BLURB FOR THE SICILIAN STRANGER
When Shannon Bank’s fiancé rushes to Sicily to collect his inheritance, he disappears without a trace.
She has no choice but to leave the safety of their home in the United States and jump on a plane to follow his tracks into the unknown.
She knows next to nothing about Sicily, except for his fascinating tales.
There, she encounters Damiano Malandrino, determined to bar her path and keep the truth from her.
Just out of prison for murder, he is brusque and dangerous, but also suave, enigmatic and painfully alluring.
But she is engaged, and her straying thoughts send her into a panic. What draws her to him?
What is behind his surreal behavior? Should she believe his horrible lies about her fiancé?
And, if he commands her to go, why is he trying to lure her into his bed?
In her quest for the truth, Shannon faces deception, danger and death…
THE SICILIAN STRANGER
Chiara Mandarà rose early on her wedding day. Her mother and all her aunts and cousins would be arriving soon to fuss over her like only Sicilian families could. All was ready. She hadn’t managed to lose the few extra pounds but she had to admit she liked what she saw. And so did he, her groom to be. He loved her for what she was.
In the distance Mount Etna gave a low, ominous rumble. Even by daylight the magma could be seen oozing lazily down its slopes, offering a view of the earth’s entrails. The photographer had promised to drive them up and take his best wedding photos ever shot in Sicily.
Chiara’s bedroom door creaked open and she braced herself for the rush of squealing relatives.
She gasped at the sight of him filling the door frame. “You’re not supposed to be here!”
He didn’t answer, but closed the distance between them and bent to kiss her on the lips. She tilted her head back, and that tingling sensation took her as always.
“Wake up, beautiful bride!” her mother chimed, spreading the curtains wide to let the bright sunlight in. “Everyone is already here!”
Chiara didn’t stir from beneath the covers. Anna Mandarà laughed.
“I bet you didn’t sleep much last night…Chiara…?”
Anna pulled back the sheets and screamed.
When Shannon’s flight descended into the bowels of Sicily in search of her missing fiancé John, she had no idea she would meet the devil himself.
She had no precise address to look for. All she knew was that the estate he had inherited from his grandfather, the Prince of San Salvo, was on the outskirts of the town of San Salvo. She had pictures of the castle to go by- and many stories of John’s past amongst noblemen, maids and murderers.
The old man had died a month ago, and John was his sole grandson and heir. After mumbling something about divine justice, he packed his bags, promised to call, and left.
Two weeks had elapsed since, and he hadn’t even sent her a text message to say he’d landed safely.
At the end of the second week Shannon, who had been already battling to save their wobbly relationship, was a wreck.
There had been no plane crashes. Had he had a car accident and was now lying dead at the bottom of a ravine? Or was he simply being his usual egotistic self?