Alexis Abbott

@alexisabbott.bsky.social

636 Followers 175 Following

Bestselling Mafia Romance author. I love dangerous men, thrilling action, and steamy romance. 🔥🖤📚 https://alexisabbott.com/ Personal account: @jmkeep.bsky.social‬ Married to: @jekeep.bsky.social

A 5 star goodreads review for Forced Promises by Alexis Abbott from Yelitza Washkevich. "Forced Promises is nothing like your typical mafia romance and I appreciate that. Both leads carry deep, scarring trauma, yet they collide and forge an unbreakable alliance. One desperate to break free from a cult, the other burning for revenge. What begins as a slow, simmering burn erupts into something scorching and intensely spicy, leaving you aching for more, heart racing, and completely breathless."
A trope graphic with the cover for Forced Promises by Alexis Abbott. Text reads: New Mafia Release. "This book will live rent free in my mind." - Lace, "Everything I wanted from a mafia romance." - Sophia, "What a roller coaster of a book" "Edna S, "A very refreshing take on a mafia story", Aimee. Morally Grey Antihero, Stalking as Love Language, Age Gap, Bad Boy Good Girl, Praise, Hurt Comfort, Now available in KU, Mafia Romance, Dark Romance, Revenge Romance, 400 Pages, Standalone, Dual POV, Slow Burn, Open Door Spice.
ARC Readers Wanted. Dark Mafia Romance. Slow Burn. Open Door Spice. 400 pages. Standalone. First Person Dual POV. Touch Her & Die, Forced Proximity, Age Gap, Bad Boy / Good Girl, Dual Dubcon, Praise Kink, Cock Warming, Stalking as Love Language, Coming July 28 2026 with a cover for Forced Promises which is black and gold and has a man with hand tattoos and a suit. His face is obscured.
The cover for forced promises featuring a mysterious man with tattooed hands. Triors listed as forced proximity, age gap, grumpy sunshine, touch her and die and morally grey hero.
ARC readers wanted. She was a runaway, a nobody. All he wants is revenge for a stolen childhood. Now she's the only one who could bring him down. Bratva vigilante MMC, cult runaway FMC mutual hurt / comfort, both touch starved, praise kink, childhood trauma, stalking as a live language, forced proximity, age gap, touch her and die.
The cover reveal graphic for Forced Promises. The cover has an imposing man in a suit with tattoos on his hand and a hidden face except for his full lips. The tropes read dark mafia romance, slow burn high spice, he falls first and harder, morally grey, stalking, age gap. The tagline is To escape an arranged marriage I'll become the wife of a killer and it releases Summer 2026.
I needed to show Laszlo he could trust me. I wouldn’t betray him. He was my lifeline, an escape from my past. He shed his jacket, and then it was my turn. He pushed my top down from one shoulder, exposing a breast which he immediately covered with his hand. Before I could say anything, his lips were on mine, and we were kissing. My first kiss. He tasted like cloves, and his tongue swiped along my lower lip. Our breathing was shared, the closeness electric, terrifying. Laszlo’s tall, wiry frame pressed into me, and it was both a protective barrier, and a crushing boulder on my chest. In my mind, I heard the sounds of my mother and the other believers, jeering at me. Looking on in disgust at my failure. My stupidity, that I set out into the wide world to be ensnared by sin and debauchery. We had not been wed, but we had to consummate our relationship. “Stay with me, angel,” he murmured, and my eyes focused.
A 99 cent sale graphic with a black background and red accents for Stolen from the Hitman with the tropes of: Hitman MMC Gymnast FMC Touch Her & Die Slow Burn Virgin Bad Boy / Good Girl Coach / Student Age Gap (18 / 28)
The cover of Owned by the Hitman by Alexis Abbott with an intense looking man staring off camera. It says read for free with all the icons of sites.
Rating 5/5, Anticipation 5/5, Text: It was a devastating sex scene.
The cult she fled was led by a man named Caleb. They called themselves the Children of Aër and lived, ironically, in Satan’s Kingdom, up in a mountain near Dunwich. Details were scarce, but the compound was well armed, and the feds had enough information to know they were a risk. There was fear they had weapons. Explosives. A suicide backup plan if they were raided. And she ran away from that, right into my arms. Shit luck.
Walking down the street, my heart began to settle, my tears drying. Jimmy and Nikolas and Gorky were misogynistic, and though their crass comments used different words, it was familiar to my past. That was why it bothered me. It reminded me of the judgments the Father used to heap on us girls growing up. I wiped the last of my tears, intent on returning to work, when a streetlight blacked out, then another, then the whole road was bathed in darkness. The clouds and fog hid any light from the moon, and the inky air consumed me. My footsteps were muffled, and I slowed my pace. To my left, there was a noise. I froze, listening. Metal. Scuffling. Cloth on concrete. None of it made sense, and I backed away. Whatever was happening, I didn’t want any part of it. I’d already run from one awful situation into another. The concrete was worn, though, and my heel caught an uneven patch. I stumbled forward, my hands slamming into the hood of a car. The security alarm pierced the air, lights turning on inside the vehicle, the headlights flashing. They illuminated the silver eyes of a man, laying on the road on his back, toolkit in hand. His body was covered in tight, black clothing; the only visible part of him were those stunning eyes.
A black and gold background with a snake. Coming soon: To escape an arranged marriage, I'll become the wife of a killer. MMC: morally-grey tattooed Bratva seeking revenge FMC: touch starved & on the run from a cult Hurt / Comfort Bad Boy / Good Girl Praise Kink Cock Warming Opposites Attract Trauma Bonding Forced Proximity Stalking as Love Language Age Gap (19/30) Touch Her & Die He teaches her to be strong Title reveal: April 17, 2026 for newsletter subscribers Alexis Abbott USA Today & Wall Street Journal Best-Selling Author
“You deserve nothing but what you wish, printsessa,” I whisper back in a husky voice. “I admit,” she says, “I’m...I’m still afraid, but I know for certain that I want this. I want this more than I’ve wanted anything in a long, long time.” My gaze boring into her, I ask, “Do you want me?” I take her hands and draw them across my body, feeling my rock-hard muscles, swollen with blood flow that she stirred up in me. Slowly, I trace her hands down towards my thighs, getting dangerously close to the stiff shaft between them. “Do you want everything you feel, everything my body can give you? Do you want all of that to be inside you, taking every ounce of you?” “Yes,” she breathes, “but I just don’t know how. I’ve never even seen…” her voice trails off as her eyes fall on the bulge of my cock, the hard outline desperate to escape my pants. I move in and kiss her again, my tongue swirling through her mouth, dancing with hers as we revel in one another’s warmth. “Don’t worry,” I assure her as we break. “I will teach you.”
The men in this room looked at the riches that were amassed in the seventy years since the revolution, and they pillaged. That was how the Bratva was truly born. They looked at what the people had, and they took, and took, and took. Those years were hard on the people, and sex slavery was rampant, corruption omnipresent. I know, because my parents benefited from the fall of the Soviet Union, as much as any truly wicked person did. I grew up in a castle, for fuck’s sake. Kicked all the workers off the farmland. Grew a grass lawn instead to show off our wealth.
Wanted: Dark Mafia Romance Beta Readers To escape an arranged marriage I'll become the wife of a killer. MMC: morally-grey tattooed Bratva seeking revenge FMC: touch starved & on the run from a cult Hurt / Comfort Bad Boy / Good Girl Praise Kink Cock Warming Opposites Attract Trauma Bonding Forced Proximity Stalking as Love Language Age Gap (19/30) Touch Her & Die He teaches her to be strong
The stress lines faded in slumber, his lashes fluttering. My eyes traced the strong angles of his nose, the sharp points of his cupid’s bow, the softer fullness of his bottom lip. Without consciousness, his expression was dreamy, unguarded, and I stared with wonder at it. There was an urge to stroke his face, to feel his skin, to know he was real and not something carved out of clay. I resisted and contented myself to watch him slumber. My solace was chased away as he darted straight up in the bed, his eyes wild, manic. The sight of me calmed him back to his silk pillow. His hand enclosed itself around mine. “Sorry for jumping.” He blinked the sleep from his eyes and ran a hand back through his dark hair. “I’m a light sleeper.” “No kidding.” My anxiety was spiked, but it dimmed as he pulled me closer, and I curled into him, seeking contentment that wasn’t to come.
The cover for Owned by the Hitman by Alexis Abbott, Wall Street Journal & USA Today Best-Selling Author. The cover features a gritty image of a man, staring off to the side, with tattoos on his chest.
A banner that reads 99 cent sale - Trafficked. A silver haired man with a beard and an open leather jacket stares at the viewer with an inscrutable tough gaze.
Amazon bestsellers for erotic thrillers with Abducted by Alexis Abbott as #7.
A promo image for Abducted by Alexis Abbott. Mafia romance, kidnapping, enemies to lovers, captive romance. On sale. On the right side of the image is an intense looking man staring at the viewer in a smoldering but menacing way.
Blood pooled beneath him, fanning out, before being washed away with the heavy rain. The scent of blood pulled at something deep within me, a memory long buried. Something I’d been forced to forget. I wished I’d never had to remember any of it, but for my girls, I’d do anything. Even let that sickening feeling flow beneath the surface of my skin, prickling a physical memory, threatening to unearth it. I didn’t have the luxury of time to allow it in, explore it. Perhaps there would be time later. A selfish part of me hoped not.
The poster for the movie Eastern Promises. It has a man's hands in the forefront, cut off by a watch and a suit cuff.
His voice was dark and broody, meant for radio, or reading dirty fiction aloud. A tempest whirled within me, the emotions of the last few weeks catching speed as I stared up at him. Despite my fears, my lips spread into an earnest smile. My disbelief gave way to gratitude, and I closed the distance between us. He was at least a foot taller than me, and I had to crane my head back to meet his gaze. “You’re the boss, then. Hi.”
A smiling couple stands in a recording studio. She has long hair and red lipstick that matches her shirt. He has long brown hair and a well groomed beard and glasses. They both look ridiculously happy.
My body slumped in the car. I rode the bus, or got cabs, and the only people back at the compound who drove had trucks forty years out of date. A part of me hoped that I would ruin his seat, leave a hideous mark on it, just as he’d left on me. It was a muted desire, though. The anger had burned to ashes in me, leaving me spent. Flankers were all that remained, little sparks that quickly fizzled in the fog. And really, I wasn’t mad at Laszlo. I was mad for the both of us, that we had each been humiliated in our own way. Why the heck did he work with those men? When the door shut, it was galling in its manufactured gentleness. I wished it slammed. I wished it could shout my anger, but it, too, was muted.