Steamy Mafia Romance Books Novels & Stories

I admitted, pulling her phone out and placing it in the centre of the table. “I was once told that men like you always have a reason for doing these... torturing people. So, help me understand. What did he do to make you hurt him so brutally?” I regarded her while she waited for an answer, her eyes wandering around the cafe but not meeting mine for a single second. Maybe the thought of Leona had driven me toward her, but Abigail was nothing like that traitor. “That man was of the Bratva. They are—” “Russian Mafia.” She gave a half-shrug. “I know. They’re very notorious, from what I’ve read.”

As Halloway always said “In order to be a good agent, you’ve got to be able to think like a crook and anyone that knew the Mafia families well enough also knew that they had to commit a crime to cover up an organized crime which most times would lead to a slip up. Although it was going to be really hard, Charlie knew that she just had to be a little patient because when that slip happened, she would be waiting to get it and hopefully unravel the deep dirty secrets of the mafia. Then New York would be a safer place and these dark times would be over. She looked up from the pile of paperwork on her desk which she was trying to get through ,yawning because she was beginning to feel a little sle

And that's all that mattered even if she was cursing me. . ____ A. Gupta Check out my completed books: Mafia Romance with dark, DARK Heroes: Bride to Be, CAGED, Twisted Marriage!! And another sweet, angsty, steamy book duo: His Broken Princess and His Steel Princess!!

* My mind floods with filthy images of Damien above me in bed, growling low in my ear as he pounds into me, his dick swelling, teeth grazing my neck, claiming me as his Omega while I scream his name and beg for mercy. I’m so turned on I can barely stand. My thighs are slippery. My clit is throbbing. I’m seconds away from excusing myself to the bathroom just so I can rub one out. Mia grins and grabs my arm. “Come on, let’s get you a drink before you melt. You look like you need one.” As she pulls me toward the bar, I feel Damien’s heavy gaze on my body fighting for control. This cruise hasn’t even properly started yet, and I’m already drowning in lust.

Would their relationship turns out to be lust or bloody? Find out, rated 18+ " If you are interested in a hot steamy mafia book then this for you". it's already out in goodnovel app so do check it out. thank you

Or will loving Damian Vercetti cost her the last piece of herself she has left? *************** AUTHOR'S NOTE Hey, reader. Let’s get one thing straight this is not your sweet, safe mafia romance. This story is dark. Twisted. Obsessive. There are moments that will make you pause, ache, maybe even rage. Damian Vercetti is not your redemption arc. He’s power without apology. Possession without permission. And Isabella? She’s not the damsel she’s the storm trying to survive the fire. If you’re here for roses and candlelight, this isn’t your book.

They say if you keep dancing with the devil you’ll get burned. There was only one way that this shit would end. They always say that the only outcomes of being in the game are winding up dead, or going to jail. Would I really get my own happily ever after, being the bastard that I was? With all of the people I hurt, all the bodies I’d made drop, all of the lives I’d destroyed? My name is Louis… And this is my story. Growing up in Birmingham, being forced and groomed into the mafia under the influence of my stepfather.

I didn't want to see that. "Make that the last fucking time or I'll string you back up like shark meat, ca-peash cabrón" Lucien snarled. They are winding each other's wheels up with this cabrón calling. "Mi amor, la princesa de la mafia.- she is an angel and deserves to be called it at any chance given" Carlos went on. "Have you two had enough yet" I cut in with annoyance. They both fell silent. Their eyes glued to each other asif silently carrying on their drama between themselves.

a deep voice commands. I turn. He walks in like he owns the place. Broad shoulders under a tailored black suit, dark eyes that slice through the chaos. His presence is heavier than the gunfire. Dante Morreti. I know that name. Whispers. Mafia. Blood. Power. The devil of New York. His gaze pins me in place. My chest tightens, breath shallow. “She’s the bride?” he asks, almost amused. “Yes, Boss,” one of his men answers. “Pretty little thing,” Dante murmurs, eyes raking me head to toe. “Shame she belongs to a coward.”

And the secrets Adrian left behind were punishable. “Tatiana, let’s go,” Sasha repeated. Another shuddering breath filled my lungs. Black suits slowly drifted away, taking their black hearts with them. The sea of underworld men came to pay respects. Russian. Italian. American. Canadian. Colombian. A sea of black, which I’d always been a part of. No matter how much my brothers sheltered me. My eyes flickered to my brother, seeing him through the fog of grief. It felt like I wasn’t really here. But then I was.