Monday, March 23, 2015

RE-RELEASE BLITZ: The Speak Easy Duet by Melanie Harlow


Title: Speak Easy Duet
Author: Melanie Harlow
Genre: Historical Romance



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 couldn’t.
I thought I did the right thing, betraying one man for another.
I didn’t.
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.

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“Satisfied?” He set the phone down and raised his eyebrows at me.
“I guess.” At least I knew Daddy was still alive, and conscious enough to speak on the phone. My job now was to get the money. But even if I sold the twelve cases I’d pick up tomorrow night, I’d need to sell seventeen more to come up with five grand by Tuesday. It couldn’t be done—I needed more time. But what leverage did I have to bargain with?
I looked at Enzo, my mind and heart racing.
No. You can’t.
“We should go. I promised to return you within twenty minutes.” Enzo gave me that slow smile, which made my belly go hollow. “And I do rather value those body parts your friend threatened.”
“Right.” I licked my lips as I walked to the door, and Enzo waited until I reached it before turning off the lamp. His silhouette came closer in the darkness, and my insides tightened.
Oh yes, I can.
“If you’ll move, I’ll unlock the door,” he said.
Fear and some other untamable feeling buzzed through me. “No.”
“No?”
“We still have five minutes.” I rushed forward and threw my arms around his neck, crushing my lips to his. For a moment he was stunned; I heard his keys hit the floor. Then strong arms locked around my back, and his mouth opened wide over mine, his tongue lashing inside with deep, demanding strokes. My body ignited in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Keep your senses. This is just a ploy. You’re angry with him. Our mouths battled each other with such ferocity I couldn’t breathe, and I imagined the fire between us consuming all the oxygen in the room. He tasted like temptation— whisky and smoke.
Pressing my forearms against his shoulders, I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist. Enzo pushed my back up against the door, his hands slipping beneath my dress to the undersides of my legs, his fingers gripping the bare skin above my stockings. Gasping, I squeezed his torso between my thighs as his mouth traveled across my face and down my neck. His fingers edged inside the lace of my step-in, teasing the soft pink folds at my center while his tongue lingered in the hollow at the base of my throat.
Something deep and powerful surged within me. Threading my fingers through his dark hair, I pulled his head back and we stared hard at each other before our mouths slammed together once more. He shifted my weight under one arm and found the side fasteners of my dress with the other.
Somehow, he undid seven hooks and eyes with one hand.
His fingers slipped inside my dress and pressed against the bare skin on my lower back. Then he swung me away from the door and moved to the desk, setting me on its edge with my dress bunched up around my hips. Standing between my knees, he ran his hands up my pale white thighs, which glowed in the dark above my stockings. My chest heaved with ragged breaths as he shrugged off his coat and loosened his tie. My hands itched to touch him, to travel under starched cotton and over hot skin, to reach low and feel exactly how he wanted me. To know for certain what he could to do to me, if I let him.



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.


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