Release Date May 6
I have read every book in Bethany-Kris’ backlist and she never fails to amaze me! She has yet provided another book bf for me love in Dirty Pool.
Michel Marcello has been mentioned in several books but never his full story. His character was everything I hoped for and more. His character is sweet and equally dangerous. He may not be a made man and following the path of many of the Marcello men yet he is still just as calculating and dangerous when needed to be. Love knows no bounds with him. The connection between Gabbie and Michel is perfect. She knows what she wants and I loved that about her character.
Bethany-Kris is a pool shark in the writing world of organized crime. She has proven time and time again that mafia romance can be more than just death, darkness and crime. Whether you start with this book or another in the commission world BK has made it so all can be read as a standalone and everything interconnects or overlaps. I love it!
Publication Date: May 6, 2019
Genres: Adult, Romantic Suspense, Organized Crime. Erotic Romance, Standalone
To get what he wants, he’ll have to play a game of dirty pool.
Michel Marcello never wanted to be a mafioso like every other man in his family—he wanted to be more. That doesn’t mean he’s unfamiliar with the life, or that he can’t hold his own against other made men.
They forgot where he came from …
His chance encounter with the fiery and beautiful daughter of Detroit’s most notorious Irish mob boss stokes flames beyond the ones that ignite between Michel and Gabbie Casey. Rivals shouldn’t mix, but these opposites have never been more attracted, either.
The lines between family loyalty, their duties, and responsibility begin to blur.
Love ruins all.
But these two aren’t the only ones playing this game, and it just became far more dangerous to get out alive.
Dirty Pool is a standalone romantic suspense.
EXCLUSIVE RELEASE EXCERPT
Michel’s dark chuckles came close to her ear as his nose grazed the back of her neck. Gabbie had all she could do not to shiver from the feeling of his lips pressing to her skin with featherlight kisses.
“I don’t think they recognize being called duckies,” he murmured.
“I’m just saying they don’t speak human, Gabbie.”
She didn’t mind his teasing.
“Says the man who had a small bag of birdseed in his car because bread is bad for the ducks.”
His hands landed on her waist, and she loved the way his fingers dug into her sides. He squeezed, a silent warning for her to stop the teasing. She heard it loud and clear, not that it made much of a difference. If he could dish it, then the man would learn to take it.
That was Gabbie’s way.
“I told you, I jog here.”
“Yes, with birdseed for the duckies, apparently.”
“Because they quack at me when I pass, and I feel bad for them.”
“Mmhmm. Of course, you do.”
Michel let out a laugh. “You’re impossible.”
Gabbie winked at him over her shoulder as she pulled out a handful of birdseed. Michel wasn’t wrong—bread was terrible for ducks. It got stuck to the roof of their mouths, and if it did get in their bellies, it would swell up to make them think they were full when they weren’t. It was harder for them to digest, too.
She adored he had birdseed in his car to toss to the ducks when he jogged at the park. He wasn’t all bad, despite what people in her family liked to say about the Italians. How could someone be bad if they remembered to feed the ducks when they went jogging?
It was sweet, really.
“You must be getting hungry,” he said.
“You want to go—”
She was enjoying this.
The park, peaceful at almost midnight, was dark and quiet. There wasn’t a soul around, and the small pond was rarely ever this empty when she came to see it in the daytime.
“I like that you chose here for a date,” she said.
Michel rested his chin on her shoulder, and wrapped an arm tightly around her middle. “Oh, why is that?”
“Most guys would pick a club, or something. Dinner, and a show. The usual. I like this better. It’s just us, and we can talk.”
“I would have taken you for all that other shit, too, but it’s late.”
Most restaurants were closed, although she was sure they could find a hole-in-the-wall diner to eat at, if they really wanted to. Not that any of the food would be the kind of stuff she was supposed to eat. Michel probably knew that, too, and took it into consideration without telling her he was doing it.
She appreciated it.
Gabbie grinned. “All of that for a date, too?”
“Yeah, probably not. I wanted to be alone with you … can’t exactly do that when there’s other people around, can I?”
Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to four young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.
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