LOYALTY

John + Siena, #1 by Bethany-Kris Publication Date: March 5, 2018 Genres: Adult, Romantic Suspense, Organized Crime. Erotic Romance

Cover Design: Mignon Mykel at Oh So Novel Designs

Fresh out of prison after serving a three-year sentence, Johnathan Marcello wants to get back to normal business as a mafia capo. The rules set out for him are clear—keep out of trouble, maintain a low profile, and stay stable. But stability is a delicate balance for a man like John, and shaky ground is only a single step away.

A chance encounter with a blue-eyed woman might just change his whole world.

Siena Calabrese’s life revolves around cooking numbers, and scrubbing books clean. After all, a girl is only useful to men in the mafia, if she isn’t totally useless. As long as she does what they want, then she can maintain the illusion of freedom. But illusions are only delusions in the grand scheme of her life, and reality is far more dangerous.

A man with secrets might just be the one thing she didn’t know she needed.

In this life, family is everything. Or, that’s how it should be.

Distrust. Love. Betrayal. Loyalty.

Mix it all together, and it makes for a volatile city.

A war is coming.

EXCERPT: Loyalty, John + Siena #1

Johnathan’s eyes widened, and Siena grinned at the sight. Surprise looked good on the man. His confident smile earlier had sharpened his strong jaw and chiseled cheekbones, and made her think, I bet he could kill a woman with that smile. Stop her heart with a look, and restart it with a wink.

The surprise, though?

That took his sexiness, and turned it almost boyish in a blink.

“You didn’t know who I was?” Siena asked.

“Marcellos don’t tend to … mix a lot of business with the Calabrese family.” Johnathan’s confident grin took over once more, and his gaze traveled over her form. “You must be Matteo’s daughter.”

“One of a few,” she replied.

Johnathan cocked a brow. “I only know the Calabrese boss to have one.”

“The three illegitimate ones don’t get much recognition in the family.”

Across from her on the bus, Johnathan cleared his throat.

“Ah, I see,” he said.

So was the way of their life.

Nobody ever said being a principessa della mafia was an easy thing. In fact, it was one of the most suffocating things to be. All the rules and expectations that never ended. Having a Cosa Nostra boss for a father—and high ranking brothers—left a young woman like Siena under their control and demands.

She was used to it, now.

Twenty-five years dealing with it all had done that to her.

“Kind of strange to see a Capo driving on a city bus,” Siena said.

“And what do you know about Capos, donna?”

The way he called her woman, and his hazel gaze drifted down over her jean-clad legs left a heavy feeling thumping in her throat. Siena was used to men staring—a byproduct of having taken after her exceptionally beautiful, but cold, mother. She wasn’t, however, used to a man like Johnathan doing it.

A man connected to the mafia. One that might face punishment from her father or brothers for disrespecting their family name in such as way by treating one of their women in any way that wasn’t honest and pure.

Like she was some angel.

Or a saint.

Siena was none of those things.

She quite liked the way Johnathan was looking at her.

“Well?” Johnathan asked. “What do you know about the business, huh?”

A lot.

More than he probably thought she did.

Siena simply said, “Do you think I shouldn’t know who is who when it comes to the Three Families in New York? Wouldn’t that be a little dumb of me, considering who my father is and all?”

“Fair enough.”

She mentally patted herself on the back for dodging that bullet. After all, one who dealt in the business did not discuss the business.

It was a rule.

Siena’s father repeated it to her a little more often than he did to everyone else. She figured that was because she was a woman, and no made man in the mafia wanted other Mafiosi to know a woman was handling business.

Especially … numbers.

“Isn’t it always black cars, and ten under the speed limit for Capos?” Siena asked.

“For some, maybe.” Johnathan chuckled. “My car is still in shipping somewhere between the Rust Belt and here.”

“But is it black?” she asked.

Johnathan smirked. “Possibly.”

“And do you drive ten under the limit?”

“Possibly.”

“I knew it,” Siena said, winking. “So, for now you’re slumming it on a bus, then?”

“I don’t mind the bus. I get to be around people without actually engaging with people.”

Siena lifted a single eyebrow. “Is that a shot at me—I shouldn’t be engaging you, or something?”

Johnathan’s grin deepened, and he looked her over once more. “Nah, I don’t mind engaging you, Siena.”

“It’s just a shame my last name is Calabrese, huh?”

He waved a hand, and said, “It is what it is.”

DISGRACE

John + Siena, #2 by Bethany-Kris Publication Date: APRIL 2018 Genres: Adult, Romantic Suspense, Organized Crime. Erotic Romance

Cover Design: Mignon Mykel at Oh So Novel Designs

DISGRACE BLURB COMING SOON!

INFLICT

by Bethany-Kris Publication Date: April 3, 2017 Genres: Adult, Erotic, Romantic Suspense, Organized Crime

BLURB:

As the son of an Irish mobster, Connor O’Neil spent his boyhood hiding from the horrors of his own home. His one reprieve was a girl he knew only as Evelyn, but even she was taken away. As a man, Connor is determined to stay away from his father’s business. With Sean, participation is not a request, but a demand. The truth is, Connor might be more like the evil he’s trying to hide away from than he would like to admit. And he’s already spent years trying to cover the scars left over from the pain. A chance encounter puts the lost girl from his past back on his path, and he no longer has a choice but to face the darkness he’s been ignoring for years. Evelyn. Sasha. Slave. She doesn’t really know who she is anymore. Or maybe she does, and she doesn’t want to tell. She isn’t the same as she once was—now a thing to be kept and maintained, shuffled from owner to owner until it was her time to go. She only became Connor’s because he took her when he knew she wasn’t his to take. Except she isn’t Connor’s at all … And he can’t keep her hidden forever. ~Inflict is a Standalone Romance with graphic depictions of violence, sexual scenes, dark elements and a HEA. It is not recommended for those under the age of 18.

EXCERPT

“It’s art, the same thing you have all over the house, except on canvas.” “Where it belongs,” Connor said exasperated. “Children draw on the walls, Evelyn.” What bit of anger was in her expression melted away, leaving a deep hurt in its place. A part of Connor regretted what he’d said almost instantly, but the other part of him knew it was true. He understood that it was the same way for Evelyn, too. A large part of her was all woman—adult, grown, and a wee bit insane. But there was still a part of her that was a wee child, stuck in a time before all the terrible things had happened to her. “That was uncalled for,” she said. Connor scowled. “Drawing on the walls is uncalled for.” “You’re just parroting things back to me.” “Because I’m the one making sense, lass!” Evelyn’s green eyes rolled upwards. “Whatever, I’m finishing the feather, and it’s staying. It’s not like it’s fucking ugly or something.” Connor eyed the feather, silently agreeing. It was a beautiful image, even if the majority of it was only the barebones of the drawing. Mostly blacklines forming what would be before all the color was added in. She had added some color toward the top, gentle strokes of metallic color that melted with other colors, and shimmered under the kitchen pot lights. He was sure once the light came in from the morning through the windows, the color would sparkle even more. It was amazing. He wouldn’t deny that. But on his kitchen wall? Surely they had better things to be doing and talking about other than drawing on walls? “You can keep the feather,” Connor said heavily. It pained him to do so. “You didn’t have a choice.” Feck. “But,” he added, “no more on the walls.” Her head turned, showing off her beautiful profile as her lips pursed. “The ceilings are okay, then. I get it.” Connor had the strangest urge to smack himself in the face. “No.” “We’ll see.” “Evelyn—” “You’re no fun,” she said rather grumpily, tossing her package of markers to the nearby table. Shooting him with another one of her glares, she headed towards the sink, grabbing a glass from the cabinet as she passed. “I thought you would like it.” Connor didn’t know how to respond to that. “I do.” “Then why be an ass about it?” He chose to stay silent and think about his words as she poured a glass of water, and drank it down in her own silence. He walked forward, stopping at the kitchen island just as she set her now empty glass into the sink. “I will buy you whatever size canvas you want,” Connor said. “And then you’ll hang them on the walls that I could have just drawn on anyway,” she deadpanned. “Don’t you see how that’s a little ridiculous?” “No, what’s ridiculous is you drawing on the walls.” “Connor.” “Evelyn.” “It’s pretty,” she whined, waving at it. “It is—it’s great. You should let me copy it over and tattoo it up your hip and side. It’d look grand, love. It’ll even match the wings on your back. But not on the walls.” Evelyn frowned. “I thought you would like it.” “I said I do.” “Not enough.” All right. Now this was getting rather dumb. Connor was all for indulging Evelyn at times, even some of her more … eccentric moods, when they came on. Which he was learning could be at any point, as she’d spent so much time being forced to do the bidding of a man. This was too far. “Don’t go acting like a right wagon about all of this,” Connor said, turning to walk out of the kitchen and go find something else to do. “I’m not asking for something feckin’ crazy here just that you don’t draw on my goddamn walls, Evelyn.” “What does that even mean?” Connor, more exasperated than he was willing to admit, didn’t bother to turn around as he asked, “What?” “Wagon. What does that even mean?” If there was a God above, He was laughing at Connor. Laughing at his foolish arse. The Irish had a terrible way of taking the English language and mutilating it for their own benefit, however they saw fit. Sometimes shite didn’t make sense, not that it had to outside of the person using it or the person being insulted, but none of that mattered in the grand scheme of things. It was not as simple as saying the phrase meant one thing, when in fact, it could mean a lot of things. This happened to be one of those times, but he figured it was self-explanatory. Evelyn had enough Irish in her to look the part, with her green eyes, pale skin, reddish-blonde curls, and freckles every which way he looked. The sad thing was, life had practically stripped her of the nuances and culture, which was a feckin’ shame. “Means you’re being trite, grumpy, or bitchy—take your pick. Whichever one fits, Evelyn.” Connor only heard the clang of metal in just enough time to turn around and watch something fly at his feckin’ head. Sweet Jesus, she had one hell of an aim on her. He ducked, and the frying pan practically skimmed the top of his hair before it crashed into the floor just outside of the kitchen. It took him all of three seconds to stare at Evelyn, check behind him where the frying pan was now laying, and then back at the crazy woman standing behind the island to realize what had even just happened. As shocked as he was, he was also pissed, and amused. All five feet, four inches of Evelyn stared him down from across the kitchen like she was daring him to say something or move an inch. He swore he saw her hand twitch, too, like she was considering reaching for another one of the hanging pans to whip at him. No, the wee thing didn’t sound Irish at all. She didn’t understand him sometimes, and he got a chuckle out of it more often than not. She was a wee bit insane—he sort of liked that, too. But standing there like she was, pink-cheeked, huffing, and ready to whip his arse even if she had to use a frying pan to do it, she was every inch an Irish lass. Every feckin’ inch. It turned him on like nothing ever had. He wasn’t even sure how to deal with that. A smart man—a frightened man—would have turned tail, and run from the angry woman in his kitchen, knowing he’d pushed her too far and he wasn’t going to get anything good from her tonight. Connor was apparently neither of those things, and he was going to blame that on his damn heritage, too. A stubborn bastard, of course. “Did you just throw a pan at me?” Connor asked. Evelyn spluttered in her anger before spitting out, “You called me a child and bitchy.” “I said ‘pick one.’” “And I picked one. A pan, I mean.” “You could have killed me.” “Probably not. I think your skull is too thick for that.” “Now you’re just trying to piss me off,” Connor said, his jaw clenching. “Is it working?” “Throw another pan at me, lass, and I’ll paddle your arse until its good and red, and you’re begging to be allowed to apologize.” That was his one warning. He’d given it. She could make of it what she wanted. Evelyn’s gaze narrowed. “Is that a promise?” “Don’t do it again, Evelyn.” And now his feckin’ cock was hard, so feck this whole goddamn day right to hell. Figuring his warning was enough, Connor headed out of the kitchen without a look back. A cold shower was in his very near future to get his lust under control. He hadn’t even gotten out of the entryway before she threw the second pan. God save me, he thought. Connor turned back around. Evelyn’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open with an audible pop as Connor stalked toward her. “Wait—wait, what are you doing?” “Oh, you know damn well what I am going to do, lass.”

ABOUT BETHANY-KRIS

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three 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.

To keep up-to-date with new releases from Bethany-Kris, sign up to her New Release Newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/bf9lzD

Website • Blog • Twitter • Facebook • Goodreads • Pinterest • Mailing List • Amazon Author Page

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Waste of Worth: The Deluca Duet, Part One

by Bethany-Kris DeLuca Duet #1 Publication Date: January 9, 2017 Genres: Adult, Mafia, Romance, Organized Crime

Synopsis: DeLuca Duet, Part One

Ask anyone and they will all say the same thing about just who Dino DeLuca is. A criminal, the son of a traitor, and a mafia Capo who can’t be trusted. His past has shaped his life, creating demons he can’t escape from that live in his mind day and night. He is all too aware of just how people see him. Closed off. Cold. Different. He doesn’t care—keeping people out means no one can get close enough to hurt him again, and he already has one too many monsters with their claws stuck in his back that he’s still fighting off. His walls are so high, no one is climbing over them. Or so he thinks … Karen came into his life like a spring shower, her light shining through the darkness and making him see something other than the hell that surrounded him for so long. She doesn’t know who he is or what he has done to become the man he is today. If he can help it, she’ll never know, and his monsters will never hurt her. She sees his differences as beauty. She never asks for more. She is perfect. The problem with happiness for Dino DeLuca is that his monsters don’t mind taking away what makes him happy. After all, what isn’t given cannot be kept. These lessons will be the hardest he has ever learned. AUTHOR’S NOTE: The DeLuca Duet is a two book tale following the same couple through their journey. It is a standalone Duet that can be read independently with a HEA ending.

EXCERPT

Memories could make a monster out of a man. There were times that seemed harder to deal with than others; a passing moment that could make Dino DeLuca’s chest tighten in pain, or his fists clench in anger. The sound of metal being dropped was one of the worst. He swore he could feel his back bruising and bleeding all over again at the simple tinging tone. Whispered words made him jumpy--paranoid. Whispers were good for nothing but taunting, and he didn’t want to hear those mocking words anymore. Had enough yet? Learn to follow directions, Dino. It should fucking hurt, kid. The stench of vomit, clinging to the air and seemingly never letting go, would make his panic rush into overdrive, overwhelming him with an almost sense of itchiness all over his skin. As if the vomit was still soaked and dripping off his clothes in the darkness as he sobbed in a dank basement, curled in a corner and fighting off another round of sickness. The reactions always came so swiftly they surprised him no matter the time or place. His memories weren’t much different when it came right down to it. These times were the most difficult for Dino. Those times came at night. When the lights were off … When the apartment was quiet … When it was just him and his monsters … When he was alone. The most frightening thing about monsters was the fact that they could be anybody. The old man sitting outside the pizzeria, tipping his hat at the ladies passing by. The young woman on the city bus with her hair bleached white and her gaze distant, staring at anything but anyone. The mother pushing a stroller down the street, oblivious but focused. Or a monster could be the man dressed in three-piece suit stepping out of the restaurant he owns, the ring of his key fob for his white Bentley spinning circles as he whistled Ave Maria on his way to church. Dino caught sight of the lower portion of his reflection in the darkly tinted glass of his Bentley’s window. He managed a smile. It was more like a smirk. Fact was, the expression he wore was neither. Dino found it incredibly hard to smile—something that came so easy for others was foreign to him. When he did try, it came off as a grimacing grin and that worked its way into a sneer. Or a smirk. He liked that better. It was manageable. The monster was definitely the man wearing the three-piece suit with the key fob in his hand, staring at himself in the window, Dino knew. Slipping into the SUV, the noise of the busy Chicago city street was silenced instantly as Dino turned on his vehicle and checked his rearview mirror before he could pull out onto the road. He regretted choosing the rearview almost immediately. While his reflection in the window of his car had been partly obscured by the shadows of trees providing shade to the sidewalk, it was not concealed at all in the rearview mirror. Dino didn’t like mirrors. He didn’t like the face staring back at him. The soulless brown gaze, emotionless expression, and silence was more than enough to make him look away. Except he couldn’t. Under the right edge of his strong jaw was a three inch scar that started three-quarters of the way up his throat and stopped just before his ear. The broad slope of his nose had the slightest crook in the middle. Sometimes the left side of his jaw ached when it rained. Those were the obvious things—marks, scars, and reminders he could pick out instantly when faced with his reflection. The longer he stared at himself, the more he would find. It was—without meaning to be—the most dangerous game he could play with himself. Church, he told himself. You need to be seen at church. It was only the ringing of his phone that finally drove his gaze away from the rearview mirror, making him check the caller ID, and breaking his cycle of self-loathing. Dino was grateful for that. Not so much the caller that interrupted him. Sighing, he connected the call through Bluetooth as he pulled out onto the road. “DeLuca here,” Dino answered. “Why the fuck is Riley Conti calling me with demands about you, Dino?” Dino counted back from five silently before he answered his younger brother. “Theo, good morning to you, too. Are you at church? I’m headed that way. We can talk then.” “Dino—” “Church, man.” Dino let the call drop. Theo wouldn’t say two words to Dino at the church and he knew it for a fact. When it came to the public, Theo and Dino were constantly apart from one another—on opposite sides of the room where they didn’t have to speak. It was the easiest way for Dino to handle Theo DeLuca. Maybe that made him a coward. The brothers’ history together was not an easy one, not when it had been shadowed by the death of their parents, and then the events that followed the murders. Unlike Dino, who learned quickly that trust was a beautiful myth in their lifestyle and in the Chicago Outfit, Theo was of a more stubborn mindset. And so, the two were distant. Dino tried with Theo, but it never really seemed to help the relationship. He was all too aware that his younger brother blamed him for things that had been out of his control, though Theo thought his older sibling could have handled the past far better. He probably could have--should have. Dino thought he had, honestly. He’d taken years of abuse from the hands of their uncle Ben after their parents’ deaths. He’d lived separately from the family, sure, but he was not exempt from the beatings and the manipulation. Of course, that was a story for another day. If Dino got his wish, that day would never come. Another call rang through to Dino’s cell phone. He checked the caller ID again. Ben DeLuca, it read. Dino didn’t pick up the call, still driving toward the church. He would see Ben soon enough. Without even being told, Dino was already aware he would suffer for not picking up the call. Years had passed since he’d suffered some form of physical harm from his uncle’s hard hand. Years. Dino’s chest tightened at the thought. Truth was, he still wasn’t exempt from the manipulation. Not when he was constantly haunted with it all. He still wasn’t free.

Worth of Waste: The Deluca Duet, Part Two

by Bethany-Kris DeLuca Duet #2 Publication Date: February 6, 2017 Genres: Adult, Mafia, Romance, Organized Crime

Synopsis: DeLuca Duet, Part Two

The Chicago Mob is the same as it has always been—violent, greedy, and excessive. The Outfit families have turned their backs when they were needed the most one too many times, but Dino DeLuca didn’t expect anything different. His whole life has been lived for the Outfit—for his family. He has a whole new set of reasons to live and fight now. Karen Martin makes Dino change all the rules. He’s finally ready to show everyone just how much waste is truly worth in the mafia, and just how far one will go for freedom from it all. He’s learned these lessons well. Too well. Author’s Note: The DeLuca Duet is a standalone duet with a HEA ending that can be read independently.

ABOUT BETHANY-KRIS

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three 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.

To keep up-to-date with new releases from Bethany-Kris, sign up to her New Release Newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/bf9lzD

Website • Blog • Twitter • Facebook • Goodreads • Pinterest • Mailing List • Amazon Author Page

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Chicago War: The Complete Series

by Bethany-Kris Chicago War #1-4 Publication Date: August 8, 2016 Genres: Organized Crime, Erotic Romance, Suspense

Synopsis: The war began with the death of one person and would end with the killing of many more. Four families paint Chicago red as greed, hatred, secrets, and loyalties divide them to opposite ends of the city.

But in the midst of the fighting and bloodshed, there are those who struggle between love and famiglia. They are the most dangerous of all. They have everything to lose. And no one will see them coming. Chicago War: The Complete Series features the full-length novels,Deathless & Divided, Reckless & Ruined, Scarless & Sacred, and Breathless & Bloodstained.

CAN'T WAIT TO GET YOUR HANDS ON THE CHICAGO WAR: COMPLETE SERIES? ALL 4 BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE INDIVIDUALLY, #FREE WITH #KINDLEUNLIMITED!

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ABOUT BETHANY-KRIS

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three 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. To keep up-to-date with new releases from Bethany-Kris, sign up to her New Release Newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/bf9lzD

Website • Blog • Twitter • Facebook • Goodreads • Pinterest • Mailing List • Amazon Author Page

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THIN LIES by Bethany-Kris Donati Bloodlines, #1 Publication Date: May 2, 2016 Genres: Romantic Suspense, Erotic Romance, Organized Crime

#PREORDER (#Free with #KU): Amazon

Synopsis: Calisto Donati

She was just a woman. That’s what Calisto wanted to tell himself; that’s what he wanted to believe. Emma was nothing more than a woman. There were other women for him to want. To obsess over. It couldn’t be Emma Sorrento. Not for Calisto. She was taken. She was claimed. She was not his. In a few days, Calisto would hand her off, and that would be that. He wondered why it wouldn’t be that easy to let her go. What good had saving her done? He had simply taken her from one monster to give her to another. Emma Sorrento Emma slid on her mask. All someone would need to do was look close enough to see what was really beneath the sheer falseness of her smile. At the other end of the table, Emma found her lies staring her right in the face. He smirked. And winked. Calisto Donati was her worst mistake, her greatest shame, and the one thing she still wanted more than anything. Emma could still feel him all over her, long after his touch and kiss was gone. In thirty days, her entire world had changed—he had changed her. Emma had a feeling that if she played another game with Calisto, she would surely lose. She had already lost once. Wasn’t it enough? WARNING: The first two books in the Donati Bloodlines Trilogy end on a cliffhanger, and are not considered safe romance.

EXCERPT- THIN LIES

“It does hurt me,” Calisto said before he could stop himself. He wanted to take the words back immediately. Emma stilled in the passenger seat. “Then why play?” To remember. To punish himself. To apologize. “For a lot of different reasons,” Calisto settled on saying. “But tonight, I played so that you wouldn’t have to. You didn’t seem comfortable. I didn’t think you wanted to have everyone looking at you after what happened. It was a small sacrifice.” “But you hurt now,” she said, seeming confused. “Don’t you?” “But you didn’t have to.” For Calisto, that was all that mattered. Turning his head, Calisto stared out the opened driver’s window. He wondered if anyone had noticed that both he and Emma had left the dinner party without a goodbye. He supposed it didn’t make a difference. Calisto didn’t mind Emma’s presence disturbing his peace, either. “Calisto?” Emma asked softly. “Hmm?” Her hand rested on his thigh, and Calisto jerked in the seat at the innocent touch. The problem was, her touch couldn’t be innocent at all. Not with the way he currently felt, the things he had done, or the lines he had already crossed with a mighty “fuck you.” He hadn’t been expecting it, and he didn’t even hear Emma move in her seat. Calisto barely had the chance to spin around and face Emma again before her mouth pressed against his. It was soft at first, smooth like her plump lips, and then her fingers dug into his leg like she was demanding something from him. He didn’t know what it was. Instinctively, Calisto wanted to push her away. He wanted to kiss her back, too. The crazy side of his brain won, the side that listened to his selfish wants and not his needs. Or maybe he needed it, too. Calisto didn’t know. But he did grab onto Emma’s dress. He fisted the fabric around his taut knuckles, and pulled her a little closer. His tongue swept the seam of her lips, wanting more, needing to be deeper, seeking her heat and taste. A little wouldn’t hurt, right? Just a little more. Emma sighed a sweet sound, giving into his unspoken demand by parting her lips. Calisto took the offering for what it was, kissed her harder, and let his tongue war with hers until she was gasping for air. Pulling away enough to catch a breath, Emma tipped her head up and hummed. Calisto couldn’t help himself but lean forward and kiss her chin. He was fucking stupid. Why did she make him so stupid? “I should go in and say goodbye,” he heard Emma say. Calisto was too distracted by the flimsy fabric of her dress in his hands. A little pull with just enough strength and he knew that the dress would rip. She was close, and he could grab her around the waist before pulling her into the backseat. The windows were tinted. No one would see. A little more wouldn’t hurt.

#EmmaSorrento

#CalistoDonati

ABOUT BETHANY-KRIS

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three 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. To keep up-to-date with new releases from Bethany-Kris, sign up to her New Release Newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/bf9lzD

Website • Blog • Twitter • Facebook • Goodreads • Pinterest • Mailing List • Amazon Author Page

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