And a mouth so dirty he could make the devil blush…
Fix Marcosa’s time can be bought with money, but he isn’t selling sex. Murderers, rapists, criminals: if you’re on the wrong side of Fix’s moral code, you’re in trouble. The kind of trouble that winds up getting you killed. As a hitman for hire, Fix is no stranger to violence. He’s merciless. Relentless. A true savage, down to the roots of his very soul. You can beg. You can plead. You can pray, but it won’t do you any good. Once the tall, dark stranger arrives at your doorstep, it’s already too late to repent.
Sera Lafferty’s no stranger to heartbreak. With an abusive father and a dependant sister, her life has been one of sacrifice and compromise. As soon as she sets eyes on Felix ‘Fix’ Marcosa, she recognizes the darkness in him and makes a vow: she will not get involved. But trapped inside a motel room with the sexiest man to ever walk the earth? Throw in some tequila and the storm to end all storms, and Sera finds herself worshipping at the altar of Marcosa.
She knows she made a mistake.
She knows she needs to run.
But when she witnesses the assassin at work first hand, she knows it’s far too late. Thrown into the back of his sleek black ride, Sera finds herself trapped, and in more way than one. Fix is deadly. He’s demanding, he’s dirty, and he’s determined to claim her for his own.
About the Author
Callie Hart is a USA Today bestselling author of dark romance novels. She is an obsessive romantic who loves throwing a dark twist into her stories. Her characters are imperfect, flawed individuals who dictate when she eats, sleeps and breathes. She loves to travel, and often pens her books when she’s on the road, drawing inspiration from her often unique and wild surroundings.
If she’s not writing, you’ll undoubtedly find her with her nose buried deep in a book, or binge watching Game of Thrones.
Law student Beth Dreymon is out of money and struggling hard. If she wants to finish her degree, she’s going to have to earn some money and fast. When she learns of an exciting opportunity—playing chess with New York’s most elusive billionaire—the offer sounds too good to be true. Reassured the offer is legit, Beth gets her game face on and prepares to geek out…
Only, when she steps foot into Raphael North’s luxurious penthouse, the rulebook goes flying out of the floor-to-ceiling windows. North is beautiful and damaged—a terrible temptation—and he has his sights set on winning Beth over. He’s just a job, though. A job Beth needs in order to make ends meet. If she plans on making her life in New York work, she needs to keep her eye on the prize. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, however, and it isn’t long before Beth finds herself entangled in Raphael’s world of dark desire.
Captor.
Curator.
Lover.
Enigma.
Beth should run from the devastatingly attractive blue-eyed devil, but Mr North has other ideas…and he’s about to make his next move.
EXCERPT
Raphael North stands on the other side of the abnormally thick glass. He’s dressed in a plain dark blue t-shirt, and a pair of washed out blue jeans. His feet are completely bare. His hair is even darker than it was in his picture, if that’s at all possible. Almost curly, too. It’s then that I realize it’s wet—he must have just gotten out of the shower. There are small dark patches on his t-shirt where water has obviously soaked through the material.
He turns those startling vivid green eyes on me and I’m breathless all over again. It feels like I’m tumbling over some steep cliff face, a weightless sensation turning my stomach over as I fall. Inside, I’m back to wanting to flee the building. Externally, I’m praying to deities of faiths and religions all over the world that I don’t look like I’m about to slump in an unconscious mess on the floor right in front of him. My top lip begins to twitch—something that only happens when I’m really, really anxious. Without thinking, I press my fingertips to my mouth, as if I can put a halt to the twitching by touch alone. A strange look passes over Raphael’s face. A slight movement at the corner of his mouth. I can’t decide if it’s displeasure or amusement. Either way, the reaction is fleeting, barely noticeable at all, and then his face is a blank mask again. He places his hand on a curved silver handle on the other side of the door, and then pulls it toward him, opening it. There are no barriers now. Nothing standing between myself and a man whispered and gossiped about by an entire city. Screw that, an entire nation. I’m in an enviable position right now, but I’d gladly thank the universe if the ground opened up and swallowed me whole.
The first words Raphael North speaks to me will haunt me until the day I die. He angles his head ever so slightly to one side, then says, “Your toenail polish is chipped, Ms. Dreymon.”
Lord have mercy. His voice is deep but soft. It has no hard edges, but at the same time his tone is overflowing with self-confidence and command.
“I’m sorry, I…wasn’t aware of your no-shoe policy.”
About the Author
Callie Hart is a USA Today bestselling author of dark romance novels. She is an obsessive romantic who loves throwing a dark twist into her stories. Her characters are imperfect, flawed individuals who dictate when she eats, sleeps and breathes. She loves to travel, and often pens her books when she’s on the road, drawing inspiration from her often unique and wild surroundings.
If she’s not writing, you’ll undoubtedly find her with her nose buried deep in a book, or binge watching Game of Thrones.
MY SWEET VILLAINTINE – A VALENTINE’S COLLECTION OF DELICIOUS DARKNESS Happy f*cking Valentine’s Day. That’s what your favorite sexy-as-sin villain would say to you, right?
And he’d probably say it with one hand around your throat and your dress bunched around your hips. It’s doubtful that he’ll buy you flowers. He definitely won’t serenade you. But there’s a good chance he’ll tie you up and spank you if you ask nicely. And the only jewelry you’ll be getting? Is a pretty pearl necklace.
Unless you count the rope bracelets he threads around your wrists when he straps you down and f*cks you until you forget your own name. Leave the chocolates and the jewelry to the good guys. It’s time to go dark side this Valentine’s Day. ****** My Sweet Villaintine – a collection of dark tales from some of your favorite dark romance authors… Skye Warren T.M. Frazier Callie Hart Lili St. Germain Shari Slade
ROOKE Bleeding Hearts Book CLub Novel By CALLIE HART
Release date: Feb 21
Standalone
Full length Novel with complete ending.
At this point, there will not be a preorder for this book, however that could change.
I will keep you guys informed.
Blurb
Watchmaker. Car thief. Heartbreaker extraordinaire.
Rooke Blackheath has spent enough time in juvie to know that he really doesn’t want to go to jail. The food sucks, the clothes itch, and there are absolutely no women in sight. Well…none he wants to fuck, anyway.
He should probably stop boosting cars, but the money is stellar and the high is out of this world. And why should he turn his back on something that sets his soul on fire anyway?
The answer to that question comes in an unexpected form: a petite five-foot-three firecracker named Sorcha, who refuses to give him the time of day no matter how thick he lays on the charm.
Rooke’s not easily deterred, though. Just like the watches he builds from scratch, Rooke knows all too well how women tick. Women are a game to him. A game he always wins.
Sorcha doesn’t stand a chance.
***
Sorcha Connor’s life has been permanently derailed since her son died five years ago. You wouldn’t know it to look at her, of course. She has a great job, a beautiful house, and caring friends. Every week, she hosts a book club featuring the sexiest, most romantic stories on the planet, and every week she falls for a new fictional knight in shining armor.
Fictional men are perfect, though. They don’t hurt you. They don’t break your heart. They don’t cheat on you after your child dies, and they rarely ever leave the toilet seat up.
When Rooke Blackheath shows up at Sorcha’s workplace, it’s clear he’s nothing like the men who grace the pages of Sorcha’s favorite books. Dangerous, arrogant, sharp-tongued and sarcastic, Rooke’s not the kind of guy she needs in her life. Not to mention the fact that he’s eleven years her junior.
They don’t live in different worlds. As far as Sorcha is concerned, Rooke lives in a different galaxy altogether. She’d like to keep it that way, but fate appears to have other plans.
When Cinderella lost her shoe, Prince Charming showed up at her door.
When Sorcha Connor loses her book, an entirely different kind of rogue comes a-knocking
Ophelia Lang needs money, and she needs it bad. Her parent’s restaurant is going under, and ever since she lost her job teaching third grade elementary, scraping enough cash together to pay the bills has proven almost impossible. Her parents are on the brink of losing their home. The vultures are circling overhead. So when Ophelia is offered an interview for a well-paid private tutoring gig in New York, how can she possibly say no?
Ronan Fletcher is far from the overweight, balding businessman Ophelia expected him to be. He’s young, handsome, and wealthy beyond all reason. He’s also perhaps the coldest, rudest person she’s ever met, and has a mean streak in him a mile and a half wide. A hundred grand is a lot of money, however, and if tolerating his frosty temperament, his erratic mood swings and whatever else he throws at her means she’ll get paid, then that is what Ophelia will do.
Her new boss is keeping secrets, though. Awful, terrible secrets.
The ghosts of Ronan Fletcher’s past are about to turn Ophelia’s future upside down, and she can’t even see it coming.
Note: Between Here and The Horizon is a brand new standalone contemporary romance novel from USA Today bestselling author, Callie Hart. Between Here and the Horizon does contain some scenes of violence and sexual content, and so is directed at audience 18+.
Excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
AFGHANISTAN
2009
“Get back, Fletcher! Get back! The tank’s gonna blow!”
I was running. Behind me, seven miles of desert stretched out toward Kabul city, glowing in places where burned out military trucks were being devoured by fire. Twisted metal rained down from the sky, on fire and sharper than a razor’s edge, impacting in the dirt. Thud. Thud, thud.Thud. Shrapnel whistled through the air, striking the ground a few feet away from me as I weaved my way through the wreckage. Smoke was biting at my lungs, acrid and burning, making it hard to breath.
“Fletcher! What the fuck, man!”
Behind me, Specialist Crowe was losing his mind. Alternating between shouting into his radio and shouting at me, he couldn’t seem to decide which course of action to take. I’d ordered him to follow, but I could understand why he hadn’t. The situation was more than unsafe; charging headlong into the fire and destruction was a suicide mission, and I knew it. I also knew that my men were trapped inside the upturned vehicle still a hundred feet ahead of me, however, and I knew the truck was going to blow any second. They were going to burn to death if I didn’t help them. I wasn’t going to abandon them to that fate.
“Captain! God, man, stop!”
My heart was surging, my veins overflowing with adrenalin. My boots hit the dirt, left, right, left, right, left, right, my fists pumping back and forth as I sprinted toward the truck that was laying on its roof up ahead. Through the fractured windshield, I could see Hellaman and Wicks still strapped into the front seats of the vehicle, upside down and unmoving. They were either unconscious or dead. Hopefully they were just out for the count, but there was a lot of blood splattered on the inside of the glass. A lot of blood.
Black smoke curled upward from the underside of the truck, and I could already hear the hissing sound of fuel burning and sizzling somewhere. Groaning. I could hear groaning, too.
I reached the truck just as something inside the engine caught fire, and Hellaman came to. His eyes were wide with pain and fear as I dropped down onto my belly next to the driver’s side window, which was smashed out, small cubes of safety glass scattered into the dirt.
“Captain? Captain Fletcher. Shit, I can’t breathe. I can’t…breathe.” His face was deathly pale, and his hands shook violently as he tried to claw at the seatbelt that was digging into his chest.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, Private. We’re gonna get you out of there, okay? Just hold on a moment.” My bowie knife was in my hand. I took it and made quick work of slashing through the webbing holding Hellaman in place. There was nothing I could do to cushion his fall. Slamming into the roof of the truck, Hellaman groaned weakly, and then passed out again, either from pain or from the shock, I didn’t know. I stowed my blade and grabbed him by the shoulders, then wrestled him free through the window. His face was cut; his arms were striped with blood and running rivers of crimson out onto the ground. No time to be gentle, though. No time to be safe. I hooked my hands under his arms and I quickly jogged backwards, dragging him away from the wreckage. Twenty feet was enough.
I ran back to the truck. Flames were visibly licking at the underside of the vehicle now, snaking upward toward the night sky. Wick was still out cold. I ran around to the back of the truck and tried to force the loading doors open, but they were jammed closed, bent and warped, refusing to budge.
“Shit.”
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
There was someone alive inside. Running out of time. Almost no time left. I positioned myself by the truck’s rear right window, thanking god the thing was already splintered. The bulletproof windows on military trucks were no joke. You could take a semi automatic to them and it would take longer than I had to smash them. The impact of rolling three times had obviously been enough to compromise the glass, though.
“Shield your faces,” I hollered. “Glass, glass, glass!” Bracing, I spun around and smashed the sole of my boot against the window as hard as I possibly could. The glass groaned, fracturing some more, but it didn’t shatter. I kicked again, and again, and again. Finally, the window exploded in a shower of bright shards, giving in under the force of my boot.
“Captain, there’s fuel in here,” someone inside yelled. “Get back!”
I ducked down and lay flat on my stomach again, crawling in through the now empty window frame. Inside the truck, gasoline hung heavy in the air, burning my nostrils and my eyes. Next to me, Roberts was dead, his head twisted at an odd angle, eyes staring, unseeing into the abyss.
On the other side of the truck Private Coleridge, Sam, a nineteen-year-old kid from Houston, was lying on his back on the roof, holding his rifle in both hands, his body convulsing wildly. His eyes swivelled to look at me, but his head remained locked in position, his teeth grinding together.
“What…what happened, Capt’n?” he asked. “We were drivin’ along, and then…everything was…spinning.”
“IED,” I told him. “Desert’s full of them. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
“I can’t…move. I can’t feel…anything.”
He wasn’t paralyzed. If he were, he wouldn’t be shaking the way he was right now. He was just in shock. A sharp slap to the face would probably go a long way to getting him moving, but there simply wasn’t time for that kind of motivation. Grabbing him by the webbing stitched onto the strap of his pack, which was still on his back, I hauled him to me and then backed out through the window as quickly as I could. The fire was raging now. I dragged Sam back to where I’d left Hellaman and was about to run back to the truck when a loud metallic crack split the air apart, and then a ball of fire rocked the truck, a wall of heat and pressure slamming into my body, sending me reeling back into the dirt.
“Oscar!” Sam yelled. “Oscar’s still alive in there!”
“Fuck.” I was up on my feet and running. The heat was intense—so intense that I had to shield my face as I grew closer to the wreck. The fire had consumed the underside of the truck, the tires blazing, the gas roaring as the fuel line was engulfed. And I could hear screaming. The kind of blood curdling, awful screaming of a man being burned alive.
My radio headset crackled with static, and then Colonel Whitlock’s voice barked out through the speaker. “Fletcher, do not go back inside that vehicle. Do you hear me? Do not go back inside that vehicle.”
Disobeying a direct order from a colonel was an offence worthy of court marshal. I ripped my headset from my ears and threw it to the ground, ignoring it. Ignoring the consequences. Another blood curdling scream reached me, and that was it. I was on my stomach, crawling into the mouth of hell.
My side pressed up against the frame of the window, and pain tore at me, sinking its teeth into my skin. Heat. The heat was overwhelming, so fierce and violent that there was no oxygen inside the truck. Only smoke and confusion. Only death.
“Oscar!” I called out, reaching with both hands, trying to find him. “Where are you, man?” The truck was only a six-guy transport, but the billowing, rolling clouds of black smoke hid everything. I went by touch until I heard him cry out again, weaker this time, voice riddled with agony. He was at the very rear of the truck. A few seconds was all I had. Any longer and I would either suffocate or burn up myself. My head was pounding, my lungs begging for clean air, and I could feel myself start to drift.
The journey to the back of the truck took an eternity. One hand over the other, I pulled myself around an upturned transport box, and jammed my body in between the narrow gap at the right hand side of the vehicle, reaching out, groping, searching, until I found what I was looking for. A leg. A foot, to be precise. I grabbed hold of it and pulled. An agonised yell filled the truck.
“Ahh, my leg. My leg. It’s fucked!”
“I know. I’m sorry, man. I can’t get you any other way.” I gritted my teeth, and I pulled. In any other situation it would have been a crime that I was handling an injured man this way. The clock was running down, though, and if causing more pain, causing even more damage meant the difference between one of my guys being injured or being dead, then I was going to do what I had to do.
I somehow managed to maneuverer myself so that I was over Oscar—I couldn’t even see his face, the smoke was so thick—and then I started shoving. Six hard pushes and I managed to drive him through the gap in the window frame, out onto the desert floor. His body was ripped away, pulled free by someone else, and then he was gone. I was almost too tired to heave myself free, but I scrounged up my last scrap of energy and I crawled forward, determined to make it out before the entire vehicle was enveloped. Halfway out, my fingers clawing in the dirt, my body lit up with pain. Indescribable. Unbearable. A pain so sharp and breathtaking that I couldn’t even cry out. It felt like something was ripping my body in two. I spun around and looked up to see a burning line of fuel pouring down on me, hitting my side, burning into me. I was on fire.
I kicked and jerked myself out of the truck, ripping at my jacket. Tearing at the material, trying to get it off. The fabric seemed to come away in my hands, and then I was shirtless in the cold, cold desert, rolling on the ground, trying to put the flames out.
The world went black. Someone threw something over me, and then hands were beating at my body, slapping and trying to roll me. A strangled gasp worked its way out of my mouth, but that’s all I could manage. The flames were out. The thick, heavy material that had been thrown over me was pulled back, and Crowe stood over me, face covered in soot and grease, eyes the size of dollar coins. I could barely see him properly. Barely hear the words coming out of his mouth.
Colonel Whitlock appeared next to him, and then the sky was filled with the beating thump of helicopter blades. They spoke for a second, and the thundering drum of the helo overhead dipped long enough for me to make out what Crowe said to Whitlock.
“He didn’t stop, sir. He didn’t stop until they were all out.”
Whitlock scowled. “I can see that, Specialist. He disobeyed a direct order in doing so, too.”
“He’ll be reprimanded?” Crowe asked. He was speaking as if I was no longer present; both of them were.
“No,” Whitlock said sternly. “Ironically, I think Captain Fletcher’s more likely to be honored than punished in this particular instance. Now get him on the chopper before I change my mind. The crazy bastard’s bleeding everywhere.”
Calliehas experienced many changes throughout her life, and gone through many ups and downs that have all worked towards shaping and moulding her into the person she is today: fun loving, active, social, and hard working. The only thing that has remained a constant throughout her life is writing. Creating characters who will tear your conscience in two is a favorite pastime of Callie’s. There are few real saints and sinners in her books; more often, the denizens of her stories are all very human. Broken, flawed, and always with the potential for redemption.
Despite the subject matter being markedly hot and heavy in comparison to the stories she wrote in elementary school, there will always be an element of fairytale to her work.
Callie Hart is the author of the Blood & Roses Series. Zeth & Sloane’s story is now complete, but there are a number of stories still to be released under the Blood & Roses banner. 2015 will see Cade, Michael and Rebel’s stories being released, as well as a number of brand new stories, all of which will be Dark Romance novels.
If you would like to contact Callie, you can do so here.
If you would like to sign up to Callie’s newsletter for info on upcoming releases, exclusive teasers, excerpts and competitions, you can do so here.
Port Royal, South Carolina, was my home. I was born there. I fell in love there. And I nearly died there. I never thought I’d go back. Now, after so many years, I have to return to bury the man who made my life a living hell. Some nights, I used to cry myself to sleep, praying my father would die. Other nights were different. Other nights, there was him.
Callan Cross.
My first confidante. My first kiss. My first love. My first everything: Callan was the glue that held me together when everything else was falling apart. He was my savior. He was there for me whenever I needed him…
Until he wasn’t.
Every night, I’ve seen the love of my life in my sleep.
Callie has experienced many changes throughout her life, and gone through many ups and downs that have all worked towards shaping and moulding her into the person she is today: fun loving, active, social, and hard working. The only thing that has remained a constant throughout her life is writing. Creating characters who will tear your conscience in two is a favorite pastime of Callie’s. There are few real saints and sinners in her books; more often, the denizens of her stories are all very human. Broken, flawed, and always with the potential for redemption.
Despite the subject matter being markedly hot and heavy in comparison to the stories she wrote in elementary school, there will always be an element of fairytale to her work.
Callie Hart is the author of the Blood & Roses Series. Zeth & Sloane’s story is now complete, but there are a number of stories still to be released under the Blood & Roses banner. 2015 will see Cade, Michael and Rebel’s stories being released, as well as a number of brand new stories, all of which will be Dark Romance novels.
If you would like to contact Callie, you can do so here.
If you would like to sign up to Callie’s newsletter for info on upcoming releases, exclusive teasers, excerpts and competitions, you can do so here.
Port Royal, South Carolina, was my home. I was born there. I fell in love there. And I nearly died there. I never thought I’d go back. Now, after so many years, I have to return to bury the man who made my life a living hell. Some nights, I used to cry myself to sleep, praying my father would die. Other nights were different. Other nights, there was him.
Callan Cross.
My first confidante. My first kiss. My first love. My first everything: Callan was the glue that held me together when everything else was falling apart. He was my savior. He was there for me whenever I needed him…
Until he wasn’t.
Every night, I’ve seen the love of my life in my sleep.
I just never thought I’d have to face him again.
Callan
Twelve years ago, I f*#@ed up big time.
Living life through a camera lens is sometimes easier than dealing with it head on. Scratch that. It’s always easier. For over a decade, I’ve been a master of my art, taking photographs all over the world. Yet despite all of the countries I’ve visited, the amazing things I’ve seen, the beautiful women I’ve screwed, my heart has remained in pieces.
Coralie’s the only woman I’ve ever loved, will ever love. And I’m determined to show her that we’re meant to be together. Even if it means unearthing the bones of the past in the process.
A lifetime and a thousand miles have stood between us.
Now, there’s no length of time I won’t wait, no distance I won’t travel, in order to make her mine.
Callie Hartis an obsessive romantic who loves throwing a dark twist into her stories. Her characters are imperfect, flawed individuals who dictate when she eats, sleeps and breathes. Callie’s Internationally Bestselling Blood & Roses series has garnered well over 1000 5 star reviews.
When people get too close to me, they wind up dead. Blood. Bullet holes. Stab wounds. I’ve kept my identity secret to protect the ones I love, but now the most dangerous man in my world knows exactly who I am… And he’s coming for me.
Hector Ramirez has brought war to my doorstep, but he won’t win.
Callie Hartis an obsessive romantic who loves throwing a dark twist into her stories. Her characters are imperfect, flawed individuals who dictate when she eats, sleeps and breathes. Callie’s USA TODAY Bestselling Blood & Roses series has garnered well over 1000 5 star reviews worldwide.
*From International Bestselling authors Callie Hart and Lili St. Germain comes a tale of two families co-existing in a melting pot of violence, murder and drugs in the seedy underbelly of New York City*
Hell’s Kitchen
Theo and Sal Barbieri are brothers, tasked by their Mafioso father Roberto with a very clear purpose: kidnap Kaitlin McLaughlin. The beautiful daughter of Roberto’s Irish enemy. It’s high time Kaitlin was punished for her father’s sins—not to mention, her own.
And Operation: Kidnap Kaitlin is a roaring success… until it isn’t. When Kaitlin escapes into the busy streets of New York City, it’s a race against the clock to find her before Sal and Theo become the hunted.
Zeth Mayfair has traded his life as a hitman for a quieter existence, but it isn’t long before the past catches up with him in the form of Roberto Barbieri. Will he succumb to the lure of power that Roberto is offering? Or will he retaliate by killing every last Barbieri in New York to get them off his back?
Jason Ross is running. Woken in the night by a tip that the Gypsy Brothers are coming for him, he packs a bag and gets his girlfriend the hell out of dodge. Arriving in New York City in the midst of a heatwave is one thing, but being tailed by an entire drug cartel is another.
Worlds collide in Hell’s Kitchen as secrets come to light and sins are punished. Because we might be different in the light of day, but in the darkness, we’re all connected somehow.
Hell’s Kitchen is a serial comprising three volumes: Hell’s Kitchen, Tribeca and Bleecker Street.
Volume One was released on March 3rd
Meet some of the players…
Excerpt #1
“What time they due to land?” Sal asks. He loops a tie, pre-knotted and ready to go, over his head. “Twenty minutes.” With traffic the way it is, we’ll be there in ten.
Sal tightens the tie around his neck, placing the ridiculous fucking chauffeur’s hat on his head. He tucks his hair back behind his ears. He needs to cut it, but will the bastard listen? Hell, no. He never listens to a word I say. “Are you ready?” he asks.
I take my eyes off the road, arching an eyebrow at him. Who the hell does he think he’s talking to? I’ve been doing this job longer than him, after all. I’ve never blinked. Never not been ready. He gets the point pretty damn quickly.
“All right, man, I’m sorry.”
When we arrive at the airfield, we’re directed to hangar twelve, no questions asked. Paddy McLaughlin’s own men would have arrived around now—if we hadn’t already beaten the shit out of them and handcuffed them to a pillar inside an old cardboard factory down on the wharf—so we’re expected. Kaitlin McLaughlin’s plane is delayed. I’m already bored and itching to go by the time the private jet touches down. Sal climbs out of the car and leans against the front passenger door, waiting for the prissy Irish princess and her entourage to exit the plane. When she does, we’re in luck.
Normally, Paddy doesn’t send his little girl anywhere without two personal bodyguards. Today, she’s only accompanied by one. Sal taps the hood of the car as he goes out to take her bags. I have the engine purring in anticipation as he opens the back passenger side door for her and she climbs inside.
Huge sunglasses cover her eyes. That full mouth of hers is perfectly visible in the rearview, though. “Where the fuck is Ray?” she asks. Her father may be first generation Irish, but Kaitlin was born and raised in the States—she sounds like a spoiled little Yank bitch.
“Mr. McLaughlin needed him for something else. He sent us instead.” She slides the sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, peering at me over the car’s half-raised privacy screen. “And who are you?” I give her a tight-lipped smile, doing my best to keep my tongue in my head. We need the bodyguard to get in the car, and then we’re golden. Until then, I’m Jerry, the friendly town car driver. “Jerry. My buddy there, that’s Gareth. We’re new.”
“I can see that.” She makes a low, humming sound at the back of her throat. She sounds like she approves. Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t touch crazy pussy. But I will introduce you to my old man, all the same. He just can’t wait to fucking meet you.
The door behind me opens and I feel the car dip as someone gets in—I didn’t notice before, but the lone bodyguard with Kaitlin is a woman. Must be the chick Roberto was talking about. I get a good look at her in the rearview and find myself taking a second one for good measure. She’s blisteringly hot. Maybe in her mid-twenties? Long dark hair, tied back into a braid. High cheekbones. A mouth to rival Kaitlin’s. Her tits strain against her tight black shirt as she twists to put on her seatbelt. You can tell she works out; her clothes fit her far too well for her not to know she looks good in them, too.
Just like Kaitlin, she asks, “Where’s Ray?”
“Busy doing something for Daddy,” Kaitlin informs her, which saves me from spinning the lie again. “Okay. Straight to the bar, then.” The body guard’s head doesn’t even lift, but she’s a professional. She assesses me in the mirror just as I’ve assessed her. I pretend not to notice as Sal folds himself into the passenger seat.
“Of course.” I press the button for the privacy screen, raising it the rest of the way, blocking out all sound from the back of the car. Sal turns and gives me one of his wicked, crazy-ass grins. He’s enjoying this already. “All right, then, big brother. Let’s do this.” He leans forward and hits a button on the dash—and every single door on the town car automatically locks. “No backing out now.”
I burn out of the hangar to the sounds of muffled thuds from the back of the car. The bodyguard’s not stupid. She’s heard the doors locking and knows something isn’t right. “Motherfucker! Open this up right now!”
Normally there’s an intercom in these cars, but this one’s different. Sal and I smashed the shit out of this car’s intercom with two lump hammers and ripped out the wiring. We also lined the roof with lead. The girls in the back aren’t striking up a conversation with us any time soon. And they aren’t making any phone calls to dear old Papa McLaughlin, either.
As I head back toward the city, the shouting from the back gets louder. It’s accompanied by the dull thudding of feet trying to smash out the privacy screen. Sal raps his knuckles against the glass, grinning again. “Bitch sounds crazy back there. I don’t think she likes the modifications we’ve made.” I allow myself a small smile as we hit the George Washington Bridge, heading back toward North Manhattan. So far Operation: Kidnap Kaitlin has been a roaring success. Sal pulls out his cell and starts tapping into it with quick fingers. “Telling the old man we’re on our way?”
He nods. “Bastard better give us credit where credit’s due. He’s probably still organising his own fucking birthday party. Meanwhile, we have just successfully taken our mark hostage. We’re on the homeward stretch.”
The fucking homeward stretch.
The thing about saying you’re on the homeward stretch is that often it’s like waving a red flag at a bull. Fate must hear that phrase and decide to fuck over the poor schmuck who was dumb enough to utter it every single fucking time. It’s only seconds after Sal’s parted with those words that the electric window behind me—the bodyguard’s side window—shatters. We knew the bodyguard would be armed, but we didn’t expect anyone to be shooting out the damn side windows. An eruption of fragmented diamonds explodes sideways, spraying a bright yellow smart car with a million shards of glass. The sound of the firing gun is almost deafening.
“What the fuck?”
The smart car veers sideways, smashing into us; I press my foot to the floor, grinding my teeth at the sound of screeching metal and more hammering from the back as I swerve through the traffic. Sal twists in his seat, pulling his gun and pressing it to the glass of the privacy screen. His finger’s on the trigger. “She’s going fucking crazy. I’m gonna shoot the bitch.”
Excerpt #2
“When he lunges for me, I’m ready. I deflect the hand he was going to grab me with, slapping it downward, and then I grab onto his wrist, pulling him off balance. He seesaws forward but then rips his wrist out of my hand. I don’t expect him to turn his slight fumble to his own advantage, but he does. Dropping to the floor, he rolls and kicks out, landing a solid strike to my leg. I have less than a second to brace myself before I’m hitting the concrete. Then he’s on top of me. “Oh, this is fun, sweetheart. But I don’t really have time to be playing games with you right now.” He’s reaching for my arms, about to pin me to the ground, but I jab, landing a solid hit with my extended fingertips right in the base of his throat, in his windpipe. He chokes, his body falling sideways, and then I’m on top of him. Through watering eyes and a clearly sore throat, the guy grins up at me, shaking his head. “Well, if you wanna fuck me, I guess I could make some time.” Thrusting upward, he tries to unseat me, but I know this is what’s coming and I’m ready again. I compensate, leaning forward, pressing my gun into the guy’s neck. “Who are you?” His body goes still, his hands lifting so they’re palm up in front of him. “You know who I am, sweetheart. I’m the enemy.” “My boss has quite a few enemy camps. Which one do you belong to?” “The biggest one,” the guy says, smiling. “The Italian one.” “So you work for Barbieri?” “I am a Barbieri.” Lightning fast, he snaps his hand out and clamps it around my throat. The move catches me off guard, has me panicking for the first time. My gun is gone, then, knocked to the ground, skittering away across the blacktop. The guy’s hand tightens around the column of my neck, threatening to squeeze even harder. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Feeling a little lightheaded?”
BLP REVIEW ~ Rebecca
What a Rush!
Fast paced, dirty, hot, and damn fucking good, if this were a film it would be a Quentin Tarantino, Reservoir Dogs crossed with Pulp Fiction. The pairing of Callie Hart and Lili St. Germain is pure genius as the result is sharp dialogue, graphic violence and intricate plotlines all creating a totally addictive fascinating book with a passionate steamy undercurrent. This is a rollercoaster of a ride with impressive world building that captures mob life perfectly. It’s a complex story almost as if different books were written but then all muddled up and put together as one, hence my Tarantino reference and it works. Perfectly. The writing, the mood, the setting, and the characters it’s all just perfect. Smart, creative, downright violent at times, done with such wit and humour that the pace and flow never stops making it an addictive captivating read.
Hell’s Kitchen is a serial comprising three volumes: Hell’s Kitchen, Tribeca and Bleecker Street. This first instalment is a setting of the scene, an introduction to the players and enough of a taste for both that you will be begging for the next part. The cast is large, complicated and connected.
Theo and Sal Barbieri are brothers, tasked by their Mafioso father Roberto with a very clear purpose: kidnap Kaitlin McLaughlin. The beautiful daughter of Roberto’s Irish enemy. It’s high time Kaitlin was punished for her father’s sins—not to mention, her own.
And Operation: Kidnap Kaitlin is a roaring success… until it isn’t. When Kaitlin escapes into the busy streets of New York City, it’s a race against the clock to find her before Sal and Theo become the hunted.
Zeth Mayfair has traded his life as a hitman for a quieter existence, but it isn’t long before the past catches up with him in the form of Roberto Barbieri. Will he succumb to the lure of power that Roberto is offering? Or will he retaliate by killing every last Barbieri in New York to get them off his back?
Jason Ross is running. Woken in the night by a tip that the Gypsy Brothers are coming for him, he packs a bag and gets his girlfriend the hell out of dodge. Arriving in New York City in the midst of a heatwave is one thing, but being tailed by an entire drug cartel is another.
Worlds collide in Hell’s Kitchen as secrets come to light and sins are punished. Because we might be different in the light of day, but in the darkness, we’re all connected somehow.
If you’re a fan of these authors then you will recognise a couple of those names from their own individual series but trust me, combined, their talents are very special. Hell’s Kitchen is raw, shocking, gritty, dark and twisted but it’s also hilariously funny, human and real. I loved it, short, complex and bloody fabulous, I can’t wait for the next one…………………..
About the Authors
Callie Hart
Callie has experienced many changes throughout her life, and gone through many ups and downs that have all worked towards shaping and molding her into the person she is today: fun loving, active, social, and hard working. The only thing that has remained a constant throughout her life is writing. Creating characters who will tear your conscience in two is a favorite pastime of Callie’s. There are few real saints and sinners in her books; more often, the denizens of her stories are all very human. Broken, flawed, and always with the potential for redemption. Despite the subject matter being markedly hot and heavy in comparison to the stories she wrote in elementary school, there will always be an element of fairytale to her work.
Lili writes dark romance, suspense and paranormal stories. Her serial novel, Seven Sons, was released in early 2014, with the following books in the series to be released in quick succession. Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband and beautiful daughter, good coffee, Tarantino movies and spending hours on Pinterest.
She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.
*From International Bestselling authors Callie Hart and Lili St. Germain comes a tale of two families co-existing in a melting pot of violence, murder and drugs in the seedy underbelly of New York City*
Hell’s Kitchen
Theo and Sal Barbieri are brothers, tasked by their Mafioso father Roberto with a very clear purpose: kidnap Kaitlin McLaughlin. The beautiful daughter of Roberto’s Irish enemy. It’s high time Kaitlin was punished for her father’s sins—not to mention, her own.
And Operation: Kidnap Kaitlin is a roaring success… until it isn’t. When Kaitlin escapes into the busy streets of New York City, it’s a race against the clock to find her before Sal and Theo become the hunted.
Zeth Mayfair has traded his life as a hitman for a quieter existence, but it isn’t long before the past catches up with him in the form of Roberto Barbieri. Will he succumb to the lure of power that Roberto is offering? Or will he retaliate by killing every last Barbieri in New York to get them off his back?
Jason Ross is running. Woken in the night by a tip that the Gypsy Brothers are coming for him, he packs a bag and gets his girlfriend the hell out of dodge. Arriving in New York City in the midst of a heatwave is one thing, but being tailed by an entire drug cartel is another.
Worlds collide in Hell’s Kitchen as secrets come to light and sins are punished. Because we might be different in the light of day, but in the darkness, we’re all connected somehow.
Hell’s Kitchen is a serial comprising three volumes: Hell’s Kitchen, Tribeca and Bleecker Street.
Volume One releases on March 3rd with a limited-time sale price of 99 cents
Meet some of the players…
Excerpt #1
“What time they due to land?” Sal asks. He loops a tie, pre-knotted and ready to go, over his head. “Twenty minutes.” With traffic the way it is, we’ll be there in ten.
Sal tightens the tie around his neck, placing the ridiculous fucking chauffeur’s hat on his head. He tucks his hair back behind his ears. He needs to cut it, but will the bastard listen? Hell, no. He never listens to a word I say. “Are you ready?” he asks.
I take my eyes off the road, arching an eyebrow at him. Who the hell does he think he’s talking to? I’ve been doing this job longer than him, after all. I’ve never blinked. Never not been ready. He gets the point pretty damn quickly.
“All right, man, I’m sorry.”
When we arrive at the airfield, we’re directed to hangar twelve, no questions asked. Paddy McLaughlin’s own men would have arrived around now—if we hadn’t already beaten the shit out of them and handcuffed them to a pillar inside an old cardboard factory down on the wharf—so we’re expected. Kaitlin McLaughlin’s plane is delayed. I’m already bored and itching to go by the time the private jet touches down. Sal climbs out of the car and leans against the front passenger door, waiting for the prissy Irish princess and her entourage to exit the plane. When she does, we’re in luck.
Normally, Paddy doesn’t send his little girl anywhere without two personal bodyguards. Today, she’s only accompanied by one. Sal taps the hood of the car as he goes out to take her bags. I have the engine purring in anticipation as he opens the back passenger side door for her and she climbs inside.
Huge sunglasses cover her eyes. That full mouth of hers is perfectly visible in the rearview, though. “Where the fuck is Ray?” she asks. Her father may be first generation Irish, but Kaitlin was born and raised in the States—she sounds like a spoiled little Yank bitch.
“Mr. McLaughlin needed him for something else. He sent us instead.” She slides the sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, peering at me over the car’s half-raised privacy screen. “And who are you?” I give her a tight-lipped smile, doing my best to keep my tongue in my head. We need the bodyguard to get in the car, and then we’re golden. Until then, I’m Jerry, the friendly town car driver. “Jerry. My buddy there, that’s Gareth. We’re new.”
“I can see that.” She makes a low, humming sound at the back of her throat. She sounds like she approves. Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t touch crazy pussy. But I will introduce you to my old man, all the same. He just can’t wait to fucking meet you.
The door behind me opens and I feel the car dip as someone gets in—I didn’t notice before, but the lone bodyguard with Kaitlin is a woman. Must be the chick Roberto was talking about. I get a good look at her in the rearview and find myself taking a second one for good measure. She’s blisteringly hot. Maybe in her mid-twenties? Long dark hair, tied back into a braid. High cheekbones. A mouth to rival Kaitlin’s. Her tits strain against her tight black shirt as she twists to put on her seatbelt. You can tell she works out; her clothes fit her far too well for her not to know she looks good in them, too.
Just like Kaitlin, she asks, “Where’s Ray?”
“Busy doing something for Daddy,” Kaitlin informs her, which saves me from spinning the lie again. “Okay. Straight to the bar, then.” The body guard’s head doesn’t even lift, but she’s a professional. She assesses me in the mirror just as I’ve assessed her. I pretend not to notice as Sal folds himself into the passenger seat.
“Of course.” I press the button for the privacy screen, raising it the rest of the way, blocking out all sound from the back of the car. Sal turns and gives me one of his wicked, crazy-ass grins. He’s enjoying this already. “All right, then, big brother. Let’s do this.” He leans forward and hits a button on the dash—and every single door on the town car automatically locks. “No backing out now.”
I burn out of the hangar to the sounds of muffled thuds from the back of the car. The bodyguard’s not stupid. She’s heard the doors locking and knows something isn’t right. “Motherfucker! Open this up right now!”
Normally there’s an intercom in these cars, but this one’s different. Sal and I smashed the shit out of this car’s intercom with two lump hammers and ripped out the wiring. We also lined the roof with lead. The girls in the back aren’t striking up a conversation with us any time soon. And they aren’t making any phone calls to dear old Papa McLaughlin, either.
As I head back toward the city, the shouting from the back gets louder. It’s accompanied by the dull thudding of feet trying to smash out the privacy screen. Sal raps his knuckles against the glass, grinning again. “Bitch sounds crazy back there. I don’t think she likes the modifications we’ve made.” I allow myself a small smile as we hit the George Washington Bridge, heading back toward North Manhattan. So far Operation: Kidnap Kaitlin has been a roaring success. Sal pulls out his cell and starts tapping into it with quick fingers. “Telling the old man we’re on our way?”
He nods. “Bastard better give us credit where credit’s due. He’s probably still organising his own fucking birthday party. Meanwhile, we have just successfully taken our mark hostage. We’re on the homeward stretch.”
The fucking homeward stretch.
The thing about saying you’re on the homeward stretch is that often it’s like waving a red flag at a bull. Fate must hear that phrase and decide to fuck over the poor schmuck who was dumb enough to utter it every single fucking time. It’s only seconds after Sal’s parted with those words that the electric window behind me—the bodyguard’s side window—shatters. We knew the bodyguard would be armed, but we didn’t expect anyone to be shooting out the damn side windows. An eruption of fragmented diamonds explodes sideways, spraying a bright yellow smart car with a million shards of glass. The sound of the firing gun is almost deafening.
“What the fuck?”
The smart car veers sideways, smashing into us; I press my foot to the floor, grinding my teeth at the sound of screeching metal and more hammering from the back as I swerve through the traffic. Sal twists in his seat, pulling his gun and pressing it to the glass of the privacy screen. His finger’s on the trigger. “She’s going fucking crazy. I’m gonna shoot the bitch.”
Excerpt #2
“When he lunges for me, I’m ready. I deflect the hand he was going to grab me with, slapping it downward, and then I grab onto his wrist, pulling him off balance. He seesaws forward but then rips his wrist out of my hand. I don’t expect him to turn his slight fumble to his own advantage, but he does. Dropping to the floor, he rolls and kicks out, landing a solid strike to my leg. I have less than a second to brace myself before I’m hitting the concrete. Then he’s on top of me. “Oh, this is fun, sweetheart. But I don’t really have time to be playing games with you right now.” He’s reaching for my arms, about to pin me to the ground, but I jab, landing a solid hit with my extended fingertips right in the base of his throat, in his windpipe. He chokes, his body falling sideways, and then I’m on top of him. Through watering eyes and a clearly sore throat, the guy grins up at me, shaking his head. “Well, if you wanna fuck me, I guess I could make some time.” Thrusting upward, he tries to unseat me, but I know this is what’s coming and I’m ready again. I compensate, leaning forward, pressing my gun into the guy’s neck. “Who are you?” His body goes still, his hands lifting so they’re palm up in front of him. “You know who I am, sweetheart. I’m the enemy.” “My boss has quite a few enemy camps. Which one do you belong to?” “The biggest one,” the guy says, smiling. “The Italian one.” “So you work for Barbieri?” “I am a Barbieri.” Lightning fast, he snaps his hand out and clamps it around my throat. The move catches me off guard, has me panicking for the first time. My gun is gone, then, knocked to the ground, skittering away across the blacktop. The guy’s hand tightens around the column of my neck, threatening to squeeze even harder. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Feeling a little lightheaded?”
About the Authors
Callie Hart
Callie has experienced many changes throughout her life, and gone through many ups and downs that have all worked towards shaping and molding her into the person she is today: fun loving, active, social, and hard working. The only thing that has remained a constant throughout her life is writing. Creating characters who will tear your conscience in two is a favorite pastime of Callie’s. There are few real saints and sinners in her books; more often, the denizens of her stories are all very human. Broken, flawed, and always with the potential for redemption. Despite the subject matter being markedly hot and heavy in comparison to the stories she wrote in elementary school, there will always be an element of fairytale to her work.
Lili writes dark romance, suspense and paranormal stories. Her serial novel, Seven Sons, was released in early 2014, with the following books in the series to be released in quick succession. Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband and beautiful daughter, good coffee, Tarantino movies and spending hours on Pinterest.
She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.
BUY TICKETS HERE: Callie Hart & Lili St. Germain are coming back to the US! Just in time for the release of their joint project Hell’s Kitchen. Join Callie and Lili, Saturday March 14th, at the super cool Inspire News Cafe from 5-7 for a special printing and signing of their newest book and a Q& A session. Then, come upstairs to the Wayfarer Bar, from 7-9 for cocktails (cash bar) and laughs. It’ll be a fun evening with Hell’s Kitchen chatter, some themed cocktails, light bites and a chance to spend some more time talking about all things Hart St Germain.
**Books that are printed will be available for purchase for around $10. Exact price to be confirmed closer to event date. This is pretty awesome! The machine that prints books while you watch is one of only 30 in the world! You’ll be able to take away your unique, limited edition of Hell’s Kitchen, signed by both authors – There will never be others that look like the ones printed in Vegas. **Snack foods will be provided. **All drinks are your responsibility
The Venues Inspire News Cafe (downstairs) and Wayfarer Bar (upstairs) are both gorgeous, hip venues with kick ass atmosphere! The Wayfarer bar is where we’ll finish the night and is a gorgeous, mad-men inspired bar that will be closed just for attendees! BUY TICKETS HERE
Book Loving Pixies 