Author: Catherine Wiltcher
Genre: Dark Romance, Mafia, Suspense
Rating: ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪
Amazon
Goodreads
It started with a dare:
Steal a kiss from the pretty, green-eyed girl with the Irish mobster father.
Turns out, Ada O'Sullivan was a much better thief than me.
In the span of one night, I lost my head, my senses, my loyalty to my own crime family...
At nineteen, she was the only thing worth fighting for.
Dying for.
Loving.
But I was a boy playing a man's game.
In the end, they drove me from this city, while Ada was driven straight to hell.
Now, I'm back—an avenging devil—with red hands and loaded bullets.
Irish. Mafia. Bratva. British.
Everyone who tore her from my arms, everyone who has ever hurt her, will suffer the consequences.
But time bleeds secrets.
Secrets open old wounds.
Ada isn't the same sweet girl I knew before they ripped her innocence apart.
And that boy?
I've turned him into a villain who will stop at nothing to make her mine again.
Excerpt . . .
ADA
They told me he was dead, and I believed them.
Two weeks later, the first book arrived.
There was no postmark, no return address, but I knew it was from him. I’d been holding a copy the day he set fire to my soul in a stolen car on the edge of darkness. When for twelve hours the world had sparked with light and colour before they’d shrouded it in black again.
After that, they appeared once a month, and it was always the same book, just different versions. Some had discreet covers. Others were straight-up classics. French, German, Italian, Arabic… Every translation you could think of.
Most were torn with age, but a few had been newly reprinted that year. No two copies were identical, but the story never changed because it was our story now. They’d turned him into the villain, and me into a footnote: framed for a crime we didn’t commit, and then punished and kept apart for years because of it.
One was so rare it had been auctioned off for a huge amount of money—the highest anyone had paid for a first edition. The buyer was anonymous, of course. I read about him in a newspaper someone had left behind in a coffee shop. According to the by-line, the final bid had come in from Monaco.
Monaco.
I remember thinking then how sad and strange it was that for all the blood money we had, we were both still bankrupt in all the ways it mattered.
Then, five months ago, the books stopped arriving.
I figured he was dead now for sure, and my grief was so great it felt like every chamber of my heart was being pierced by a bullet.
I waited weeks for my Bratva bastard of a husband to show up and taunt me with the news, but he never came.
That’s when I knew the truth:
Our chains had finally broken.
The war was finally here.
Frankie was coming back for me, and the whole of London was going to burn because of it.
This was an intense and gripping story. There was a surprise appearance of a character I absolutely loved in a previous story that I read by Catherine and I was so surprised and kept thinking that his name should have clicked in my mind and realised who he was sooner. Then I was surprised by some revelations. Just when I thought I couldn't be surprised anymore. More bombshells were unleashed.
About the Author . . .
She lives in the UK with her husband and two young daughters. If she ever found herself stranded on a desert island she'd like a large pink gin to keep her company... Cillian Murphy wouldn't be a bad shout either.
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram