What Are The Most Famous Quotes By Sandi Spika Borchetta?

I gave Adrian Vale eight years of my life. Eight years of waiting,forgiving,and pretending it did not hurt every time he chose his pride,his career,or his childhood friend over me.He always said he loved me.He always said marriage was only a matter of time.But somehow,that time never came. At my best friend’s wedding,when the bouquet finally landed in my arms,I gave him one last chance.One sentence was all I needed. Instead,Adrian took the bouquet from me and handed it to another woman. He thought I would cool down,come back,and wait for him like I always had. But he forgot one thing. I was Elena Moretti,and when a Moretti woman stops waiting,she does not look back.

In the sun-drenched summers of Sardinia, Isabella finds a rare kind of freedom—far from the chaos of her high-powered life in New York and the suffocating legacy of her family’s ties to the mafia. For once, she can breathe, laugh, and be herself without fear or expectation. But the summer of 2021 changes everything. Haunted by the broken marriage of her parents—forced together by the iron grip of mafia tradition and the unyielding lineage of the Dons—Isabella has long abandoned the idea of love. Her heart is guarded, her trust fractured. Until she meets him. A stranger with secrets of his own. A man who sees her not as a pawn in a dynastic game, but as a woman worth knowing, worth loving. Their connection is instant, electric, and dangerous. Because in Isabella’s world, love is never simple—and freedom always comes at a price. As old loyalties clash with new desires, Isabella must choose between the life she was born into and the life she dares to dream of. In a land where the sea keeps secrets and the wind carries whispers, can love truly survive?

The most reckless thing I had ever done was turn my back on the Moretti name and leave St. Clair Harbor with Lucian DeLuca when the Commission pushed his family out and he had nothing left. For three years, we lived in a drafty Brooklyn loft and ducked black Chevrolets on winter nights. Then Lucian fought his way back to the East Coast table. Everyone started calling him Mr. DeLuca again,and I became Mrs. DeLuca, the woman he swore he would always protect. Then Clara Voss appeared. She had once saved his life as a night nurse at an underground clinic, and Lucian never forgot it. He bought her a clinic, protected her family, and let her step, inch by inch, into the middle of our marriage. He said he still loved me, but he also said I was spoiled, jealous, and needed to learn my place. So I did. I signed the divorce papers and left New York behind. Mrs. DeLuca was dead. Evelyn Moretti had come back.

[UNDERGOING HEAVY REVISION] Go ahead and check out my other complete and ongoing books. I personally recommend Contracted for the Alpha and Marked by Moonlight. You can thank me later. 😉 "Are you nervous, Miss Bologna?" What the fuck? Did he just read me? I shifted slightly in my seat. "Detective Gunner, you seem to think you know me. But let me assure you, you don't." He shook his head, an inky black curl moving down his forehead. "I might not know you, Miss Bologna, but all one point two million followers don't know you either." A cocky grin crossed his face, drawing my attention to those damn dimples again. I uncrossed my legs and then crossed them again. "It's a necessary precaution." He held his arms up and shrugged. "And I get that. Being the daughter of the wealthy, powerful, notorious Wall Street guru, Dante Bologna has its downsides, I suppose." I glowered at him from underneath my lashes. "Tell me what you want, Detective Gunner." He tucked his phone back into his pants pocket. "I want you to tell me what the fuck is happening in this city." * * * To Love A Bologna is a four-volume series about the trials, temptations, and heart-burning romance of the Bologna family. | This first volume is focused on Nessa, the last and only daughter of the renowned mafia lord, Dante Bologna, and her love interest, Detective James Gunner who is on a quest to catch and destroy the Bologna family. When detective Gunner discovers the truth about the Bolognas, will he be able to go through with his plans? Or will his stolen heart make the choice for him?

Everyone in southern Italy knew that Lorenzo Moretti loved me like a madman. And yet he had been keeping a much younger woman in Naples. They said she looked just like I had years ago. He told people she was only a reminder of the woman he had once loved most. He also gave strict orders that no one was to let me hear about her. Until the day I found out I was pregnant. I went to his office to tell him the news myself, only to stop outside the door when I heard a young woman’s voice from inside. “Lorenzo… am I only here because I remind you of her?” The door was slightly ajar. Through the gap, I saw a young woman who looked too much like me, wrapped in his jacket and holding his glass. I stood there, barely breathing. Then I heard him answer. “Don’t compare yourself to her.” “She could never be what you are.” I turned and walked away without making a sound. That night, I called my mother. “Mother, I’ve made up my mind.” She was silent for a moment. “I want a fire,” I said. “Something no one survives. By the time it’s over, Sophia Moretti needs to be dead to the world.”

My sister Sofia and I married into the Moretti family, New York's most feared dynasty, and got pregnant less than a month apart. I married Dante Moretti, the eldest son and youngest trauma surgery chief St. Vincent's had ever appointed. Sofia married his younger brother Luca, a Major Crimes detective with a badge and a Moretti army at his back. One carried a scalpel. The other carried a gun. Behind them stood a family that owned docks, unions, private clubs, and half the secrets in Manhattan. Everyone said we'd won a life women would kill for. On my first anniversary, I left a maternity clinic with our daughter's fetal heart scans. Sofia hopped out at a bakery for a cinnamon-apple tart. That craving saved her life. The black Cadillac carrying me cut through an intersection and drove straight into an armored truck. Metal folded around me. Glass filled my mouth. Beneath the screaming brakes, I felt my baby stop moving. I called Dante with a bloodied hand. He rejected me three times before answering the fourth. "Enough with the loyalty tests, Elena. Valentina's old gunshot wound triggered an arrhythmia, and I'm treating her. You and Sofia don't get to invent emergencies every time we help her." Sofia called Luca in tears. He was at Valentina's townhouse investigating a triggered alarm. "A false report leaves a record," he said. "Stop helping your sister put on a show." In the end, my eight-month-pregnant sister smashed open the warped car door and dragged me through broken glass and leaking gasoline. She commandeered a hotel SUV and drove me to the ER herself. I survived. She went into premature labor and lost her son the same night I lost my daughter. After surgery, we lay in neighboring beds while dawn bled through the windows. "Elena," Sofia whispered, "I'm done with my marriage." I reached across and took her ice-cold hand. "So am I."