We're here babies! It's taken a long time and if you read my blog regularly, you'll know that it's been a struggle. But we have arrived, Mother! I feel the message I can offer through this book, is that love will pierce through the darkest of nights.
I'm so excited for you all to dive deep into this and link all the little teasers I've provided, see where everyone connects to one another throughout the Italian Knights and fall in love with Beppe and Mimi as much as I did.
Murano on Amazon
Il retro
“How do you accidentally fall on a seven inch knife?”
And so began Mimi Johnson’s first argument with the man, the
myth, the walking migraine that is Giuseppe Nardiello. If she had a pound for
every time she thought about having him sectioned, she wouldn’t need to work at
the Da Canaveze’s state of the art private hospital. She wouldn’t need to work
at all.
With their two best friend’s falling in love and getting
married, eyes fell to them to do the same and sharpish. Mimi couldn’t truly
appreciate the convenience of someone as gorgeous and ripped and borderline
unbalanced as Beppe landing in her surgical lap just like that. What else
could be wrong with him?
Beppe is the last man standing among his be-ringed mates,
a status he feels rather content with until he catches Mimi’s cheeky little
grin and gets firm confirmation which end she’s had her piercings; plural… He’s
ready to give his all to her, but he’s missing the familial piece of his own
puzzle that will make him feel whole. Adopted as a baby after the gruesome
murder of his birth mother, he’s never truly known himself, until a letter
arrives from a lawyer in Venice, finally telling him that the island of Murano
holds all the answers key to even his very name.
Borderline or not, Beppe is the perfect man and Mimi
couldn’t bear for anything to happen to him. If she has to use all her skills
and piercings to convince him to protect himself from the obvious danger on
that island, they’re all on the operating table.
From London to Marseille to Venice and the island itself,
Murano drags Beppe and Mimi on a dangerous journey of discovery. Love truly
saves all, but will it be enough to save them both from the terror behind the
truth?
This is book seven in the Italian Knights
Series, to be taken all at once, preferably with something stronger than water
coz it’s about to get a bit mad… Estratto
Beppe moved into the seat next to
Mimi. “Nice toast. How’d you like my speech?” he asked.
Mimi laughed. “It was genuinely
sweet and ridiculous. You know he’s going to kill you, don’t you?”
Beppe pooh-poohed the very
idea. “He’s not doing shit but checking out his wife’s underwear.”
She tilted her head. “I can
honestly say he’s going to have the best night tonight as long as he doesn’t
drink too much. Her underwear is fire!”
He waited a beat. “You’re not
going to excuse this as a girl crush or a momentary bi leaning?”
“My friend is insanely sexy. I
can say that without any latent homophobia.” Mimi shrugged and picked up her
champagne glass. “What the fuck is a ‘girl crush’ anyway? If you think
someone’s attractive, male or female, why does it need to be excused? It’s not
like I’m going to try and get her into bed. Let me feel my friend’s oats!”
He paused again. “You don’t want
to try to get her into bed?”
“No. Don’t get a hard-on about
it.”
Beppe opened his mouth to
protest, when Anna’s father tapped Beppe on the shoulder. “Son, we need to have
a chat about your language. Anna’s ninety-year-old grandmother is here.”
He blinked. “But did she hear?”
Anna’s father frowned briefly.
“I’m… Maybe not.”
Beppe spread his palms. “Sorted.”
Immediately, he looked for Mimi
who was talking to Lydia as she had emerged from under the table. Fuck! His
disappointment at being interrupted was only slightly assuaged by the mild bollocking
he received from his friends and the hugs he enjoyed from Rocco’s sister and
Nonna. The tables were cleared for Rocco and Anna to have their first dance. As
truly befit them, Dinah Washington crooned to them, Rocco swinging them across
the floor like a professional.
“He’s missing a number on his
back,” Mimi said into his ear.
“What would he get if he was on tv?”
he asked, barely looking away.
“Len Goodman’s a traditionalist,”
Mimi replied, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Maybe an eight if he threw in a
fleckle.”
The guests were encouraged to
join in as Etta Jones sang softly and dreamily to them all. “Come on. Let me
see if I can throw one in. Get myself an imaginary nine.”
“You seriously watch Strictly?”
He frowned at her. “Were you not
just giving me a lecture about latent homophobia?”
She nodded and accepted his hand
to lead them onto the floor. He gently lifted her arm for her to circle him in
a pretty little round before he curved her into his body. “Foxtrot,” he
advised. “Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.”
“How?” Her mouth parted on a huge
smile of surprise.
“My mother taught me.” He said it
casually enough to hopefully not lead Mimi into further questions. “She said it
was important for me to know how to lead on a dance floor and how to handle a
woman respectfully.”
Mimi gazed at him. “I’m
impressed. Am I doing a heel lead?”
“Can’t see your feet, Amelia, but
I’m assuming you’re not turning on your toes, or else you’d be bobbing up and
down. There’s no rise and fall in the foxtrot.”
Mimi took a deep breath. “I’m not
going to lie; this is turning me on a bit.”
He looked down at her, mouth
parted and breasts heaving inside her pink embroidered dress. “Let’s go
somewhere a little quieter.”
Leading her out of the main
ballroom, he could sense a tangible anticipation in the air. He’d never been so
grateful to his foster mother.
