by Sienna Blake
“I feel like I missed something,” Noah said, frowning.
“Just women talking, dear,” Ma said, giving me a knowing smile. “Just women talking.”
Later that evening, Noah and I were the only ones left closing at the end of the shift at The Jar. Like it always had been.
A thrill ran down my spine as Noah placed a hand on my lower back. I’d expected the sheer excitement I felt in his presence to ease up a little bit, but over the course of the year, it had only seemed to grow stronger. I glanced up at him with a smile as he dropped a kiss on the tip of my nose and another to my lips. He pulled away with a little noise of pleasure before coming right back in again and giving me another kiss like he couldn’t get enough.
“Why don’t you take a break,” he said gently. “I’ll sort the rest.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “You look wiped out.”
I nodded. I was feeling a bit tired on my feet. I slid onto a stool as he got behind the bar and planted his hands shoulder-width apart. The move flexed his arms, and I found myself staring even as my mouth started watering. He looked good enough to eat.
His blue eyes locked on mine, full of fun and love. “What can I getcha, Mrs. O’Sullivan?” he asked.
I giggled. I still felt a thrill at hearing my new surname.
I planted my elbows on the bar and stared up at him through my lashes. “Just you, barkeep.”
“You don’t want a Guinness?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“How about a cider? Orchard Thieves?”
I slid off the bar, walking around it and into his arms. He held me close and I let this sense of peace wash over me. Things would change. But for now, I would hold onto what we were.
“No drinks for me,” I said softly.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows coming together. This man had an uncanny knack for knowing when something was on my mind or when I simply wasn’t feeling well. Obviously, he was picking up on that right then.
I nodded, a grin escaping me. I wiggled around in his arms so my back was to his front. I placed my hands over his currently holding my hips. I slid both our hands around me and over my belly. Already I could feel the gentle swell there. I knew he could feel it too, from his sharp intake of breath.
He turned me to face him, hope and awe shining in his eyes. “Really? You’re…?”
I couldn’t contain the happiness anymore, my little secret beaming from my face. I nodded. “We’ve just won the best lottery…ever.”
The End
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Dear Readers
Thank you for reading The Irish Lottery. What I love about writing romance is that we women get our desires, wants and needs placed front and center.
Without apology.
Without shame.
Bit by bit we create a world where our pleasure and our needs are as important as his.
#YesToHer
Stay sexy,
xoxo Sienna
www.siennablake.com
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PS. Remember those three Irish billionaires who wanted the waitresses name? That sexy story coming soon…
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Want to know more about that broody rock god, Danny?
Meet him and the student who haunts him in Professor’s Kiss…
Danny O’Donaghue.
Indie rock god.
Lady killer.
The devil with midnight hair and blue-flame eyes.
After six years I thought the pain of what he’d done to me had faded.
Guess not.
Because I’m standing in this crowded lecture hall of the most prestigious music school in Ireland, staring at the person who healed me when I was broken. Right before he shattered me beyond repair.
And I still feel everything.
My ex-best friend.
My first love.
My tormentor.
…is now my professor.
Out now
Universal Amazon Link
Keep reading to the end for an excerpt…
Want to get stuck into a reverse harem romance?
Check out my Quick & Dirty series…
I used to think I was one of the lucky ones.
But at twenty-six, I’ve left my “perfect” life in New York behind and ended up in Ireland.
When my car hits a ditch I’m rescued by the three sexiest men I’ve ever seen.
The three Irish O’Callaghan brothers.
Broad shoulders, strong arms, accents that make me wet just to hear them.
Killian, the bossy one.
Fionn, the cheeky one.
And Aiden, the silent one with a secret.
They all want me.
I want them. All of them.
I have to choose...right? Or will I be the thing that tears this family apart.
Warning: This is a sexy yet emotional reverse-harem romance, a full-length, standalone novel at 50k words. Three sexy Irish brothers who want nothing more than to please their special woman. All at the same time.
Sienna’s Quick & Dirty series consists of standalone novels which are hotter, dirtier and quicker than her other novels.
Out now
Amazon Universal Link
Keep reading to the end for an excerpt!
Excerpt of Professor’s Kiss
Ailis
I scanned the locker room, a few startled males in various stages of undress staring at me, some trying to cover up. Others leering at me.
“Hey,” someone called, “you can’t be in here.”
I didn’t give a shit.
My gaze fell upon a familiar broad-shouldered figure, the very man, no, boy, no, devil, I was after. Danny O’Donaghue was standing by a set of lockers, wrapped only in a towel. He looked to be in the middle of a story by the way his arms were positioned mid-air, a group of lads clustered around him. The eejits of this school would probably crowd around him if he farted just so they could smell it.
His hair was damp and pitch-black so he must have just gotten out of the shower. His broad shoulders on display, bare chest leading down to the most incredible set of abs I’d ever seen in real life. He looked photoshopped, the asshole. Further proof that he’d made a deal with the devil.
Danny’s eyes met mine. A flash of surprise disappearing quickly under what looked like amusement. He was all I could see.
He smirked. “Don’t worry about her, boys. She’s not here for any of us.”
Everybody chuckled.
He said to me, “You’re in the wrong changing room if you’re looking for a ride.” I hated that his use of the slang word for “fuck” made something tighten in me.
My vision bleed, my hands shook by my sides. I was going to kill him. Actual legit murder. I’d plead insanity. He made me insane.
“Everybody out,” I yelled in the sternest voice I’d ever heard come out of my mouth.
/> Nobody moved.
I tore my eyes off of Danny and glared at the shitheads in the locker room.
“Get the fuck out. Now,” I yelled. I snapped my focus back to Danny. His eyes were now dark and stormy, the tension ratching up and crackling between us like a live wire. “Except you.”
He was in so much trouble.
Somehow, I felt like I might be in trouble, too.
“Do what she says,” Danny called in his authoritative voice, garnering no argument, a hard tone that made a shiver run down my spine. “Now!”
Everybody sprang into action. Clothes were yanked on, towels discarded, bags grabbed. Within moments the door swung shut behind me and Danny and I were alone.
I hated how he could do that. Just make a demand and the world fell to its knees for him.
It also turned me right the hell on.
Stupid stupid.
We both moved at the same time, striding forward until we met in the middle, right next to a set of lockers. He towered over me and the heat rolling off his body was dangerous, a drop of sweat already collecting at the base of my spine. But I would not back down. I lifted my chin and glared back at him as good as he gave.
“So. You have me here alone,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “What do you want?”
“You spread that rumour about me, didn’t you?” I hissed.
“What rumour?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
He snorted. “As if I’d care enough about you to do something like that.”
“Cormac dumped me.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
Danny leaned in, a drop of water coming off his hair and flicking onto my cheek, the coldness so stark against the heat under my skin I was surprised it didn’t sizzle.
“That asshole was just trying to win a bet. He doesn’t deserve you.”
I blinked, then took a step back because… fuck, air. I needed air.
“Why are you doing this to me? Why are you doing any of it?” My voice was hard.
I wasn’t begging for the answer. I was demanding it. I was sick to death of his bullying, his murderous stares, the way he taunted me, teased me. He didn’t do it to anyone else.
“What am I doing?”
I rolled my eyes. “Why are you such an asshole to me—only me?”
“I’m an asshole to everyone. You’re not special.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. He and I both knew that was a lie. And he knew that I knew that he knew.
“Because…” he finally said.
“Because?” I wasn’t letting go of this. I was sick of his shit. I wanted to know once and for all what his problem with me was?
He shrugged, then made as if to turn back to his locker.
I grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. I stepped up to him, so close I could smell his sweet mint on his breath, feel it brush against my forehead. He probably—definitely—could have pulled his arm out of my grasp and pushed me aside. Lord knew he had the strength for it. But he didn’t. He just stood there, glaring at me, his royal blue eyes bored into mine, like two pools I was drowning in.
I almost forgot what I was confronting him about.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I demanded. “We used to be…friends. Best friends.”
More than friends.
I swallowed as the tender memories rose up in my mind, pricking the backs of my eyelids. “Why pick on me?”
I thought I saw a flash of pain in his eyes before it was smothered by a smirk. “I like to watch you squirm. You go all red in the face like a tomato when you get mad.”
That’s why he called me Dearg. Because of the way I blushed with my body. The way my pale skin was like a mood ring, broadcasting my anger, my embarrassment, my arousal.
“Why start that rumor?”
“Hypothetically,” he continued, “even if I was the one who started that rumor, you should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you?” My eyes almost bulged out of my head. I shoved at his chest. The asshole barely moved. I barely made a dent in his rock-hard muscles.
I was going to punch him, right there in his precious rock star junk. He better not want kids one day.
“You are fucking delusional.” I shoved him again.
This time he caught my wrist and spun me around, slamming me up against one of the lockers. The air whooshed out of me and not just because he was crushing me between the lockers and his hard body.
“Yeah, Dearg, you should be on your fucking knees thanking me with that pretty little mouth of yours around my dick.”
God. The sheer crudeness of his words. It should make me cringe. To slap him across the face. Instead, everything in my lower belly ached, my lips parted and all I could do was blink up at him.
“The pool for your v-card has been cancelled,” he continued. “That cunt will leave you alone now instead of trying like a fucking chump to pretend to be a good boyfriend while just wanting to get in your panties for money and bragging rights. So, yeah, you should be fucking thanking me.”
“You’re trying to tell me that you told everyone I was a god damn lesbian to help me?”
His lip lifted up. “Yeah. Say thank you.”
He shifted back, just an inch of space, just enough to allow him to drop his towel. He dropped it. Right in front of me. No shame.
I glanced down before I could stop myself, half mortified, half curiosity raging like a storm.
His dick was hard. Long and thick and…perfect.
“Go on, Dearg. What are you going to do with it?” he taunted in a low voice.
“I…”
Grab it.
Lick it.
Suck it.
Pull it inside me.
His arms came up beside my head and he leaned in, trapping me, his hard cock hot and hard against my belly. Dear God. I was going to combust. Or pass out from lack of oxygen.
“Or,” his lips traced my cheekbone, sending hot and cold shivers throughout my body, “maybe you really are a lesbian.”
Rage flooded over me, temporarily overriding lust. I shoved him back with both hands and he stepped back laughing.
Bastard. He didn’t want me. He was taunting me. Teasing me. Pushing me to breaking point.
He almost won.
And I almost gave in.
Stupid me, I almost gave in.
Out now
Universal Amazon Link
Excerpt of Three Irish Brothers
Savannah
Fuck. Fuckety fuck fuck.
I’m fine, just a slight crick in my neck. But the car is not. It won’t start and the front bonnet is crumpled to hell and this stupid rain won’t let up.
There’s no reception on my phone.
I can’t call a tow.
I can’t call my new boss, who is expecting me.
I can’t call anyone.
I am so fucked.
I sit in the driver’s seat of my now-wrecked car, gripping my steering wheel. What the hell do I do now?
I let out a long scream. It echoes inside the car, my answer to the constant drumming of the rain on the top.
I feel slightly better.
But I’m still fucked.
Okay, Savannah, think.
I only have snacks in my bag that I purchased from a gas station. Tayto crisps and Maltesers aren’t going to last me the day.
I could walk to find help. I did buy those totally cute knit Skechers at the airport. Too bad they’re not waterproof. Nor did I think to buy any waterproof rain jackets.
Fuck. Me.
I’d be drenched in ten seconds flat. Then I’ll catch pneumonia and die alone on the side of a too-skinny road in the middle of nowhere Ireland where no one knows I am. A fitting end to this shitty, shitty day.
I spot a flash of something farther up the road.
It’s a truck driving towards me. A truck, which means people, which means help!
I don’t think twice. I burst out of the car and run into the road
waving my hands at them, signaling them to stop. The rain has faded to a drizzle but I can still feel it frosting the hairs on my skin and making my clothes damp.
The truck slams on its brakes and halts a few meters away from me.
The driver’s side door opens and a large man jumps out. “What the fuck?”
That. Accent.
Holy hell.
Deep yet melodic, it travels through my body like a shiver.
He strides towards me in the rain. He’s tall, around six two, I’m guessing. And looks unlike any man I’ve ever seen. He wears long rough trousers made of thick material and a rough-spun button-up shirt, clean but clearly has seen better days. The rain is already causing it to fit across his wide chest and thick torso, straining around his biceps.
Oh wow. This man didn’t get his body from a well-designed weight-lifting program at the gym. He got it working the land and getting dirty.
I could get real dirty with him.
I shove aside that thought.
Two other doors of the truck open and…oh my fucking God, another two of them get out.
Holy crap.
There’s three of them.
Three broad-shouldered, ruggedly handsome, dark-haired men.
Maybe I hit my head in the crash and I’m seeing triple.
Triple handsome. Triple bodies like gods. Triple hot as hell. Surely, this can’t be real. They can’t be real.
As they stride towards me like something out of an action movie, I feel myself growing faint. I’ve never swooned before. I thought that kind of thing only happened to women in Victorian novels with too-tight corsets. But the sight of them is making me woozy. And hot. It’s getting very fucking hot inside my body. I’m way too young for this to be the onset of menopause.
