It starts with Speak Easy…
Enzo DiFiore is not a nice guy.
He’s a liar. A cheat. A criminal.
His family kidnapped my father and wants ten grand in ransom from me—next week.
But I can’t keep my hands off him.
Joey Lupo is a criminal too—and just because he’s helping me get the money doesn’t mean I should forgive him for all the dirty tricks he played on me in the past.
But I can’t keep my mind off him.
Me? I’m just a bootlegger with a weakness for whiskey, danger, and a man in a three-piece suit.
But deciding whom to trust isn’t easy in a world where everyone wants something—be it booze, money, power, or sex—and no one cares what it takes to get it.
It continues with Speak Low…
I thought I could leave danger behind.
I thought I did the right thing, betraying one man for another.
I thought I knew what I wanted.
I was wrong.
Now I’m desperate to fix my mistakes before it’s too late and I lose the one thing, the one person, that truly matters to me.
I LOVE Melanie Harlow’s Frenched Series. (Frenched, Forked, Floored) Before she wrote those sweet and steamy books, she tackled a historical romance about a feisty woman who bootlegs whiskey. Melanie has recently put Speak Easy and Speak Low together and repackaged them into 1 book. Be sure to check out The Speak Easy Duet!
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Despite the hot day, the interior of the boathouse was shadowy and dank, empty but for the sacks of whisky and crates of scotch at the back. I was heading for them when I heard footsteps behind me.
“I made the deliveries,” I said, picking up a burlap sack of Canadian Club by its bunny ears. “Mrs. Koehler was a little short.”
“I’m not sure you should be calling anyone short.”
I spun around as someone stepped from the shadows into a narrow beam of sunlight slanting through a high window.
It was him. My breath hitched. “How did you get in here?”
He smiled, hands in his pockets, coat unbuttoned. “I have a talent for lock and key.”
“How did you find this place?”
“I followed you.”
The gooseflesh returned. Was Bridget right about him? “Why?”
“I was curious.” He approached me slowly. “And I wanted to see you again.”
I glanced at the open door. “You shouldn’t be here. If it’s whisky you want, I’ll bring it to you.”
He took the sack from my hands and set it on the floor. “What if I want something besides whisky?” His dark eyes were beautiful, but it was his mouth that fascinated me. My breath came faster as I stared at the sharp peaks of his upper lip.
He tipped up my chin, but went no further, his mouth so close I could feel his breath. His slow smile sent my pulse skittering out of control.
I was done waiting for it. I grabbed his head and pulled his mouth down to mine.
His arms snaked around my back, the heat of his body enveloping me. When he opened his mouth, I did the same, my entire body humming like a swarm of bees was under my skin. I’m kissing the sheik! I don’t even know his name! Daddy could walk in here any second! Damn, he smells good—like aftershave and tobacco. My breasts tingled and I rose up on tiptoe, trying to press closer. Wishing his skin was bare, I ran my hands down his vest and twined my arms around his taut waist. My fingers hit a hard object, and I froze.
He has a gun.
About the Author
Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her lipstick red, and her history with the naughty bits left in. She lifts her glass to readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI.