SERIES: Guzzi Duet #2
AUTHOR: Bethany-Kris
AGE GROUP: Adult
GENRE: Mafia, Romance
RELEASE DATE: August 7, 2017
PUBLISHER: Bethany-Kris
PAGES: Approx. 275
BLITZ COORDINATED BY:
IndieSage PR
BOOK BLURB:
Gian Guzzi has everything a mafia boss could want, but it comes with strings. He shouldn’t be wasting time on a redhead he can’t have, when men like him are not allowed to be affected by silly things like love. A boss’s job is never done, and Gian has far better things to worry about—what with someone wanting him dead, and someone else wanting him in prison for good. Yet, he keeps risking it all for one more taste of Cara Rossi.
A man without love is no man at all.
Cara Rossi is left devastated by the things Gian Guzzi didn’t say. She also can’t forget all the things he did say. She needs to focus on moving on from him, not falling right back into his bed once more. Then again, reality has a way of ruining those plans with far more beautiful, unexpected things. Even if it means Cara is forced to question everything, from her morals to her reputation. All to be one woman to one man.
A woman without respect is a dirty word.
Duty. Legacy. Love.
Always in that order.
Or … that’s how it should be.
But life is messy, when entangled with love.
Rules don’t apply.
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EXCERPT
There was nothing more irritating to Gian than seeing a pair of Royal Canadian Mounted Police detectives waiting for him at the front desk of his building. At least, the managers and ladies working the front desk knew better than to allow the RCMP detectives straight up to Gian’s penthouse.
Ever since Corrado died, the police attention on the Guzzi family was … rough. Damn near constant. It didn’t help that following Corrado’s murder, several more deaths followed in the organization, and most done in a public way.
For the most part, the Canadian crime family managed to keep their heads down and their noses clean where police were concerned. They lived under the rule that less attention was better. This, unfortunately, was blowing that all to hell.
“Gian,” the taller of the two detectives—Seeley, Gian thought his surname was—greeted.
The shorter of the two, the one with wide-framed glasses and a suit that always needed pressed, hung back from his partner. He was usually that way whenever the detectives showed up for another round of make-Gian-talk-and-get-shot-down.
“Detective Seeley,” Gian replied dryly. Then, he nodded to the quiet detective. “Shaw.”
Seeley glanced upward at the tall ceilings of the building, and then quickly back to Gian. “Je voudrais—”
“English only, please,” Gian interrupted.
Seeley’s jaw clenched.
Gian made pissing these men off into a game.
“You speak French,” the man said firmly.
“Today I want to speak English,” Gian replied. “Serve me in my language of choice, as you’re supposed to do. I know how the police works in this country. We’re all on a nod and greet basis out there on the streets, aren’t we? Use English.”
“Fine, English it is.”
Gian stuffed his hands in his pockets, and rocked on his heels, pleased as fuck to have once again, annoyed the cops. Maybe if he did it enough, they would leave him the hell alone for a week. He doubted it, but he figured the risk was worth it.
All Royal Canadian Mounted Police were required to speak both official languages of the country. English and French. Gian found the detectives assigned to irritating him preferred French, and because he spoke French fluently, they expected him to converse in that language.
Gian was just as unpleasant in French when it came to cops as he was in his other languages. Cops all held the same distinct stench. Their job was to seem nice to him, to placate his distrust with them, and bring him in closer to their schemes. They put men like him away all the damn time, and Gian refused to be their next foolish sheep.
“I want to discuss some things that came up in your grandfather’s case, and see if you could confirm anything for me,” Seeley said.
Gian passed the man a look. “Corrado has been dead for months; you should leave him that way and let his soul rest in peace.”
“Don’t you want justice for your grandfather?”
How little they knew …
Justice had already been served.
READ WHERE IT ALL STARTED IN
UNRAVELED, GUZZI DUET: PART ONE!
Published: June 3, 2017
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BOOK BLURB:
Cara Rossi’s life has been a mess ever since her identical twin was killed. She blames the mafia, its ways, and the people within the caustic culture for a painful reality that turned her world on its side. In an attempt to momentarily pause her misery, a night out puts her on a path with a man she shouldn’t get involved with simply because of his last name—Gian Guzzi.
He’s the kind of man that makes it hard to say no.
Gian Guzzi’s problems are piling up fast. A murdered grandfather, an unpredictable mafia, and a new boss that threatens both his family’s legacy and his life. As a Cosa Nostra underboss, Gian has a duty. First to la famiglia, and only then to himself. In the midst of the violent uncertainty that has become unrelenting in his days, Cara Rossi should only be a distraction for him to enjoy.
She’s a happiness that he was never allowed to choose before.
His lies.
This life.
Their love.
It all unravels eventually.
EXCERPT
“So …” Bambi said, drawing the word out for much longer than what was necessary.
Awkward.
Finally, Cara’s mouth decided to play catch-up with her brain, and work. All she managed to say was a confused, “So.”
Bambi didn’t look offended over Cara’s lack of response to her presence, never mind her lack of enthusiasm at conversing like a normal human being. No, if anything, Bambi looked happier, her smile growing all over again.
And then Cara had to go and open her mouth to ruin it with, “What exactly are you doing here?”
Bambi’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a hurt dancing over her pretty features. “I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to visit a friend?”
First, Bambi had always been more of a friend to Lea than Cara, for the most obvious reason … being Bambi’s lifestyle. For lack of a better word, Cara thought.
She could be brutally honest—Bambi liked her made men. Mafia men were just her thing. But the second reason why Bambi should not be knocking on Cara’s door?
Cara looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s eleven-thirty at night.”
Jesus. Was it really that late already? Hadn’t she been talking to her brother that afternoon?
Well, shit.
Cara had literally slept her day away. She’d missed another round of classes. An exam. An assignment that was due. A lecture.
And she needed groceries.
Fuck.
She was a mess.
She didn’t even know how to go about fixing it. Or even if she wanted to.
Bambi only stared at Cara as though she had suddenly grown a second head in the span of seconds. “What are you talking about?”
Cara pointed at the clock. “It’s late.”
“Yeah, if you’re fifty.”
“I have school in the morning.”
Bambi cocked an eyebrow. “Tomorrow is Saturday, and I remember Lea saying once that you don’t have classes on Saturdays.”
Was tomorrow Saturday?
What was happening to her life?
Cara rubbed a hand over her face. “What do you want?”
“I was in the neighborhood. I thought you might like to see a familiar face.”
“You thought wrong.”
Cara could have softened that blow, but she didn’t have the patience to. Bambi didn’t seem all that offended. In fact, she looked as though she had expected that.
“Yeah, seems I’m not the first person you’ve chased off with your nasty attitude lately. People talk, and others tend to take notice and listen. I know we’re not the greatest friends, but your sister looked out for me a lot, and I’d like to think that Lea would be super pissed at me if I didn’t offer the same to you.”
Cara cleared her throat, more uncomfortable than ever. “I’m fine.”
“Well, that’s a lie.”
“Bambi—”
“You look like shit just came over and took another shit on your head.”
Ouch.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Cara said, grabbing the door to close it in the woman’s face. “It’s time for you to go.”
“Wait.” Bambi put her body into the doorway, effectively stopping Cara from closing her out. “One night, Cara. You can take one night to get out of this apartment, away from this …” Bambi waved at the darkness behind Cara.
“Whatever this mess is, and do something. Maybe it’ll be fun. Maybe you won’t have to think for a while. Maybe you’ll even smile. What would it hurt to try?”
It could hurt a lot.
“I’m not even dressed or done up,” Cara said weakly.
Bambi smiled slyly, gesturing at herself. “That is why you have me.”
“I can dress and do my own makeup, thanks.”
“And I will be right here to make sure you actually do it. A new club opened up three blocks away, last week. I happen to know the owner is a great guy, and throws an awesome fucking party. Give it a chance.”
Cara was too mentally tired to argue. Or maybe it was that she wanted to feel normal for a minute. Even if that meant using alcohol and deafening music to do it.
That was that.
“All right,” Cara said. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
Bambi looked her over. “Twenty, at least.”
“You could be nicer.”
“You could look less dead.”
Bitch.
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