Booze & Bullets
by Melanie Munton
Series: Brooklyn Brothers, #3
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: November 3, 2020
We are the Rossetti’s.
The exiled “sixth family” of the New York mafia. We’re the good guys.
People don’t fear us…much. They respect us.
The five of us? We’re the Brooklyn Brothers.
And we protect what’s ours.
Lexi Kozlov is a spoiled brat. Rich. Entitled. And unfortunately, she’s now my wife. The marriage is part of a deal I struck with her father...the boss of the Russian mafia. Insane? Maybe. But the payoff could mean millions for my family. Marriage is just a contract anyway. We barely even have to speak to each other. Piece of cake, right?
Wrong.
Lexi is not what I bargained for. Her millions of Instagram followers see her as an international sex symbol, but I’m learning that she’s so much more. I should be relieved that she’s the bachelorette to my bachelor. I shouldn’t want to convince her to turn our fake marriage into a real one.
But when her life is threatened, you better believe I’m going to protect my wife, contract or no contract. Because this sham marriage is the most real thing I’ve ever had in my life.
And I’m not about to let anyone take that away from me.
Over the rim of my glass, I watched her take her first sip of the vodka. Her eyebrows shot up her forehead, as if impressed. She glanced back at the sidebar to get a glimpse of the bottle.
“I’ve never heard of this label,” she said, shifting around to face me again. “Who makes it?”
“One of the distilleries I own.” The only distillery of mine that produced craft vodka. “That’s the first batch we’ve made so far.”
She took another sip, a much slower one. My gaze lasered in on her throat as she savored the alcohol. She didn’t automatically take it down, like a shot. She held it on her tongue, swishing it around for moment, before finally swallowing it.
And then she grinned. In pleasure.
That might have been the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen.
A sinfully beautiful woman like her appreciating quality liquor the way it’s supposed to be appreciated. That was some seriously sexy shit. Even if vodka wasn’t really my style.
“It’s good,” she praised. “Really good, actually.”
I did not need to like the sound of her approval. Didn’t need my cock to stir at the fact that my label of her home country’s bread and butter pleased her. Didn’t need that at all.
I propped my elbow on the armrest, lifting my half empty glass to mouth level. “I don’t make bad alcohol, legs. If you’ve learned anything about me so far, it should be that I’ve got incomparable taste.”
I intentionally let my gaze travel over her figure, lingering on those ridiculously long legs that always seemed to squeeze together under my scrutiny.
What was that reaction? Was she affected by me?
You don’t care. It’s better if she hates you.
Sinking further down in her seat, she mimicked my position and propped her elbow on the armrest. “Sorry, I should have been more specific. For American vodka, it isn’t bad.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what you meant,” I murmured wryly.
We both took sips at the same time, our gazes clashing over our glasses. Being alone in such close quarters for the first time, it was clear we were taking each other’s measure.
“How many distilleries do you own?”
I stretched my legs out in front of me. “Four.”
I caught her eyes briefly flick down to my lap before reverting to her glass.
I bit back a smug grin.
God knew I’d been checking her out since I first laid eyes on her, so the reciprocity was nice to see. Lucky for her, I’d gotten my erection under control before her attention had zoned in on it.
And that’s exactly where she’d been looking. I wasn’t blind.
“One in Scotland, one in England, one on the Bourbon Trail, and one I’m about to open in Brooklyn.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Bourbon Trail?”
“Kentucky, legs. Where the best bourbon whiskey in the world is made.”
“Oh. And now you’re trying to break into vodka? That’s what the business with my father was all about, right?”
“I’ve got my hands in nearly every pie of the booze business. I own five breweries, too, as well as a distribution center in the States. It’s the second largest in the country.”
She frowned. “And you run all of them from Brooklyn?”
I tapped my finger against my glass, trying to figure out what that change in her tone meant. “I travel extensively.”
She slowly nodded and took another sip. “And what about this trip to Istria?”
“There’s a winery there I’m considering buying. Wine is my newest venture, and let’s just say it’s in a completely different wheelhouse than my other acquisitions.”
“How so?”
She was actually interested?
The only women I ever discussed business with were usually the ones directly involved in the business itself. The one and only time I brought up my work to a woman I’d taken to bed, she’d gotten a glazed look in her eye, one clearly of boredom. Pretty sure the only reason she’d given me a blowjob after that was to get me to shut up.
“For one thing, vineyards require land with the right kind of soil,” I explained. “Climate and average temperatures are huge factors in location. The storage and aging processes are different for wine than for liquor. Materials, supplies, ingredients… It’s a vastly different industry than distilleries and breweries.”
“Then why pursue it if it’s more trouble?”
I shrugged. “To say that I did.”
She tucked her tongue in her cheek, her expression turning skeptical. “That’s it? You’re just a megalomaniac? The end?”
I winked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re really just in it for the money? You’re not chasing some sort of dream or trying to accomplish certain goals?”
Maybe.
Only, it was starting to feel like my particular goals would forever be out of my reach.
“Is that your rainbows and unicorns take on life?” My voice reeked of condescension. “You set goals, you achieve them, and everything just magically fits into place?” I clucked my tongue. “Sorry, rich girl. People like me, who’ve had to carve out their success in the real world, don’t have time for fluffy dreams.”
“What a sad, lonely life you must lead. No wonder you went into the booze business. For someone who’s destined to drink alone for the rest of his life, it’s a perfect fit.”
“I’ve never heard of this label,” she said, shifting around to face me again. “Who makes it?”
“One of the distilleries I own.” The only distillery of mine that produced craft vodka. “That’s the first batch we’ve made so far.”
She took another sip, a much slower one. My gaze lasered in on her throat as she savored the alcohol. She didn’t automatically take it down, like a shot. She held it on her tongue, swishing it around for moment, before finally swallowing it.
And then she grinned. In pleasure.
That might have been the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen.
A sinfully beautiful woman like her appreciating quality liquor the way it’s supposed to be appreciated. That was some seriously sexy shit. Even if vodka wasn’t really my style.
“It’s good,” she praised. “Really good, actually.”
I did not need to like the sound of her approval. Didn’t need my cock to stir at the fact that my label of her home country’s bread and butter pleased her. Didn’t need that at all.
I propped my elbow on the armrest, lifting my half empty glass to mouth level. “I don’t make bad alcohol, legs. If you’ve learned anything about me so far, it should be that I’ve got incomparable taste.”
I intentionally let my gaze travel over her figure, lingering on those ridiculously long legs that always seemed to squeeze together under my scrutiny.
What was that reaction? Was she affected by me?
You don’t care. It’s better if she hates you.
Sinking further down in her seat, she mimicked my position and propped her elbow on the armrest. “Sorry, I should have been more specific. For American vodka, it isn’t bad.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what you meant,” I murmured wryly.
We both took sips at the same time, our gazes clashing over our glasses. Being alone in such close quarters for the first time, it was clear we were taking each other’s measure.
“How many distilleries do you own?”
I stretched my legs out in front of me. “Four.”
I caught her eyes briefly flick down to my lap before reverting to her glass.
I bit back a smug grin.
God knew I’d been checking her out since I first laid eyes on her, so the reciprocity was nice to see. Lucky for her, I’d gotten my erection under control before her attention had zoned in on it.
And that’s exactly where she’d been looking. I wasn’t blind.
“One in Scotland, one in England, one on the Bourbon Trail, and one I’m about to open in Brooklyn.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Bourbon Trail?”
“Kentucky, legs. Where the best bourbon whiskey in the world is made.”
“Oh. And now you’re trying to break into vodka? That’s what the business with my father was all about, right?”
“I’ve got my hands in nearly every pie of the booze business. I own five breweries, too, as well as a distribution center in the States. It’s the second largest in the country.”
She frowned. “And you run all of them from Brooklyn?”
I tapped my finger against my glass, trying to figure out what that change in her tone meant. “I travel extensively.”
She slowly nodded and took another sip. “And what about this trip to Istria?”
“There’s a winery there I’m considering buying. Wine is my newest venture, and let’s just say it’s in a completely different wheelhouse than my other acquisitions.”
“How so?”
She was actually interested?
The only women I ever discussed business with were usually the ones directly involved in the business itself. The one and only time I brought up my work to a woman I’d taken to bed, she’d gotten a glazed look in her eye, one clearly of boredom. Pretty sure the only reason she’d given me a blowjob after that was to get me to shut up.
“For one thing, vineyards require land with the right kind of soil,” I explained. “Climate and average temperatures are huge factors in location. The storage and aging processes are different for wine than for liquor. Materials, supplies, ingredients… It’s a vastly different industry than distilleries and breweries.”
“Then why pursue it if it’s more trouble?”
I shrugged. “To say that I did.”
She tucked her tongue in her cheek, her expression turning skeptical. “That’s it? You’re just a megalomaniac? The end?”
I winked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re really just in it for the money? You’re not chasing some sort of dream or trying to accomplish certain goals?”
Maybe.
Only, it was starting to feel like my particular goals would forever be out of my reach.
“Is that your rainbows and unicorns take on life?” My voice reeked of condescension. “You set goals, you achieve them, and everything just magically fits into place?” I clucked my tongue. “Sorry, rich girl. People like me, who’ve had to carve out their success in the real world, don’t have time for fluffy dreams.”
“What a sad, lonely life you must lead. No wonder you went into the booze business. For someone who’s destined to drink alone for the rest of his life, it’s a perfect fit.”
Melanie grew up in a small town in rural Missouri. After marrying her husband, she decided she wanted to try coastal life because why not? A few months later, they moved to North Carolina where she discovered her passion for writing, and they never looked back. They are now enjoying life with their beautiful daughter in Savannah, GA and loving every minute with their little Georgia peach.
Melanie’s other passion is traveling and seeing the world. With anthropology degrees under their belts, she and her husband have made it their goal in life to see as many archaeological sites around the world as possible.
She has a horrible food addiction to pasta and candy (not together…ew). And she gets sad when her wine rack is empty.
At the end of the day, she is a true romantic at heart. She loves writing the cheesy and corny of romantic comedies, and the sassy and sexy of suspense. She aims to make her readers swoon, laugh out loud, maybe sweat a little, and above all, fall in love
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