Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala

Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.readnovels.website Wed, 19 Nov 2025 18:27:19 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.readnovels.website/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.readnovels.website 32 32 The Woman in the Hollow (Grassi Family #9) Read Online Jessica Gadziala http://www.readnovels.website/the-woman-in-the-hollow-grassi-family-9-read-online-jessica-gadziala Wed, 19 Nov 2025 18:27:19 +0000 http://www.readnovels.website/the-woman-in-the-hollow-grassi-family-9-read-online-jessica-gadziala Genre: Alpha Male Authors: Jessica Gadziala Series: Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)

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Hazel just wanted a fresh start in a state where she got to see all four seasons. When she gets a job at a garden center and is tasked with setting up their fall extravaganza—hayrides, haunted trails, and pumpkin-spiced everything—she was thrilled.

She didn’t expect her boss’s mother to become her biggest fan… or to start matchmaking her with Dante.

Then Hazel stumbles over what she’s sure is a dead body in the haunted woods—and everyone insists it’s just another prop. But Hazel knows what she saw. And the deeper she digs, the more she realizes her cozy new job is hiding something rotten beneath the leaves.

Now someone wants her silence, and the only person who can keep her safe might be the one man she shouldn’t trust at all.

* this title can be read as a standalone

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

Hazel

“I’m sorry, my pretties,” I said, running my hands over my autumnal sweater collection I’d brought out of my under-bed storage two hopeful weeks ago when I still had faith that the fall weather would kick in eventually. “Not yet,” I added, grabbing a t-shirt instead and walking over to crank up the air conditioning.

Eighty-something degrees in October. I thought I was done crying over my electrical bill. Alas, nope.

It was opening day of The Hallows—the all-month Halloween festival at the garden center I’d started to work at two weeks before.

It had been a nonstop push to get the place turned over from your average, run-of-the-mill center that sold colorful annuals, hardy perennials, trees, soil, and mulch, as well as a tiny indoor store with planters, watering cans, and some yard decor into the sprawling extravaganza worthy of all the school class trips planned as well as a steady stream of casual visitors.

It was the first year, and apparently, the owner was seeking the same sort of vibes he’d felt when he was a kid and visited the garden center that had sat closed for over a decade.

I figured the guy was a Halloween freak like me. Which made working there even more exciting.

To be fair, I was just as much a freak about Christmas and spring planting. Which made this job even more perfect for me. Because once the autumn festivities wrapped up, the garden center would shift into Christmas mode—selling live trees, wreaths, garland, ornaments, and little gifts from local craftsmen. Not to mention the hot cocoa cart, pictures with Santa, and an actual live manger.

I was trying not to get too ahead of myself with the winter plans, even if my head was spinning with them. Halloween deserved my full attention. Especially on opening day.

I yanked the t-shirt down over my head and looked at myself in the mirror nailed behind my bathroom door.

It wasn’t the look I’d wanted to sport, but the simple black tee and the orange and black checked pants were just going to have to do.

I grabbed my work pin off the counter and secured it to my chest.

DG Greens.

Not the most unique of names, but I heard it was a homage to the old name of the place, just changed to the owner’s initials.

And apparently, the woods around the garden center had the nickname “the hollow” to the locals. Which gave it all the Halloween vibes.

Reaching up, I finger-combed my shoulder-length black hair and curtain bangs into some semblance of order, swiped on a deep autumnal red lip, and lined my dark brown eyes.

“Alright,” I said, nodding at my reflection. “Let’s go make Halloween magic.”

That was my mom’s phrase.

She said that parents (and sometimes grandparents, siblings, or aunts and uncles) were the “magic keepers.” They were in charge of creating that sense of wonder we all felt as little kids. That deep-seated awe that we all looked back on as adults with a soul-aching nostalgia.

Granted, I didn’t have any children yet, but I was a sort of stand-in magic-maker, working where I worked. And I took that job very seriously.

I paused in my kitchen to grab my cutesy ghost-printed water tumbler and my reusable witch hat coffee cup. Both were empty. Because one of the perks of the job meant I got bottomless coffee from the hot bevy cart and as much fresh-pressed cider as my heart demanded.

I skipped breakfast too. Because I had three apple cider donuts with my name on them. And maybe a slice of pumpkin bread while I was at it.

I didn’t even have to feel guilty about all the sweets since according to my fitness watch, I walked roughly twenty-five thousand steps over a general shift at the garden center. My aching thighs the first few days were testament to that.

“Okay. Hold the fort down,” I called to the large rectangular terrarium on my entryway table. That had been a fun project when I’d arrived in town—decorating and planning a real, self-sustaining ecosystem that included substrate, plants, water, and tiny little shrimp. None of which required any work from me to keep it thriving, save for maybe topping off the water when it evaporated.

As much as I hated it, my life didn’t allow for normal pets. I worked too much. But the shrimp let me feel like I had a couple of little companions who basically didn’t even know I existed.

“It’s going to be a late one,” I told them before grabbing my bag and phone and heading out the door.

“Disgusting,” I grumbled at the morning air, hot and soupy with humidity.

I wasn’t a summer hater, per se. It was just the whole of, you know, July and August, and a large chunk of September that I disliked. June was full of the wonder of long, warm days. But the thrill quickly faded as the insects invaded and the air made your clothes stick to your sweaty back and chest within minutes of being outside.

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The Woman in the Garage (Grassi Family #8) Read Online Jessica Gadziala http://www.readnovels.website/the-woman-in-the-garage-grassi-family-8-read-online-jessica-gadziala Thu, 17 Apr 2025 13:12:44 +0000 http://www.readnovels.website/the-woman-in-the-garage-grassi-family-8-read-online-jessica-gadziala Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Jessica Gadziala Series: Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)

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When Dasha moves across the country to take over her late uncle’s auto shop, she expects grease stains and busted engines—not cold stares, hidden secrets, and a debt to the local mob.

Enter Santo Grassi—charming, handsome, and impossible to ignore. He’s just there to collect protection money for the mafia, but as their paths keep crossing, it becomes impossible to ignore the heat growing between them.

But when Dasha discovers her uncle’s books don’t add up—and neither do his secrets—she realizes the trouble she’s in goes far beyond the risks of falling in love with a mafia capo…

* This book can be read as a standalone

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

Dasha

The cute duck and bunny mug was going to be a problem.

To be fair, when I bought my mug collection—usually picked up as impulse buys on the winding line at HomeGoods—I hadn’t ever imagined piling them onto an—equally cutesy—floral plastic tray with my—blessedly basic white—carafe to serve coffee to a bunch of strange men.

Ideally, I would have gone to a coffee shop and grabbed a bunch of to-go cups for everyone. But, well, the cost of a cup of coffee was astronomical lately. And I wasn’t exactly rolling in it.

Moving across the country was expensive.

So homemade coffee, it was. With a side of homemade oatmeal cookies. Because I was really trying to make a good first impression, dammit.

Surely, there was one guy in the garage who would be comfortable enough in his masculinity to take the bunny and ducky cup.

I brought up my leg to balance the tray so I could reach for the giant old keychain full of no fewer than twenty different keys of every different shape and size—each of them sporting that awful, strong metallic scent that clung to my fingers afterward.

But just as I was about to stick the key in the lock, the door swung open, revealing a man in navy blue coveralls heavily stained with various greases and oils.

He towered over me, casting a shadow over my face, blocking that harsh yellow early morning sun, so I could actually get a good look at him.

Under his jumpsuit, he seemed long and lean. His face was angular and handsome with hazel eyes and a slightly shaggy crop of golden brown hair that was streaked lightly with some salt-and-pepper.

Totally hot. If too old for me.

“You must be Dasha,” he said, gaze moving downward over me, making me quickly grab the tray so I could lower my knee.

Being in a pirate pose while in a flowing floral sundress was probably not the best first impression. Such was my life, though. I wasn’t sure I’d ever made a good first impression. I was a fumbler and bumbler and a bit too much of a try-hard, which always made me come off a bit too peppy or fake, even if all I wanted was for people to, you know, like me.

“That’s me,” I said, smiling up at him. “I didn’t think anyone would beat me here,” I admitted.

It was half past five, for goodness’ sakes. This guy looked like he’d already been up for hours.

“I open the shop,” he explained. “David,” he said, still blocking my path.

“Right. The shop manager,” I said, nodding.

That whole ‘try-hard’ thing definitely applied to the way I sat poring over the employee files, learning everyone’s names, positions, and as much general information as I could glean from my uncle’s notes. Though he didn’t have any pictures of anyone, so I was in the dark with that until I officially introduced myself to them.

“Yep,” he agreed, finally stepping to the side to let me pass.

The front of the shop still carried with it all those greasy and metallic scents from the garage—likely thanks to the stains all over the front desk, the doors, and even the walls.

That was one of my first orders of business: give the whole place a good clean. It was kind of obvious that the place hadn’t seen a mop or cleaning rag in years. Possibly decades.

“Did anyone else beat me in?” I asked, inwardly cringing at setting my nice tray on the dirty front counter.

“Just me. Everyone else rolls in around six-thirty or seven. That’s what you wear to work at a garage?” he asked, gaze skimming down me again.

“Well, I don’t plan on rotating any tires today,” I said, smoothing my hands down my dress.

That got a little snorting laugh out of David, and I figured I maybe just made a new ally. Which I might need. I figured it wasn’t going to be easy for a group of men who were used to male leadership to suddenly be dealing with not only a female boss, but one who was a stranger, and likely younger than most of them.

I mean, it wasn’t like this was what I planned for my life either. But here we were.

“Fair enough,” David said. “That coffee or some fancy coffee-like shit?”

“It’s coffee,” I said, pulling my shoulders back a bit. “And there is creamer in the—“

“No need,” he cut me off, reaching for the white handle of the carafe with his black-stained fingers and pouring a cup… right into the duck and bunny mug. Well, that was one less thing to worry about.

“Oh, and I have cookies,” I said, setting down my bag and reaching inside for the plastic container—fine, yes, it had little pink and red ladybugs all over it—that was packed with the treats. I popped the top and held it out toward him.

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The Woman with the Warning (Grassi Family #7) Read Online Jessica Gadziala http://www.readnovels.website/the-woman-with-the-warning-grassi-family-7-read-online-jessica-gadziala Sat, 11 May 2024 14:57:39 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-woman-with-the-warning-grassi-family-7-read-online-jessica-gadziala Genre: Alpha Male, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Jessica Gadziala Series: Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)

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He’s a mafia capo ready to make a lucrative deal with a man he thinks he can trust.She’s a captive in the clutches of a madman, but ready to risk everything to deliver a message to a handsome, mysterious the deal he’s about to make is a deadly trap.With her captor injured, and pride bruised from having his plans thwarted, tensions are higher than ever. And she knows the only hope for her and her infant son lies in escape. Right to the one man she feels she can dare to trust.* All books in this series can be read as stand alone.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

Aurelio

“I want more grandchildren,” our ma said, waving a frustrated hand holding a sauce-covered wooden spatula around for emphasis. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“She’s talking to you,” Elisa said, looking over at me. “You’re the oldest unmarried one,” she reasoned.

“Maybe, but your clock is ticking,” Milo shot back at her, safe in his singleness, being the youngest, and knowing our mother would give him some grace to ‘get his wild out’ still.

“Asshole,” Elisa said, rolling her eyes at Milo, and tossing a bit of dough at him that she was supposed to be twisting into garlic knots.

“A mouth like that, and the only man who is going to want you is a sailor,” our mother said, shaking her head at Elisa.

“Maybe I like sailors. Or outlaw bikers. Or—“ she cut herself off when our mother shot her narrowed eyes, knowing she wasn’t in the mood to be teased. “I’ve been busy, Ma,” she said, sighing.

“Busy busy busy. That’s all I hear from Smush too,” she grumbled. “Getting so busy making livings that you aren’t making lives.”

“I have a life,” Elisa insisted.

“You have a townhouse you pay too much money for. You have nice shoes. And a relationship with your phone. That’s not a life, Elisa.”

When it came to the Grassi moms, they all agreed on one thing. All their kids needed to be married and popping out babies.

The thing was, I wanted that too.

And I was sure Elisa and Smush had those things in mind as well. Sometimes, it just didn’t happen as quickly as we might like.

Luckily for Elisa, Milo decided to stop being a dick for a second and come to his sister’s defense. “Have you seen the men out there, Ma?” he asked, scoffing. “Wouldn’t trust ‘em to take out my fucking trash, let alone my sister.”

It was no secret that Elisa had recently gone through a nasty breakup. One she played down for our mom, but everyone else knew had really gotten to her.

Milo was usually self-absorbed and kind of an ass. But he could be counted on to be a good brother on occasion.

Elisa shot him a sad smile that he shrugged at.

“But that is not an invitation to start setting me up with men you think are good,” Elisa was quick to add, eyes panicked at the prospect.

I’d been on the receiving end of four dates set up by my mother. One, a girl barely out of college who only wanted to talk about her spring break plans. Another, staring down the barrel of the end of her fertility and, in my mother’s words, ‘desperate to get married and have babies.’ Unfortunately, ‘desperate’ very much was her vibe. I barely managed to untangle her from me in the parking lot of the restaurant, she was so determined to take me home.

The other two were decent enough but just not… right.

I was starting to worry that I might not know what ‘right’ was, though, if I was getting to this age and still not finding a woman to settle down with.

Hell, I’d just seen one of my youngest cousins—August—find his woman and start to build a life.

That shit was as humbling as the streaks of gray I was starting to see in my temples, and in my scruff if I let it grow.

“We’ll see,” our mom said, making all three of us wince. A mom’s ‘we’ll see’ was never a good thing in a situation like this.

But Lucky and his woman and the brood they were creating chose that moment to rush in the door, stealing all the focus from us single siblings, and easing the tension in the house.

“She digging in again?” Lucky asked as he moved onto the back porch with me, handing me a beer.

“Mostly on Elisa,” I said, shrugging. “But, yeah, she wants more grandkids.”

“Think she looks at you, Smush, and Elisa and knows that by the time she was your ages, she had two or three of us already. Forgets sometimes how times have changed.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, turning back to look in the French doors, seeing one of Lucky’s kids squeal as they played with floured dough, punching it with meaty fists.

“It’ll happen,” he said. “It’s worth the wait,” he added, his gaze going from his kid to his woman, making his gaze soften. Via was the only woman in the world who could make Lucky soften like that.

It wasn’t the first time I found myself jealous of my brother and the life he had that I wanted.

“I bet,” I agreed, taking a sip of the beer.

“How’s that deal you’re working on going?” he asked, knowing work was always a safer topic than the lack of my own family.

Work, at least, was something that was plentiful and often a point of pride. Even if, more and more these days, it was a hollow sort of pride.

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The Woman with the Target on her Back (Grassi Family #6) Read Online Jessica Gadziala http://www.readnovels.website/the-woman-with-the-target-on-her-back-grassi-family-6-read-online-jessica-gadziala Mon, 02 Oct 2023 05:17:09 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-woman-with-the-target-on-her-back-grassi-family-6-read-online-jessica-gadziala Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Jessica Gadziala Series: Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)

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The mafia owed her a favor.
One she never meant to cash in on.
Until one night, she found herself needing help, and desperate enough to call the last man in the world she ever wanted to have to rely on. A man who she couldn’t seem to have a single civil conversation with.
But for better or worse, she needed him to keep her safe.
If they didn’t kill each other in the process…

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

August

The chips clacked together as they were tossed into the pile at the center of the table, the black felt disappearing under the blue, red, gold, and purple. The lowest increment started at a hundred bucks.

You didn’t go to an underground casino to fuck around with dollar bids.

“You need to get that?” the guy to my left, an investment banker with an ankle monitor under the leg of his thousand-dollar trousers, asked when my phone buzzed in my breast pocket for the fourth time in a row.

There were no secrets at this table.

We all knew who we were playing with.

A crooked investment banker, a madam of a very exclusive brothel, a drug dealer, and me. A member of the local mafia.

“There’s a rule,” I said, shrugging as the madam decided to fold.

Across the room, the owner of the casino seemed to be casually swirling his drink that he hadn’t taken a sip of in the hour that I’d been sitting at the table.

I wasn’t fucking with the rules about phones with him around and risking my chance of getting invited again. High rollers were a dime a dozen in Navesink Bank. He wouldn’t miss my money. But I would miss the outlet that, for once, didn’t involve hanging out with my family.

Who might very well be calling me.

Because who the fuck else would call that many times in a row?

But the hand was almost over. And once it was, I would excuse myself and see what the hell was so urgent.

Things with the Family side of things had been calm for a long time now. But that didn’t mean my mother, sister, one of my brothers, or my cousins wasn’t trying to get in touch with me about something else.

I was about to miss dinner at my ma’s place.

And to her, early was on time. And ten minutes late meant we were dead in a ditch somewhere. So she could be ringing my phone. Or one of my brothers who wanted me there so she stopped talking about my absence.

“Fuck, not my night,” I said as the investment banker pulled the pot toward him. A cool fifty thousand.

I’d won one hand when I first sat down. It had been a losing streak since.

Maybe I should have taken the incessant buzzing of my phone in my pocket as a sign.

“I’m out,” I said, pushing away from the table, and reaching for my phone. “I know, I know,” I said, nodding at the owner whose brow was quirked as he watched me pull it out.

But I was already out the door before he could say anything.

Outside, the air was a humid slap to the face, making me feel immediately sticky in my suit, especially after the shock from the cold casino.

I was just about to swipe to my missed calls when my phone started buzzing in my hand again.

With an unknown number.

The fuck?

I mean, yeah, sometimes we used burners on jobs and shit like that. But as far as I knew, there were no current jobs that would require that.

Curiosity piqued, I swiped the screen to answer the call, pulling it up to my ear.

“Yeah?” I said, hearing a sharp intake of breath.

“August?” came the squeaky, panicked trill of a female voice.

My stomach tightened, my mind running through the names of all the women in my life that could be in trouble, that could have been trying to get in touch with me for over half an hour while I played fucking cards.

“Who is this?” I asked, hearing a tightness in my voice.

And then came a name that I never could have guessed, not if given a fucking year to rattle off possibilities.

“Traveler.” Her own name sounded like the sound was being squeezed out of her, high and breathless.

“Traveler?” I asked, feeling my stomach tighten.

Because I knew one Traveler. I mean, of fucking course it was only one. Who the fuck was named Traveler, of all things?

But, yeah, the Traveler I knew would never willingly ring me up. In fact, she would call literally anyone else before me.

We’d only met briefly over the course of a job my brother was working on up at the State Capital involving some criminal organization and a chick whose life he had fucked up inadvertently years before. A chick who was now his wife.

Traveler had just been the owner of a little coffee shop we frequented in the area. And she and I hadn’t exactly been fast friends.

The only reason she had my number was in case Cammie, the woman we’d been working with, came to her for help.

I figured she’d purged my number from her phone as soon as the job was done and we left town.

Clearly, she’d been holding onto it.

There was a long pause, then another breathless sound, “Yes.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, already walking toward my car.

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The Woman in Harm’s Way (Grassi Family #5) Read Online Jessica Gadziala http://www.readnovels.website/the-woman-in-harms-way-grassi-family-5-read-online-jessica-gadziala Sun, 11 Jun 2023 19:41:46 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-woman-in-harms-way-grassi-family-5-read-online-jessica-gadziala Genre: Action, Contemporary, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Jessica Gadziala Series: Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >79

Savannah had never considered herself a brave person. So saving the life of a customer at her restaurant when men had burst in with guns drawn had simply been instinct. There was no way for her to know that the man she’d saved was a member of the local mafia. Or that he and his family would feel indebted to her for life. And she certainly never could have anticipated the growing feelings she felt toward the man whose enemies were drawing ever closer… * All books in this series can be read as standalones

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

Nino

“What are you doing in my driveway?” Matteo barked, making me roll out from under his wife’s car.

“Changing the oil,” I said, wiping my hands on a rag.

“Why?”

“Because it’s been six months.”

“Why are you changing her oil at all, is the question.”

“Because it needed to be done.”

“Christ, Nino. Don’t you think you’re taking this ‘indebted to Josie for life’ thing a little far? It’s been years now.”

“Yeah. And my brother is still alive all these years later because of her.”

A while back, when Josie and Matteo had first started dating, some shit had gone down that meant men were coming after her. My brother Massimo had been one of her guards that night. If it weren’t for Josie, the fucker who’d shot him was going to put a final bullet in his head. But then she’d gone after the attacker with a fucking frying pan, getting herself kidnapped in the process, but saving Massimo’s life.

I owed her.

So I tried to pay it back in small ways when I could.

“You do realize I’m her husband, right? I’m supposed to be the one dealing with the oil. Taking out the trash…”

“Oh, yeah, brought the cans in too,” I said, waving over toward them.

“It’s six in the morning. Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?” he asked, shaking his head at me.

The sad thing was, not really.

My schedule had been pretty light as of late, aside from the occasional work shit.

“Not really,” I admitted.

“Jesus,” Matteo hissed. “Go get some breakfast or something. And no,” he said when I started to open my mouth, “Josie doesn’t need anything. I think someone else needs to save one of your brothers’ lives, so you can fixate on them for a change,” he said, but he was smiling.

With that, he went back inside.

I finished the oil, cleaned up my mess, then went ahead and followed his advice. I’d been up since five, getting a quick workout in, then doing the oil.

I could use some sustenance.

Seven in the morning, though, meant that there weren’t a whole hell of a lot of options in Navesink Bank, so I drove another town or so out, finding a little early morning brunch place that had opened up a couple of months before.

The Brunch Bar was a tiny gem of a place wedged between a dry cleaner and a small general store in a strip on the highway.

A terrible location, really, but the owner had clearly put a lot of work into it.

The robin’s egg blue sign was bright and the font clear from the road. A couple little colorful tables sat out front on the sidewalk near the double plate glass windows to each side of the door.

The windows had trailing plants hanging from a rod above them, and crystals hung here and there, casting little rainbows of light into the restaurant.

Even the damn chime on the door—a chirping sound instead of a bell—was charming.

The inside was small, only accommodating about six tables of four down the center, and two tables of two by each window.

Like the tables out front, each one was painted a different color with mismatched chairs. The long wall along the side was covered in art of different sizes, styles, and frame colors. Busy, but in a purposeful way that felt cohesive.

It was nice.

To the right was a counter with a dessert case and coffee machines. Likely for quick eats on the go.

“Hey! Just give me oneeeee second,” a voice called from somewhere behind the counter that I couldn’t see. “Just trying to… fix… something,” she went on, and there was a hammering sound that had my brows raising.

“Take your time. I’m in no rush,” I said, picking up one of the menus sitting on the counter, a long, handwritten thing in a thick laminated case.

“Get in there, you utter pain in the. rear. end,” she went on, punctuating each word at the end with another whack of whatever tool she was using. “There you go,” she said.

Then she was popping up right in front of me, all bouncy blonde hair pulled into two high pigtails with a mushroom-printed bandana wrapped around the top of her head.

I couldn’t claim it was often that a woman damn near knocked the wind out of me when I first saw her, but that was exactly what happened right that moment as she looked up at me with these big fucking eyes the color of forest moss and framed with thick light brown lashes.

Her face was feminine with a sharp jaw and pouty lips. Or, at least, I figured they might be pouty, if they weren’t turned up into the biggest, most welcoming smile I’d ever seen.

“Secondhand items are great,” she declared. “But sometimes, they need to be beaten into submission,” she informed me, waving around her pink child’s size hammer, before placing it on the counter, and putting her hands on her hips. “So, are you in a rush, or planning to stay a while?” she asked as I tried not to let my gaze drop below her face.

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The Woman from the Past (Grassi Family #4) Read Online Jessica Gadziala http://www.readnovels.website/the-woman-from-the-past-grassi-family-4-read-online-jessica-gadziala Tue, 07 Jun 2022 11:09:45 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-woman-from-the-past-grassi-family-4-read-online-jessica-gadziala Genre: Crime, Dark, Insta-Love, Mafia, Romance Authors: Jessica Gadziala Series: Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	The Woman from the Past (Grassi Family #4)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Jessica Gadziala
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B0B2K96MPH
Book Information:
Four years ago, my boyfriend was killed by an unknown assailant, sending my entire life into a tailspin. After years of suffering with no end in sight, I did the unthinkable. I tracked down the man who’d killed my boyfriend - a mafia hitman from some place called Navesink Bank. And I asked him for his help…
Books in Series:	Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
Books by Author:	Jessica Gadziala

CHAPTER ONE

Massimo

He was supposed to be alone.

I had been watching the asshole for almost two weeks, getting used to his routine since he was constantly surrounded by family and friends and associates, so I had to be even more careful than usual to make sure there were no witnesses, no one who could look in my direction, see me, possibly recognize me, then trace the hit back to my Family.

The whole reason they hired me to do the dirty work was because I was good at it, because I made sure no one ever knew who I was or who I worked for.

That was why I was still camped out up in the state capital instead of home in Navesink Bank, unwinding, having a good, home cooked meal with my ma, brothers, and sister. Maybe some cousins, seeing as word always got out that one of the moms was cooking, prompting everyone else to invite themselves over.

I was getting tired of take-out and quick shit I could grab at the convenience store to hold me over until my next meal.

This job was important, though, so I just had to grin and bear it.

I wasn’t stationed in the “good” side of the capital either.

No.

I was in a sketchy neighborhood late at night, waiting for the fucker to get back to his apartment.

It took over the entire top floor of the building, and from the looks of things, had been completely gutted and redone.

It likely cost a cool hundred grand.

Money he put into a building that looked like the heat went wonky in the winter and the air never worked in the summer.

But if you were going to be a guy doing illegal shit and you didn’t want to get caught, staying in your old neighborhood despite being able to afford to move out was a good way to stay under the radar.

Unless you gave the cops a reason to come snooping, they would never know you had a three-thousand dollar fridge or what looked like a TV that would cost even more.

And, well, if you were a criminal worth your salt, you made sure the cops never had a reason to come to your door with a warrant.

That was why this guy had to go, after all.

He was good.

He was a threat.

And he was just fucking stupid enough to think he could align himself with an organization that wanted to take on the whole of the New Jersey mafia.

Assholes like him, they likely listened to what the talking heads said on TV. That the mob was dead. That RICO and snitches had done us all in.

Sure, there was a time when that had been true. After the Golden Age, after a bunch of the dons went away for life, yeah, there was a lot of fucking snitching and disloyalty.

The thing was, that was the old generation.

The new one?

We were working out asses off to bring back Omertà—the code of silence—and with it, the respect that our organizations had once been so well known for.

We weren’t about to be brought down by some kid named Cody who saw himself as a boss.

I mean, he was the kind of guy who made statuses and captions on his social media saying shit like: Making Moves #BossShit.

Yeah.

He was going to align himself with a bigger organization that wanted to take down the fucking mafia.

A snort escaped me as I rolled my neck when his car finally pulled up in front of the building, over an hour later than I’d been expecting him.

His gait was wobbly, making me shake my head as I looked through my scope.

Such a boss that he didn’t even have to worry about driving when drunk, I guess.

Not that it mattered.

Actually, it would likely make my life easier. He was predictable when he’d had too much to drink.

He would go into his kitchen, grab an energy drink and a bag of chips or some other snack food, take it over to his giant TV in the living room, power up one of his gaming consoles, and play until he passed out right there on the couch.

He barely moved.

It would make for an easy-ass shot.

It would all finally be over in just a couple more minutes.

The lights flicked on, illuminating his apartment, making it completely visible from the ground and all the buildings around it. Like the one I was lying on top of, only my gun and arms visible on the ledge.

I couldn’t wrap my head around being so careless. No blinds was fine if you were smart enough to install some bullet-resistant glass.

Cody, well, Cody was not that smart.

My bullet would slice right through the glass and into his forehead.

He would never see it coming.

And it could all have been avoided if the bastard invested in some blinds or curtains.

Not that I was complaining as I watched him go into his kitchen, grabbing his drinks and snacks, then making his way to his living room.

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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	(Grassi Family #1) The Woman at the Docks
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Jessica Gadziala
Language:	English
Book Information:
You didn’t have to be in the criminal underbelly to understand one fundamental rule: You don’t mess with the mafia. But what other choice did I have? * This book has some dark themes but is not a "dark mafia book"
Books in Series:	Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
Books by Author:	Jessica Gadziala

Chapter One

Luca

The first time I saw a man murdered, I was seven years old, sneaking out from the backseat of my father's car, where he'd told me to stay, to keep an eye on my little brother.

But at seven, curious, and resentful at having to babysit to a three-year-old who was still grieving the loss of our mother, I had given Matteo my comic book he wanted but I had always told him he couldn't play with, climbed out, and made my way through the long, abandoned parking lot.

The smell of saltwater teased my nostrils, mixed with a distinctly fishy smell thanks to the low tide.

The docks, that was what my father called this place. His business. I didn't understand what, exactly, he had to do at this place with the massive cranes and the endless shipping containers being moved off of ships and onto land. Or vise versa.

I did know that he and all his men were always in suits, always had twinkling cufflinks and shiny watches, which made me think it had to be important work.

But when I asked him what he did, all he responded with was I run the docks, Luca. That is all you need to know. For now.

And, at that age, I was tired of being told for now or when you're older.

I wanted to prove I was big enough to be a part of this secret world of his. Even if that meant I had to force my way in, so he could see that I was old enough.

As I crept along the line of containers that I'd seen my father disappear between after meeting up with one of his men, Leandro, a tall, wide man who my father claimed 'clearly enjoyed his food a little too much,' had a thick accent that was from the Old Country, and a giant golden ring on his right thumb.

My father had a lot of men, but Leandro was probably the one who was around the most, an almost constant fixture in our house after our mother's funeral.

"For moral support," my father told me when I'd asked why Leandro was there for the third day in a row, sleeping in the guest room.

I was pretty sure that was a lie, though, since there were also a lot of men outside our house, walking around, shining flashlights here and there when they thought they saw or heard something.

I didn't understand why, but I knew it was strange, knew that it had only ever happened once before.

A couple weeks before my mother died.

I remembered her coming into my room, climbing into bed with me after checking on Matteo, wrapping me up, telling me what a big, strong boy I was, how I was going to become an even bigger, stronger man. Someone just like your father, she had told me proudly, kissing me on the temple. When I'd asked her why she was in my bed instead of her own, she'd told me that she was scared. When I asked of what, she told me that there were a lot of scary things in the world, which was why it was important I grew up to be like my father.

I didn't understand, but it was nice to have her in my room, even if I would never admit that to my friends. Her hair always smelled like flowers. And her hands of onions because if she wasn't dressed up really nice and running errands, she was in the kitchen making big batches of food for us, for our friends, for our extended family.

I had been especially broken after her death because I had gotten so accustomed to having her there in my room at night, closer than we had been since Matteo came into the world, taking some of her time away from me.

But she was gone.

And like my father and uncles had told me at the funeral, I had to be a man now.

Which was what I was doing.

Being a man.

Doing what my father did.

Just like my mother had wanted me to.

I didn't know at the time what it would mean to be a man like my father.

But each step I took along that concrete was taking me closer and closer to the reality that was his life.

I had just broken into the space where the containers cleared from an alley and into a wider space when I heard my father's voice- calm and collected as it always was, never a man to lose his temper.

Louder than that, though, was the sound of begging, whimpering, sniffling.

Like someone was crying.

Crying was something that seemed out of place to my young ears. Because I'd learned all through the hours after I'd been told that my mother was gone, through the days after, then the funeral, that it was good I was being so strong, that I kept my chin up, that I wasn't showing any weaknesses.

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Read Online Books/Novels:

The Woman from the Past (Grassi Family #4)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Jessica Gadziala

English

B0B2K96MPH

Jessica Gadziala

Read Online Books/Novels:

(Grassi Family #1) The Woman at the Docks

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Jessica Gadziala

English

Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala

Jessica Gadziala