THE WEDDING PACT
by Katee Robert
Carrigan O'Malley has fallen in love with family enemy #1, James Halloran and he has absolutely no intention of letting her get away. THE WEDDING PACT is the second book in a smoking-hot series about the O'Malleys—wealthy, powerful, and full of scandalous family secrets from New York Times Bestseller Katee Robert and Forever Romance.
Series: The O’Malley Series #2
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 26, 2016
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing- Forever
Carrigan O'Malley has always known her arranged marriage would be more about power and prestige than passion. But after one taste of the hard-bodied, whiskey-voiced James Halloran, she's ruined for anyone else. Too bad James and his family are enemy number 1.
Hallorans vs. O'Malleys—that's how it's always been. James should be thinking more about how to expand his family's empire instead of how silky Carrigan's skin is against his and how he can next get her into his bed. Those are dangerous thoughts. But not nearly as dangerous as he'll be if he can't get what he wants: Carrigan by his side for the rest of their lives.
Review of the book- Two mob family decide to merge by the son and daughter marrying. Sounds simple but there lots of going on in the background. Carrigan is a strong -likable characters. She knows she's a bargaining chip but goes alone with it to help her family. James is a hot guy trying to help his family and clean up the family business . Neither thought much of the marriage but are surprise by each other. We see inside two mob families and what we do for family. A nice introduction to James family and looking forward to the next book featuring them. lisa
Greed. Ambition. Violence. Those are the "values" Olivia Rashidi learned from her Russian mob family-and the values she must leave behind for the sake of her daughter. When she meets Cillian O'Malley, she recognizes the red flag of his family name . . . yet she still can't stop herself from seeing the smoldering, tortured man. To save her family, Olivia sets out to discover Cillian's own secrets, but the real revelation is how fast-and how hard-she's falling for him.
Plagued by a violent past, Cillian is more vulnerable than anyone realizes. Anyone except Olivia, whose beauty, compassion, and pride have him at "hello," even if she's more inclined to say good-bye to an O'Malley. While his proposal of sex with no strings seems simple, what he feels for her isn't, especially after he learns that she belongs to a rival crime family. Cillian knows that there is no escape from the life, but Olivia may be worth trying-and dying-for . . .
Rafflecopter: rcptr" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b050ef29210/" rel="nofollow" data-raflid="b050ef29210" data-theme="classic" data-template="" id="rcwidget_caa2jjp8">a Rafflecopter giveaway
Direct link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b050ef29210/?
About Katee Robert:
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Katee Robert learned to tell her stories at her grandpa’s knee. She found romance novels at age twelve and it changed her life. When not writing sexy contemporary and speculative fiction romance novels, she spends her time playing imaginary games with her wee ones, driving her husband batty with what-if questions, and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. Connect with Katee at: Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads | Instagram | Tumblr | Youtube
She headed for her favorite booth, but drew up short when she saw that it was occupied. Her brain took precious seconds to catch up to her eyes. There he was, the asshole, sitting in her booth with his legs stretched out in front of him, wearing those jeans that hugged his ass and thighs and a smug smirk, with his arms stretched out across the back of the booth. Challenging her.
In case she missed all that written all over his face, there were two drinks in front of him—a beer and, if she didn’t miss her guess, a dirty martini. Her preferred drink. How the hell did he even know that?
Oh yes, this was a challenge all right.
Every intelligent cell in her brain demanded she turn around and walk away. Run away. But then the bastard raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to sit down and drink with him, and she threw common sense right out the window. Carrigan strode across the distance separating them, putting a little more swing into her step and smiling to herself when his gaze tracked the movement. Album or not, tangled history or no, he wanted her.
And she wasn’t above using that against him.
“Two nights in a row. I must have pissed off Lady Luck somehow.” She sank onto the cushioned seat across the small table from him. The bartender appeared half a second later, and Carrigan smiled sweetly at her. “A dirty martini, please.”
The woman looked at the table, looked back at her, and shrugged. “Sure thing.”
If anything James just seemed more amused. “Too good for my drinks?”
“I’m not stupid enough to take a drink I’ve left unattended…and I’ve never laid eyes on this one until I got here. Party Girl 101.”
“Now, lovely, why would I need to drug you? You came here of your own free will, just like I knew you would.” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, drawing her gaze to the way his black T-shirt clung to his shoulders and how his dangling hands seemed designed to frame the bulge between his legs.
Her body zinged to life in a way it hadn’t in months. It was all too easy to take a walk down memory lane and feel him lifting her against that wall and shoving his cock home, growling filthy words in her ear in that same tone of voice he was using now.
She held his gaze even though all she wanted to do was look away. James wasn’t pretty. He was far too masculine for that. The first time she’d seen him, she thought he’d look perfectly at home on the back of a Harley, and that perception hadn’t changed with time. Everything about him screamed danger in a way she wasn’t used to. The men in her family were dangerous—there was no doubt of that—but it was a polished danger. James’s wasn’t. He was gritty and primal and…She really needed to stop. Right now. “I wouldn’t put anything past you at this point.”
“You wound me.”
“You kidnapped me. I’d say we’re nowhere near even.” Something she had to keep reminding herself, though the fact she kept forgetting annoyed the hell out of her. Only a weak woman would get all aflutter over a man who obviously meant her harm. A weak woman or one with a death wish.
Carrigan wasn’t either.
Satisfied that the bartender wouldn’t go telling tales, he made his way back to where Carrigan had picked a booth. Ignoring the empty side, he slid in next to her. “What’s going on?”
She didn’t look up. “What makes you think something’s going on?”
“How about because you won’t meet my eyes for the first time since we met? Or this…I don’t even know what to call this getup.” He tugged on the white fabric pooled on the booth seat between them.
Her green eyes flashed, a welcome show of anger. “There’s nothing wrong with the way I dress.”
“You’re right. This isn’t you. This is some scared virgin who’s looking for her white knight. If I’ve learned anything from our time together, it’s that you’d have no problem slaying dragons on your own.”
Her mouth formed a little O of surprise, but she recovered quickly enough. “You don’t know me.”
“Not nearly as well as I want to, no. But you don’t grow up the way we did without learning to read a person.” The bartender appeared with their drinks, and James waited for him to scurry away before he spoke again. “Talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“No one can help me.” She didn’t say it like it upset her—more like it was a truth of her life that she’d come to terms with years ago. It made his chest ache. Carrigan took a long drink of her martini. “I’m almost thirty.”
He blinked. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Biology, my dear Watson. How in God’s name can I pop out half a dozen kids if I’m past the age of safely being able to do so.”
There was so much wrong with what she just said that he didn’t know where to start. So James just went with the first thing he thought of. “Do you want kids?”
She froze with her drink halfway to her mouth and slowly set it back down. “You know, I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before.”
The raw pain in her voice made him want to comfort her, but that was one skill James had never learned. Maybe if his mother had lived…but there was no room in this world for what if and maybe. So he did the one thing that he knew how to do. The single thing guaranteed to distract her.
He kissed her.
Carrigan went rigid for half a second, but he waited, his lips on hers, and let her choose. That hesitation was all it took for her to melt, turning to fire in his arms. He wanted to haul her against him, to let this feeling consume him until none of the bullshit mattered anymore. Right now, in this moment, there was only her. They could be the last two people in the world for all he gave a fuck. Hell, part of him hoped they were. As her tongue stroked his, a small, treacherous thought wormed into his brain and took root.
With this woman by my side, I’d be content to let the rest of the world burn.
“What are you wearing?”
A pause, as if she’d shocked him. “You’re hitting on me.”
“Are you complaining?” She twisted around in her chair and stared into the mirror on the wall across from her. When he didn’t immediately respond, she kept going. The only alternative was to back down, and Carrigan was so goddamn tired of backing down. The only reason she kept taking James’s calls was because of the distraction he offered her. If he wasn’t going to play, there was no reason for her to stay on the phone.
She really wanted him to stay on the phone. “Shy? That’s okay, I’ll go first. I’m wearing a thin white tank top and a pair of black panties.” She was a liar, but it would take all of five seconds to make it the truth.
“Lovely, you’re testing me.” His voice gained an edge.
Good. At least someone was feeling as out of control as she was. “I suppose you’d like photographic proof.” She stood and shimmied out of her long skirt, and then pinned the phone between her ear and shoulder while she unhooked her bra and took it off. “Hold, please.”
Ignoring his cursing, she adjusted her angle so he would have to be blind to miss the faint outline of her nipples against the fabric of her tank top, and snapped a picture. She knew she was playing with fire. Good lord, of course she knew. But she wasn’t about to stop. She grinned as she sent the picture.
Carrigan put the phone back to her ear in time to hear his sharp inhale. “Your turn.” She held her breath, waiting to see if he’d actually do it. Receiving pictures was one thing. Putting them out in the world was entirely another. Really, she shouldn’t have taken the risk in the first place. There was no telling what he would do with them—they might show up on the Internet. Then who would want to marry her?
Funny, but the idea of countless men checking out her rack didn’t bother her nearly as much if it meant she dodged the marriage bullet. The shame on her family might be enough that her father would send her away permanently. She’d like to spend some time in New York or LA or even New Orleans. Maybe Rome or Paris or Tokyo. The world was so damn big and she’d only seen a little slice of it.
Her phone beeped, pulling her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the picture he’d sent and started to shake. Oh my God. James was shirtless, wearing only those goddamn jeans she couldn’t seem to get enough of. And they were unbuttoned—a clear invitation if she ever saw one. An invitation she desperately wanted to accept. “Damn, James. Somebody taught you how to selfie.”
“Maybe I’m a natural.” His voice was little more than a growl. “You started this, lovely. Tell me what’s next.”
The strange mix of command and handing her the reins got her head back in the game. She walked over to her bed and climbed onto it, trying to ignore the trembling in her legs. She could be in charge. She wanted to be. “I’m lying on my bed.”
“What color are the sheets?”
The question seemed to carry far more import than it should. “White.”
“They don’t suit you. Red is your color. Go on.” He sounded so damn imperial, as if he actually knew her. He didn’t. No one did, really. She wore so many masks, sometimes she worried she’d forget the woman at the center of them all.
But this time he was right. She would have chosen red for herself.
Carrigan put the thought away and focused on the now. “You talk too much.”
“My mistake.” He didn’t sound the least bit sorry. Good. She wasn’t, either. “How do you want it, lovely? Rough, I’d bet. You’re not fucking breakable, and I think you love to be reminded of that fact.” Something rustled on his end of the line. “Close your eyes.”
She obeyed without thinking, and then instantly snapped them open. “I thought I was in charge.”
“You let me know if I get something wrong.” His laugh told her how unlikely he found the possibility.