~ COVER REVEAL ~
Love By The Slice
What’s better? Love, or pizza? Definitely pizza.
Bianca Russo is obsessed with Romano’s; her grandfather’s pizza parlor comes with a lot of memories, as well as trouble. A secret sauce recipe handed down through generations keeps Romano’s popular with tourists and locals alike. It’s so good, several corporations have offered to buy the business… and have even attempted to steal the recipe that makes Romano’s pizza great.
Bianca came to help her grandfather run the parlor. She didn’t expect to find a hot Italian working there with her.
Gio Diamati is ridiculously sexy, and he sure can throw a pizza. Their chemistry is instant, their romance forbidden and delicious. Bianca refuses to date Gio because they work together, but she can’t deny the truth her heart betrays… she’s falling for him.
But Gio isn’t there for the money. He’s there for the sauce.
Gio wasn’t supposed to fall in love during his mission to discover Romano’s secret recipe, but that’s just what he did. Now, he has to choose between the family who has given him everything, or the girl he can’t stop thinking about.
Gio must decide… his obligations? Or his heart?
Mysterious, romantic, and full of twists and betrayal, Love by the Slice is a new adult contemporary romance novel featuring laughs, pizza, sweet kisses, and erotic nights. This college-age story is a heartbreaking and endearing tale about forbidden love and second chances.
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“Hey.” I shook his hand as his eyes roamed my body from top to bottom which warmed my blood. Yeah, it probably should have bugged me but it didn’t. I didn’t mind him looking even if I only wore shorts and a tank top.
I’m pretty sure Gio could’ve been wearing a trash bag and it would’ve been the hottest trash bag in the world. The man was gorgeous.
Standing six feet, maybe a touch more, Gio looked like a mountain next to my five feet and a couple of inches. The way the white t-shirt stretched across his chest led me to believe I wanted to see what was underneath and it’d be worth any wait. On top of all the hotness, Gio had a face that made you want to slap your Italian grandma. Nice olive skin perfectly complementing short black hair and dark, almost black, eyes.
I was light where he was dark. I was soft where he was hard. And boy was his body hard.
Suddenly, he stopped. Both of his hands fisted against the counter on either side of my thighs while his head dropped as he stared at the floor, his eyes squeezed shut. What the what? I wondered what I may have done wrong but nothing came to mind, tried to find the moment when things had changed but there wasn’t one. He took deep breaths but avoided any eye contact with me.
“I can’t do this,” he said softly.
Thinking he was trying to be chivalrous, I pushed my knee against the front of his pants.
“I think you can,” I said trying to sound and look as enticing as possible.
“That’s not what I meant.” His fingers wrapped around my wrist to pull it away from his chest. The gentleness with which he did it crushed me. Was he turning me down? With as hard as he’d tried in the beginning and the way he seemed to enjoy spending time with me, it was hard to fathom he might not want it as much as I did. I refused to believe that. Something else had to be going on.
Finally, he looked up at me, our eyes locking in some sort of nonverbal showdown. I tried to read whatever he had going through his head. He definitely had desire sparkling within those beautiful brown orbs, but why he’d stopped wasn’t clear. At first. And then it felt like a slap to the face. It was me.
“O…oh…ok.” I stammered past the humiliation. “You mean you can’t do it with me. Got it.”
“Come on,” I took his arm pulling him into my apartment. Grabbing a bag of frozen peas, I tossed it to him then plopped onto the couch. He followed, dropping the bag onto his crotch with a groan. He hadn’t said anything. I didn’t know if it he couldn’t or if he had nothing to say in response to being hit in the nuts.
“I deserved that. She’s right,” he finally said.
“Yeah, she kind of hates you.”
“Is she the only one? Do you want a shot at my junk?” He didn’t sound like he was kidding. Like he would gladly stand there and let me injure him further if it’d make me feel better.
I’d be lying if I said my ovaries hadn’t been jumping like a basketball since he’d been back. Only now I let my head do the thinking. “I’m good. Thanks for the offer, though.” I guessed it was time for grown-up talk. “I don’t hate you. I tried to, but it never took. I’d steer clear of my dad, though.”
“You told them…everything. Everything?”
He squeezed his eyes shut as if he’d been punched again. “Then I deserve for him to kick my ass, too.”
Heather Young-Nichols is a multi-published YA and contemporary romance author and a native of the great and often very cold state of Michigan. She is better known at home and to her friends as the Snarker-in-Chief, a job she excels at beyond anything she could have imagined. She loves many things, but especially cold coffee, hot books, and baseball. But not necessarily in that order.
Website – heatheryoungnichols.com
Twitter – https://twitter.com/heatheryn76
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