Blog Tour + Giveaway: Loyalty by Bethany-Kris

LOYALTY by Bethany-Kris 
John + Siena, #1
Genres: Adult, Romantic Suspense, Organized Crime, Erotic Romance



Fresh out of prison after serving a three-year sentence, Johnathan Marcello wants to get back to normal business as a mafia capo. The rules set out for him are clear—keep out of trouble, maintain a low profile, and stay stable. But stability is a delicate balance for a man like John, and shaky ground is only a single step away.
A chance encounter with a blue-eyed woman might just change his whole world.
Siena Calabrese’s life revolves around cooking numbers, and scrubbing books clean. After all, a girl is only useful to men in the mafia, if she isn’t totally useless. As long as she does what they want, then she can maintain the illusion of freedom. But illusions are only delusions in the grand scheme of her life, and reality is far more dangerous.
A man with secrets might just be the one thing she didn’t know she needed.
In this life, family is everything. Or, that’s how it should be.
Distrust. Love. Betrayal. Loyalty.
Mix it all together, and it makes for a volatile city.
A war is coming.



John headed across the pool hall, his strides long and heavy. He recognized a face or two, and a couple even called out his name with a wave. A greeting he otherwise would have returned, but at the moment, he just didn’t give a fuck. He was not here for them, and he had no interest in speaking to them. They would not help his cause.
Drake didn’t see him coming. He was too busy bent over the pool table, aiming for his next shot. A winning shot, if he had made it. The five hundred dollars sitting on the edge of the pool table told John that the guy wanted to make that shot.
The guy didn’t get to take the shot.
John grabbed Drake by the back of his shirt, and yanked hard. In one swift motion, John flipped the guy over, and smashed his back into the next pool table. Drake let out a shout, one filled with pain, but John only smiled at the sound.
A couple of the guy’s friends stepped forward, but Andino moved in fast. He always had John’s back. Ride or die, no matter what. His cousin was there, doing what he needed to do. Even if he didn’t know why John was doing what he was doing.
“Hey, Drake,” John said smiling coldly. “Looks like you and me need to have a fucking chat.”
Drake’s brown eyes widened, and words stumbled from his mouth. “About what?”
John chuckled. “Guess you’re going to find out, cocksucker.”
Uncaring about the people watching or those closing in around him, John kept a firm hold on Drake as he dragged him across the pool hall. Someone from behind the bar, a face John didn’t recognize, stepped out like he was going to help the guy. John just pointed a single finger at the man.
“Fucking try it,” John dared.
The guy held up his hands in surrender, and it only made John laugh. His face was recognizable. He’d been here before, but not to do this. Nonetheless, they knew who the fuck he was, and what he could do. They knew his last name, and what it meant in this city.
Nobody wanted to get fucking messed up with that mess.
Nobody wanted to get messed up with the Marcellos.
Soon, John had Drake out of the pool hall. The cold February air whipped around them. John didn’t feel anything at all. Seemed he couldn’t feel anything, lately. When he did feel something, it was just a mess. He couldn’t process it. It was too much, and he didn’t want to deal with it.
Drake didn’t fight too much as John dragged him behind the pool hall. A dirty alleyway filled with dumpsters, and moldy cardboard boxes. It stunk like death. It looked like some animals had been chewing on shit, and digging through garbage.
Rats, likely.
New York was filled with rats in more ways than one.
John tossed Drake to the ground, uncaring that the guy landed in filth and wetness. Standing over him, John bent down to make sure Drake got a good look at his eyes. He needed to look somebody right in the face when he wanted to know if they were lying to him or not.
“Who the fuck gave you the file?” John asked.
Drake blinked rapidly. “The-the—”
“The file, you stupid fuck. Who gave it to you?”
“I-I can’t remember.”
John let out of scoff and rolled his eyes out words. “You can’t fucking remember something that happened within the past couple of days? You can’t remember who put a giant red file in your goddamn hand? Maybe if I cut your fucking hand off, it’ll jog your damn memories, asshole. How about that?”
“Well, I …”
The guy started to scramble back on the ground. His hands dragged through the wetness, and his clothes were now covered in the dirt and filth. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Like he needed to get the fuck away from John, and fast.
He was right. His instincts were on point. He did need to get away from John, but it was too fucking late.
“Who gave you the file?” John asked again. “One last time to tell me who gave it to you, and told you to give it to Kent.”
Drake stumbled over his words again, trying to come up with some fucking excuse. He mumbled a name. Tim, or some other generic bullshit. There were a million fucking Tims in the city.
“Tim who?” John asked.
“Tim-Tim-Tim …”
Fuck this shit.
John pulled out the gun hidden inside his jacket, took a step forward, and beat Drake in the head with it.




Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to four young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.

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