Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Every night they enter my bar—a trio of mafia enforcers exuding raw masculinity and lethal allure. Too dangerous to approach, too enticing to ignore.
When the bar gets held up, I’m prepared to stand my ground, as I’ve had to do my whole life. But then Rocco, a powerful man with a deadly reputation, intervenes. With chilling ease, he dispatches the threat and keeps me out of harm’s reach.
No one’s ever shielded me like that. And no one has ever looked at me the way these three mafiosos do. Discovering a sinister plot against me, they pledge their protection. Their pull is impossible to resist—even if I wanted to.
Rocco, the most dangerous man I’ve ever met, somehow makes me feel safe. And when I see him with his young son, my heart softens toward the single father.
Julian can target an enemy with pinpoint precision. He always keeps a cool head—except when he can’t keep his hands off me.
Slater is reckless and bold, wearing his battles on his skin. Every scar has a story, and I long to explore each one while he’s making me moan.
As passion flares, I learn that my ties to their dark world are deeper than I thought. My life is thrown into chaos, especially after seeing the two little lines on the pregnancy test.
Have I found my true soulmates? Or am I risking everything I hold dear—including my own life?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
MAGGIE
“Why did you become a barmaid, sweetheart?”
If I had a nickel for every time someone had asked me that, I’d be rich. Or, at least, I’d have more than I made from my lousy wage and meager tips.
Not that all of the customers at the Rusty Bucket were jerks. Far from it. There were mostly hard-working men, and the occasional bored retiree, like Burt here who was sitting at the bar. Though he had to be closing in on eighty, there was often a twinkle in his eye when he spoke to me.
“Just lucky, I suppose.”
He sipped his beer. “A pretty girl like you could do a lot more.”
I frowned; not sure what looks had to do with it. The truth was, I’d tried to go for more. I’d completed a year and a half of college with money my mom had saved for her whole life.
But now she was gone, and the money had long since run out.
“You could get a beauty license,” Burt said, as if this was secret knowledge. “You could do hair and nails and not have to deal with the vermin who come in this place.”
I mentally rolled my eyes. Burt was harmless, and usually pretty good company, but he’d just revealed himself to be both sexist and classist. And it wasn’t the first time.
“Or you could be a weather girl on TV. You’re pretty enough to be on TV.”
I set a fresh bowl of peanuts in front of him. “I think they hire meteorologists for those jobs.”
“Right,” he nodded sagely. “Too much schooling involved.”
Some men at the far end of the bar flagged me down, and I was glad to get away from the older man even though I usually liked chatting with him. He was harmless in general, but his assumption that I wouldn’t make it in school bothered me. My dream had been to finish college and then go to law school. It had been money, not brains, that had stopped me.
As I took drink orders, I noticed a huge man sitting by himself at a table in the back. He had a whiskey and a plate of fries, so one of the waitresses must’ve served him. He caught my eye because of his size, but also because he was alone.
He was called Rock, and that seemed appropriate because he was the size of a boulder. He had muscles on top of muscles, which was an interesting contrast to his tan skin and dark, Italian eyes and hair. Most of the Italian men in the neighborhood were on the slimmer side, but Rock looked like a bouncer.
Usually, he came in here with his two buddies, Julian and Slater. I didn’t know them, but I’d served drinks to them plenty of times, and they always tipped well. It was strange to see the big man in here by himself tonight. Something about the set of his shoulders made me think he wasn’t in a good mood. But somehow, I knew he wouldn’t give me any trouble. He never did.
I tended bar for another few hours, giving Burt a sincere good-bye when he toddled on home to his wife. He meant well. Probably when I was in my late seventies, I’d be out and about talking the ear off younger people, too. I just hoped my views would be a little more enlightened.