The Sicilian's Christmas Bride
THE HOTEL BALLROOM was a Christmas fairyland.
Evergreen garlands hung with silver and gold ornaments were draped across the ceiling; elegant white faux Christmas trees sparkled with tiny gold lights. Someone said there'd even be a visit from Santa at midnight, tossing expensive baubles to the well-dressed and incredibly moneyed crowd.
Nothing could ever compare with New York's first charity ball of the holiday season.
Dante Russo had seen it all before. The truth was, it bored the hell out of him. The crowds, the noise, the in-your-face signs of power and wealth...
But then, for some reason everything bored him lately. Even—perhaps especially—the high-octane excitement of his current mistress as she clung to his arm.
"Oh, DanteDarling," she kept saying, "oh, oh, oh, isn't this fabulous?"
That was how she'd taken to addressing him, as if his name and the supposed-endearment were one word instead of two. And fabulous seemed to be her favorite adjective tonight. So far, she'd used it to describe the decorations, the band, their table and the guests.
A month ago, he'd found Ch ... read full excerpt from The Sicilian's Christmas Bride ebook
