Mobster Novels & Stories

BOOK #1 MARINOS' MAYHEM SERIES "I said 'act like my boyfriend' for just five minutes, not 'act like my fucking husband' for the rest of your life!" Adrian Price half-yelled, his fingers curled into a tight fist as he glared at the terrifying, yet super gorgeous man in front of him. Giovanni Marino blinked slowly, taking his time to register every detail of Adrian's figure into his memory, not minding that he was disturbing his work at all. "I don't see a big difference between the two." "Oh, for fuck sake! You're a thug, but surely you're not dumb, are you? Do you not know when to stop?" Adrian scoffed, his anger growing thicker. "Sadly, I don't seem to know what 'stop' means. You made the idea of being someone's boyfriend sound so great now I don't think I wanna stop." Adrian Price knew asking a mobster to fake being his boyfriend would get a lot of unnecessary attention from lustful eyes off him, but what he never knew was that the man he had just picked was no different from the unwanted pests that lingered around him, wanting to have a taste of him. Giovanni Marino enjoyed clubbing as much as he enjoyed killing; however, despite this, he was extremely lonely. Now, the big bad man had found a toy he could play with, and he was having the best fun of his life. Would he ever stop and return to his lonely life? That, he wasn't sure he could do that. Not even when he realized Adrian was his enemy's son. He needed Adrian, either to break him or to make him.

Jasmine Vargas accepted Mark Morelli's proposal because he was a good man who she believed would make her always happy. But everything took a different turn when she crossed paths with Tristan Morelli once again. Tristan Augist de Morelli, Mark’s older brother, is a stark contrast to his brother. Tristan, Italy's wealthiest billionaire and the president of the Cassa di Morelli. She remembers him as a deceitful mobster who took her innocence and callously left her the following day. His arrival five years ago caused havoc in Jasmine's life. It was Tristan who leaked her identity to the 'Lopez', leading to her bestfriend being murdered. Now all Jasmine wants is to avoid meeting the man who has ruined her life because she knows Tristan wants to complete his unfinished mission of destroying her family's cartel. A true hedonist, Tristan Morelli is wrapped up in all the splendor of nature. Unlike Mark, Tristan is darker, colder, and more intoxicating. His confidence is powerful, and his undeniable charm and irresistible attraction make him a dangerous temptation. Jasmine finds herself grappling with his irresistible charm and the destructive cycle he drags her into. Every attempt to push him only strengthens his obsession. Her resistance seems to fuel his desire even more. Tristan's relentless nature awakens a deep darkness in Jasmine, a side of her she never knew was there. In the midst of struggling with her demons, Jasmine is determined not to let him be her ruin. Will she find the strength to break free from Tristan's grip, or will she give in to the darkness he brings into her life? Moreover, he’s the catalyst for all the chaos that destroyed her life five years ago. Will Jasmine once again lose herself and let Tristan wreak havoc on her life? 

Shortly after we said "I do," the Family sent my husband, Dario, down to the Mexican border. He told me it was a meat grinder down there—cartel territory. where guys were zipped into body bags every day. He said he had to go—to expand the territory, for the glory of the Family. He claimed it was too dangerous and that his enemies would paint a target on my back, so he wouldn't take me with him. I believed him. I stayed behind in his old, rot-infested house in New Jersey, taking care of his bitter, spiteful parents. I spent my days and nights in the Family's moldy laundromat, washing bills stained with blood. He told me he sent every dime he made down there to the widow of a brother who took a bullet for him. He asked me to be understanding. I never complained. Day after day, I pressed expensive suits in that humid laundromat, waiting for him to come home. It wasn't until the eighth year that a mobster came back drunk. When I asked about Dario, he froze, then sneered at me through a haze of alcohol. "Dario? Are you kidding? He’s been a King in Manhattan for years. He’s the youngest Underboss of the Corleone family." I stood frozen, the iron in my hand burning a hole right through a shirt. "And he got married seven years ago. Biggest cathedral in New Jersey. Half the mob was there to toast the groom..." He pulled a crumpled photo from his leather jacket. Snuggled up against my husband was a woman in a high-end couture gown—the very same "poor, widowed sister-in-law" he had told me about. The next day, I contacted a fixer who specialized in fake IDs. On the application for a one-way ticket to Europe—a ticket to vanish off the face of the earth—I filled in the fake name I had prepared long ago. He trapped me for seven years with a sham marriage. From now on, I’d be done with this damn loyalty.