Sal Raniero’s Little Black by Kailee Reese Samuels

He’s the eighteen-year-old kid of the Boston mafia.
She’s the middle-aged, rhinestone-wearing spitfire from Texas.
One weekend.
A whole lot of sparks.
new message from Hot Mama:
Meet me at Clint Ray’s Bar & Grill on Friday at 7 PM.
Don’t worry about clothes for the weekend.
You won’t need them.
See you then, Sugar.
My hands trembled as I remembered the message for the thousandth time. I wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at my reflection. I wasn’t sure about any of this, but I needed to know who these people were and what made them tick.
If that meant kicking back a few beers at a bar and knocking boots with an older woman, I was okay with that. I was young, and they were paying. I was going to have a helluva good time.
In the little black book, I wrote her name down.
Trudy Diaz.
Deacon Cruz’s mother.
Deacon was the godson of Anna Ford.
And my best friend.
Sh!t was about to get interesting.