What A Man...

Hello there my Tony the Tiger! He's grrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeat! Two down and three more to go...

Caristo on Amazon

Caristo's Blurb

Tony Caristo was just minding his own business, waiting for his selfish bullet-magnet of a best friend to get out of surgery, when the sexiest nurse he’d ever even imagined walked right up to him, all luscious figured, to give him a right telling off with an Irish-lilted wit. All she missed was a fig leaf and a snake around her shoulders. His interest absolutely piqued, he sets himself up to do something about her, pretty damn quick. Tony isn’t a man given to waiting around for good things to happen to him. And Lydia is all good; every single, five foot eight, double F-cupped inch of her. When Lydia asks his best friend, Nick for a favour, Nick reminds him just what a useful friend he is by letting Tony handle it. And Tony cannot wait to handle all of her… 

Lydia Mills doesn’t have any time for nonsense, especially since she’s looking after her younger brother. She just needs to get him into university, without getting him killed by an ex-boyfriend she thought was well shot of. Fed up of literally trying to kick some sense into the fool, Lydia figures her only option is to have someone else do the kicking. Once she turns to Nick Da Canaveze for help as a last resort, he promptly hands her problem over to Tony Caristo to do the hard work, completely convinced that Lydia will come through it all in one piece As she takes in the eejit’s stealth, intelligence, utterly inappropriate wit and gorgeous bum, Lydia soon understands Nick’s confidence in his friend. Moreover, she really starts to worry what she’ll do without Caristo and his busy hands when the job is done. 

On Caristo's Watch is the second in the Italian Knights Series, showing that behind every criminal mastermind is a woman who will drive him to distraction with a look, a quip and a dress made to start all sorts of trouble. 

**Added extras: interviews with the characters and playlist**

Caristo's Excerpt

Tony knocked on Lydia’s door. He was doing this the polite way, as tomorrow they’d have a secure enough location to accost Kelvin Hammond. Good God, what had she been thinking? Well, she had said it was a Christmas party. Nurses hardly held back on the booze when it was free.

Lydia opened the door with a suspicious look on her face, her hair messily finger combed away from her forehead. There wasn’t a stitch of makeup on her face, but her eyelashes curled naturally toward her brows, her cheekbones glossy and tinged red beneath the mocha skin. The corner of his mouth tilted upwards. She had to be the most naturally beautiful woman he’d ever met, even though she wore a top that was bleached at the elbow and pyjama bottoms he’d seen in a toothpaste advert in the eighties.

“Hi,” she said slowly, confused.

“All right, Lyds?”

Her mouth tightened disapprovingly. “When did you start calling me Lyds?”

“About five minutes after I met you. Can we come in?”

“We? Who’s ‘we’?”

Tony nodded toward the guys behind him. “These lot. We’re redoing your windows first and fitting a proper security system.”

He edged his voluptuous new friend to the side as the men gave her a polite nod and they entered one by one with all sorts of equipment. “You can’t! I rent this place!”

“Yeah, I know. But your windows as they are won’t support the system. So we have to change them. And your door too. Let’s just go out.”

“No!” She heaved with horror. “Jonathan’s not here! I have knickers drying on my radiator!”

Tony paused to enjoy that image for a moment. “They won’t care. Come on.”

“I’m wearing pyjama bottoms!”

He sighed. “No, still don’t care. We’re going down the road, for a few hours.”

Grabbing her coat, and not bothering with keys as she’d be getting a whole new set anyway, he hustled her out of the flat and down the stairs.

“Why are you manhandling me?”

“I get moody when I’m hungry. And I’m hungry.”

It was best she knew that sort of thing now, to avoid any awkward growls and conversations. “There’s a café around the corner.”

“That little Spanish place? Yes, that’s where we’re going.”

Lydia frowned. “And you know that little Spanish place because?”

“I know everywhere in London that does good food.” She made a dismissive noise in her throat. Tony looked down at her. “What was that sound? It was halfway between a goat in pain and a lion giving birth.”

Her mouth fell open for a moment before she burst out laughing. “You’ve missed your calling on the comedy circuit. Although you would have to grow more of a beard than the designer tickle you’ve got on your jaw. And put on another five stone.”

“Who says I didn’t?” he teased. She shook her head.

“You’re a plonker, but you’re lucky this place now has a liquor licence.”

Tony hooked an arm around her shoulders. “I know having a drink is like a blood transfusion for you.”

She gave him a sharp slap on the arm. “Just because I’m Irish!”

He grinned, holding the door open for her. “I don’t do stereotypes.”