[Blog Tour] Bethany-Kris - Pretty Lies


by Bethany-Kris 
Publication Date: March 2, 2020 
Genres: Adult, New Adult, Mafia Romance, Romantic Suspense


Pretty things always tell lies …
Cory Rossi isn’t what you would expect the youngest son of the Chicago mob’s underboss to be. Despite what everyone thinks, he can actually do what he’s told. He just does it his own way. The problem with that is every tattooed- and leather-covered inch of him screams one thing to Della Costello—total heartbreak. It’s all men like him do, right? One hook-up, when he didn’t even know her name, was all she could afford.
Their one-time encounter should have stopped there. But an ex that causes problems for her business—and the mob’s—and Cory becomes her new shadow until the bullets quiet in the streets. It gets harder and harder to stay out of his bed.
They’ll walk a fine line. And there is no mercy in this tragedy.
For love and lost blood, once more, Chicago will rage.
Pretty Lies is a standalone romantic suspense within Bethany-Kris’s Commission World.


She stiffened, the cigarette between her fingertips—she only smoked when everything in her life felt like it was going to shit, or right after a good fuck—bounced from the shiver that raced through her body. She knew his voice entirely too well because she heard it in her dreams far more than she would admit. It was a little different in her dreams, yes. Rougher and breathier because the last time she’d heard it, he’d been fucking her. It was just her luck that neither her body nor mind wanted to forget it.
Whether or not he noticed her reaction to him saying her name when he stepped out into the back alley of the restaurant, Della couldn’t say. She did her best to hide it, all the while avoiding his gaze as he crossed the damp pavement to lean against the wall beside her.
She didn’t need to look at him when she’d already done that more than enough between the club, and earlier … not to mention, her anger was still quite present. Oh, she understood good and well he was just there to do a job, but sometimes misplaced anger was a woman’s second-best friend.
Or was certainly hers.
Della would bite at anyone when she was mad. A fault of hers she hated more than anything, but one she’d never been able to fix.
Yet, even staring down at the ground gave her a view of his black jeans tight to muscular thighs, and the scuffed combat boots tied around the ankles. His entire aesthetic was a drug to her senses, and he probably didn’t even know it.
Fuck him for that, too.
“It’s Della,” he said, breaking her daze.
Not enough to make her look at him, though.
“Your name, I meant,” he added. “I couldn’t remember it. Not that night, and not until I stepped into that dining room and saw you. Not surprised, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“Pretty things are lies, girl. Pretty always lies. Nothing that looks pretty is ever what it seems on the surface. Of course, you weren’t just some beautiful woman in a club—you had to be more. Can’t trust pretty things. No offense, or whatever.”
She tried to laugh it off.
He had been drunk. It didn’t hurt her feelings. He also was kind of right.
It just wasn’t a memory she wanted to revisit for too long because then he would see the heat start to climb in her cheeks, and she just couldn’t afford that right now.
“Well, to be fair, I already knew yours,” she replied, “or enough, anyway. I just didn’t think it mattered. We were only having fun.”
“Yeah, you’re not wrong. Still, what were the chances, huh?”
Didn’t she know it?
“But hey,” Cory said suddenly.
He snatched her cigarette from her fingers before she could stop him as she was still staring at the ground like it was her new best friend. Not that it mattered because all she could see was the cloud of smoke he exhaled and his carved-from-stone profile while he peered down the other end of the alley. He’d slicked back his dark, tapered fade; the strands wet-looking but she knew that just kept his hair in place.
Despite the fact he’d taken her cigarette, he already had one stuck behind his ear. The ball piercings in the cartilage of his ear glinted in the small bit of light that was afforded into the alleyway. The silver hoop that hugged his lower earlobe matched the one in his nose. God. All the little details of his face that she’d forgotten came rushing back, and she could only see part of it. He truly was a godly man.
“With that out of the way,” he added, not missing a beat or knowing that she was staring at him like a love-struck girl, “let me fill you in on what you seemed to miss back there with your father.”
“Don’t bother.”
“I’m sorry, you thought I asked if you wanted to hear it? Because I didn’t.”


For those who love plots about mobs, you will be surprised by this book.

Della acts very differently from women who are over-protected by their mobs men.
She goes out to collect and is very good at what she does. However, this makes her a target for the enemies of Frank Costello, her father.
When she suffers an attack inside her own home, her father puts a shadow on her.
To Della's dismay, her new shadow was someone she knew well, in the biblical way of saying.
They both had a single night of passion.
She always knew who he was, but he didn't know her name.
Until that meeting at a family brunch.

Cory Rossi was a man who followed the rules, but he managed to do everything his own way. Babysitting the daughter of a man important to mobs was not his preferred option.
But when he discovered that his protégé was the woman who haunted his memories, he would do anything to be always glued to her.

The main suspect in the attack on Della was her ex-boyfriend.
A gang leader, dangerous and not happy that she tried rid of him.
Luis would use the weapons he had to reach Della, but he didn't count on Cory's cunning and expertise.
A game of interests, possession, money, passion.


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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