📖 Book Details
Genres: Dark Romance, Cartel Romance, Mafia Romance, Romantic Suspense, Contemporary Crime Romance
Heat Level: Scorching Hot/High Spice 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️
Tropes & Dynamics:
- Anti-Hero Stalker
- Forbidden Romance (Seducing Friend’s Little Sister)
- Protective Alpha Boyfriend
- High Stakes/Organized Crime Ring Danger
- Second Chance at Life
- Standalone Novella (Lozano Cartel Series, Book 3.5)
A loud knock resounded from the living room.
He pulled his gun from his hip holster and dashed into the adjacent room, where he eased back the window blinds.
A teenage boy in a striped uniform waited on the porch with a large brown paper bag. He glanced down at his watch, then knocked again.
After holstering his weapon, Ángel skirted the sofa and answered the door.
The boy jerked back, eyes wide. “You’re not Marisol.”
Ángel arched his eyebrow. The boy wasn’t as young as he first thought. Maybe early twenties. Well, fuck. He’d holstered his gun too soon. “My girlfriend is busy.”
“Girlfriend? I’ve never seen you here before.”
Ángel swept his gaze to the plastic nametag on the young man’s shirt, then smirked back at him. “Just because you haven’t seen me doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you, Luís. You deliver to this residence often—I’ll give you that—but whatever relationship you think you have with the owner of this house is nada. Barely an acquaintanceship.”
“Where is Marisol?” Luís clutched the paper bag in his fist. “Is she okay?”
“I’m just fine.”
Marisol’s high-pitched voice reverberated from behind Ángel. He turned and sucked in a mouthful of air. A jaw-dropping, sleeveless, sunshine-yellow dress sheathed her bang-me-now curves and dipped just low enough over her cleavage to hint at the deliciousness beneath.
Luís choked on his fucking spit and wiped his mouth.
Ángel angled himself in front of his woman. No one but him should see her in that outfit. Carajo. What was she thinking, coming to the door dressed like that? He snatched his wallet from his pants, pulled out enough bills for the fare, and shoved them at the man’s chest. Luís fumbled for the money as Ángel yanked the delivery bag away from him.
“Adios, Luís,” Marisol piped in, waving.
Infuriating woman. Ángel slammed the door shut and the deadbolt into place. The scent of grilled meat doubled the saliva in his mouth, not that he cared. “Care to explain all this?”
She braced her hands on her hips. “Explain what? Your jealousy? No, that’s pretty self explanatory. Thanks for the confidence booster, Señor Badass.”
“No,” he bit out, fighting back his sudden amusement. It was about damn time she called him that pet name again. “The dress. Were you trying to give the delivery driver wet dreams?”
“This dress is for you, genius. It’s not my fault you opened the door as soon as I walked in.” She smoothed her hands down her pleated skirt. “It’s not slinky, but—”
“Fuck slinky. All the black leather and red clubwear I’ve pictured you in doesn’t compare to this.” He trailed his fingertips down the neckline of her dress, stopping short of touching her flesh. Her damp hair caressed her shoulders in gentle waves he itched to grab.
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