Thank you for joining us for The Mafia Takeover reprise!, as today we focus on Russian Tattoos, one of our four featured mafia novels:Obsession (Russian Tattoos, #1) by Kat Shehata
Mobster's Girl (Mobster, #1) by Amy Rachiele
The Bargain (Vargas Cartel, #1) by Lisa Cardiff
The Beautiful People (New Mafia, #1) by E.J. Fechenda
Don't miss our interview with author Kat Shehata, where she spoke to us about Obsession and the Russian Tattoos series.**Grab yourself a couple of freebies: Mobster's Girl and The Bargain!**
Author Kat Shehata will be awarding a signed copy of Russian Tattoos to a randomly drawn US or CAN winner via Rafflecopter during the tour. Please do take part: comment on our post and follow the Russian Tattoos tour where you will be able to read other excerpts (☀), interviews (ℚ), reviews (✍) and guest blog posts (✉).
Synopsis | The Books | Author Q&A: Kat Shehata of Russian Tattoos | About the Authors | Giveaway
The Mafia Takeover Books
Obsession | Mobster's Girl | The Bargain | The Beautiful People |
Obsession by Kat Shehata
Synopsis
Falling in love isn’t a crime—but falling in love with a Russian mafia boss could be deadly.Competitive tennis player Carter Cook wants a taste of freedom. Her overprotective father monitors every aspect of her life, so when he becomes employed by Vladimir Ivanov—a sexy Russian with an array of tattoos and an accent that weakens her knees—a bit of danger is within Carter’s grasp. Behind her father's back, she enjoys spending time with Vladimir at his lavish estate. But is he really the upstanding businessman she believes him to be?
Vladimir Ivanov reigns as godfather of a Russian mafia crime ring.
Vladimir spent five years of his life in a Siberian prison camp and has earned every tattoo inked into his skin. He is a powerful man who gets what he wants, and after stalking the gorgeous tennis player for years—he wants Carter. A little charm melts her heart, and behind the scenes, he orders his henchman to track her every move.
He’s a tattooed stick of dynamite ready to blow at the slightest spark.
As their romance reaches deadly levels, Carter senses something’s not right. When she’s lured into a compromising position at the hands of a shady European drug dealer, she calls in Boris, Vladimir’s right hand man, to rescue her—without telling Vladimir. With his authority questioned, he sets out to teach Carter a lesson about loyalty she’ll never forget.
When Carter realizes she's in too deep, she must fight for her freedom before the attraction turns fatal.
But the Russian mafia plays for keeps, and Vladimir’s fierce lust to possess her spirals their romance out of control.
Excerpt
“No way. Promise you won’t rat me out to Dad.” I jumped in front of him and blocked my bedroom door, as if I could stop him. “He’ll be so ticked. Probably madder at you than me, and trust me, you don’t want to see him angry.”Vladimir crossed his arms and studied my freaked out, arms-stretched-across-the-doorframe-stance. “You think I am afraid of your papa?”
“Of course not, but why do you want to provoke him? Everything’s fine. If he finds out, he’ll never let me see you again—please, I need you.”
Vladimir peeled my fingers off the doorframe, held my wrists, brought my arms down. He kissed my cheeks, but not in the usual way. His warm lips lingered on my skin while he massaged the nape of my neck. The closeness of our bodies and the heat emanating from his skin caused a groan to escape from my lips. Vladimir rubbed warm circles on my back and whispered Russian words in my ear to soothe me.
“What does it mean?” I whispered.
“Something good.”
Blood rushed down there. I wanted to tackle him on my bed and run my fingers through his sexy hair and touch his chest and feel the warmth of his lean, muscular body. Lately, I’d felt The Urge. Right or wrong, Vladimir lit my sexual fire. It wasn’t his body or his incredible blue eyes, it was how he made me feel—like the important person in his universe.
“What kind of good?” I laid my hand on his chest and snuck my finger inside his shirt to touch his skin. I traced the outline of the devil tat with my fingernail. Vladimir inhaled sharply, excited by my touch. I unbuttoned the top button of his shirt—
He lowered my hand. “Your papa will be home soon.”
He left the house a minute before Dad turned into the driveway. I replayed the day’s events from his smoldering eyes, to his strong embrace, to the taunting words: “Oh, Carter is that what I am, your boss?” What did he want to be? My friend? Boyfriend? Lover?
Obsession
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Mobster's Girl by Amy Rachiele
**FREE download**
Synopsis
Gripping my chest is the only way to hold myself together or what’s left of me will fall out. The past week has enlightened me on one thing-I don’t care.Megan, Mobster’s Girl
I didn’t even hesitate. I took two strides and blasted him in the face with my fist. He was ready for it this time-unlike in church. He tried to hit me back but I ducked and smashed him again.You can’t help what family you’re born into or what lies they keep from you. You can’t help it if they mold and shape you just the way they wanted. Are monsters born or made?
Antonio and Megan have a timeless issue. They were told to stay away from each other. They try, they really do. But they are drawn to each other.
Antonio is eighteen and the up and coming mob boss of Palmetto, New Jersey. Megan is a girl uprooted from the grassy plains of Ireland at the age of five. Now she’s seventeen and faced with horrors she never thought existed.
Get caught up in an Italian Mafia Romance Novel!
Excerpt
Chapter 1
Medigan (meh-di-ghan): a seriously non-Italian person.Megan
“Megan!” I hear my mother call with her slight Irish lilt. My mother and father wanted to fit in when we came to New Jersey after Gram died, so they tried their hardest to lose their accents. Clearly, they didn’t try hard enough.
I’m not really sure why we had to move to America, but leaving my beautiful Irish cottage behind was hard. Erin was two and I was five when we moved here. Unlike our parents, Erin and I have authentic semi-Jersey accents. That would have helped us fit in to this all Italian neighborhood except for our flaming red hair and milk pale skin. We stick out like firecrackers exploding on a hot July night.
“Megan! I’m not calling you again!” my mother yells.
“Coming!”
I jump down the stairs two at a time and scamper past my sister, who sits on the couch watching TV in the living room.
“Mom wants you,” Erin tells me, never taking her eyes off the screen.
“Yeah, thanks, I heard,” I quip sarcastically. As I cross the room, I brush my hand across the strings of my harp that sits patiently waiting for me day after day. The only time I feel complete and content is when I’m seated securely behind it.
In the kitchen, my mother is standing by the sink peeling potatoes. It’s almost too cliché. I catch myself before I can let out a giggle.
“I need you to go to the store for more potatoes and eggs. The O’Connells are coming for dinner tonight, and I don’t have enough for all of us.”
“Okay.”
The O’Connells are another Irish family that we spend time with. My mother met Mrs. O’Connell at a church meeting. They don’t live in our neighborhood. They live a town over. They have two sons: Connor is Erin’s age, fourteen, and Troy is a year older than me, eighteen. He graduated last year. Me? One more year, thank God. Knowing school is almost over is enough to keep me going. Notre Dame, here I come. I received an early acceptance.
I grab Erin’s old red wagon that she used to cart dolls around in when she was younger. I always take it to the store when I go for my mom. I know it’s stupid to drag around a kid’s play cart, but I really don’t want to carry the groceries four blocks.
We only have one car—an ancient minivan—and it’s my dad’s. I’ve been trying to convince him to get a second car, but he keeps saying no. My mother doesn’t drive, and I’ll be headed to college soon. He says it’s not necessary.
I pull the old wagon out of the tiny garage and onto the city sidewalk. There’s no grassy buffer between our house and the cement walkway. It’s just our house, sidewalk, busy street. There’s no breathing room. Not like Ireland. When I was young, my mother and I used to walk half a mile just to reach a road. I remember being small and holding her hand as we strolled through lush green groves. Then we came here to cement, exhaust fumes, and a culture we’ll never fit into.
Block one down. I pass the pastry shops making tiramisu and cannolis. Then the bakeries making breads, pizza, and rolls. It’s a hot August day. All this stuff would smell great if it wasn’t for the smog and bus exhaust. The wheels of the wagon rumble along the lines of cracked cement.
The thumping of a heavy base line echoes thickly through the air as a shiny black Cadillac with darkly tinted windows bowls up the street. The car slows down and crawls along next to me. My heart races nervously, and I start walking faster.
A tinted window slides down to reveal a guy I recognize from school. He has a dark complexion like most people around here. He’s handsome, in a mischievous way. I can’t remember his name, though. Quedo, Zito, Lito….
“Hey, Red…” He grins, looking me up and down. I cringe inwardly. “Looking mighty fine pulling your little red wagon. How about I let you pull on something else? I got what you need right in this car.”
There must be more people in the car because I can hear them snickering. I ignore him and keep walking.
“What’s the matter, baby?” he croons, his voice suggestive. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.” His words are laced with double meanings.
“Leave her alone, Vito!” a female voice calls from the backseat. “Andiamo!”
Vito laughs wickedly and hits the gas. They spin away, and I make it to block three. Sweat is gathering on my forehead from the August heat and the run-in with the senior hoodlums.
The grocery store is packed as usual. A lot of Italians in the neighborhood like to get their groceries fresh almost every day.
Concetta, the cashier, totals my food. “That’ll be nine fifty, Megan.” I hand her ten dollars. “You getting ready for school to start?” she asks, bagging my food. She always has a pleasant smile.
“Yes, thanks.” I hook my hands through the handles of the bags and head outside. Waiting patiently is the little red wagon. I’m always surprised that it’s still there when I come out of the store. I’m sure one of these days someone is going to pilfer the rusty thing or throw it in the Dumpster because they think it’s trash.
I sip on the ice cold cola I bought at the register. It feels good on my dry throat. I flip the handle of the wagon into my hand and start back up the street. Block four down.
Block three coming up. I always count down the blocks like this. It makes the uncomfortable, lonely walk tolerable. Bakeries at block two. They’re in my sight—just a few more buildings to go. Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice until I am steps from him. Oh no! I feel my chest tighten as I raise my head. No, no, no…shit, shit, shit. Antonio Delisi, Jr.
Shit!
If you are going to avoid anyone in this town, avoid Antonio Delisi, Jr., the mob boss’s son. I’ve managed to basically stay clear of him and his friends over the many years we’ve lived here. These moments don’t happen often, but when they do, they’re frightening. My mom says he’s got the devil living in him. She may be right—seeing him right now, he looks nothing like an angel.
I’m just going to keep walking. Maybe he’ll ignore me. My hand tightens on the wagon handle, slipping with sweat. I drop my soda bottle to my side, my steps planted with determination.
Antonio confidently pushes off from the cherry red Camaro he’s leaning against and flicks the butt of the cigarette he was smoking into the street. He steps right in front of me, glaring down at me, blocking my path. Shit!
I look down to the ground, face heating. He makes my heart race. Despite his devilish nature, he’s the most beautiful “devil” I’ve ever seen. I try to step around him. He blocks me. I timidly glance up into his face. He stands a foot taller than me. Our eyes lock, and an unidentifiable emotion passes quickly across his face. His dark brown hair hangs slightly into his dark brown eyes. His mouth is sharply pulled into a half grin that reads either Don’t fuck with me or I’m hot and I know it. Goose bumps surface on my skin despite the scorching heat. His low-riding jeans and white sleeveless T-shirt hug his swarthy, muscled body.
He probably learned at the age of three how to kill someone with his pinky finger.
A couple weeks after we came to Jersey, my mom took me to the playground near the elementary school. She wanted me to play with the kids in the neighborhood. You know, get to know them.
I was in the sandbox letting the rough sand filter through my fingers. A little boy came over and sat next to me. It was Antonio. His skin was darkly tanned and smooth. Antonio made up a game in the sand called bakery. We made sand pies with buckets and pretended to make different kinds. Antonio was a cute kid. He even pretended like he was eating some of them. He kept saying, “Mangia, mangia.” I remember laughing at the funny word.
My mom had Erin on her lap and was sitting on a bench talking to a pretty lady who had on lots of makeup. It was weird…one minute my mom was talking, the next she was at the sandbox grabbing my arm, trying to lift me out. I started crying that I didn’t want to leave. She dragged me down the street with Erin on her hip toward the house. I never even said good-bye to Antonio.
Five-year-old Antonio was cute; eighteen-year-old Antonio is chilling—beautifully scary, dazzlingly intimidating, heart-throbbingly gorgeous, and standing in my way.
A sharp voice pulls me from my trance and the vortex of Antonio’s striking eyes. “Tonio!” An old grandmotherly woman leans out the window of the house next to us. I’ve seen this woman before. We talk sometimes when she’s sitting alone on her steps. Now, she starts gesturing with her arms and yelling in a Sicilian accent. “Tonio! Leave ta medigan alone! Come, mangia!”
A wolfish grin crosses his face, and he turns and climbs the steps two at a time. He looks back at me before heading into the house. I let out the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding and quickly pull the red wagon home.
Mobster's Girl
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The Bargain by Lisa Cardiff
[9 March 2015, Limitless Publishing LLC, 246 pages. This is the first book in the Vargas Cartel series.] PREVIEW: Check out the book's synopsis and excerpt below. Read the first four chapters with Amazon Look Inside.**FREE on Amazon, Kobo, and iBooks**
Synopsis
Three weeks, twenty-one days, or five hundred and four hours…That’s all it took to derail my life and twist it into something unrecognizable. One moment I had Evan, the man I thought I’d marry. The next moment shattered the illusion.
Now I have no one.
Except him.
Ryker Vargas, and I don’t really have him. He’d never belong to any one but himself. He sucked me into a web of lies and now it’s too late. I took the bait. I’m a prisoner of the Vargas Cartel.
I never thought I’d be another statistic, another girl abducted in a foreign country, my entire future washed away by an impulsive, split second in time.
But it’s true.
My name is Hattie Covington and I’m a statistic, but statistics never tell the whole story.
Excerpt
Prologue
Murmurs. Whispers. Papers shuffled. A door opened. I tried to move, but I couldn’t.I opened my eyes, but everything was black.
I wanted to scream, but my mouth was full.
I jerked my body forward, but fire roared through my shoulders. Holy shit…I was tied to a chair. Ropes bit into my wrists and my ankles, burning my skin with every quiver and twist of my extremities.
I didn’t have a fucking clue where I was. I didn’t recall anything. My mind spun in relentless circles searching for a memory, a clue, anything to explain where I was or what happened to me. Jumbled thoughts whipped through my brain in rapid-fire succession.
Spring Break.
Mexico.
Dancing in a nightclub.
A Prairie Fire.
An Irish Car Bomb.
A Red Headed Slut.
A Buttery Nipple.
So many others I couldn’t name them all.
One song blurring into the next.
Dancing on the bar.
And him.
Someone ripped the hood from my head, taking a few strands of hair with it. Bright light seared my eyeballs. I squeezed them closed, willing them to adjust to the light. When I opened them again, a bone-jarring jolt of recognition raced through me. I saw him …the guy from the bar. Ryker. Dark, almost black hair, icy gray eyes, straight nose and angular features, enhanced by the careless, dark stubble on his face. What the hell?
He snatched my hair, twisting it around his hand until my scalp stung. One calloused finger trailed down the side of my face almost reverently. I twisted my head to the side, but he yanked me back.
He chuckled, his too lush lips forming a twisted smile. “What’s wrong? You liked my touch last night.”
I screamed, but the dusty rag in my mouth muffled my voice. I tried to spit it out, but my mouth was too dry. Tears erupted from behind my eyes, and water streamed down my face.
What did he want? Was he going to kill me? Did he plan to rape me?
Just like that my stomach revolted. He won’t rape me. He already had me. Images of my dress around my waist, his pants unzipped, and my body pressed against a dirty stucco wall as he moved inside of me flickered through my mind. I gagged and inhaled at the same time. My lungs burned. My heart jackhammered against my breastbone. My ears howled. Black dots clouded my vision. My head rolled forward.
“Calm the fuck down. You’re going to faint.” He ripped the rag from my mouth, and I opened my mouth, preparing to scream, but he moved faster. His hand had slammed over my mouth before I had the opportunity to summon a single syllable.
“If you scream, I’ll shove that rag back into your mouth so hard you’ll lose your front teeth.”
My head bobbed up and down like a bobble head doll.
Slowly, his hand lifted from my mouth, and my mind cleared. I remembered who I am and what that meant. “You’ll regret this. Do you know who I am?”
His lips curved into a smile, not the carefree, sexy smile he used on me at the bar. It made me feel dirty. I wanted to scour my skin for hours. “You’re Hattie Covington.”
I didn’t remember sharing my full name last night. I never shared it. I preferred to be anonymous. My name carried too much baggage, especially in my circle of friends, but Ryker wasn’t part of my circle and he certainly wasn’t my friend. Far from it. He was a random guy from a random bar. “And do you know what that means?” I hissed through clenched teeth. I wanted to sound strong and brave, but my voice cracked on the last word, shredding the illusion.
He tipped up my chin, brushing his finger across my lower lip. I flinched, but he didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t care…probably the latter.
“Ah, that’s cute. Do you and your friends really say that?” he mocked with far too much amusement.
“My dad is the Attorney General of the United States,” I yelled.
“And that’s exactly why you’re here.”
The Bargain
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The Beautiful People by E.J. Fechenda
[17 July 2014, E.J. Fechenda, 342 pages. This is the first book in the New Mafia Trilogy.] PREVIEW: Check out the book's synopsis and excerpt below. Read the first six chapters with Amazon Look Inside.Synopsis
Natalie Ross has always gone to her brother for help. Grant’s been her rock throughout their turbulent childhood. Knowing she’s struggling financially, he gets her a job at Crimson, one of the hottest nightclubs in Philadelphia where he works as head of security. Natalie promises Grant she won’t get sucked into the party scene or involved with any of her co-workers because she’s focused on finishing her last semester of college. Her promise doesn’t last 24-hours once she meets Dominic.From the first night as a Crimson employee she falls for the handsome bartender, despite her brother’s protests and warnings about the guy. With a cool job, a hot man and more than enough money to pay her bills, life is looking up for Natalie.
Things drastically change when she witnesses her brother kill three men and discovers he’s a soldier for the Philly Mob. Dominic is too. In fact, his family is the mafia. Suddenly Natalie is a liability and she’s given an ultimatum: keep quiet or die.
Initially, Natalie is enamored with the money and power associated with the lifestyle. The mafia also offers the close-knit family she's craved her entire life. She soon learns that this family's values are more than skewed. A series of violent events leaves Natalie feeling trapped, vulnerable and questioning whether she made the right choice.
*This book is intended for a mature audience as it contains: sex and sexual assault, plus drug and alcohol use.*
Excerpt
Prologue
It was only a job. At least that’s all it was supposed to be. Despite student loans, the occasional loan from my brother, Grant, and income from waitressing at T.G.I Fridays, I struggled to make ends meet. Grant was the head of security at Crimson, one of Philadelphia’s top nightclubs, and he helped to get me a job there as a cocktail waitress, but I had to agree to one of his “conditions” first.“This is just temporary, until you graduate, okay?”
“Relax and believe me when I tell you I don’t have aspirations to be a career cocktail waitress,” I reassured him. We were grabbing a slice of pizza before heading into work together.
“Well, believe me when I tell you a number of people have gotten sucked into the glamour and money – the whole scene – and are still there.”
“Are you talking about yourself? It was the glamour that lured you in, wasn’t it?” I teased, but really was curious what it was about Crimson that caused Grant to drop out of college.
He didn’t answer and gave me one of his “don’t mess with me” stares. I laughed and stood, picking up my grease soaked paper plate for the garbage. “Grant, I’m just kidding. Come on, I don’t want to be late on my first day.”
Grant drained the rest of his soda and I followed him out to his car which was parked in front of the pizza joint. He drove a new Lexus sedan, silver and fully loaded. This alone was probably the reason he never left Crimson. Obviously he was doing alright for himself without a college degree.
My brother was quiet during the brief ride from South Street until we pulled into the employee parking lot in the rear by the loading docks. Crimson was a refurbished brick warehouse that sat hulking over the Delaware River in the old industrial section, near the decommissioned Navy Yard. Blue, an after hours club owned by the same development company, was located in a twin building directly next to Crimson. We parked and a neon sign cast an eerie bluish glow across the hood.
“I want to give you some advice for your first night,” Grant said, turning to face me.
“Okay…”
“First of all, if anyone gets inappropriate with you or too handsy, let me or one of my guys know. We’ll take care of it. Second, there are a lot of egos that work here, so there will be drama. You’re better off not getting involved, which leads me to the last thing…don’t get involved with any of the guys here. Dating a coworker is not a good idea.”
“Company policy?”
“No, company policies are kind of loose. It’s my policy…for you.”
“Oh a Big Brother policy,” I said and tried not to roll my eyes. “I get it Grant, all work and no play. You don’t have to worry.” He didn’t because I had no interest in hooking up with anyone. I’d done enough of that in high school. I was here for the money until I graduated college in the spring.
Turns out agreeing to Grant’s policy was easier said than done. While he warned me that I would be tempted by the whole scene, he didn’t tell me just how seductive it would be. Turns out, Grant didn’t tell me a lot of things.
The Beautiful People
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About the Authors
Kat Shehata | Amy Rachiele | Lisa Cardiff | E.J. Fechenda |
Kat Shehata's first career involved caring for exotic, dangerous, and adorable animals as a zookeeper. As an author, Kat weaves her love of animals into her work. She is the co-author of the New York Times bestselling children's book Animals on the Other Side written with Sylvia Browne.
She is an avid tennis player and spends her free time playing matches in a recreational league in Cincinnati, Ohio. She holds a bachelor's degree in theatre from Wilmington College, a professional writing certificate from the University of Cincinnati, and a master's degree in creative writing from Spalding University.
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Amy Rachiele is a widowed military spouse who spent many years volunteering and on staff for the Army National Guard and Department of Veteran Affairs with family support, family readiness, as well as, families of the Fallen. Amy devoted 10 years to teaching at-risk students in the Providence School System. She holds a Master's degree from Rhode Island College in English and Secondary Education.
Besides writing, she is a reader, tea-er, shifter-lovin’, Sci-fi junkie, who enjoys scrapbooking, sewing, and traveling. Amy lives in Massachusetts with her son.
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After spending years practicing law and a million other things, Lisa Cardiff decided to pursue her dream of becoming a writer and she must confess that inventing characters is so much more fun than writing contracts and legal briefs. A native of Colorado, she lives with her husband and three children in Denver.
When she isn’t managing the chaos of raising three children and owning her own business, she can be found reading or writing a book.
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E.J. Fechenda has lived in Philadelphia, Phoenix and now calls Portland, Maine home where she is a wife, stepmom, and pet parent - all while working full time. Crazy is how she likes it.
E.J. has a degree in Journalism from Temple University and her short stories have been published in Suspense Magazine, the 2010 and 2011 Aspiring Writers Anthologies, and in the Indies Unlimited 2012 Flash Fiction Anthology. E.J. recently released The Beautiful People (Book One of The New Mafia Trilogy) on Amazon. She is currently working on the second book in this trilogy as well as The Ghosts Stories Trilogy.
E.J. is a member of the Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance and co-founder of the fiction reading series, “Lit: Readings & Libations”, which is held quarterly in Portland.
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Giveaway and Tour Stops
Enter to win a signed copy of Russian Tattoos (US/CAN)a Rafflecopter giveaway
29 Jan 2015: The Mafia TakeOver Giveaway
Enter to win one of the following prizes: a Signed copy of Obsession, a Signed copy of The Mobster's Girl, a $5 Amazon gift card, or a $10 Amazon gift card. !
a Rafflecopter giveaway
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