Mom rubs her hands together before leaning across the table and cupping my face. “I haven’t had my boys all together in a long, long time. You have no idea how happy you’re making your old madre.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say.
“Mom! I found something! Come look!” Enzo yells from the shore.
Aidy rises before bending to scoop her baby niece in her arms so Wren can tend to her son, and then she moves to the table, taking a seat beside my mother.
“You’re so natural with her,” my mother says, watching Aidy and Maeve intently. “I’m not going to beat around the bush with you two. I’m getting older, and I’m going to want grandkids sooner than later, and your brothers are all too busy living la dolce vita to even think about that stage in their lives.”
“Yeah, yeah, Ma. We know,” I say, giving Aidy a wink. “It’s on the horizon. Believe me.”
“All right.” My mother sighs, rising from the table. “I’m going to head in and check on the rest of dinner. Are we dining al fresco tonight?”
“We dine al fresco every night, Valentina,” Aidy says. “We’re Californians now. You might want to consider joining us one of these days . . .”
“Cara mia, you give me a grandchild and you’ll never see the end of me,” my mother says, laughing as she heads in. “I’ll pack my bags before you can say Pacific Coast Highway.”
My mother heads inside, and I watch Aidy bounce Maeve on her lap, listening to the baby cooing and giggling as Aidy makes all kinds of silly faces and blows raspberries on her belly.
Mom was right. Aidy is a natural with kids. But I already knew that.
“Why are you staring?” Aidy asks me, her attention still focused on the baby.
“What? Can’t I watch you?” I defend my actions. “Just feels like I’m getting a little sneak peek at what’s next, is all.”
“Patience, my love,” she says. “First you need to marry me, then we’ll talk babies.”
“I’d marry you tomorrow if you let me. You know that.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to rush it. You only get to plan one wedding. I want to enjoy it,” she says, grinning. She’s been focused on her business the past year, growing it from nothing to something that’s flourishing wildly. She’s hired on at least a dozen new artists in the last year, and she’s fielding applications for more.
I’m not sure how she does it.
She’s pretty much Wonder Woman.
And nine months from now, she’ll be Adelaide Grace Amato.
THE END
Scroll ahead for your FREE copy of VEGAS BABY (included for a limited time only and a $3.99 value)!
I’ve also included a preview of RECKLESS, a follow up to HEARTLESS. RECKLESS will focus on Ace’s brother, Dante Amato, and will release in early September 2016!
Please use your Table of Contents to navigate to the preview.
Italian Glossary - Contains Spoilers!
*Don’t read until you’ve read the entire book! Contains spoilers!*
Italian Phrases Used in this Book (in the order they were used):
Madre – mother
Molto bene – very good
Fratellone – older brother
Zia – aunt
Figlio di puttana – son of a bitch
Vigliacco senza spina dorsale – spineless coward
Non la meritavi – you didn’t deserve her
E che hai fatto? – and you did?
Non importa ora – it doesn’t matter now
No perso un fratello – I lost a brother
Un migliore amico – a best friend
Mi hai tradito – you betrayed me
Non mi dispiace di essermi innamorato di lei – I’m not sorry for loving her
Dio mio – my god
Ma vaffanculo, traditore – go fuck yourself, traitor
Cara mia – my darling
Prego – you are welcome
Al fresco – in the open air
Acknowledgements for Heartless
Where do I begin? Cue word vomit.
Ashley C. – this book is officially dedicated to you. Your love of words and stories and your penchant for all the little details is appreciated more than you could possibly know. Thank you for staying up late and getting into the nitty gritty with me. Morgan T., thank you for reading at the last minute. You are way too sweet!
To all my readers, ARC reviewers, and bloggers, loyal and new, thank you for reading my words and giving my books a place on your shelves – virtual or real. I’m honored to be there, and I hope you’ll always save a place for me. <3
Sosie, your patience is a godsend. This story had been planned for a long time and had a gazillion incarnations, and I think I bounced each and everyone one of them off you. I know it’ll forever be “Ace” to you, and that’s a-okay because I pretty much feel the same.
Louisa, you’ve outdone yourself once again! Just when I think you couldn’t possibly be any more talented than you already are, you pull off something like this. I tell you this all the time, but you truly are a brilliantly talented genius. And thanks to Franggy Yanez for being really, really ridiculously good-looking. His photos inspired many-a-scene in this book . . .
Wendy, thank you for your meticulous eye and proofreading prowess.
To my husband, thank you for answering my sport questions and for coming up with “Smack Talk” all on your own. You might be more creative than you give yourself credit for. ;-)
Reckless
COPYRIGHT 2016 WINTER RENSHAW
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
COVER DESIGN: Louisa Maggio
COVER MODEL: Joseph Cannata
EDITING: The Passionate Proofreader
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
E-Books are not transferrable. They cannot be sold, given away, or shared. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
For my mom, the original cougar. ;-)
Description
It was just a party. A silly celebration with champagne and my best girlfriends. As I blew out the candles on my divorce cake, I said goodbye to my failed marriage and embraced my future with open arms.
I just didn’t know the future was going to come in the form of the mysterious stranger sitting at the end of the bar stealing glances all night.
And I didn’t know at the time, but my future even had a name . . . Dante Amato.
Over the weeks that followed, he pursued me with reckless abandon. He broke down my walls and ignored all the reasons we were completely wrong for each other. He made me feel something I hadn’t felt in years . . . something so real it terrified me.
But the moment I let him in . . . just when I begin to let myself fall for this dashing stranger, he drops a bombshell that changes everything.
Chapter 1
Dear Reader,
For a limited time, this Kindle version of RECKLESS c
ontains a bonus novel, FILTHY (RIXTON FALLS BOOK 3), as well as a preview of PRICELESS, which will be an Amato Brothers x Rixton Falls crossover!
PRICELESS (releasing November 2016) will focus on Daphne Rosewood and Cristiano Amato! I’ve included FILTHY as a free bonus book because the subplot and series epilogue in FILTHY are somewhat of a prequel to Daphne’s story.
That said…you don’t have to read FILTHY to be able to enjoy PRICELESS as it will be a complete standalone!
If you’ve already read FILTHY and/or want to skip to the PRICELESS preview, please use your table of contents for easy navigation.
xoxo,
Winter
Chapter 2
Maren
I should have said no.
This entire thing was Saige’s idea, and despite the fact that we’ve been best friends for a solid decade now, I honestly thought she was kidding when she insisted on throwing me a divorce party.
But no.
Saige was one hundred percent serious.
So here I am, cozied up in the corner of the chicest bar in Seattle at the ridiculously posh Hotel Noir, seconds from blowing out the candle on my . . .
. . . divorce cake.
My only request was that Saige not treat this like a bachelorette party. No party buses. No penis straws. No strippers. Just a classy evening with my girls, some chocolate cake, and the best champagne money can buy because, let’s face it, after wasting over a decade of my life with Nathan Greene, I’ve earned it.
“Blow out the candle! What are you waiting for?” Saige squeals into my left ear, raising her champagne glass and grinning wide. Rain slicks the dark, tinted windows behind her, and thunder rumbles above the gentle lounge music piped from ceiling-mounted speakers. “Fuck Nathan!”
Glancing down at the three-tiered chocolate cake with gold dust vanilla bean fondant and one flickering sparkler candle, my eyes land on the words, “Fuck Nathan.”
“It was either ‘Fuck Nathan’ or ‘Happy Divorce,’” Saige says.
“Or you could’ve left it blank.” Our mutual friend, Tiffin, crosses her legs and leans closer, lifting her flute to her mouth and shrugging.
“What’s the fun in that?” Saige swats her away and then tucks her wispy blonde hair behind her ears as if she’s about to do the honors. “Blow out the damn candles, Maren. It’s over. Bye-bye, cheating asshole. Onwards and upwards. May his philandering penis shrivel up and die a slow, painful death.”
Brushing my dark waves off my shoulders, I pull in a deep breath and lean forward, lips pursed, and blow. I extinguish the radiant light my first try, and it feels oddly . . . final. Tiffin, Lucia, Saige, Marissa, and Gia clap and cheer and lift their glasses.
These are my people. We’ve attended birthing classes together and bake sales and PTA meetings. We’ve gone on double dates with our spouses and hosted sleepovers and backyard campouts together. Our kids are friends, and some of us are neighbors, past and present. But all that matters, in this moment, is that they’ve seen me at my best and they stuck with me through the worst.
“Thanks, girls.” I press my hands over my heart, my heart still hiccupping when I graze my left ring finger and find it bare. Too many times, I’ve caught myself thinking that I lost it. That I took it off while doing the dishes. And then I remember. A person doesn’t wear something for thirteen years and quickly adapt to the way it feels when it’s gone. It takes time to get used to that naked finger. It also takes time getting used to things like cooking for one less person and sleeping in a bed alone and inheriting the ‘his’ side of the walk-in master closet. “It means the world to me that you’re all here.”
I pull my shoulders back and hold my head high. Tonight’s not about feeling sorry for myself. Tonight’s about moving forward. Shutting the book on a failed marriage. Welcoming the future with open arms. Embracing my new reality one day at a time.
“We love you, babe.” Gia lifts her glass again and gives me a wink. “We’re not celebrating your divorce; we’re celebrating your freedom. Remember that.”
I take a seat at the end of the half-circle booth we share. Everything in this hotel bar is dark as midnight, and ambient sconces provide just enough light for us to maneuver around. People pass by, mostly suits and traveling businessmen, and they all look like shadows. Had I told Saige to pick the most depressingly elegant bar in downtown Seattle, she’d have nailed it.
“What’s wrong?” Saige hooks her arm around my shoulders, and I’m engulfed in a cloud of Moet and Chandon breath and expensive perfume.
“Nothing at all.” I force a weak smile and take a sip from my flute.
Saige squints, tilting her head. “You’re lying.”
Exhaling, I say, “I’m just tired. Dash let Beck watch a scary movie last night and Beck had nightmares, and I was up all night and-”
“Sh, sh, sh.” Saige cups her hand over my mouth. “You’re not Mommy here. You’re Maren. And tonight, you’re a debutant divorcee with a killer ass and a one-track mind.”
I pull her salty palm from my lips. “I’m not sure about the one-track mind thing, but I have been doing lots of squats lately, so thanks for noticing.”
Saige rolls her eyes. “Stop being so Maren.”
“So Maren?” I echo, a single brow arched.
“Yeah,” she says. “Stop being so modest and prim and proper and perfect. Let your hair down. Get a little crazy. Have some fun.”
Saige scans the bar, though I’m not sure how she can see a thing in here because I sure as hell can’t.
“Him,” she says, leaning in and pointing to what appears to be a man sitting at the edge of the bar. I can make out a hint of a profile, but that’s about it. “You should screw him tonight.”
Laughing, I take another drink. “I’m not shopping for a one-night stand. Besides, you can’t just point and choose. It doesn’t work that way. I don’t work that way.”
Saige tilts her head backward. “Please stop being Maren for two point five seconds of your perfect little life and just trust me. That guy over there is smoking hot. Believe me, he was the first thing I saw when I walked in here tonight, and he’s damn lucky I’m a married woman because I’d have pounced all over that. He’s been sitting in that same spot for the last half hour, and he keeps glancing over here looking at you, but you’re too stuck inside your little Maren bubble to notice what’s happening around you. This could be the beginning of a very mutually satisfying arrangement.”
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself.”
I steal a glance his way, but he’s facing forward, elbows resting on the bar, minding his own business.
Saige is delusional.
Taking another sip, I leave my stare fixed on him a bit longer, hoping my eyes adjust in the dark so I can make out a semblance of a profile. The longer I gaze, the clearer his outline becomes. Even from here, I see he’s attractive. He looks to be tall, his knees brushing against the underside of the bar and his broad shoulders filling a dark suit coat. His dark hair is clean cut and groomed. The man looks like every other suit-donning professional businessman in here, and he’s drinking alone. He’s clearly in town for business.
“Why don’t you walk by?” Saige brushes her shoulder against mine. “Or better yet, why don’t you go order another drink. Stand next to him. Say hello. Smile. Set the trap. Deposit the bait. And then walk away.”
Laughing through my nose, I shake my head. “I can’t. He’ll see through me. That sounds super obvious.”
“Who cares? It’s just for one night.” Saige stomps her red-bottomed heel. “You need to hook up with someone. You need to experience a penis that isn’t attached to a lying asshole for once in your life.”
Glancing down into my empty champagne glass, I exhale and nod. Nathan was my first everything.
First love.
First boyfriend.
First fiancé.
First husband.
First and only father of my children.
First breaker of my
heart.
And while I’m not one to sit around feeling sorry for myself or waxing poetic over our glory days, I’m in no condition to go from humble housewife to roaring sexpot all because I blew out a candle on a divorce cake.
“I know you mean well.” I place my hand on Saige’s shoulder. “But I just . . . can’t.”
Saige pouts, and then she gets that gleam in her eye. The one I’ve seen a hundred times before. She’s horrible at taking “no” for an answer, and I know this from experience. Last year, her husband told her she couldn’t book a trip to Paris, so she brought Paris to Seattle courtesy of his Amex and by way of Chanel, Dior, and a thousand-dollar cake shaped like the Eiffel Tower.
She clasps her hands together. “Please, please, please?”
“Begging doesn’t work with my kids. You think it’s going to work with you?”
Saige’s baby blues hold steady on mine, and I catch Tiffin cutting into the cake beside me. These women got all dolled up and came dressed in their finest, braving the Seattle rain for me. Saige took the time to order this cake and throw this party for me. It’d be incredibly rude if I sat here like a wet blanket.
I glance over at the suit at the bar once more, only this time he is looking my way.
Holy shit.
My eyes can’t flick away from his fast enough, and I’m grateful that the darkness hides the warmth burning in my cheeks.
Priceless (An Amato Brothers/Rixton Falls crossover) Page 46