Page 230 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
Thank you to the amazing group of people who helped get this book into as many hands as possible:
Jenn Watson, for dealing with my crazy, especially my rambling phone calls
Sarah Ferguson, Shan Brown, and everyone at Social Butterfly PR—total rockstars
Cecelia Mecca and Bridgette Duplantis, two gems
Harrison, you’re probably realizing that giving my neurotic self your number was a big mistake. THANK YOU!
Daniel, Daniela, and Luiz—I appreciate all you do for me!
Bloggers! I am in complete awe at all the love this book has received. You guys help me spread the word, and I cannot be more grateful!
Lastly, my readers! To the new ones, welcome! I can’t wait to continue this journey with you. To the ones who’ve been with me for longer, thank you for your continued support and patience. I know you all wanted a mafia book this release, but you guys have greeted Nash’s book with open arms, supporting me more than I can ever imagine. I’m so lucky and blessed to have you all.
So much love,
Parker
P.S. If you loved the book, please consider leaving a review. They mean so much to me. <3
Parker S. Huntington is from Orange County, California, USA. She has a Bachelor’s of Arts in Creative Writing from the University of California, Riverside and a Master's in Liberal Arts in Creative Writing and Literature from Harvard.
She was the proud mom of Chloe and has two puppies, Bauer and Rose. She also lives with her boyfriend of seven years.
Reach me at:
Group: facebook.com/groups/Parkerettes/
Website: www.parkershuntington.com
Facebook: facebook.com/parkershuntington
IG: instagram.com/parkershuntington
Amazon: amazon.com/author/parkershuntington
BookBub: bookbub.com/profile/parker-s-huntington
Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/show/16632079.Parker_S_Huntington
Sneak Peek: Bastiano Romano
Prologue
DALIA RICCI
The Past
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” My pulse quickens, the fear simmering beneath my skin at what I know I have to do. Run. “It has been four years since my last confession.”
The grating separating us smells musty, but I lean my cheek against it anyway. The walls of the confessional moan. Old, like everything else in Devils Ridge, Texas. The heart of the De Luca mafia syndicate. The heart of Hell.
“What ails you, my child?”
Everything.
I am helpless to men, to fate, the insignificant pawn housing a future queen in a game far greater than her. I don’t say the things my heart feels. Instead, I cradle my stomach. I’m not showing. I still have some time. Not much but perhaps enough to figure out my options.
