Twenty-five-year-old socialite and businesswoman, Quinn Rothschild has always done what is expected of her. The dutiful daughter that went to school to work in the family’s publishing company and tailored her life to keep up her father’s reputation has now been asked to do the unthinkable. Marry the son of the most powerful mafia don in the city to keep their family’s business afloat. A marriage that started out as just on paper to Dante Luciano, an infamous womanizer and lethal asshole. He has made it clear that he hates her and she feels the same. Quinn nearly refuses, until she finds out that her marriage to Dante is payment to the Luciano family for paying off her father’s gambling debts that threaten to take away their home, their business, and possibly her father’s life. Negotiating with the Don, Quinn agrees to marry Dante, though she knows that he is unfaithful to their vows from the very start. But when she starts being followed and threatened, who can she go to for help? The father who failed her? Or her husband who hates her?
View MoreHey friends!Thank you so much for reading Yours On the Dotted Line. I hope that you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Here are a couple of announcements/interesting information for you.If you are interested in what I listen to while I’m writing, you can find my playlist “Creative Juices” on Spotify. I love all different kinds of music, so there's a little something for everyone.I write all different kinds of books. If you’re interested, you can find my other books on these platforms:GoodNovel:Trio of Mates Series: 4 werewolf books that take on the idea of what would happen if one of the leadership was gay and couldn’t produce an heir. Lots of very graphic smut. (completed)Love in the Time of Quarantine: 4 short stories that look at what happens when you are stuck with someone you didn’t expect during quarantine. Lots of very graphic smut. (completed)Dissonance and Harmony: The story of a high school girl who has to face her rapist at his sentencing hearing and deal
Bora Bora. Our final night. Our favorite kind of storm.“DANTE!” I scream, my fingers curling into his hair, holding him against me as I ride his face.His mouth is locked onto my clit, sucking and tugging just right, while his fingers curve inside me with that relentless, perfect come here motion.I’ve only ever squirted with Dante—and even then, it’s rare. It takes that crushing, desperate kind of need, the one only he can stir up. It’s different than a typical orgasm—pressure building until it feels like I might break—but the release… God, the release is so fucking good. It leaves me limp. Soaked. Ruined in the best way.He knows what he’s doing to me right now. From the way his fingers stroke my g-spot, he’s trying to make sure I’m blissed-out and limp when he finally fucks me.His moan vibrates through me, and I clench hard around his fingers. I can feel the wave rising—hot and fast and inevitable.My grip tightens in his hair, probably painful by now, but he just groans louder, d
Back in Bora Bora. The water. The fire. The man I love.Dante chases me into the ocean—not that I can get very far. Or want to.He’s stripped off everything, tossing his clothes in a careless heap on the sand. The last thing I see flying is his Versace watch, sailing somewhere in the general direction of his pants.Then he’s sprinting into the water after me.I make it to about hip-deep before Dante catches me.“Fuck, cara mia, you’re so sexy,” he growls, his hands immediately on me. He starts with my stomach—tender, reverent—before sliding down to my ass to yank me against him, then up to my breasts, cupping them through the water. “I need you.”“You have me, baby,” I murmur, teasing. “What are you gonna do with me now that you’ve caught me?”He chuckles darkly. “Anything I want.”His hand fists in my hair, pulling just enough to tilt my head back. Then his mouth crashes onto mine, full of heat and dominance.God, I love when he takes control like this. It melts me, makes me ache to g
One week after the spa day. Four and a half months pregnant.“Mama! I want to go play in the pool! Let me go!”Freddie is squirming all over the place, trying to break free from my arms so he can bolt out the kitchen door into the backyard of the Luciano estate.Okay, I can’t blame him. I’ve been holding him for five solid minutes, not quite ready to let go.“Topina, you have to let him go. We’re going to miss our flight,” Dante murmurs against my shoulder, his breath low and warm, sending a shiver straight down my spine.“You own the plane,” I pout. “What’s the point of owning a private jet if you can’t leave when you want?”I know he’s right, though. I need to let Freddie go.But this is the first time I’ll be away from him for longer than a weekend—and he’s always just been a short drive away, staying with Grayson and Rocco, or Emily and Josiah, or Nonna and Nonno. This time, I won’t be able to just jump in the car if he needs me.I finally let him wiggle free, and he sprints outsid
Four months pregnant. One week from our anniversary.After my spa day with Bianca, I went to Freddie’s preschool to pick him up. He runs straight out the door and launches himself into my arms.“Mommy! Mommy! I’m so excited!” he cries as I catch him and hold him tight.I won’t be able to pick him up much longer. At four months pregnant, my OB-GYN would probably have a heart attack if she saw me carrying him right now. But it’s something I know I’ll miss. I’ve decided to carry him until our anniversary next week—when I hit the five-month mark.Yes, it’s completely arbitrary. But I made the decision. And I’m sticking to it.“Hello, amore. How was your day? What’s got you so excited?” I ask as I shift him on my hip and start walking toward the car.Josiah, standing nearby with Emilio, clucks his tongue when he sees me carrying Freddie. But he doesn’t say anything—smart man. Experience has taught him that arguing with a pregnant woman is a fool’s game.“School was great! Conner found a b
One month later…When I first met Bianca, I thought she was stuck-up, petty, and materialistic. I honestly would’ve bet money that she’d want a black-tie affair—no kids allowed—in the most expensive and exclusive venue in all of New York.Now that I really know her, I couldn’t have been more wrong.Yeah, the girl loves to shop. And yeah, she’s never been spotted without her red-bottomed shoes and a Kate Spade bag. But when it comes to what really matters? Bianca is all about family.“Honestly, Quinn, I’d love to just go down to City Hall with the family and then go out for dinner. But you know Papà won’t allow that,” she groans.It’s been a month since my brother proposed, and despite Emilia’s best efforts to drag Bianca into full wedding-planning mode, she’s managed to dodge every attempt so far.Today, we’re having a spa day. Facials, massages, pedicures, and soon manicures. And while we’re soaking our feet, I plan to get to the bottom of this.It took years for Stefan to get to the
Three years later…“Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Freddie! Happy Birthday to you!”My beautiful little boy—Frederico “Freddie” Dante Luciano—is three years old today. We’re surrounded by family, friends, and sugar-high toddlers, standing in a place I never thought we’d reach.Of course, the second we finish singing and Freddie blows out his candles, he immediately shoves his whole hand into the cake and shouts, “It’s chocolate cake! Mommy got me chocolate cake!”“Oh, Freddie! That was for everyone! You can’t put your hands in it,” I scold gently.“You say that like you don’t have two other cakes in the kitchen, cara mia. Let the boy enjoy his cake,” Dante says, wrapping his arm around me and kissing the top of my head.“Then you can be the one to put him to bed tonight,” I reply, earning loud laughter from Emily, who’s holding her and Josiah’s two-year-old daughter, Violet.“MAMA!” Freddie shouts, not at all pleased with my attention being elsewhere
Quinn’s POVRocco stares at me, completely gobsmacked. “W-w-what do you mean?”I roll my eyes. “Do you really think Grayson wouldn’t tell me everything? Especially after I caught the two of you fucking in the bathroom! Why are you keeping my best friend a secret?”“I’m not!” Rocco insists—but it’s clear neither of us believes that.I don’t even dignify it with a response. I just fold my arms over my very full boobs and even fuller belly and glare at him.“I’m not ashamed of being with Grayson!” he repeats, eyes wide and desperate. “I just…” His words trail off, like even he doesn’t know how to explain it.I glance around and realize we’re in an office. Thank God. I can’t stand for long without the baby pressing on my hips and making my legs go numb. I grab a chair and sink down, eyes locked on my brother-in-law as he begins to pace.“My family knows I’m gay,” he starts. “I came out to Bianca and Dante when I was fourteen, my mom at fifteen, and the Don when I was seventeen. And surpri
Quinn’s POV“It started right after Dante found you—when we were all meeting up at the hospital,” Grayson tells me.We’re sitting in the front seats of my car. He hasn’t looked at me once since we got in. I can tell he’s worried about how I’ll react to the story.That alone makes me sad. That he thinks I wouldn’t be happy for him. That he doubts I’d be on his side.“At first, we were just at the hospital at the same time. I noticed Rocco took his coffee the same way I did, so I started picking up drinks for both of us. Then he started bringing pastries. One thing led to another… and we ended up in a heavy makeout session, dry humping against the alley wall behind a café.”I blink. “And you weren’t going to tell anyone?” I ask. “Didn’t you think we’d be happy for you?”“It’s not that…” He sighs. “At first, we kept it quiet because of everything going on—your kidnapping, the baby, your dad… We didn’t want to add more chaos. And then it had been so long. We didn’t know how to bring it up.
“Father, why are we here?” I ask for what feels like the millionth time.We’re sitting at a long table on a raised dais in a massive banquet hall. At least 300 people are here—more than some of my friends’ weddings.And on the other side of my father, sharing our table, is Don Rafel Luciano—the head of the Italian mafia in this part of the city.Our family owns a well-off, though relatively small, publishing house in New York: Rothschild’s Reads. My great-grandfather started it when he came to America, and it’s been a point of pride that we’ve never let the mafia get its fingers into our business. Not once. Not ever.So why the hell are we sitting here at a banquet, sharing a stage with them?“I told you, Quinn. We’re doing what’s best for the company—and for the family. This is about a merger,” Father snaps. He’s been like this a lot lately, and I don’t understand why.He used to be kind. Caring. A great dad. Lately? He’s been cold. Angry. Paranoid.And now he wants to merge with the...
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