Book Title: Pretty Policeman
Author and Publisher: Fifer Rose
Cover Artist: Pretty Indie: Book Cover Designs
Release Date: December 1, 2022
Genre: M/M Mafia/Billionaire Romance
Tropes: Mistaken identity, forbidden love, sugar daddy kink
Themes: Dark themes, but taken fairly lightly and sprinkled with rom-com elements, professional/personal integrity vs. love
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 128 000 words
It is the beginning of a series, but can be read as a standalone. It does not end on a cliffhanger.
Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited
Getting involved with a mafia don was a horrible idea. Falling in love with one was worse.
Blurb
Detective Micah Hart wasn’t sure when his fairly safe, predictable life became something more closely resembling a dumpster fire.
But if he had to pinpoint an exact moment, he would say it was the first time he went undercover as a prostitute in an attempt to bait the notorious serial killer that was stalking New York City’s streets – the media-dubbed Hooker Hunter.
It’s when Damon Romano plows into his life, with his fierce protective energy, and those thick thighs, and the bluest pair of eyes Micah has ever seen.
If only he wasn’t also a temperamental mafioso in charge of running one of the city’s largest criminal empires.
Damon fixates on Micah, obsessing over feeding him and making sure he always has a coat. He spoils him rotten with gifts and insists on taking Micah on as his personal escort – a “boyfriend” to get his nagging sisters off his back.
It’s weirdly sweet, and Micah doesn’t know how he’s become a soft spot in the ruthless man’s otherwise hardened exterior, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t want even more: a real relationship with Damon.
There was just one teensy, tiny problem with that.
Despite what Damon thinks, Micah isn’t actually a prostitute. He’s a cop for the NYPD.
Pretty Policeman is an M/M billionaire mafia romance, sprinkled liberally with rom-com elements, served with a side helping of sugar daddy kink and mistaken identity trope.
Ever since he was a kid, Micah had wanted nothing so fervently than to become a decorated police officer. He’d spent entire Statistics and Anthropology classes in high school daydreaming about saving innocent civilians from hardened criminals, chasing down “bad guys” and solving case after case as an ace detective.
Somehow, he never quite imagined… this.
He was working the streets again, loitering on a corner near a cheap motel – no more than a handful of blocks away from where he’d been assaulted on Saturday. Assaulted and saved by an unreasonably attractive man hellbent on filling his belly with authentic Mexican food and dressing him in layers to protect him from the cold.
Not that Micah had given the man another thought since he’d squeezed himself out of that tiny bathroom window a few nights ago.
He definitely didn’t daydream about broad shoulders during his morning showers or reminisce about thick thighs at night while he lay in bed trying to sleep.
That’d be weird. Not to mention inappropriate.
And even if his thoughts did sometimes stray into the morally questionable area of wondering how dark the man’s blue eyes turned in the grips of arousal or how thick and purple his cock got before the brink of release… there was simply no way Micah was going to be able to get it up in this weather.
It was at least ten degrees colder than the last time he’d gone undercover, and the wind made it seem closer to twenty. It was only November, but there was no doubt winter was quickly approaching.
Of course, it didn’t help matters that he was in a skirt.
It clashed horribly with the too-tight red shirt and bomber jacket he was wearing – not to mention the same torn-up sneakers he’d donned last time, but Tessa had assured him multiple times that he looked effortlessly sexy – you know, in a grungy, New York City prostitute sort of way.
As for Micah, he stood by his assertion that there was absolutely nothing effortless about a man wearing a pleaded, schoolgirl-style skirt. On the corner of a mostly deserted street. Mid-November.
Unlike his last attempt at pretend prostituting, there were no drunk johns to keep his mind occupied. No shot of adrenaline rushing through his veins to keep him warm. No ridiculously handsome Good Samaritans coming to his unnecessary rescue.
Not that Micah wanted to see the guy again or anything.
He was just bored. And cold. His testicles felt one stiff breeze away from retreating back into his body permanently.
Fifer Rose is a happily married mother of four human children and two very spoiled cats.
When she is not wiping snotty noses or being bullied into feeding her cats (again?!), she can be found obsessing over M/M romance. She loves all the tropes, some of her favorite being enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, sugar daddy, and mistaken identity. She also has a penchant for A/B/O dynamics.
While Fifer is a sucker for angst, a happily-ever-after is a MUST in all she reads and writes.
Unrelated hobbies include baking, attempting to golf (for her husband’s sake), and daydreaming about traveling. (No actual traveling because did you see the part about four kids?)
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