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BLINDSIDED
AN O’SHEA CRIME FAMILY NOVELLA
R.A. SMYTH
Blindsided
Copyright © 2023 R.A. Smyth
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover by Temptation Creations
Editing by Lunar Rose Editing
Formatting by Rachel Smyth
A small-town girl. The big city. A sexy Irishman.
When Conor walks into the cafe Mia works at, it’s lust at first sight. A fairytale romance ensues. However, everything is not as perfect as it would appear. It doesn’t take long for cracks to appear, but can these two overcome their differences?
The more Mia tries to get to know Conor, the more questions that arise. Who is he? Why won’t he talk about his family? What is O’Shea Corp involved in?
Is this a romance for the ages, or will it crash and burn before it even begins?
TRIGGER & CONTENT WARNINGS
This is a dark romance and, as such, may contain uncomfortable content. Please ensure you are comfortable with the below list of possible triggers before going any further.
Breath play
Domestic abuse
Graphic sexual and violent scenes
Visit https://msha.ke/rasmythauthor/ for a full list of trigger warnings.
You may recognise Mia as a side character from my Crescentwood series. Blindsided is set 2 years before Crescentwood. Although the books are linked, you do not need to have read Crescentwood to enjoy Blindsided.
CHAPTER ONE
“Tall, non-fat latte with Caramel drizzle?” I call, wondering what sort of idiot asks for a non-fat latte, then covers it in syrup that probably has five times more fat in it than a latte.
An uptight-looking woman in a power suit approaches the counter with her chin in the air and a snooty expression. Pasting on a polite smile, I hold the drink out to her, and she takes it without so much as a thank you before striding for the door.
You’re welcome.
One thing I’ve learned since moving to Boston is that city folk don’t have manners. They don’t have time for manners. Everyone is in such a rush to be someplace else. None of them stop long enough to actually appreciate the magnificent city they’re living in.
“Here you go,” I say, handing a double-shot espresso over to an older gentleman. He doesn’t once pause his conversation to say thanks or even shoot me a smile as he takes the cup from my outstretched hand.
My fake smile drops the second his back is turned, and I huff out a weary sigh. Who knew faking it could be so exhausting?
“Ooh,” Carla squeals under her breath, jamming her elbow into my ribs. “Hello, Mr. Let Me Do Dirty Things to You.”
I snort out a laugh at her antics as I flick my gaze in the direction she’s drooling.
