system takes me past the area and into one of the more up and coming neighborhoods, I’m more than a little surprised. I find a spot across the street from the building when I realize the underground garage is strictly reserved for its residents.

Perhaps it’s better. It might be a nice neighborhood, but I avoid garages at all costs. I make my way quickly across the street, shuddering when the brisk air smacks against my legs and billows my skirt. I stop in front of the main door. Unlike the other mailboxes, the Romero residence isn’t marked by a name. But I have the apartment number and that’s all I need. That, and access to the lobby, which I quickly gain when an older woman slips out.

The building can’t be more than a few years old, something I find confusing. If Mr. Romero can afford something this upscale, I don’t understand why he isn’t more invested in his brothers’ futures.

I tried calling him to warn him that I was stopping by, only to hear a deep male voice on the voicemail say, “You know what to do,” followed by a beep. The blatant arrogance in his tone shocked me and left me with an impression that this so-called guardian is nothing more than a thug. But given where he and the boys live, I can only determine he’s too caught up in himself to worry about those who clearly need him as a role model.

I slip out of the elevator and hurry to apartment 4B, stopping only to text Jalisa and let her know I arrived. I take a breath before knocking, reminding myself I’m a strong, educated woman despite my young age, and that there’s no reason to be intimidated. When only silence greets me, I tell myself I can’t just give up. This boy needs me, so I knock again. By my third knock, I’ll admit, I’m discouraged. How can I help Apollo if his one parental influence is constantly unavailable? I knock again, this time harder. If this Salvatore guy is truly a PR rep who works evenings, he should be home―

The door swings open. “What the fuck?”

My eyes widen at the bulk of muscle standing at the door. This man is at least six-two, shaved head, wearing black boxers that fall slightly below the “V” at his waist, exposing a set of abs hard enough to grind diamonds, and arms and legs that belong on a seasoned wrestler.

Now would be a good time for that confident young woman to make an appearance―the one who came here―the one whose jaw isn’t dangling to her toes―the one who no longer has glasses strong enough to see into orbit, or teeth so bucked they end in another zip code.

The man’s tight face and stance relax as he leans his shoulder against the door frame. His brown eyes rake the length of my body, the intensity in his stare forceful enough to tug off my clothes. It’s not until his attention returns to my face that I catch his approving nod and subtle smile. “Nice,” he murmurs.

My face heats, which I absolutely hate. My skin is so fair, there’s no masking the blush that follows. I lift my chin. “Shouldn’t you put on some clothes?” I ask, well aware my voice is shrill and quivering.

“I would, but then it will block the view of the goods you can’t seem to get enough of,” he says, adding a wink.

It’s the wink that’s my undoing. Okay, that and those broad shoulders, and strong jaw, and Channing Tatum-esque face. Who am I kidding? It’s the whole package. This man is what some might call more than a little attractive.

“I . . .” It’s the only thing I manage to say. By now, it’s obvious I’m gawking at him.

“Look, gorgeous,” he says. “I’ve had a long night. Either leave your brochures and get going, or give me a reason to let you inside.”

My jaw pops open when I realize he’s mistaken me for a Jehovah’s Witness—and a slutty one at that! Maybe Tamira had a point about me wearing “church” clothes. “I don’t have brochures,” I stammer.

“Good, don’t read that shit anyway―”

“My name is Adrianna Daniels. I’m the guidance counselor at Apollo and Gianno’s school . . .”