The Dantes, Books #4 - 6

• Marriage of Convenience
• Meet at the Altar
• Boss Romance
• Forced to Marry Romance
• Fake Fiancée Romance

Some blazes, once ignited, can’t be extinguished. Just one burning touch, one scorching kiss, connects a Dante with his soul mate.

Book #4: Lazz’s Contract Marriage

A marriage of convenience … or inconvenience?

They met at the altar.

In order to satisfy a contract created by his late father and claim a priceless heirloom fire diamond, Lazz Dante must marry a complete stranger: Ariana Romano. He and his beautiful Italian bride intend to make it a temporary marriage, just long enough to satisfy the terms of the contract before parting ways. It’s a dispassionate and logical solution to an ill-conceived situation.

What they don’t count on is The Inferno striking when they share their first kiss as husband and wife. Nor do they count on being sent off on a secluded, romantic honeymoon where desire rules the day and passion the night. Most of all they don’t count on the fact that the heirloom fire diamond is missing or that it’s Ariana’s father who’s responsible.

Will their marriage end in disaster and disillusionment?
Or will The Inferno provide them with the ultimate prize: a forever love?

Book #5: Luc’s Unwilling Wife.

Her Inferno Bodyguard…

Dantes’ security chief, Luc Dante is coerced into six weeks of protection duty for heiress Téa de Luca—just until she reaches her twenty-fifth birthday and can claim her inheritance. The job should be a snap for the powerful, former Special Forces tough guy, despite a wound that never properly healed. After all, who would want to harm such a brilliant, family-oriented woman? Only two things stand in his way…

First, Téa is the most adorable, gorgeous, sexy—annoyingly oblivious—person he’s ever met, ready and blithely willing to tumble headlong into any and all disasters that appear in front of her. Not that she sees them.

And second, there’s the small matter of The Inferno, which strikes the second they touch. Of course, that one touch leads to another. And then another and another until they find themselves tumbling into a disaster to end all disasters . . . the nearest bed. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if they hadn’t been caught in the act. Bound by an unbreakable Dante code of honor, their next disastrous step is to the altar.

What neither realizes is there’s a very good reason Téa needs a bodyguard. And if they don’t see what’s happening right in front of them, even The Inferno won’t be enough to save them.

Book #6: Rafe’s Temporary Fiancée.

His fake fiancée . . .

It’s time for lone wolf Rafe Dante to feel the fiery power of The Inferno. After a disastrous first marriage to his non-Inferno wife, he’s done with happily-ever-after. To satisfy his matrimonial-minded family, he hires a woman to fake an engagement, claiming they’ve experienced the burning itch of The Inferno. His plan is to pay his fiancée to leave him at the altar, and since Dante legend alleges The Inferno only ever strikes once, he’ll finally be free to return to his lone wolf ways, problem solved. Only one slight glitch…

The minute he and his temporary fiancée touch, The Inferno strikes—for real.

Sweet, innocent Larkin Thatcher longs for a family of her own. Unfortunately, it isn’t likely to happen, not considering the secrets she hides. When Rafe hires her to be his pretend fiancée and offers a place to stay, it’s a godsend for both Larkin and her “dog,” a lovely Husky who looks suspiciously like a wolf. But falling in love with his family while lying to them isn’t part of the plan. Nor is the overwhelming desire that sparks between the two, one that threatens their plan to go their separate ways.

If she must leave, she will, even if it means she’ll be homeless again, but not without an antique bracelet in Rafe’s possession that will identify her father. It’s all she wants from her soon-to-be-ex fiancé. All Rafe wants from her is, well … her. At least, for now. But The Inferno has a funny way of turning “now” into forever.

What will happen when Rafe learns her true identity? Will “now” turn to never? Or will The Inferno find a way to mate these two lone wolves?

Note to Readers: The Dantes is written by USA Today bestselling author and eleven-time RITA© (Romance Writers of America) finalist, Day Leclaire, these story feature passionate Italian-American heroes, the scorching connection of The Inferno—the ability to find true love with one touch—and sizzling romances between soul mates.

“I don’t see luggage anywhere,” she said. “Should we ring for it?”

A hint of a smile carved a path across Lazz’s mouth. “I’m guessing no one thought you would need luggage until tomorrow. Except for this.” He snagged a swath of virtually transparent ivory silk that had been spread across the down duvet topping their bed. He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you need help changing?”

Oh, heaven help her. Surely, she hadn’t been left with just her wedding gown and that. Ariana cleared her throat. “I think I mentioned my mother doesn’t know we’re not—” She gave an expressive shrug. “I’m sure she meant it as a romantic gesture.”

Tossing her nightgown to the bed, he proceeded to strip off his tux jacket. “I don’t have any objections. Nor am I offended.” He ripped his tie free of its mooring, allowing the ribbon of black silk to flutter to the carpet. “And you still haven’t answered my question. Either of my questions, for that matter.”

If he’d asked any questions, she’d already forgotten. His unnerving striptease had driven them straight out of her head. “I’m sorry?”

A hungry smile slipped across his face. He worked the onyx studs free of his shirt and dropped them onto the bedside table. “Do you need help undressing?” he prompted. “And how soon can we break your first marital condition?”

It took a heartbeat to force her gaze from his gaping shirt and the broad expanse of golden chest beneath. Another heartbeat to gather her wits sufficient to respond. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do need help undressing.”

She crossed to Lazz’s side with as much composure as she could summon. There was something about a half-undressed man that struck her as downright dangerous to the female psyche, particularly when the other half was clothed in formal wear. Maybe it was the incongruity she found so appealing. Somehow she’d have to find a way to ignore it, though she didn’t have a clue how. Not when a relentless tug of desire attacked all her senses at once, leaving her totally defenseless.
Presenting her back to him, she asked, “Would you mind unbuttoning my gown?”

“My pleasure. And you still haven’t answered my other question.”

He stroked a hand down the length of her spine. Even through the heavy satin of the material, she could feel the heat of his touch. Feel the tautening of the connection between them. “The answer is never,” she managed to say. “I don’t intend to break any of my premarital conditions.”

“Or allow me to?”

“No.” Yes, please. Soon and often.

“Are you certain?”

She fought to control her shudder of awareness. More than anything, she wanted to throw herself in his arms and beg him to make love to her. To complete whatever odd bond had formed between them during their wedding ceremony. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
“I’m positive.”

To her relief, he accepted her response without argument though she could sense he forcibly held himself in check. “I have to admit, this is a first for me,” he admitted. “I’ve never helped a woman out of a wedding gown before.”

“I wish you hadn’t told me that.”

“Why?”

She felt the subtle give of her gown. “It makes me sad.”

“Sad, you’re the first I’ve ever stripped out of a wedding gown?” A hint of amusement ran through his words. The back of his hand brushed against her skin, eliciting a shiver she couldn’t quite suppress. “I would think that would make you happy.”

“I’m not your true bride, or it would. It makes me sad thinking of your future wife and the fact that all the things that should be a first with her are a first with me, instead.” She twisted around, holding her gown against her breasts. In the short time her back had been to him, a darkness had wiped all emotion from his face, turning it remote and forbidding. “Perhaps I’m not phrasing it well,” she murmured.

“You phrased it just fine.”

“I’ve annoyed you. I am sorry.”

“Not at all.” He made a circle with his finger, a silent demand that she turn around again. “I’m not quite done.”

“Oh, of course.” She did as he requested, forcing herself to stand perfectly still while he finished unbuttoning her gown. “It’s just these little memories should be special. I don’t want to tarnish them.”

He’d reached the last button, but instead of releasing her, he cupped her hips and slid her tight against him. Her breath escaped in a silent gasp, and she froze with his bare chest pressed against her bare back, heat against heat. One hand slid from her hip to settle low on her abdomen where one day she hoped a child would nestle. Desire intensified, driving her nearly insane with need. She could feel the strong, tensed muscles of his thighs and the heavy weight of his arousal. She’d done that to him, just as he’d done the same to her.

“What about you?” he asked. An almost guttural quality slid through his voice. “Am I tarnishing sacred memories for you and your future husband?”

“No, because this isn’t real.” But it felt real. His hands on her. Their partial nudity. The want thickening the air, making it difficult to breathe. A wedding night waiting to happen. It felt all too real. “Someday I’ll have a real marriage. But this isn’t it. It can’t be.”

“It can, if you let it.” He spun her around. “Let’s start with the kiss we shared. Let’s find out whether that was real. Or pure imagination.”

Without giving her a chance to reply, he took her mouth in a kiss reserved for lovers, one that claimed, just as it seduced. A kiss that proved what they’d felt earlier hadn’t been imagination, not unless they were both experiencing the exact same fantasy. Time seemed to halt, to give them endless seconds to wallow in the moment. This man could bring stone to life, Ariana decided, and she was far from stone. If she could have melded her body to his, she would have. Instead, she simply gave everything she had within her. And then she gave more.

He slid his fingers deep into her hair as he consumed her, tumbling them from one delicious connection into the next. “I don’t give a damn what we agreed. I need you.”

And she needed him. Needed the hardness of his mouth over hers. Needed the delicious blaze of heat. She wanted to fill her lungs with his breath, to inhale his scent and taste and revel in the very air that sustained him.

Every nerve in her body screamed in surrender, making it almost impossible to resist the inevitable. Somehow she managed. “We have an agreement.” The words were barely more than a whisper.

He pulled back just far enough to allow sanity to slip between them. “An agreement, or a suggestion?”