From the bottom of my heart, I thank each and every one of you. It’s been a very trying year thus far but with the help of all of you, I pushed forward and wrote Illicit Temptations. I have found the courage to thrive because of the wonderful friends and family in my life. The people who maybe held my hand, brushed away my tears, or told me there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The people who saw Janine Infante Bosco wrote a book and not knowing a damn thing about her took a gamble and read her book. People who didn’t shoot me down when I said I wanted to started writing, the people who believe in me on a regular basis.
I don’t have to write an extensive list of names or tell you what you’ve done to make me value you in my life. You know who you are, you are the people who unwaveringly stand beside me motivating me to be the best version of myself. I am so thankful for all of you.—Janine
About the Author
Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.
Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.
Janine loves interacting with fans feel free to contact her on any of her social media sites.
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Excerpt from Forbidden Temptations
Coming Soon
Prologue: February 2012
Anthony
I had eight months and six days left of sleeping on this piece of shit bunk bed in this piece of shit jail cell with an annoying little fuck for a cellmate to say my life had turned to shit was an understatement. I was doing a three-year bid for possession and distribution of narcotics if that’s not a fucking joke I didn’t know what is. I have done a lot of fucked up shit most of it illegal, but I never did drugs. Never sold them and never fucking snorted them so it was pretty fucking funny that I went away for both. But I didn’t have a say in the matter if I wanted to climb the ranks in the mob I had to do what the fuck I had to do and when the boss told you that you needed to do a bid you did it. The same goes for when the boss tells you the sole purpose of being incarcerated is so that you murder the man who ordered the hit on his Underboss. You don’t ask questions you just do it. Too bad that plan went astray when my mark was sent to a maximum-security prison before I could get the job done.
I stared up at the ceiling, trying to tune out the little shit that was in the cot below me running his mouth I swear to God he loves to hear himself talk.
“Overheard the C.O.’s talking about your next fight Bianchi. They’re worried that you’re going to get your ass kicked like you did the last two fights.” Cheech said pointedly getting my attention with that.
He was right, I did get my ass kicked still sporting a black eye as proof, but not because I couldn’t fight. I was built like a machine my power was undeniable and when you put a pair of boxing gloves me I was goddamn bull fucking indestructible. I had purposely thrown my last two fights because I wanted to feel the pain each hit a reminder that I was a greedy bastard living in a self-created hell and had destroyed everything that mattered to me. I had destroyed her.
“I don’t give a fuck what people are saying. They’re only concerned about who they’re going to bet on and which inmates going to bring them the sweet payoff.” I said.
The correction officers here were a bunch of jerkoffs thinking who the fuck they were because they had a badge made me want to look in their smug faces and tell them that they weren’t real cops that their mother’s probably made them take the city test because they knew their sorry asses wouldn’t amount to shit. They didn’t respect their badge or bleed blue they fucking bet on the inmates slipped us cigarettes and turned their fucking heads so we could beat the living fuck out of one another. My boss, Victor had half these guys in his pocket and if my mark hadn’t been shipped, to maximum they would’ve locked me in a room with him and walk away so I could murder him. Don’t get me wrong, they were cool to me, but that’s because they didn’t have much of a choice if they wanted that extra cash in their pocket they had to treat me like a fucking king or Vic would cut them off.
“You going soft Bianchi?” Cheech asked, trying his best to rile me up. He probably had half his commissary down on my fight.