Novelas y relatos de Irish Bbw

Five years into my marriage to the Don, Ives Moretti, he left me for dead during a shootout to get his mistress, Isabella, to safety. I woke up three days later in a private hospital room. No apology. Ives was cold. “You’re my wife. You knew the risks. Stop being so dramatic.” Then, he added, “Isabella’s different. She’s fragile. She needed me.” That was followed by three months of the silent treatment. Like always, he expected me to be the one to break, to come crawling back begging for forgiveness. Three months later, I handed the Irish deal to Isabella on a silver platter. The big one I’d spent half a year building myself. Ives thought it was a peace offering. He smiled, a rare, genuine thing these days. “I knew you’d come around. As a reward, we’ll go to Vegas. I know you’ve always wanted to go.” The next day, Isabella whined about being bored, and he broke his promise. He took her to Vegas instead. Told me it was “urgent family business.” This time, I didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene. Ives was pleased I was being so understanding. He had no idea I was already cutting all ties to the Moretti family. That he’d already signed the divorce papers. I was free.

Becca is the most conspicuous and considered interrogator in all of LA. She has the brutality, harsh and cold attitude that brings suspects to their knees but she lacks love, a family and real friends. Nineteen years ago, she was a victim of a tragic accident that took away her childhood memories. She doesn't remember at all her parents, sibling and relatives. Due to a jealous uncle, Dan, Becca lost her brother, was separated from her parents and lost her memory. She was taken in by an old Irish couple who found her unconscious at a tunnel, close to the train terminal. The couple raised her until she was nineteen then kicked her out for her misbehaviour. She became a bully to survive, only that she was never destined to be a bully. Dan used to bully her and her new unfound conscious took after his uncle in order to adapt. Xander, a doctor, claims he can restore her memory back in form of a video. Once she finds out the truth behind the accident, she opts to seek revenge and find her parents. Jeremy, a potential love interest, advices her against taking revenge on Dan but Marlon, another love interest, who is also in the case, advices to take the Mafia down. Black Mail as title is used to refer to dark news or message Becca receives and how she would respond to it.

"My professor gave me my first D. Now my next assignment is due...in nine months. You know when you meet your new professor, and he ends up being the same man you had a one-night stand with three months ago? Okay, maybe not. Let me explain. I hadn’t intended to sleep with my professor. I might be known as the impulsive, prankster daughter in my family, but I’m not insane. I just wanted to have some fun in Ireland at my sister’s wedding, and maybe lose my virginity, too. When I met Lochlann Gallagher at a pub one night, I couldn’t resist him. He was hot, Irish, and entirely set on seducing me. One unforgettable night under the sheets with him, and my V-card went up in smoke. Well, that night had one itty bitty consequence because Lochlann totally made my eggo preggo. And if this story isn’t crazy enough, Lochlann is not just my baby daddy: he’s now my professor and my advisor for grad school. Somehow we have to figure out a way not to reveal this rapidly gestating secret while resisting the explosive attraction between us. Except there’s just one more complication to this story: I think I’m totally falling for my baby daddy. Oopsie daisy."

Cory and Reece were childhood friends and playfully called themselves “Curry and Rice” until the different values of their families pulled them in different directions. Until Quinn Malley turns up at the business faculty of their college and a twisted bet unites them once again in a common goal – Quinn. Quinn has been in love with her step-brother, Antonio, from a young age and he has taught her everything she knows about love, relationships and sex. Being a notorious Italian Mafioso he is controlling, demanding, possessive and abusive, grooming Quinn from her teen years to be obedient to his needs. It takes Quinn meeting the two young charismatic men still known playfully around campus as Curry and Rice and their scandalous bet to be the first to bed her to make Quinn realize that Antonio never had any intention to love her only to destroy her in revenge for her real father’s murder of Antonio’s mother. As Cory and Reese fall for the enigmatic Quinn and find out the full story of her abuse they will band together to gain her freedom regardless of what Cory’s Police Commissioner father and Reese’s Irish Mob father have to say about it and plan to steal her away from the young Mafia Don – Antonio Ferrante – together. Quinn finds herself caught between; Mafia and Mob Criminals and the Law And most importantly sandwiched between Curry and Rice in this Double ML Romance.

Fiona Callaghan is just a maid at the Kavanagh household. She thinks her future is set in stone, but things take a turn when she is pawned off to the mafia king of London in place of her boss’s daughter. She has to pretend to be someone she’s not to save her mother from a fate worse than death. Cillian Harrington is the feared king of London. He marries Fiona, thinking she’s someone she’s not, in an effort to get revenge for something that happened to his family. He plans to make her life a living hell. Feelings blossom when these two meet, and they have to fight the magnetic pull that constantly brings them together. Something so wrong suddenly feels so right. *** “I own you now. I will make sure you regret being born into the Kavanagh household. Your life as a coddled Irish mafia princess is gone. You’re my slave now. You will do as I say or I will make you wish you were dead.” I whimpered, wishing I were back in the Kavanagh household. Surely, it had to be better than being tied to a freaking monster. Either way, I must have lost my mind because the closer Cillian got to me, the more my whole body was set aflame. I must have been crazy to want a man who vowed to make my life miserable.

Maeve Sinclair learned the hard way that love can be the cruelest of prisons. After years of running from her traumatic past and the three men who never stopped loving her, she is kidnapped and wakes up tied up in a presidential suite on a luxurious cruise ship at sea. Her captors? The same ones she tried to forget: Zion Brooks — the famous singer with a seductive voice and explosive temper, who hides a dark side, part of the mafia underworld. Luka Rhodes — the brilliant music producer who hides a dangerous life in the Irish mafia alongside Declan Callahan. Elias Voss — the ex-military man and boxer, silent, lethal, and obsessively protective. Trapped together for seven nights in the middle of the Caribbean, the three are willing to do anything to break down the walls Maeve has built around her heart. They feed her, protect her, tease her… and tie her up when necessary. Because for them, Maeve had always belonged to them — from that unforgettable night on the beach, from the conception of Matthew, the eleven-year-old son she raised alone while hiding secrets capable of destroying them all. Between luxury, forbidden desire, and suffocating possessiveness, Maeve fights against her own body and against the unhealthy love she feels for them. But the more she resists, the closer the three get to truths she swore to take to the grave: the abuse from her father that still haunts her, the depression that almost destroyed her as a mother, and the paralyzing fear that her love is poison to everyone around her. On a cruise where there is no escape, Maeve discovers that the real prison was never the silk ropes… It was their love.

"Fuck.." I moan as my feverish skin makes me dizzy with lust. [Yes.] "Evet, Mila. You make me want to ravage you when I should be disgusted by the thought of even touching you." He mutters. "But I'm not. Instead, everything about you makes me mad with desire and I can not control it. God's, I tried to but I don't want to anymore." He removes his hand from the wall, wrapping his fingers around my jaw and he forces me to stare up at him. "You've already had a taste of me and one taste is all you get." I swallow loudly, throwing his words back at him. >>> When it comes to my prince charming, my life has been anything but a fairytale. The Esposito family robbed me of all I held dear to my heart. From the depths of my dignity to the depths of my son. I was living in continual terror; my body, as well as my trust and beliefs, were being exploited. Until one fateful day, I gained the strength to flee, dashing into an Irish bar and meeting a Turkish man. I stayed with him for the night before being compelled to return to the house of terrors. After being thrown down a flight of stairs 37 weeks later, I gave birth to my son. I knew who the father was the moment my son's gaze met mine, but I opted to keep it to myself. However, destiny had other plans for me, and I begged my son's biological father for protection as I fled the Italian mafia. We will work together to rescue our son and demolish their network, all while finding love along the way. My name is Mila Starkk, and this is my Screwed Up Love Story.

My name is Clara Kelly. I was born in Brooklyn, into an Irish-American cop’s family. My father spent his whole career walking a beat out of the 84th Precinct. My mother volunteered at the parish. I was the first girl on our block to get into Columbia Law. The year I graduated, I was volunteering at a charity gala. I picked up the wrong glass of wine and ended up dumping it down the front of a man’s Brioni suit. That man was Adrian Francesco Moretti. Fourth-generation Don of the Moretti Family of New York, and one of the five families of Cosa Nostra. He chased me for four years. I said no six times. The seventh time, he stood outside my law firm in the rain until three-fifteen in the morning. I married him. Two decades in, he’d handed me the keys to the entire Moretti Family. In our world they called me “the Irish Donna,” a woman with no Italian blood who somehow held the seat. Childless by choice, the two of us. Famously in love. Until that Wednesday afternoon, when my college roommate of twenty years, my best friend Vivian Sinclair, walked into my living room with a five-year-old boy. She said the boy was Adrian’s son. She said that five years ago, she’d taken a used condom out of the wastebasket in my upstairs master bedroom, kept it frozen for three years, and done IVF. She said she was the real mother of the Moretti heir. She was the real Donna Moretti. “Be smart. Pack your bags and walk out. You might even get to keep your life.” “You’re barren. The Moretti Family doesn’t need you.” I looked at the woman I’d called my best friend for half my adult life. I didn’t say a word. She thought she was holding the winning card. What she didn’t know was that she’d just stepped onto a board Adrian and I had been laying for twenty years. I needed exactly one sentence to shatter every piece of the Donna fantasy she’d spent five years building.