Book Title: He Should Be Mine
Author, Publisher, Cover Artist: Jessica Jackman
Release Date: August 21, 2025
Tense/POV: 1st person present. Alternating (but not every other chapter)
Genres: MM Dark Mafia
Tropes: Grumpy/sunshine, opposites attract, forced proximity, rich/poor, age gap, gay awakening
Themes: A boy who needs a firm hand. slow burn, hurt/comfort
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 98 000 words
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger. HEA ending.
Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited
The only man I want is the one man I can’t have.
Blurb
The only man I want is the one man I can’t have.
Molly is beautiful. Feisty. Sensual. Passionate.
A pretty boy who knows his trade.
He is also the very epitome of high-maintenance. Rude. Stroppy. Always aiming to unnerve people with his brazen words and attitude.
It makes me want to hold him tight and show him he doesn’t need to put on an act. Not with me.
But he belongs to my boss. And when your boss is a mafia capo, that’s a line you do not cross.
My role is to guard Molly. Keep him safe. Stop him running away. Prevent anyone from knowing my boss has a boy.
I’m not supposed to crave him.
I’m just supposed to watch him. Day after day. Night after night.
Watch and never touch.
I’m his jailer.
He’s my damnation.
“What’s so terrible about breaking spaghetti?” Molly asks with fake innocence. “Why do Italians hate it so much?”
I look up from browning the mince. Molly is on the other side of the breakfast bar. I can only see his sleeveless tee shirt that he has tied up in a knot to show off his belly. I can’t see the ridiculously short skirt or the thigh-high socks. Thank heavens. Those things are killing me.
Almost as much as the lingering bruises on his pale skin that Molly isn’t bothering to try to hide. Riccardo didn’t hurt him the night Molly and I sat on the sofa and watched the sunrise. I was foolish enough to hope that it meant Riccardo was finished with marking Molly’s flesh. It was a one off. Not a new obsession.
But the next night proved how wrong I was.
He has never been nice to Molly, but now the gloves are off. Riccardo is unleashing his dark side, and I’m running out of time.
Molly waves a handful of uncooked spaghetti in the air. Brandishing it like a weapon.
“It’s so much easier to snap it in half so it all fits into the pot,” he says with a mischievous gleam in his blue eyes.
My eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare.”
Molly’s grin is enormous as he snaps the spaghetti in half. Little bits of dry pasta ping everywhere. Some hit me in the chest.
It was our last packet.
I growl and step towards him. He shrieks out a laugh and flings a handful of spaghetti at me. It rains down my body. I scoop up a handful of the shards that have landed on the counter. He ducks and the spaghetti lands mostly in his hair.
“Not the hair!” he yells, but he is laughing.
“Should have thought of that before you waged war,” I say, advancing on him.
Molly shrieks again and swerves past me, into the kitchen. He scrambles backward, fumbling blindly behind him for more ammunition. He finds a bag of dried penne and lets out a triumphant sound.
“Weapons secured!”
“Don’t you dare…”
Too late. The bag bursts open in his hands, and penne skitters across the counter like hail. A few clatter to the floor, one bounces off my shoulder.
“Now you’ve done it,” I say grimly.
I reach for the flour jar.
“No!” he gasps. “Not the… Dario, you wouldn’t!”
I unscrew the lid with great ceremony. My heart is fluttering. This is like being a child again and the joy of it tastes bittersweet.
“Duck and cover!” Molly dives down just as I fling a small puff of flour into the air. It drifts gently like snow, coating the breakfast bar and dusting the air with a fine white cloud.
Molly pops up with two wooden spoons, brandishing them like swords. “You’ve left me no choice. I’m giving no mercy.”
He charges. I dodge, but he manages to tap me twice on the chest, light but triumphant. “Victory!”
“I was letting you win,” I tell him, grabbing a tea towel and flicking it toward him like a whip. It smacks his hip with a satisfying snap. An electrifying one. I think I feel it every bit as much as he does.
He yelps, spinning away, half-laughing, half-scandalized. “Assault! You’re going to jail!”
“Gladly.”
We’re both breathless now, the kitchen a disaster of scattered pasta, airborne flour, and complete chaos. Molly’s hair is a mess of pasta pieces and flour dust, his cheeks pink with laughter.
My blood is pounding. My spirit is surging. My mind is nearly dizzy. I am truly alive for the first time in forever. I don’t behave like this. No adult does. But the joy is inescapable. It’s freeing. Liberating. I think this might be what happiness feels like.
Then his phone buzzes on the kitchen counter.
He breaks off, still grinning, and skips over to check it. The smile fades almost instantly. He stares at the screen for just a second too long before locking it. Without a word, he turns and walks toward his bedroom.
“Is everything alright?” I ask, trying not to sound as tense as I feel.
I was just having the most fun I think I have ever had, and now it is all crashing down around me.
Molly flashes me a too-bright smile over his shoulder. “Everything is just fine, Duckling. Bossman just wants a photo.”
He disappears into his room and shuts the door. I stand frozen, the tea towel limp in my hand.
Duckling.
He’s never called me that before. It’s new. Soft. Strange. Personal. More real than Sugar. Warmer than Daddy. It feels like I’ve earned something.
And I hate that I don’t deserve it. Not yet. I hate that he’s behind that door. Doing things for Riccardo. Things he should be doing for me, and only me.
But I can only wait. Wait, and plan.
Coffee, spicy books, and a profound disrespect for tomorrow (aka reading until four in the morning). My three favorite things.
I write the kind of stories that keep you up way too late, while squealing, kicking your feet, and falling hopelessly in love with your new book boyfriend (or two… I don’t judge).
Grab that triple-shot brown sugar shaken espresso. Trust me, we’re both going to need it.
My debut novel, He Should Be Mine, hits shelves in August 2025.
Let’s spread those pages.
Love,
Jessica Jackman.
Books to ruin your sleep schedule and raise your standards.
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