Title: The Kiss Thief
Author: L.J. Shen
Genre: Contemporary
Romance
Publish Date: January 9, 2019
Cover Designer: Letitia Hasser
at RBA Designs
Review Source: Candi Kane PR
They say your
first kiss should be earned.
Mine was stolen
by a devil in a masquerade mask under the black Chicago sky.
They say the
vows you take on your wedding day are sacred.
Mine were broken
before we left church.
They say your
heart only beats for one man.
Mine split and
bled for two rivals who fought for it until the bitter end.
I was promised
to Angelo Bandini, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the Chicago
Outfit.
Then taken by
Senator Wolfe Keaton, who held my father’s sins over his head to force me into
marriage.
They say that
all great love stories have a happy ending.
I, Francesca
Rossi, found myself erasing and rewriting mine until the very last chapter.
One kiss.
Two men.
Three lives.
Entwined
together.
And somewhere
between these two men, I had to find my forever.
FREE in KU!
I thought that I
had already read my favorite book by L.J. Shen. It was great, although The Kiss
Thief stole my heart. It was captivating, entrancing, and just down right
amazing. Just when you think that you have read the ultimate contemporary
romance, you’d be wrong … unless it’s this baby right here.
L.J. did her
research. She knows how to pull us in and put us under a spell. You think you are
rooting one way and then pulled in another direction. Who is deserving? Who
will she love? Who will get the girl? And not just any girl, but the ultimate
girl. The one that every man wants on his arm.
Seriously … this
story was so beautifully written, and I adored each and every minute of it. If
you happen to not know the divine powers that L.J. Shen holds within those talented
little hands, do yourself a favor and take a chance on The Kiss Thief. You can
thank me later!
“Are you sure
you’re on my card?” I turned to the man with a polite yet distant smile. I was
still disoriented from the exchange with Angelo when the stranger pulled me
against his hard body and pressed a possessive hand lower than socially
acceptable on my back, a second from groping my butt.
“Answer me,” I
hissed.
“My bid on your
card was the highest,” he replied dryly.
“The bids are undisclosed.
You don’t know how much other people have paid,” I kept my lips pursed to keep
myself from yelling.
“I know it’s
nowhere near the realm of what this dance is worth.”
Un-freaking-believable.
We began to
waltz around the room as other couples were not only spinning and mingling but
also stealing envious glances at us. Naked, raw ogles that told me that
whomever the blonde he’d come to the masquerade with was, she wasn’t his wife.
And that I might have been all the rage in The Outfit, but the rude man was in
high demand, too.
I was stiff and
cold in his arms, but he didn’t seem to notice—or mind. He knew how to waltz
better than most men, but he was technical, and lacked warmth and Angelo’s
playfulness.
“Nemesis.” He
took me by surprise, his rapacious gaze stripping me bare. “Distributing glee
and dealing misery. Seems at odds with the submissive girl who entertained
Bishop and his horsey wife at the table.”
I choked on my
own saliva. Did he just call the governor’s wife horsey? And me submissive? I
looked away, ignoring the addictive scent of his cologne, and the way his
marble body felt against mine.
“Nemesis is my
spirit animal. She was the one to lure Narcissus to a pool where he saw his own
reflection and died of vanity. Pride is a terrible illness.” I flashed him a
taunting smirk.
“Some of us
could use catching it.” He bared his straight white teeth.
“Arrogance is a
disease. Compassion is the cure. Most gods didn’t like Nemesis, but that’s
because she had a backbone.”
“Do you?” He
arched a dark eyebrow.
“Do I…?” I
blinked, the courteous grin on my face crumpling. He was even ruder when we
were alone.
“Have a
backbone,” he provided. He stared at me so boldly and intimately, it felt like
he breathed fire into my soul. I wanted to step out of his touch and jump into
a pool full of ice.
“Of course, I
do,” I responded, my spine stiffening. “What’s with the manners? Were you
raised by wild coyotes?”
“Give me an
example,” he said, ignoring my quip. I was beginning to draw away from him, but
he jerked me back into his arms. The glitzy ballroom distorted into a backdrop,
and even though I was starting to notice that the man behind the demi-mask was
unusually beautiful, the ugliness of his behavior was the only thing that stood
out.
I am a warrior
and a lady…and a sane person who can deal with this horrid man.
“I really like
Angelo Bandini.” I dropped my voice, slicing my gaze from his eyes and toward
the table where Angelo’s family had been seated. My father was sitting a few
seats away, staring at us coldly, surrounded by Made Men who chatted away.
“And see, in my
family, we have a tradition dating back ten generations. Prior to her wedding,
a Rossi bride is to open a wooden chest—carved and made by a witch who lived in
my ancestors’ Italian village—and read three notes written to her by the last
Rossi girl to marry. It’s kind of a good luck charm mixed with a talisman and a
bit of fortunetelling. I stole the chest tonight and opened one of the notes,
all so I could rush fate. It said that tonight I was going to be kissed by the
love of my life, and well…” I drew my lower lip into my mouth and sucked it,
peering under my eyelashes at Angelo’s empty seat. The man stared at me
stoically, as though I was a foreign film he couldn’t understand. “I’m going to
kiss him tonight.”
“That’s your
backbone?”
“When I have an
ambition, I go for it.”
A conceited frown
crinkled his mask, as if to say I was a complete and utter moron. I looked him
straight in the eye. My father taught me that the best way to deal with men
like him was to confront, not run. Because, this man? He’d chase.
L.J. Shen is an
International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult
novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby
cat.
Before she’d
settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is
really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all
across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to report that she is a rubbish
companion, always forgets peoples’ birthdays and never sends Christmas cards.
She enjoys the
simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading,
HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to
five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be
outlawed.
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