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Fortunato Family Series by the fabulous Charlotte O'Shay will give you a book hangover #99cents

Welcome to Fortunato Family Series written by the fabulous Charlotte O'Shay. These characters fight hard for their happy ever after/happy for now. You'll fall hard for these couples. Charlotte has put book one on sale for only 99 cents. It's the perfect time to binge-read this series.

Title My Only One (Fortunato Family Series, Book 1)

Author Charlotte O’Shay

Genre Romantic Suspense, Contemporary Romance

Book Blurb

My Only One, Book One of the Fortunato Family series, is a friends to lovers, romantic suspense that’s chock full of feels.


We grew up in side-by-side New York City tenements. Shane was my first friend, my first crush, and when he enlisted, my unforgettable heartbreak. When fate brings us back together after ten years, I’m in a world of danger. But I’m not a kid anymore and I know what I want. Shane and I have a second chance at forever and there’s no way I’ll lose him again.


Brilliant, beautiful, bound for success, Esme was the girl next door and a temptation I had to resist. I was too old for her, but I couldn’t forget her. When we meet again after ten long years, she’s caught in the crosshairs of a deadly drug kingpin. But I wear a badge now. Nothing will stop me from protecting the woman who claimed me—heart and soul—so long ago. I’ll keep Esme safe or die trying.

Time’s running out for Esme to pay her father’s debt to the cartel.



The rough as gravel voice bellowing my name was raw with disbelief. I faltered, my gait unsteady. It took me a second to recognize the voice even though I hadn’t heard it in ten years. Even though I never thought I’d hear it again. It was deeper, gruffer than before. And yet somehow, it enveloped me like a warm blanket. Had I collapsed? Was I hallucinating? Probably not because the chill April air blowing in from the river was whipping my hair into my eyes. I swiped a hand across my face to brush it away so I could see, swaying as my numb legs slowed to a stumbling walk.


It was him. Shane. Everything in me stilled. Calmed.

I stopped moving but I couldn’t see more than shadows. My vision was disoriented by the glare of the lamp-post I stood under as well as the klieg-type security lights, which stayed lit twenty-four seven in certain parts of the World Trade Center area. Instinctively, I backed out from under the spotlight of the lamp-post. For all I knew, Rojas’s guy was right behind me.

“Esme!” The voice carried the weight of command, the authority to halt me right there at the corner of Liberty and West Streets. Now that I’d finally stopped moving it took effort to remain upright when all I wanted was to sink into the pavement like summer rain on sun-parched earth. I stopped my freefall by bending forward, bracing my palms on my scraped knees, hauling in gasping breaths, feeling the sting of every tiny cut on the bottom of my feet. On top of that my muscles were burning in shocked surprise at my impromptu workout. High school track was almost ten years ago.

Had tonight’s traumatic events pushed me into a dream state where my deepest desires became reality? Was I so weak I’d conjured him up out of my pathetic need for comfort and security? Giving in, I turned, hopeful, but not believing. His protective nature and friendly, twinkling eyes had once been everything to me. Everything masculine, everything sexy, quite simply everything to fifteen-year-old me. In truth, Shane Joseph Fortunato, eldest child in his big family, meant everything to me from the first time he welcomed me, him a beanpole twelve-year-old boy offering a can of soda to the new kid on the block— the shy, Spanish speaking five year old who moved next door to the boisterous Fortunato family.

“Esme, it is you.” Deep and incredulous, his voice carried from the passenger seat of a beat up Nissan sedan stopped at the light. In seconds he was out of the car and coming toward me, his loose-limbed stride purposeful. I froze. I couldn’t have moved if my life depended on it and man, I hoped it didn’t because I’d do anything to stay put, right here, with Shane.

He muttered something over his shoulder to the driver who took off with the light change. Then he stood there, his physique nothing like the lean frame of the twenty-one-year-old Shane I remembered. His bulky, thickly muscled shoulders strained the fabric of his gray tee shirt as he shrugged into a leather jacket and stuffed his big hands into the front pockets of his black jeans.

He stared, shock evident in his unsmiling eyes as he leveled his intense blue gaze on me, his expression severe, critically intent and so different from the laughing Shane of our childhoods. He didn’t miss one bit of the grime-streaked, perspiration soaked dress I’d rented, the once sophisticated up-do of my long hair, presently hanging down my back in a sweaty tumble. His hard gaze narrowed on my cut up, grimy feet, scraped knees and elbow before skimming back up to my face. I wanted to laugh at the irony. After all this time, this was so not the way I pictured meeting Shane again. And God help me, I’d pictured our reunion way too many times to count.

But none of that mattered now. I had to keep my focus and keep going.

“Shane.” I raised my chin then dropped it down quickly in a nod of acknowledgement, my voice a little breathless from an hour of running but happily quite steady, as if meeting Shane Fortunato on a random city street, after midnight for the first time in ten years—with me, grubby and barefoot, was no big deal.

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Author Biography:

The only thing Charlotte O'Shay loves more than reading steamy, emotional romance is… writing them.

Whether they’re blue-collar or billionaires, Charlotte writes protective heroes who fall hard for independent women who challenge them on every level.

Charlotte’s writing has been called "intoxicating, emotional and irresistible."

Charlotte believes home is where the heart is and hers is in NYC. She lives there with Mac, her real life hero, where walks along the Hudson River serve up fresh story ideas every day. Charlotte's new indie series centering on the Fortunato Family is set in Hell’s Kitchen, NYC.

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Title: Say You're Mine: A Steamy, Opposites Attract, Contemporary Romance (Fortunato Family Series Book 2)

Author: Charlotte O’Shay

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Book Blurb:

SAY YOU'RE MINE, Book 2 in the Fortunato Family series, is a steamy, opposites attract romance set in NYC.

Did ShySky aka Skylar Bishop just kiss a random guy in a bar?

Skylar: I don't know what came over me but when my boyfriend stood me up...again, and I saw this guy—the one with tormented eyes and a shiner on his sculpted cheekbone—mangle his words in a crowded bar, I couldn't help myself. Now he figures I’ll tumble into his bed—because I kissed him without knowing his name.

But one kiss is all I'll take because he’d never go the distance for a woman with my issues.

Women love Fighting Finnegan Fortunato's body and he’s not complaining.

Finn: Actions speak louder than words and I’ve learned to let my fists do my talking. Women want my tatted boxer’s body more than romantic words I can never give them and that's the way I've always liked it. But when a sleek uptown woman knocks me out with a fiery kiss, everything changes.

Now I have to find the words to make her mine.

When serendipity brings them together, will they fight for their forever?


At first, I didn’t so much see her as sense her, a sleek oasis of cool composure amid the jostling, half-drunk crowd. A partial view gained with one quick glance told me she had perfect posture and toned arms. Trying to get a better look, I shifted a step sideways on my line, my sore limbs tight, ungainly and the complete opposite of her effortless grace. Classy. Then the rest of her came into view and my battered body came back to throbbing life.

She wore the black, spaghetti strapped dress like a princess, except damned if I saw any evidence she wore a thing underneath the skintight, satiny slip dress. Naughty princess. Long, glossy curls were caught up in a high ponytail, the better to appreciate her delicate neck and the waterfall of diamonds dangling from her ears. How did I know they were diamonds? I didn’t. The only real diamond I’d ever seen was Ma’s modest engagement ring but I didn’t need a college degree to know this woman was the real deal. No doubt she wore genuine everything, or didn’t bother wearing it all. My gaze slid from the long line of her back to her generous peach of an ass, and there was no doubt in my mind. She wasn’t wearing a damn thing under her dress. You might’ve thought my body was too beat up by tonight’s fight to respond to the sight of a stunning woman or the fantasy of what her lush body would look like naked. You’d be wrong.

I forced myself to look away from her distracting beauty, willed my muscles to relax. A few deep breaths later, I couldn’t help but let my gaze slide back again, this time to appreciate her serene profile, the fragile line of her collarbone, the yards of creamy skin in perfect contrast to the rippling black satin clinging lovingly to her curves. Our eyes met for a half second, hers wide and gray. Discipline ordered me to snap my gaze back to her pointed chin unless I wanted the whole bar to witness my unmistakable physical reaction to her.

Despite the popular bull among my family and friends about my unending conquests of willing women, I’d been in a self-imposed dry spell. I couldn’t even recall the last time I’d been with a woman. Last summer? With my training schedule and day job, my time was limited and man, some days I just felt too fucking old. Time spent with a woman in any capacity had to be worth it. Instinct told me this uptown girl would be worth every second I could devote to her.

When her line moved up, she stepped forward. And yeah. I couldn’t help it. My gaze followed her moves like an overeager puppy angling for a treat, honing in on her legs as the body skimming fabric opened, the slit exposing a long length of smooth thigh for one excruciating second before it fell back into place. My Adam’s apple was like a boulder in my throat. I was hard—everywhere.

“Hey pal, you gonna order?” The loud voice behind me edged on nasty and my gaze swung back to the bar. Kendra was looking at me expectantly. Like she’d been waiting. While I’d been fixated on a gorgeous knockout of a woman, I’d kept the entire line waiting.

“Ba-c-c-cardi c-coke, t-two Guinnesses, Maker’s neat,” I said. I angled my chin toward our corner table so she’d know we all wanted another round.

“Yuh, yo, buh, buh, buddy…” The guy behind me snickered as he imitated my stutter and the ever present, combustible mix of shame and rage flared, burning my neck. Fuck. I had to stutter now?—in front of her? My lips tightened as the familiar humiliation washed over me even as I swiveled to knock the asshole’s lights out.

“Aw, babe, thanks! You didn’t have to order for me.” The woman I couldn’t stop staring at, the uptown blonde in the slinky dress, was in front of me, speaking to me. Her smoky gaze met my what-the-hell-is-happening one before she planted her hands flat on my pecs, leaned in and sealed her lips over mine. One second I was set to knock a jerk into next Tuesday and the next, I had my arms full of warm, curvy woman. She went from a coolly composed dream girl one moment to a fiery siren the next. And now she was kissing me like we’d been separated for ten lifetimes.

That was when I did what any man in my place would do, what I’d been fantasizing about since I first spotted her standing there. Tugging her tight against me, I kissed her back. Her lush body fit mine like a puzzle piece, snug and welcoming. With her generous breasts pushed tight against my chest, and her body arching into my already hardened flesh, I forgot everything except the need to feel her. Fill her. Skin to skin. Closer. I lifted my hand to her jaw, cupping the underside, finding velvet skin. Urgent and clumsy, I angled my head to deepen the kiss. Totally in tune with me, trusting, she opened her mouth as she melted into me, arms circling my neck like she’d done it a million times.

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