Errin’s homesick phone calls to her family in Jersey were getting longer and more frequent. Moving to Austin so the three Walsh sisters could be together again had been a total bust. With her mind set on her final shot at making it as a dancer back in Jersey, she never saw the handsome and broody bartender coming. Falling for the eleven year older Mills brother is exactly NOT what she needs right now.
Within the first thirty seconds in meeting Errin for the first time, Brennan concluded they would never be a thing or even friends for that matter.But then one night, Brennan sees Errin in a different light. Has the best thing that could ever happen to him been sitting right under his nose all this time? Their push and pull is making him crazy. Brennan finally found the one that could match him and he is all in. But is Errin? Or is Brennan too late?
Lucky Irish series: Brennan is the third book in the funny, sweet and steamy Lucky Irish series about the love lives of several Irish families in Austin, Texas. Each book is an interconnected standalone, a new sexy romance but let us also catch up with favorite characters from the series.
Why, oh why, had she drank so much last night? Halloween… Birthday cake… Her brothers who flew in to surprise her… Kissing Brennan….
Back up… Kissing Brennan? She shot up in bed but wished she hadn’t. She groaned at the piercing pain inside her brain. Nooo, she kissed him? Hmm, come to think of it. He kissed her. Ha, that old fox, eh?
And he never once gave her the least bit of attention these past months. Huh. She never took the time to let her mind go there with him. Sure, he wasn’t hard to look at. Okay—breathtakingly beautiful in a dark and moody way was more descriptive of his looks.
But Errin had been around the block. She could spot an emotionally detached bachelor from a mile away. And Brennan had it written all over that handsome, worry lined face of his. Not to mention that as a Mills brother, he was sort of family now since both of her sisters had paired up with two of his four brothers.
She lifted the comforter and was happy to find her leotard and tutu still intact. Her ballet slippers were in a pool of white-laced ribbon next to the bed, but she didn’t have time to put on her shoes and tie the ribbon around her calves. She needed to get out of here. Now.
What happened last night, hmm just hours ago, had been a mistake. A glance at her phone told her it was five in the morning. She checked if her cards and key were in her phone case. She opened the flash light app on her phone and turned off the bedside lamp.
Her pedicured black painted toenails showed in the harsh and tunneled light. She tilted her phone and spotted a door. Next up was grabbing her shoes before tiptoeing around the room. When the snoring from the other room continued, she took a few pensive steps.
She pushed the door, and it creaked open. She cringed at the sound. The snoring grew louder, and she grinned. Brennan must have been used to it, as he often let Pops crash in his apartment.
She opened the door to the stairs leading down to the pub when a rough hand grabbed her shoulder.
“What the fuck?” roared a deep voice behind her.
She gasped and almost shit herself in angst. She stumbled backwards, and the room tilted upside down as she careened down the stairs. Her head hit the wall.
“Ouch. That hurts,” she said, rubbing her head.
“Errin! Fuck!” Brennan shouted. He reached down with rough hands and picked her up. He held her close to his warm body, the scent of sandalwood engulfing her.
“Come,” he whispered in her hair.
She leaned in and sniffed behind Brennan’s ear. He smelled so damn nice. He tensed and cleared his throat.
“Ye fuckin’ scared me half to death. What were ye even thinkin’ of doin’ out there?”
Brennan’s reprimanding and stern voice brought her out of her haze. The Mills brothers only threw out the Irish sounding ‘ye’s’ when pissed off.
Well, she’d show him pissed off.
“I wanted to bump and grind your stairway, asshole. What else did you think I wanted to do?”
He walked them back into the apartment that was flooded in light.
“What’s all that ruckus about? Boyo!”
Pops stood halfway in the spare bedroom’s doorway in red plaid pajamas with his hand still on the light switch in the living room. His gray hair pointed in all directions and he eyed them. Oh, how she loved that massive grumpy bear.
“It was nothing. Go back to bed, Pops.”
“Don’t ye tell yer grandfather to go back to bed, ye brat. I’ll tell ye, I might be old, but you’ll never send me away like a damn child. Ye hear?”
“I’m sorry, Pops.” Brennan sighed and his warm breath tickled Errin’s neck, making her shudder. He tightened his grip on her. “She just scared the ever living shit out of me.”
“Ahh, if that ain’t me dear lass,” Pops said, eyes gleaming. “Will ye look at that? Now, ain’t youse two a sight for sore eyes?”
Errin squeaked when Brennan almost let her slip out of his hands.
“Okay, Pops. Let it go.”
“Aye, boyo. I’ll let youse alone. Give youse some private time, eh?” Pops’ smiling face was infectious, making Errin grin.
“Pops—” But Pops held up his big calloused hand and shut the door behind him. Pops put on some old Frank Sinatra song and when the first frolic tunes of ‘I’ve Got You Under My Skin’ started, Brennan snorted.
“Shit. The older he gets, the more—”
“I love Pops. He’s the best. He’s the only one who can handle me and my big mouth,” Errin folded her arms over her chest and jutted her chin at him.
Brennan guffawed, his inky hair falling over his eyes as he glanced down at her in his arms. “Oh, I can handle you just fine.”
She rolled her eyes before she narrowed them at him. “Will you just set me down already?”
He walked them over to his worn but comfy looking brown couch. He sat her down, the spot on the couch underneath her bum still warm where he’d just been sleeping. “So. What do we have here?” he said before he took a seat on the edge of the low coffee table in front of her.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt, just a pair of worn gray sweatpants. His strong pecs distracted her enough to not wince from her pain as he trailed a finger over her hurt ankle.
Hair covered his chest, making him somehow even manlier. If she leaned in just a teeny bit, she could suck on his pointy nipple. Was he aroused or just cold? He knelt before her just in time before she did something stupid.
“Let me have a closer look.”
He picked up her left leg and a sharp pain stung in her ankle. “Ouch! That hurts, ass—”
“Well, at least that big mouth of yours still works.” He smirked.
“It takes a lot more than some bastard stairs to shut me up.”
He chuckled and shook his head. She narrowed her eyes. “You’re so full of yourself. I mean, it ain’t even funny.”
“You know, Bunny… I have my ways to shut you up. It worked just fine last night, so if you don’t stop running your mouth, I’m—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Don’t tell me you kissed me because you wanted me to shut up. How old are you? Like twelve? Can’t even admit that—”
And then he kissed her.
But oh, this time it was an even angrier kiss than before. He grabbed the back of her head to hold her in place as he set the pace, growling into her open mouth. She loved the way he took control of the kiss. And even her.
His other hand traveled up from her calf to her thigh and halted at her hip. She placed her hand on his chest, familiarizing her fingers with his chest hair.
He grabbed her toned waist and scooted her to the edge of the couch. She slid her leg around his waist and her ankle smarted, sending a jolt of pain through her foot.
“Aaah. Fuck. That hurts,” she cried.
“I don’t want to interrupt ye party, but I also don’t want to listen to an entire CD of Frank at five in the mornin’. Can yous two tone down ye Irish fire?” Pops bellowed.
Anna loves to write heartfelt and steamy romance series. She falls in love with her characters as they go through their ups and downs. Anna laughs out loud behind her laptop as she writes the banter between siblings. Sometimes she cries as a result from the real talk that comes with family. There’s no hiding from a nosy Pops 😉 Her books are for mature readers only because of their steamy content.
Author of the Lucky Irish series. A series about several large and close-knit Irish families in Austin, TX with strong heroines, quirky family banter and steamy alpha’s.
Anna is a former wedding photographer turned author. While photographing weddings, Anna loved being a part of the couple’s special day to tell their (love) story through her pictures. Each wedding had a different story to tell: the histories of the bride and groom, their family dynamics, their challenges in life, and of course, how they met and fell in love.
And now Anna takes her readers through the troubles and hardships her characters may come across on their journey to a happily ever after.
When she’s not writing alpha males who seriously love their women, she loves spending time with friends, reading, and marathoning shows on her DVR. Married to her high school sweetheart, Laramie lives in Bowling Green, KY with her husband (the Travel Coordinator) and a sometimes crazy cat named Beau.
Born in a small town in New Mexico, Isabel was lucky enough to escape and
travel the world thanks to her husband’s career in the Air Force. Her and her
husband have three kids and two dogs together, and currently reside in
Delaware. When Isabel isn’t on mommy duty or writing her next book, she can be
found reading, or in the nearest Target buying things she doesn’t need.
Isabel loves connecting with her readers and fans of books in general. You can
find her at the following locations:
Skye McLane is Hollywood’s newest It Girl. Between the film offers flying in and the ever-present awards buzz around her, Skye seems to have everything, until pictures of her heartthrob boyfriend cheating on her are splashed all over the internet. Heartbroken, Skye just wants to focus on her work and lick her wounds in private, but her publicist has another plan.
His name is River Holloway.
River’s a rising star with a penchant for finding trouble wherever he goes. He has a new movie coming out and some career-making deals in the works, but River’s getting the wrong kind of attention after a couple of fights captured by the paparazzi. What he needs is an image rehab, and his publicist thinks Skye is just the girl who can give it to him.
America’s newest sweetheart and a bad boy in need of a little TLC seems like the perfect recipe for some positive press. It’s strictly a showmance with a pre-determined expiration date, until a trip to a tropical paradise leaves them shipwrecked, and their time alone together makes them realize that their feelings might not be for show after all…
About Cassie Cross:
Cassie Cross is a Maryland native and a romantic at heart, who lives outside of Baltimore with her two dogs and a closet full of shoes. Cassie’s fondness for swoon-worthy men and strong women are the inspiration for most of her stories, and when she’s not busy writing a book, you’ll probably find her eating takeout and indulging in her love of 80’s sitcoms.
No one is more surprised than Asher, one of the oldest vampires on Earth, that he’s attracted to vamp hunter Jo Radcliffe. She’s smart, a talented slayer, and she’s gorgeous. Something about her pulls at him, like no one ever has before. For a man, whose name strikes fear in everyone––this is something new and intriguing. And quite possibly deadly, if she discovers his secret.
Jo has two things in common with the handsome Asher––they are both slayers and someone is messing with them in a very-much-trying-to-kill-them way. She’s not so happy about joining forces with a dude she doesn’t know. But he’s sexy as hell and really good at his job as one of the Forgotten Brotherhood, whose business it is to execute misbehaving paranormals.
She knows she’s bait in a larger plot to harm Asher and the Brotherhood. And there is nothing he won’t do, no line he won’t cross, to keep her safe––which may be the weakness that destroys them both.
He might have just met her, but she captivated him. Plus, there was the whole mystery of them both being here at the same time. Call him paranoid but he didn’t believe in coincidence. Not when an email from an unknown source had brought him here.
If he wanted to figure out who was behind the missive, he’d have to stick close to Jo. What a hardship. He grinned at her retreating back. Her strides were long and sure, without hesitation. This was a woman unconcerned about walking alone at night. She’d be the same, maybe even more relaxed, if he wasn’t with her.
They walked for about five minutes without talking. Around them, the forest was silent except for the wind rustling the branches and the occasional scurry of a small animal through the underbrush.
The air was crisp and the moon bright. A perfect night for a romantic stroll through the woods. Too bad she was determined to outpace him.
Jo stepped over a fallen tree and skirted around a rock. A truck rumbled in the distance. They were almost at the road.
“I’m not giving you a ride.”
Still grinning, he picked up the pace until he was alongside her. “You’re going to let me walk home by myself. This late at night.” He heaved a sigh. “Chivalry is dead.”
Again, she gave a quick laugh before her lips pursed. “I’m sure you can manage. You had to get her somehow. Where’s your car?”
He shrugged. “I came on foot.” It would probably be better to lie but he stuck with the truth.
“Seriously.” She shook her head and ducked under a low-hanging branch. “You local?”
“Nope, hitched a ride part of the way.” Not a lie but not the whole truth. He’d hitched a ride on top of a transport truck for part of the journey, mostly for the fun of it. The driver hadn’t even known he was there. It was a great way to see the countryside and the cold certainly didn’t bother him. The rest of the way, he’d run at top speed.
“You’re insane. You know that.”
“You’re the one who fought and beheaded a vamp,” he reminded her.
She whirled around, crossbow in hand. “And just what were you doing? Were you hoping to get turned?”
He placed his hands dramatically over his heart and shook his head. “After all we’ve been through together, you’re going to shoot me?” The odds were about
fifty/fifty. Although given the glint in her eyes, it might be more seventy/thirty, and not in his favor.
N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.