Cristiane Serruya ~ From the Baroness’s Diary III: The Happily Ever Afters ~ Blog Tour / Excerpt / Teasers

About FROM THE BARONESS’S DIARY III: THE HAPPILY EVER AFTERS

I’ve been trying to get away from one man, I didn’t think I’d end up with three.

I flee my abusive husband and travel to Italy to find Salvatore Di Luca, my long-lost love.

But the moment I set foot in Sicily, my life takes an unexpected turn: I meet Enzo, a dominant, broken-hearted man, and we connect at first sight. I couldn’t have imagined he is Salvatore’s elder brother and that they have a younger brother, Angelo, who thinks he is damaged for life.

It’s more than a trip. It’s a life-time journey.

All three of them want me and I want to heal their tortured souls and broken hearts. Before I even realize what is happening, we are entangled. Yet I am still married and the darkness of my past comes crashing down on us sooner rather than later, threatening more than our happiness.

But I won’t go down without a fight—and neither will my Harem—because my journey won’t be complete until forever belongs to the four of us.

If you are a fan of a romantic Reverse Harem Romance, you will love this scandalous, refreshing, and, of course, incredibly sexy story which involves three alpha Italian knights who will do anything for their baroness—ops, their Principessa. Buy this quick-blush, perfect bedside read by USA Today bestselling author Cristiane Serruya now!

Please note that this book might covers sensitive topics to some readers.

✦Amazon https://amzn.to/2LjQ3xW
✦iBooks https://apple.co/2sWdJMW
✦Barnes & Noble http://bit.ly/2MihzIk
✦Kobo http://bit.ly/2K7UKKA
✦Google Play http://bit.ly/2KilS92

 

Excerpt:

Angelo

After my encounter with Chloé, I take off to our vineyard near Etna not even waiting for lunch to be served.

From our office there, I make a phone call to Mother and let her know that I am going to sleep at Taormina vineyard because I have a meeting there early in the morning and my work here will probably run longer than I anticipated. It’s not entirely a lie, since I do have a morning meeting there.

After a full day of work when nothing exciting happens but the corrupt mayor requesting fifty bottles of our best spumati for his wife’s upcoming birthday party, I drive myself to our beach cabin.

The terrain is verdant and colored with flowers as a result of the heavier-than-usual rain in the spring months.

I stop and put down the top of my black Karmann Ghia to bask in the last rays of the early summer sun, glad to have some time alone to think.

Some stretches of the autostrada wrap me in the intense purple of the bougainvillea demonstrating that when it comes to flowers, Sicily is more regal than any other Italian region.

It’s not unusual for me to spend time alone in this cabin, the most simple of our properties in Sicily, and I am glad my family respects my need of privacy.

When my darkness closes down on me, I can’t stand being around people, not even my loving mother and brothers. They know not to ask questions, but I can’t stand their looks of pity, which make the memories worse than they already are.

So, I come here to this rustic wood three-bedroom cabin. There is another house a few yards away. Big, opulent, spacey, but it’s here where we lived with my father before his successful experiments with grapes that I feel…comfortable.

Or at least, less uncomfortable.

And as he did, I do my alchemy, too. But it’s done not with grapes but with words. I like to write and I have already several books finished and locked in a small compartment I built under my bed. Not that I intend to publish them, but I like to lose myself in the words.

I don’t have to be myself but whatever character I want to be. I don’t have to live this life of mine, but whichever I wish. I don’t even have to think about my own life—or the lack of it—since my characters are so much better or much more worse. I don’t have to be a winner or a loser.

The hours—my problems and my pains—fade away as I attack crisp white pages and fill them with gray scribbles, plots of logical arguments, clean, easy, notes falling one after the other in a melody I can play with my eyes closed. Their happinesses and miseries are all mine and at the same time, not.

On the pages, in between the lines, I can play God. And not be played in His name.

I am the one in control.

But today I am too reckless to sit down and write.

At the cabin, I change into trunks and I go for a swim.

The cold sea water and the straining exercise calm me and cool my ardor—and my anger.

Yeah, I know it doesn’t make any sense to be feeling inflamed and infuriated but I was not expecting Salvatore to bring her to my house.

My woman.

The only one I ever dream about.

The woman of my dreams.

I remember well the first time I saw her. Boarding the same ferry I was already on in Calabria, her laughter spiraling in the air as she jumped to catch her hat the wind had blown.

Lovely.

Lively.

And it blew me off—literally—when I opened my eyes to a whimper and found her watching me masturbating to her image in my mind.

And now?

Of all the ways to lose her, that would’ve been the stupidest: to my own brother!

Not that I have ever had her.

To have her in my dreams is more than I deserve, and I’m damned grateful for it. I choose not to analyze how pathetic this is and I focus on how unfair it is that I now I get to see her and talk to her in my own home, and know she is not mine, even though she appears in my dreams.

Isn’t it bad enough to be scarred on the inside?

But damned if I am not selfish enough to want her anyway. And instead of trying to sweeten her when she caught me ogling her, I taunted her. My dick was hard and I was angry. Inferno.

What a great intellectual man of words I am, thinking with my dick. Not that I won’t excuse myself to a certain extent…

Dio, she’s beautiful.

Remembering her eyes gleaming and her mouth parting breathlessly, all the while staring at me, made my body respond like it never had.

Not how I’d feel when I opened my eyes and saw that she had left.

But Lord knows I am a loser and I doomed to die without knowing a woman’s love.

 

 

Get your hands on the first ten chapters of FROM THE BARONESS’S DIARY III and some delicious recipes from Cristiane Serruya here!

 

Want to catch up on some of Chloe’s earlier adventures for free?

About FROM THE BARONESS’S DIARY: THE EROTIC ESCAPES OF BARON BEARDLEY’S WIFE

An erotic, funny tale of a young woman in search of love.

At the tender age of 18, Lady Chloé de La Fleur was married off to 40 year-old Baron Beardley, a wealthy English peer, and taken away from the whirlwind of Paris and London societies to live in a forsaken manor way out of Warwickshire.

Young, beautiful, and voluptuous, the Baroness finds that in Beardley Manor innocent flirtations can become erotic sex escapades.

And soon Lady Chloe’s diary pages are filled with her adventures—and misadventures!
If you are a fan of the romantic Misadventures Series and Calendar Girl, you will love this scandalous, refreshing, and, of course, incredibly sexy romance. The Erotic Escapades of Baron Beardley’s Wife is the first installment of The Diaries Series, a quick-blush, perfect bedside read collection by USA Today bestselling author Cristiane Serruya!

✦Amazon http://amzn.to/2lnp8n2
✦iBooks http://apple.co/2serTaA
✦Barnes & Noble http://bit.ly/2IoEYVZ
✦Kobo http://bit.ly/2yDJcJX
✦Google Play http://bit.ly/2yG1UR2

About Cristiane Serruya

USA TODAY and Amazon bestselling romance author Cristiane Serruya—or just Cris—is Brazilian and lives in Rio de Janeiro, with her husband, two teenage daughters, and Loki, her Shetland Sheepdog. She has studied in England, France, Italy, and Switzerland and graduated in Law, with a Master’s in Business Law and a BA in Fine Arts. In 2012, she published her first romance, and is proud of the awards her novels have received. She still works as a lawyer, but writing has become an essential part of her life, and a fulfilling adventure, as it allows her to make friends all over the world.

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