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Excerpt From Nanny And The Bratva Boss
“Emma, this is your new nanny, Zoe.”
Taras’ daughter glanced up at me. She had sky blue eyes and a mane of dark auburn curls fell to her waist; she tossed them over her shoulder and pouted. “I’m too old for a nanny. I’ll be twelve soon.”
“But I’ve come all the way from England.” I deliberately moved the corners of my mouth downwards, faking that I was upset.
She giggled. “I love your cute accent.”
“And I love yours. It’s even cuter.” A smile creased my lips and I indicated toward the outfits. “Can you show me what you’ve been spending your pocket money on?”
She giggled and shook her head. “I don’t get pocket money, silly. I use Papa’s credit card to order online when I want to buy anything.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. That was silly of me,” I deadpanned, catching Mrs. Konin’s eye and getting a wink from her. “Let me see what you bought, and then perhaps we should clear the table... so we can eat supper?” I rubbed my growling stomach, which hadn’t been fed since breakfast at least ten hours ago. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
She and I chatted about clothes and make-up while eating spaghetti with meatballs followed by ice-cream. Emma represented a new challenge to me, and I was looking forward to getting to know her better, molding her as only an awesome nanny could.
Soon I felt my eyelids drooping... it was well past midnight according to my body clock. I stifled a yawn, and thankfully Mrs. Konin caught on. “Go up to bed, lapochka. I’ll see to Emma. You must be exhausted and can start work properly tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I pushed back my chair. “I’ll take you up on that suggestion. I’ll be right as rain in the morning.”
Problem was, I woke earlier than the sparrows. Thank you very much, jetlag. I tossed and turned but couldn’t get back to sleep. Putting on shorts and a t-shirt, I decided to go for a run. Quietly, so as not to wake anyone, I tiptoed downstairs and let myself out the back door.
The ground felt hard beneath my feet as I set off across the lawn in the pale dawn light. I ran for about half an hour around the perimeter fence, on a well-beaten path. Sweat beading my brow, I found a stone bench and took a break, doing my stretching exercises before sitting and contemplating the sunrise.
My ear caught the sudden sound of footsteps, tramp, tramp, tramp. Someone was running toward me. I sat as still as a statue and waited for whoever it was to come into view. A security guard, most likely. I didn’t have any identification on me; I hoped I wouldn’t be shot by mistake. I pulled at the strand of hair that had come loose from my messy bun and my heart thudded.
The man running toward me came to an abrupt halt.
Dressed in shorts, a black tee stretched over his broad chest, he drew heavy brows together.
“Who the fuck are you?” he snarled.
Thick, dark hair fell over his forehead, and the green of his eyes reminded me of the forest trees back home. His chin was covered in black stubble, his nose slightly crooked, like it has once been broken in a fight.
Taras Melekhov. Thirty-two years old. Bratva Boss.
“I’m your new nanny. Zoe Addison.” I folded my arms.
“But you’re so young.” His voice was deep, melodious, and infused with a slight Russian accent.
Devoid of make-up I’ve been told I look like a teen. I stared at him, and my mouth went completely dry.
“I’m twenty-five,” I blurted out, my cheeks flaming. “And I’m extremely well-qualified. A graduate of Norlands, the best childcare training school in the UK.”
His eyes ate me up, travelling from my head down to my toes, then back to my face.
Hard, flinty, don’t mess with me eyes.
I stared back at him, and he held my gaze.
“You’d better go inside,” he growled. “Emma will be up soon.” And then, almost as an afterthought. “Don’t let me catch you out here at this time of the day again.”
“Yes, sir,” I saluted.
He barked out a mocking laugh before settling back into his run.
I stared at his powerful body pounding away from me, and heat climbed up my neck.
Arrogant prick.
I hoped I’d have as little to do with him as possible.
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Excerpt From Rock Star
Phoenix
The guys were waiting backstage behind a velvet curtain when I joined them. They all told me I looked beautiful and I said the same back to them. I wasn’t lying… they were freaking rock gods, dressed in ripped jeans, skin-tight tees, chains and amulets around their necks, each one of them over six feet in height and drop-dead gorgeous. In my heels, my head only came up to their chins as they pulled me into a group hug… it was what they always did before a concert, and it felt oddly reassuring.
“Awesome tat, Firebird,” Axel whispered into my ear, sending a shiver to my core.
“Can’t wait to see yours,” I countered, my voice breathy.
His gaze lingered on me, stripping me naked.
Oh, God.
I guessed it was this sexy dress… he’d treated me one hundred percent professionally while I’d been practicing with him at his place, keeping his distance and not repeating the kiss he’d given me that first time.
The time when I’d felt his hard-on as I’d brushed past him.
Now wasn’t the moment to think about such things, though. The music being played on the sound system beforehand had fallen silent, and I could sense the anticipation of the audience as we walked onto the darkened stage.
We took up our positions, the stage lights hitting us, and an eruption of whistles and screams broke out. Foxy clacked his sticks three times, then brought them down on the skins. Rhys launched into the riff, his guitar wailing. Zach came in on the keyboards. Axel added the bass and his voice cut through the air like a shard of glass. ‘Ghost in the Heart’—all crashes and slashing cords lit by flashing, almost blinding white light—was the perfect overture, and I felt honored to be contributing my voice harmonies toward it.
The crowd went wild, I could tell from the whoops, but, as the song neared its end, the band surprised them by kicking the tempo up a notch. Foxy drummed faster, faster, faster, and Axel shouted, "Jump!" The spinning stage lights flashed to purple, and the audience was suddenly, undeniably, at a ChiMera rave, having the time of their lives.
Song followed electrifying song. I couldn’t take my eyes off Axel. He was mesmerizing, seeming to touch the life of every person in the crowd. He spread his arms out wide then brought them in, pointing toward the wildest fans, who then lost their shit. After crouching and singing to the front row, he leapt up in an explosion of energy that sent the entire nightclub into a frenzy. He fed off the response, devouring it like he’d been starved, and throwing it back at them, his infectious performance almost tangible, like something they could reach out and grasp in their hands.
With bated breath, I waited for the ‘off the shirt’ moment. When it came, toward the end of the set, my legs felt as if they would slip from under me. Dammit he was ripped. Freaking beautiful. He threw his tee into the audience and the spotlight followed it to the lucky recipient, a dark-haired lady who let out a squeal of pleasure before burying her nose in it. Axel held every woman in the audience in his hands at that point. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d thrown their panties at him. I stared at the stunning bass guitar tat on his shoulder and I couldn’t help smiling. He was such a bad ass.
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Acknowledgments
So many people have supported and helped me with BRUTE, BEAST and BRASH.
As ever, I’d like to thank my lovely content editor, Trenda, for being so helpful and incredibly fast with her feedback.
Once more
, I’d like to thank Helena Gant, my wonderful PA, for all that she does for me. She’s the best!
My amazing beta readers, Fiona, Helena G, Joy, Michelle, Nanette and Nico, thank you for sharing BRUTE, BEAST and BRASH’s journey with me and for your invaluable critique.
Booming Covers and Letitia Hasser, thanks for the gorgeous cover designs.
Huge thanks to Lesley, Debra, Kat, Helena H, Nancy and ZiLlah for tirelessly promoting me on Facebook.
To the members of my Facebook group, Siobhan’s Courtesans, thanks for keeping me company while I write, and for joining in the takeovers and giveaways as well as spreading the word about my books.
I’d like to thank my fellow authors and the bloggers, PAs and promotors who support me.
Finally, and most importantly, I’d like to thank you, dear reader. I couldn’t do this without you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading MAFIA LIGHT. I hope you enjoyed it.
Siobhan
xoxo
About the Author
SC Daiko, aka Siobhan, is a British author of fast-paced bestselling contemporary romance, romantic suspense and erotica. When she isn’t writing or looking after guests, Siobhan loves to swim in the sea, travel around Europe, sample different food and enjoy local wine. She has worked in the City of London and taught languages in a Welsh high school before moving to Italy, where she now lives with her husband, a Havanese puppy, a kitten and two elderly cats. Nothing makes Siobhan happier than connecting with readers and fellow authors. You can find her at https://scdaiko.com/
Other Books By SC Daiko
Two Three Four: The complete Trilogy
Game On
Their Virgin Nanny
Their Virgin Brat
Their Virgin PA
Nanny and the BRATVA BOSS
ROCK STAR