BLURB
We are the Rossetti’s.
The exiled “sixth family” of the New York mafia. We’re the good guys.
People don’t fear us…much. They respect us.
The five of us? We’re the Brooklyn Brothers.
And we protect what’s ours.
After a gunshot wound to the chest, I died on an operating table. Then I came back to life. Yet the thing that’s going to take me down is a redheaded Irish bartender who has a pension for trouble and drinking me under the table. Ash Donahue is brave, beautiful, and scarily street wise. In fact, she’s the only woman I’ve ever met who seems remotely capable of handling the kind of baggage a man like me comes with.
Not to mention, she has secrets that could very well rival my own.
I’m a soldier, a warrior. That’s all I’ll ever be. No woman wants to be strapped with that for the rest of her life. But every time we remind ourselves why we’re completely wrong for each other, we end up tangled together in the stock room. Or on top of the bar. Or against a wall.
That all changes when I find out what brought her to my city. How could she not tell me her uncle is the Irish mob boss? And how am I supposed to protect her from him and my family from our countless enemies, all at the same time?
EXCERPT:
Ash
The stock room wasn’t refrigerated, but I still pressed my forehead against some beer bottles for relief. The glass was marginally cool, and I would take anything to help diminish the flames culminating south of my belly button.
Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me and spun around, pulse skittering out of control. Rome’s body was inches from mine, close enough for his heat to permeate the space between us and turn my flesh feverish.
His deep grumble rolled over my skin. “Need a hand?”
Yes, but not with the beer.
“I, um, think I’ve got it. Not my first time.”
His eyes rolled closed, a soft groan escaping his mouth.
“I meant with the restocking—”
“Stop talking, Ash.”
I did. And waited to see what he would do. Because in that exact moment, I realized I would let him. Whatever he wanted. Vibrations were pulsing off of him, almost like he was fighting his own restraint. He inched forward slightly, bringing our chests within grazing distance.
And wow.
Rome was huge. Much taller than my willowy five-foot-seven frame and nothing but rock hard muscle wrapped around a broad, warrior-like frame. I wanted to shove the leather jacket from his shoulders and rip that gray t-shirt off so I could see just how much of his body those wicked tattoos covered.
My breath hitched when he raised his arms. Instead of touching me with them, he pressed his hands against the shelf of beer cases at my back. He caged me between those muscular arms, making it clear I wasn’t going anywhere until he was ready to let me go. His breathing was labored, same as mine. I wondered if his heartrate was as out of control as mine too.
“I don’t usually say much.”
I nodded in understanding. I wasn’t asking him to be chatty. Or to be anything other than what he really was.
“But I’m finding myself wanting to say a whole damn lot around you.”
“Like what?” I whispered.
He tilted his head, running his nose from my temple down to my jaw. “Like telling you about some of the things I want to do to you.”
“Such as?” I was breathless.
It was like he was relieved I’d asked. “These jeans you wear sit really low, Ash. Too fucking low.” The scruff of his beard brushed my cheek, though it wasn’t coarse and scratchy. “It makes me think there’s no room in there for your panties. I want to push them down even lower, just to check.”
Beer bottles clinked as my head fell back, leaving my neck exposed. “How’d you know?”
“How did I know what?”
“That I’m not wearing any?”
“Goddammit, woman.”
My hips were squeezed, moved, and situated in between his. My thighs cradled the thick ridge in his jeans that rubbed against my sex so emphatically, I was already throbbing down there. Dripping down there. He was grinding it against me in slow, small thrusts that felt more like a rough petting.
I’d never been so singularly hot for someone in my life.
“What else do you want to do?”
“You just short-circuited my brain,” he growled. “And you expect me to still have the ability to think?”
He claimed he didn’t talk much, but he was really good at it.
“Power through, tough guy.”
Careful. You get too close to fire and you’re going to get burned…
Author Info
Melanie grew up in the Midwest, but she loves living in the Southeast (where the beaches are!) now with her husband and daughter.
Melanie's other passion is traveling and seeing the world. With anthropology degrees under their belts, she and her husband have made it their goal in life to see as many archaeological sites around the world as possible.
She has a horrible food addiction to pasta and candy (not together...ew). And she gets sad when her wine rack is empty.
At the end of the day, she is a true romantic at heart. She loves writing the cheesy and corny of romantic comedies, and the sassy and sexy of suspense. She aims to make her readers swoon, laugh out loud, maybe sweat a little, and above all, fall in love.
Go visit Melanie's website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub
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