She thought it was only for one night…
I’ve never let anyone into my life.
At least not like her. Not until her.
She sees a side of me that isn’t the bratva monster everyone else believes.
Now that she knows, she’s mine.
Mine to keep and protect. Mine to please. In return, it’s her love I crave. She’s my soulmate.
Every kiss, every touch will take her to her limits, and I’ll be the one to catch her.
Bratva Sweetheart is an interconnecting, standalone Dark Mafia Romance with a HEA and no cliffhanger. It contains extra-steamy scenes that will make your toes curl and your granny blush. This is book two in The Ivankov Brotherhood, a six-book series that’ll keep you warm at night.
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EXCERPT:
I can’t help but love people watching in a strip club. It’s New York City, so there’s usually something shady going on somewhere. Sometimes it’s more than just a lap dance. Sometimes it’s a guy getting thrown out for trying to make it more than just a lap dance. And sometimes you see the most unlikely people conducting business. I’m certain that’s one of the club owners. Pussycats. How utterly unoriginal. But damn, he can call this place whatever he wants. He’s hot.
“Bourbon on the rocks with a splash of water.”
“If you drank vodka, you wouldn’t need to dilute the taste.”
That voice. It’s sin waiting to happen. I look to my left, and the man who’d been in the corner talking to a rather large Italian-looking guy is now beside me. He was hot from a distance. He’s Lucifer in a suit up close. Are my panties on the floor? Those blue eyes might have just made them drop. They’re certainly wetter than they were a few minutes ago, watching Todd and the understudy stripper. God, I can be a b*tch. The girl is just doing her job.
“I had a bad experience with vodka in college. I steer clear.”
“Made yourself sick?”
“And if I’d like to continue to enjoy orange juice without being certain I taste vodka, I stay away.”
I offer him what I hope is a slightly sarcastic yet sexy smiley kind of smirk. From the way he’s grinning, it either worked, or he thinks I’m batsh*t. Oh! Maybe he did like it. He smells amazing, and now his chest is practically against the side of my shoulder. I can smell the hint of vodka on his breath, and for once, it doesn’t make me want to shiver and turn away.
“You didn’t look like you were having a good time earlier. Boyfriend not paying enough attention? Or perhaps too much attention?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Your date then.”
“Not a date. Those both imply romance. That’s not our arrangement. Partners in crime. Partners in fun. Definitely not partners in life.” I cock an eyebrow, waiting to see how he responds to me basically admitting that Todd is a f*ck buddy. We tried going on a couple dates. We enjoyed each other’s company, and we really enjoy having sex together, but no sparks ever flew for either of us.
“So you came for an appetizer, and I suppose you’re supposed to be the main course later.”
I look back over my shoulder and can’t find Todd. He’s not at the table I just left. I wonder if he went to the bathroom. He better not be taking care of anything, otherwise, I’ll have to do all the work to get him revved up again. Sometimes we enjoy the foreplay, but that wasn’t the deal tonight.
“Something like that.”
“But only one of you gets to sample. That hardly seems fair.”
“It’s fine for tonight.” Todd and I have been to clubs that allow us to do more than just watch. He might get a lap dance, and I might get his fingers. I might sit on his lap while he f*cks me, and I get a lap dance. We’re kinky like that, but we’ve never had a full-on threesome. Women just don’t interest me enough for that. Now two guys? One can only wish.
Mr. No Name shakes his head when the bartender approaches, and I reach for my purse. Before I can insist that I pay, he’s picking up both of our drinks and turning away from the guy. I don’t know what to say beyond a mumbled thanks. I follow this guy, which I know is ridiculous, but I’m too damn curious for my own good. He steers us away from the men in the corner where I first spotted him. There’s another man who looks so much like him they could be twins. My mystery man nods to his lookalike before taking us to a corner table on the opposite side of the stage.
“You can see if your friend returns. That way you won’t miss him.”
There’s something about his tone. Those two sentences have more than one meaning. As I meet his gaze, I can see it just as much as I heard it.
“Thank you for my drink. But I usually don’t accept drinks from strangers.”
“Good thing you watched it being poured. I’m Bogdan Kutsenko.”
Oh, holy f*cking sh*t. I thought he might be, but now I know. He’s a f*cking billionaire. He and his brothers own a slew of strip clubs, casinos, commercial developments, and Lord only knows what else. And I’m fairly certain that whatever else is not even close to legal. I’ve heard the rumors. Russian mafia.
Author Bio:
Sabine Barclay, a nom de plume also writing Historical Romance as Celeste Barclay, lives near the Southern California coast with her husband and sons. Growing up in the Midwest, Sabine enjoyed spending as much time in and on the water as she could. Now she lives near the beach. She's an avid swimmer, a hopeful future surfer, and a former rower. Before becoming a full-time author, Sabine was a Social Studies and English teacher. She holds degrees in International Affairs (BA), Secondary Social Science (MAT), and Political Management (MPS). She channels that knowledge into creating engrossing contemporary romances that will make your toes curl and your granny blush.
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