Five dangerous men. One disaster-prone woman. One lonely mob princess. No limits on who gets to love whom. Romantasy meets dramedy when mafia and military collide in a supernatural world of Fey. No matter who tries to talk me down—or how—no part of me will let this pass, even if I’m breaking my own fucking rules as Don of the Haven Syndicates. I’m a cold, unfeeling, distant and hardened son of a bitch, entirely used to the vultures circling simply because I was born a Moretti. My twelve-month-old son, on the other hand, doesn’t deserve this shit. I’m shaking, raging and ready to burn down the whole fucking city my great-grandfather built in retribution for the boy I didn’t even know existed until three weeks ago. “Cross Morgue. You kill ’em, we chill ’em,” a woman chirps in the darkest greeting ever delivered through the happiest customer-service voice I’ve ever heard. “Damn, baby, I know you’re pissed, but the cold-caller script? Really?” That's a normal greeting for her? On any other day, I might be curious. Maybe even impressed by the ass-chewing it should be on social media it's so ludicrous. It’s not that day… At least, not until I hear what the woman says next. I still don’t know if this disaster waiting to happen should come with a name or a warning label. Only that our lives—and this city—will never be the same again. —Vince Moretti Dark. Queer. High heat. Slow burn. True-poly why choose. Four books. One eventual HEA.

“I don’t share what’s mine, Dove,” he warned. “And who said I’m yours?” Even as I was rejecting the notion of 'belonging' to another person, heat stole my body and mind in the predatorial claim. “You,” a dark and still warm grin stole his gorgeous features. Making every inch of me rise to his hands, silently begging for his continued attention.... “You were made for me, Dove, and I'm not giving you what you so clearly want, until you admit it." Forget the cheating ex on a once in a lifetime vacation to the Keys..... Ellie has no idea what fate or her childhood friend have in store.