Excerpt & #Giveaway: He Should Be Mine (My Mobster #1) by Jessica Jackman
- Archaeolibrarian
- 1 day ago
- 5 min read
Book Details:
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.
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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.
He Should Be Mine is a sizzling dark mafia gay romance with a guaranteed happy ever after.
It includes the tropes you love, such as,
Grumpy / Sunshine.
Opposites attract.
Forced proximity (only one apartment.)
Rich / Poor. Age gap (Nine years. Early twenties & early thirties.)
Gay awakening.
A boy who needs a firm hand, and the man who is willing to give it to him.
Slow burn (Not because they don't want to, because they can't.)
Pining, so much pining.
Hurt / Comfort.
I will burn the world for him.
Bookshop.org | StoryGraph | Goodreads | Smashbomb | BookBub
available in #KindleUnlimited,
Dinner at the Don’s house is an ordeal in elegance. Thirty guests, minimum. Crystal glasses. Heavy silverware. Tablecloths starched to within an inch of their lives. Every dish is served in silence by liveried staff. The conversation, meanwhile, is a performance. Layered with veiled insults, careful compliments, and too many toasts to “La Famiglia.”
I’ve never eaten so slowly in my life. I chew, I nod, I make the right small talk with the man beside me, a consigliere from Rome who keeps eyeing me like I’m a chess piece he didn’t plan for.
This is a promotion. I know that.
Being at this table means I’ve moved from the outer circle, to somewhere near the fire. Everyone here notices. Including me.
I wonder, not for the first time, what Riccardo did to piss his father off this badly. The Don doesn’t hand out invitations like this without a reason. And he doesn’t give second chances.
Dessert arrives. Something chocolate and tiny and French. I haven’t taken a bite when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I slip a hand under the table and glance at the screen.
Molly.
I press decline. My pulse quickens.
The phone buzzes again. Molly. Calling again.
“Do you need to take that?” the Don asks from the head of the table.
The conversation dies. Thirty heads turn toward me. I force a smirk and clear my throat.
“No, just my girl wanting attention.”
Laughter ripples down the table. Someone snorts. Another guest lifts his glass in mock salute.
“Then yes,” the Don says smoothly, swirling his wine. “You should take it.”
“Happy wife, happy life,” someone else chimes in.
More laughter.
I flash a grin I don’t feel and push back my chair. “Excuse me for a moment.”
I stride out of the room and into the hallway. The phone buzzes again, and I answer just as I reach the front door.
“This better be good.”
“Don’t be mad at me,” Molly slurs. There’s noise behind him, bass-heavy music, voices raised.
My chest tightens.
“Where are you?” I snap, already furious and terrified.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I was just gonna have a quick drink,” he says, voice dragging. “Be back before you. But you know how it is… just the one is never just the one.”
“Molly. Where are you?”
“I don’t know. I met these guys. They bought me drinks. Then they were like, ‘let’s check out this new bar’ and we all piled in an Uber.”
He hiccups. Giggles.
“Now they’re getting all handsy, which I don’t mind in exchange for free drinks, but Rick’s gonna be pissed and he might blame you…”
“You’re with these assholes now?”
“I’m in the girls’ loo.”
“Don’t move,” I bark. “Don’t you move a fucking inch until I get there.”
I hang up and run, not bothering to hide it. As I round the corner of the house, I pass a woman in a slinky black dress lighting a cigarette.
“Give the Don my apologies!” I shout, not slowing.
It’s a terrible idea. You don’t run out on the Don’s dinner. But I don’t care.
I unlock my car, leap in, and pull up the app I never told Molly I installed, the one that tracks his phone. His dot flickers in Soho.
I gun the engine. Peel out onto the road. The tires screech, and I don’t give a damn. I love this car.
But Molly needs me.
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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.
Social Media Links
Tour hosted by: Gay Book Promotions
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