The Confidence Man: A Broken Hearts of Bridgeport Novel by Alice T Boone

I HATE YOU; I NEED YOU.
I thought we agreed to be strangers. I broke you as much as I broke myself, but maybe I was never meant to stay away. I owe him money now, Lynn, and you’re the only one who I can trust— the only one I ever trusted.
I would have killed for you the moment I met you; I would have died for you when learned of the angel beneath it all. I need your help more than ever, but all I can see is red.
You broke us.
I’ll do what I have to, do the thing I’m good at. I’ll run one last con, steal a fortune from a mob boss, win you back. Then, I’ll do what I’m best at: I’ll remind you why you left me in the first place.

The Confidence Man is a stand-alone romance novel in the Broken Hearts of Bridgeport series. Happily ever afters, no cheating, and plenty of brooding bad boys guaranteed. If you love fierce female leads, second-chance romances, and a splash of suspense, this is the book for you!

SKU: B085GHN8HK Categories: Mystery & Suspense, Romance Tags: Alice T Boone, bad boy, crime, criminal, dark, ku, mafia

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Here is a short sample from the book:

When Lynn made her way out the back entrance— the area that opened to a small terrace and seemed to be full of her neighbour's discarded furniture and cigarette butts— my body tensed. Biting my tongue, I followed behind her. Lynn settled into a broken lawn chair outside of her door, her long legs crossing over one another as she looked out to the street through the gate.
"What the hell are you doing?" I growled. "Get in the house, Lynn. It's freezing." The blonde's only response was to bring her mug up to her lips, and my fists clenched at my side. Crossing my arms over my chest, I attempted to seem as disinterested as possible. "Are you going to say something?" Blood pressure spiked as she took another sip. "An apology would be great."
"I figured you came out here to apologize to me."
My head cocked forward in confusion. "What?"
"I figured you came out here t—"
"I heard you," I hissed. "Why the fuck would I apologize to you?" This time, her head jerked in my direction. At the sign of her cold exterior breaking apart, my chest tightened. Somehow, her searing anger was better than nothing at all.
"You can't just show up and do this shit, Parker. You can't just show up at my work."
"Your work," my air quotes made her jaw click, "is a strip club, Lynn."
"And that means you can come in and screw everything up for me?"
"Screw everyth— what the hell are you talking about?" I chuckled. "You want the money, don't you?"
"You can't—"
"Do you want the money or not?" Lynn's head snapped forward again, blocking me out as much as she could. When Lynn took another sip of tea, my patience plummeted. I took a step towards the blonde, only to find myself more upset by her lack of reaction.
"You had no right, Parker."
"Jesus Christ, Lynn. I was just screwing around. Lighten up." Still, she wouldn't look at me, and my brow furrowed. "What the hell is this all about?" Her pause only served to draw out the question we'd both been avoiding, I was sure. "Is this about that prick again?"
"Why do you do this? Why do you have to keep bringing him up?"
"I'm not bringing anything up."
"Oh, fuck you." The woman's eye roll sent a jolt through me. "You had no right to come into my work and tell them we're together. Who the hell do you think you are?"
I let out a scoff. "How else am I supposed to get close to the money? I don't exactly fit into your little number there." Lynn pulled her jacket tighter around her body— a failing attempt at hiding her figure from me.
"You didn't even—"
"Run it by you? I have to run things by you now?" When she shot me another look, I couldn't contain my laughter. "Who the fuck do you think you're dealing with? I’m supposed to run things by you?"
"Yes!" Her raised voice sent a shiver through me. Seeing her worked up, seeing that fire in her, brought out some type of fight or flight instinct I never knew I had, and I sure as shit knew I wasn't going to run. "They're not— I don't mix my personal life with work, Parker!"
"What do you care? You think they give a shit about you?" Her stern look weakened as I touched her sore spot. If I hadn't've been ready to attack, I would have grinned. "They don't give a fuck about you, and they certainly don't give a fuck about what asshole you end up with, all right?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You think they're going to bat an eye at this? That guy was the best someone like you is going to get anyway."

Lynn's jaw tightened. I watched as her shoulders dropped, the words sinking in. It was the sight of her fingers in her hair, though, that sent a pang through my chest. I could see a delicate shake in her body as she tried to focus on the distance.
When she took in a ragged breath, my chest tightened. "Wha— what's going on?" When I watched Lynn's sleeved arm jut up to wipe her eyes, a newfound dread took over my body. "What's going on?"
"Go away." The break in her voice forced my persona to fall. In an instant, my mind was both racing and completely stagnant. My body ached for action, but it refused to move. "Go away."
"What's going on?"
"Parker—"
"Why are you— Are you crying?"
"No." As she choked in a breath, her body beginning to heave, I lurched forward. Crouching was the only way to force myself into her field of vision. My hand made its way to her knee, some part of me desperate to bring her a comfort I didn't know how to deliver, and my mind raced for the words that would make it okay. The woman refused to look at me, but her icy cold hands tried to push my body away. "I told you to leave me alone."
"Lynn—"
"I don't want you! What part of that do you not understand?"
I bit my tongue at her raised voice. As her head jerked in my direction, she looked more like a feral animal than the woman I knew her as. Her eyes reddened, her teeth bared as she hissed for me to leave her alone.
"Lynn, what the fuck is—"
The blonde jumped to her feet and tried to push past me. Lynn rushed inside, attempting to slam the door in my face. My body reacted faster than she could have predicted, my lack of anger leaving her as unsettled as I had ever seen her. Lynn wiped at her eyes again, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Please, just go. I'm just tired."
"Lynn, just talk to me."
"I'm tired," she repeated, dumbly. "I'm just tired."

I followed her towards the bed, watching helplessly as she attempted to pull off her heels. When she stumbled forward, my body reacted on its own. I could feel her feeble struggle as I pulled her into me, but Lynn's tired muscles couldn't put up the fight she needed. My grip tightened, and she began to cave beneath me. I could hear her gentle protests become muffled as she grabbed at my back, my shirt balling in her hands as her tears began to stain my chest.
"Lynnie, just talk to me," I murmured, my right hand snaking up to land lovingly on her head.
"He's not— he's here. I know he's here."
"Who is here?"
"Aaron's here." My brow furrowed. "He didn't— I can't—" Her body jerked under my grasp, desperately trying to suck in enough air to prove her point to me. I tried to rub her back, but the blonde only released another gut-wrenching sob. "I'm his still. He owns me still. Don't you get that?"
My mouth hung open to respond, but the words wouldn't come out. My stomach filled with snakes, twisting and striking as they ate away at my conscience. How could one phrase make someone so sick?