Number-one bestselling author
Damian Cavallo is at a crossroads.
He lives a life of crime, but it’s his life. He lives comfortably and does what he can to make the city of New York a better place. If that sometimes involves violence, so be it. He was ruthless because it was the only way he knew how to be. On his own since the death of his parents, he has known no other way…until a visit from Farrell Black changes things.
Nico Vitale, newly reinstated head of the syndicate, has noticed trouble brewing and has sent Farrell to enlist Damian’s help. Primo Fiore has gotten out of hand and is taking control. Some of the things he has been doing have gotten Nico’s attention: human trafficking, drugs and violence. Things have gotten out of hand.
At first, Damian is reluctant to accept help from Farrell and Nico, sure that he has things under control. However, the prospect of greater strength and having the backing of the mob is tempting. He is also offered control of the New York district of the mob, should he accept their offer.
Damian is willing to do a trial run through and, should he be able to take down Primo, Damian will consider their offer. There’s just one catch: Primo’s sister Aria Fiore. Damian already knows that he will do anything he can not to hurt her. What he isn’t counting on is his attraction to her…
Aria Fiore didn’t choose a life of crime. It chose her. After the death of her parents, Primo has taken care of her. If that meant that he turned to a life of crime to provide for her, she was okay with that as long as she turned a blind eye to the things he was doing. However, lately Primo has become mentally unstable and is being controlled by a man more ruthless than he is. She loves her brother but knows he’s heading for trouble.
When Damian visits Primo and gives him an offer to step aside, Primo refuses. Aria hears her brother planning an all-out war against Damian. Aria knows that the only way to save her brother is to go to Carvallo and let him know what is about to happen. She pleads with him to spare her brother as he’s the only family that she has left.
Neither of them are prepared for the attraction that blooms along their skin. When Aria’s life is put in danger, that attraction erupts into a full-fledged fire…
What I love most about Michelle’s writing are the characters. These are not your typical cardboard, cookie cutter characters that people romance novels. These are people of real flesh and blood that you grow to care for as you read. They have depth and heart and substance. There are some returning characters from earlier novels by St. James and it was like seeing old friends again.
What makes this novel so strong, though, is the love that builds slowly between Damian and Aria. Both of them are hurting and both are drifting in a sea of loneliness. They gather strength from each other and take courage from what begins to spark between them.
Make no mistake, St. James doesn’t shy away from the difficult storylines. She deals with physical abuse and neglect, the plight of orphans and looking for something better in this world; but she does it all with the skill and the depth I’ve come to love and appreciate from her work.
To say that I loved this book would be putting it mildly. I lived this book, right alongside Aria and Damian. The characters lit a fire under my skin and I can’t wait to find out what happens in book two of the New York Syndicate!
You can get your copy here: https://www.amazon.ca/Fire-New-York-Syndicate-Book-ebook/dp/B072BF9F8V/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1499729884&sr=8-1&keywords=fire+with+fire+Michelle+St+james
I am walking
down the street
when the first
feather begins to
emerge from my
skin. It is a
beautiful red hue,
and I can feel
the wind ruffle
the feather. It
feels like a
caress along my
skin and it
feels wonderful. By
the time I
am at the
bus stop, I
have grown twenty
more. Standing there,
waiting for the
bus to arrive,
a woman says:
“Are you like, one of those shape shifters?”
I turn to
look at her
and she is
smiling so brightly
that it is
like she is
carrying light within.
“I don’t think so, no.”
She gives me
a knowing look
and then winks
at me in
a roguish way.
“Well, then you must be in love.
My mother was in love once and she turned into a cardinal.”
I let out
a laugh that
made her shine
even brighter. More
feathers slid out
of my skin,
covering my arms.
“Why did she turn into a cardinal?”
The woman put
a finger to
her chin in
thought for a
moment and said:
“Well, the way she told it was,
people who are in love are changed in some way.
The bird they change into always reflects their love.”
I thought about
the thousands of
birds there were
in the world
and wondered if
any of them
were people in
love. I felt
a thrill of
fire on my
skin. Looked and
saw that it
was now almost
completely covered in
feathers, each one
a different red,
so that when
I moved my
arm, it looked
like fire. I
faced the woman
again and her
mouth was open
in wonder and awe.
“You’re turning into a phoenix!
I bet your love is magical, isn’t it?”
She gave me
another brilliant smile.
“It is.”
I said softly.
“Pheonix’s are rare. Your man must be special.”
She reached out
and took my
hand. I watched
as it softly
formed into a
wide, wing of fire.
“Incredibly special. He’s magic.”
She clapped with
glee and made
a shooing motion
with her hand.
“Then what are you doing here, talking to me?
Go on now, fly on home.”
I nodded and
felt myself growing
smaller and lighter.
The old woman
lifted me up
in her hands
and lifted me
way up high
so that the
wind could take
hold of me.
As the wind
took hold of
my wings and
I knew flight
for the first
time, I looked
down and saw
that the woman
had transformed into
a dove of
the purest white,
so bright that
she glowed softly.
As I watched
her fly away,
I wondered who
she loved.
To the person that said:
“How’s the MS? You’re looking a little shaky today”,
I can say only this:
Thank You.
Thank you for reminding me,
through your concern,
how far I’ve come.
Today,
towards the end of the workday,
I could feel my spoons dwindling.
I only had two,
maybe three left.
Inside of me,
Max Shadow and Cybil Paulsen are always waiting,
hoping,
wishing for a moment where I am weakened.
It’s a constant struggle,
one I tackle every day.
Even when I have a lot of spoons,
the battle between them will rage on within me,
so I’m never sure who is causing what.
If the spasms,
fatigue,
brain fog,
difficulty speaking,
lack of motor control or dragging feet are caused by Cybil or by Max.
There was a time,
not so very long ago,
when I couldn’t walk and where life was only shadow and smoke.
I almost didn’t get up.
I very nearly,
almost,
stopped.
Then,
later,
after I gathered my strength and my spirit and clasped them together in an embrace,
I walked with a cane.
Eventually,
I was able to let go of the cane and just walk.
Now,
my feet have taken me everywhere,
to other worlds,
places I never dreamed that I would go,
even with Max Shadow and Cybil playing tug of war within my skin.
They are unpredictable houseguests.
I never know what they are going to do,
or how many spoons they will use.
But it doesn’t matter.
I will keep getting up,
I will keep going,
I will live.
So,
even if my legs are shaky,
or my speech is slurred,
even if my brain filled with cobwebs and pixie dust or my body exhausted,
I will live and remember how far I’ve come.
I was walking
home when a
young man crossed
my path. He
looked vaguely familiar.
He beckoned to
with an outstretched
hand and, despite
my fear, I
followed. He stayed
a few steps
ahead of me
as I tried
to catch up
to him. He
let out a
peal of laughter
as he ran
on. As I
chased him, the
sky began to
fill with clouds.
I saw him
duck into the
trees of a
forest and went
after him, not
giving the trees
a second glance.
I didn’t know
why it was
so important to
catch him, I
just knew that
I had to.
He moved further
into the trees,
making the shadows
rustle and shake.
“Hello?”
I said. Moving
further amongst the
trees, I noticed
that they had
grown taller, their
bark blackened by
soot or smoke.
I reached out
a finger and
ran it along
a nearby trunk.
My finger came
away covered in
oil. I had
a moment of
foreboding, a second
of fear that
sliced through me.
Then he spoke:
“Don’t be afraid. I can feel your fear.”
I watched him
step out from
behind a tree,
moving as if
walking was difficult
for him. When
he moved a
bit further, the
shadows slid off
of his face
and I could
see him clearly.
“Besides, you shouldn’t be afraid of this forest.”
He said softly.
“You created it after all. Don’t you recognize it? You made every tree, every blade of grass here, every leaf and pine needle.”
I turned and
took the forest
in, really looked
at it. I
recalled a forest
that had ruled
me, that had
hidden me away
from the world.
That had almost
taken me from it.
I touched another
tree trunk and
felt it thrum
under my hand,
it’s pulse matching
my own heartbeat.
I looked at
the man and
finally saw him
for who he
was. He was
myself, only a
few years younger
and so sad
that the sadness
emanated out of
his skin, making
the grass rustle.
“Why did you bring me here?”
I asked him.
He shrugged nonchalantly.
“Have you forgotten what this month is? What this month is the anniversary of?”
I shook my
head at him,
not understanding what
he was saying.
“It’s your dark month.”
He said softly.
“It’s the month you almost succumbed to the darkness, the month where our life changed forever.”
I looked at
him, remembering his
face, the sound
of his voice.
I remembered myself.
“I’m not that man anymore. I’m not you. This month was the start of an even longer journey.”
I said to
him as kindly
as I could.
Tears began to
slide down his
cheeks and I
watched as they
left black marks
on his cheeks,
as if someone
had drawn on
him with a
fountain pen. He
looked at me imploringly.
“You forgot me. You left me here inside the forest. I’ve been here all this time.”
He said, almost
screaming at me.
“How could you just forget about me? About what this month was to us?”
I shrugged, trying
to convey in
that small gesture
that I had
meant no harm.
“I’m beyond happy now. I’m content with my life.”
He looked at
me, his eyes
burning into my
skin. I could
feel the heat
of his stare.
“So you’re going to just leave me here? It’s so dark at night and there are things that move in this forest.”
I shook my
head and held
out my hands.
“Come here.”
I said and
he took my
hands in his.
I took hold
of my own
hands. Slowly at
first, but with
growing intensity, I
let the light
that now resided
inside me flow
out of me
and into him.
As the light
flowed into him,
into who I
had been, he
began to glow.
The light started
to break through
his skin, cracks
light appearing like
spider webs across
his face and
neck. The light
became brighter, too
bright for the
dark forest. The
trees started to
melt until there
was a river
of oil around
us. He began
to shine brighter
until he was
brighter than the
sun. He looked
at me and
there was a
smile etched on
his beautiful face.
“Thank you.”
The light grew
so bright that
I had to
look away. When
I turned back,
he was gone
but the river
of oil had
turned into something
glorious. It was
no longer dark
and filled with
shadows. With the
sun upon it,
it was instead
full of rainbows.
I walked home,
my heart happier
and my spirit
filled with light.