RHYTHM OF MY HEART
Irish Pride
series, book one
Kemberlee
Shortland
BLURB
Artist Representative, Eilis Kennedy, gave up a singing career so that
other women could have a fair chance at having their music heard. Having
suffered rejection from callous men in the industry, she thought she would get
away from ‘casting couch’ mentality. But when she finds herself in the office
of Fergus Manley, all bets are off. Disgusted by his continual come-ons and
lewd invitations, Eilis is looking for ‘the one’ who will take her career to
the next level, getting out from under Fergus’s controlling thumb.
Aspiring blues guitarist, Kieran Vaughan, is looking for his big break.
But after suffering near bankruptcy at the hands of an unscrupulous business
partner, Kieran is left picking up the pieces. He’s unsure if the debts will
ever be paid or if he’ll ever have a chance to do something with his music. At
his whit’s end, he’s about ready to throw in the towel and find a full-time job
with real hours.
When Eilis discovers Kieran playing in a seedy pub in Dublin’s
Northside, she knows he’s the one rare talent she’s been searching for. With
her know-how and his talent, Eilis will finally get everything she’s been
waiting for. Neither of them count on the powerful attraction from first
meeting. Eilis is so rocked by Keiran’s forthright words that it sends her
running. Kieran risks being arrested as he chases Eilis across Ireland.
Seeing what’s happening between Eilis and Kieran, anger wells inside
Fergus and he steps up his pursuit of Eilis. Refusing to let Kieran get in his
way, Fergus vows to add Eilis’s notch to his bedpost, whatever it takes.
Will Kieran be able to protect her?
EXTRACT
Dublin's Northside looked far different by day than it did at night.
Last night’s storm had been one of the season’s worst. Huge puddles hampered
traffic, and trash had collected in the corners of doorways and blocked the
gutters. The lingering breeze was still crisp and signaled the imminent winter.
Wisps of dark clouds streaked the pale blue sky but remained reminiscent of
last night’s tempest.
As the taxi drove through Dublin’s inner city, a blur of tacky euro shops,
shoddy newsagents and off-licenses, all with shop fronts that had seen better
days, flashed by.
Finglas wasn’t noted as one of Dublin’s prime locations. This was a
large blue collar suburb in a rapidly expanding city. Lack in a pride of
ownership was evident, as residents struggled to make ends meet, which gave the
area a rough underbelly. The Little Man Pub was a perfect example of both.
Eilis wrapped her arms around her middle, instinctively protective. Was
this the compromise she must face to get where she wanted?
When the taxi slowed at a junction, she pressed herself back in her
seat. A group of out-of-work young men sipping something from a paper bag spun
their heads and looked at her.
Just this once, just this once, she chanted to herself.
Just this one trip to find Kieran Vaughan and that would be it. She’d
never have to come back to this place ever again. She could stay safely tucked
away in her D2 house for the rest of her days. She’d worked hard for that
house. She deserved it. She deserved it all the more now by putting herself
through this.
Long ago, Eilis had vowed never to set foot in the Northside again. But
if it took this one last visit to get what she needed, it would be worth it.
The taxi pulled around the corner and the now familiar entrance to The
Little Man Pub came into view. Nicotine-stained curtains were pulled across
windows, reflecting the unkempt street. The façade’s red and black paint was
weather-faded to pink and gray. The ‘M’ on the sign hung askew and swung in the
breeze, and the ‘P’ was missing altogether. Had she not been here last night
she would have thought the place was shut.
She pulled some money from her purse to hand to the driver. “I’ll wait
fer ye, luv,” he said, waving her money away. “Taxis can be hard to come by
‘round here.”
Eilis was suitably taken aback. “Thank you. I won’t be a moment.”
She swallowed hard, got out of the taxi then entered the pub.
Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark room. The few men sitting around
the bar turned their gazes in her direction. Understandably. A well-groomed
businesswoman in the pub was surely a novelty. These men were long since
retired, or long since employed. Their stubbled faces meant they hadn’t shaved
in several days, or possibly weeks. The dim light hid the worst of their
unkempt appearances, but nothing could disguise their unwashed clothes. A pong
in the room wafted into her nostrils, causing her stomach to lurch again.
Shoulders back, she strode to the bar.
The same man from last night stood behind the counter. He was short and
pudgy with missing front teeth. His disheveled appearance made him look like
one of his patrons. Had he not been behind the counter she wouldn’t have been
able to tell the difference.
His striped brown and white shirt had frayed cuffs and was open to
mid-chest, showing a sweat-stained t-shirt underneath. His brown trousers had
seen much better days and were held together not with a button or belt, but
with a bit of twine looping between his belt loops, his round belly spilling
over. The only thing holding up the trousers was his equally round bum. It
seemed to push the waistband up in the back as his belly pushed it down in the
front. The sight would have been funny if her stomach hadn’t been
flip-flopping.
Her voice cracked when she first spoke, but it picked up strength in her
determination to make something of this horrid trek. “A-are you the
proprietor?”
A broad gap-toothed grin creased the man’s face and, loud enough for his
patrons to hear, he said, “I’ll be who ever ye want me to be, luv.”
His friends burst into laughter. Eilis felt the flush rise in her
cheeks. Not because she was embarrassed, but from frustration. She just wanted
to get this meeting over with and she wasn’t in the mood to spar.
She stood her ground. “I’m looking for the man who played guitar here
last night. Kieran Vaughan. We have business. Will you please tell me where I
can find him?” She looked the man in the eye, much as she could, considering
she stood a good half-foot taller than him, even without her heels.
“No, miss, I doubt you have any business with himself. ‘Speshly a fine
lass such as yerself. Now, if ye were to come home with a real man like meself,
well . . .” He left the rest unsaid, the insinuation hanging in the air.
Her gaze never wavered as she stared the little man in the eye.
“Sir,” she smiled sweetly, honey dripping from her words. She leaned
over the bar just enough to give him a glimpse of the swell of her breast
through the opening of her blouse. “I doubt you have anything I would be
interested in. Besides, you don’t really want me to find out why this place is
called The Little Man, do you?”
This earned the publican long oohs and sniggers from the patrons, who
were now on the edges of their seats waiting to hear the disagreeable little
man's response.
Obviously taken aback by such a brazen retort, the man stood gaping and
red-faced at her for a moment before he got his wits about him. He winked at
the men around the bar. “Oy does like me birds feisty!” That only encouraged
more laughter.
Eilis could have enjoyed the banter if only the man wasn’t so repulsive.
All she wanted to do was meet Kieran Vaughan and get out of Finglas as quickly
as possible.
When the laughing stopped, Eilis’s gaze never wavered as she said,
“Well?”
“Well what, loov?” he asked, wiping the tears from his eyes with a dirty
bar towel.
“Are you going to tell me where to find Kieran Vaughan?” He was trying
her patience, but she did her best to keep the frustration out of her voice.
Then she sensed someone step up behind her and straightened instantly.
Somehow she knew it was Kieran. The feral scent of him permeated her senses and
quickened her pulse. Butterflies replaced the strange ache in her stomach that
had been there just moments before.
She slowly turned and looked up at the most handsome man she’d ever seen
in her life. She found herself instantly speechless.
She'd seen him on stage the night before and knew he was handsome. But
this close up . . . Never before had she seen such blue eyes. As she gazed into
them, they changed from the light steel blue to the color of storm clouds
heavily ringed with gunmetal. That he had dark brows and thick lashes only made
his gaze seem more intense.
“Ye’ve found him, loov,” said the little man, taunting her. “Now what
are ye goin’ ta do with him?”
The hammering of her heart and the pulsing blood in her temples blocked
out the noise in the room as she looked into Kieran Vaughan’s eyes. To her
dismay, her knees actually quivered.
Something in the pit of her belly ached. No, something else. It was like
warm melting honey running through her marrow. In that moment she longed to
touch him, to brush the unruly wave of his dark hair away from his face, to
feel his lips against the pads of her fingers, to . . .
When he spoke she almost didn’t hear him.
“Like the man said, now that you’ve found me, what are you going to do
with me?” His eyes sparkled with unabashed mischief.
“Anything you want me to.”
A PIECE OF MY HEART
Irish Pride
series, book two
Kemberlee
Shortland.
BLURB
Mick and Kate thought they were falling in love. Kate hadn't been just
the girl next door. She'd been Mick's life, and he hers. When an unforeseen
force draws them apart they're left with wounds that refuse to heal. Now, ten
years on, Mick's father's will should have been straightforward, except his addendum
was like ice water in Mick's face.
It's essential that Mick and Kate work together to save his family's
farm. Mick doesn't count on his new manager being accused of murder, and Kate
doesn't expect a dangerously seductive woman from Dublin to claim Mick is the
father of her child.
Kate thought she was falling in love with Mick all over again; however
this newest revelation is too much for her. She is determined to finally say
goodbye to her childhood sweetheart forever, but Mick has other plans for Kate's
future. And none of them involve goodbye.
EXTRACT
“What are
you doing here?”
“Nice to
see you too, Mick.” She opened one eye to look at him.
He stood
just inside the solicitor’s office door. He’d expected Kate at the funeral
service yesterday, but he couldn’t see any reason for her to be here today.
He scowled
in her direction, then strode to reception. The clerk behind the desk turned a
harried glance his way, continuing to sort folders beside her computer. “Can I
help you?” she asked, not bothering to stop what she was doing.
“Michael
Spillane to see Tighe Lynch,” he grumbled.
Finally
looking up, the clerk said, “He’s expecting you. I’ll let him know you’re
here.”
As the
clerk reached for the intercom, he turned back to Kate. If this hadn’t been his
father’s solicitor’s office and if today hadn’t been the reading of his
father’s will, he would have appreciated the sight of her in her smart dark
blue suit, white blouse with the Irish lace trim, and matching blue pumps. She
sat calmly, her head against the wall behind her, eyes closed. She bent her
shapely legs under her and crossed them at the ankle, her hands folded in her
lap.
Her
emerald eyes hid beneath lids edged with thick dark lashes. He knew the exact
shade of them since he’d looked into them so often in the past. They were eyes
no man could forget.
Her
normally unruly black hair was pulled back in a twist and away from her heart
shaped face.
When they
were kids he used to love it when she left her hair down. The tight curls of it
bounced over her shoulders like springs when she ran. He’d seen her like that
once last year when he’d been home for a couple days during Christmas.
They’d
been invited to join the Conneelys, but he’d convinced his father not to go. He
couldn’t bear being in the same room with her for so long, but she’d delivered
food and he’d suffered anyway.
He
recalled how he’d stiffened just watching her walk across the farmyard. As he
did now. He mentally shook himself. This wasn’t the time or place to get an
erection. The business at hand was the will and what she was doing here now.
Not the fact that just looking at her could make him stiff.
Clearing
his throat, he repeated, “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing
here?”
Her eyes
fluttered open. The look she gave him made his heart skip a beat. His groin
tightened again watching her tongue smooth its way over her lips. She had no
idea just how erotic that simple act was. She was about to speak when a door
opened behind him. Both of them spun to face Tighe Lynch.
“Mickleen,”
Tighe exclaimed, using the common endearment and thrusting his hand into his.
“Welcome home, lad. I just wish it were under different circumstances. I can’t
tell you how much Donal will be missed.”
Mick could
only tip his head at the man’s kindness. Words were still too hard to come by.
Tighe
grasped Kate by her shoulders as she stood to greet him and kissed her on both
cheeks. “Kate. Lovely as ever. Won’t you both step into my office?”
Not one to
stand on ceremony, Mick strode through the door ahead of Kate and Tighe and
went right into the solicitor’s office. He knew where it was. Was it really
only a little more than two years ago he’d been here to discuss his mother’s
will?
His scowl
deepened when Kate walked through the office door ahead of Tighe. He got the
perfect look at her shapely bum as she was forced to step between him and the
desk to the seat beside him. He shifted in his seat, crossing his legs and
pulling his coat around him to hide his erection. He kept his mind on wondering
why she was at the reading of his father’s will to keep his libido under
control.
Surely,
she’d earned a regular wage for the time she spent cleaning his father’s house
and cooking his meals. She was hired help and would have been paid accordingly.
So there should be no reason why she should be here today. Unless there was
something the solicitor knew and wasn’t telling them. Yet.
“I thought
this was just a formality, Tighe. Why is she here?” He couldn’t even use her
name. Just the feel of it in his mouth would leave him tongue-tied.
Tighe
stopped him with an upheld hand. “If you’ll both bear with me, I will explain.”
The solicitor turned to a folder on his desk and opened it, extracting two
documents. Holding one before him, he said, “This is your father’s will,
Michael. It’s all very straight forward. In it, the farm, the stock, the
land—almost everything is left to you.”
“Almost?”
“We’ll get
to that, lad,” Tighe said.
Tighe
looked at Kate and held up the second document.
“This is
the addendum to the will.”
“Addendum?”
she asked.
“An
addendum means that instead of making up a whole new will, Dad just changed
it.” Mick, not looking at her, directed his statement to the solicitor and
waited for the shoe to drop.
Leave it
to his father to make this more difficult on him than it already was. Wasn’t it
bad enough he couldn’t get rid of the tremendous feeling of guilt for not
spending more time with him? He never wanted to believe—or admit—his father was
that sick. Sure, Kate called him regularly with updates. He heard everything
she’d said, but why the hell hadn’t he listened to her!
“Changed
the will?” she asked. “Is that right, Mr. Lynch?”
“In a
manner of speaking,” Tighe replied. “It means he added something into the
original will.”
“When was this?”
Mick asked.
“If you’ll
allow me, I’ll read what Donal has bequeathed. If you have any questions we can
go from there. Right?”
Both Mick
and Kate nodded agreement. Tighe read the will as it stood and then the
addendum. Mick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That bastard!” he
muttered. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the wide glares both Kate and
Tighe gave him at the curse.
“Mr.
Lynch.” Kate’s voice came on a whisper. “What does this mean? I don’t
understand it.” Her eyes were big as she clutched the arms of her chair now,
knuckles as white as her face. Gone was the cool Kate he’d seen in the waiting
room. In a matter of minutes she’d gone from radiant to ashen. He was sure he
wasn’t looking too good right about now either.
“Yes, can
you explain it in plain English?” he asked. Why do will readings always have to
be so damn dramatic?
“In plain
English, your father left everything to you, Michael. However, the addendum
states if you try to sell the farm, I have instructions to give everything to
Kate.”
SHAPE OF MY HEART
Irish Pride
series, book three
Kemberlee
Shortland.
BLURB
Gráinne has moved back to Dublin to get her life straightened out. She
dreams of college and a better life. She’s working for her brother, Kieran, in
his newly reopened pub, The Blues Tavern, but the money isn’t enough to support
herself and pay tuition. Moonlighting at The Klub! as an exotic dancer seems to
be her answer fast money.
John ‘JD’ Desmond is a detective working undercover in the Blues Tavern.
The Klub!, owned by Jimmy Malloy, is being used as a drug front, headed by the
notorious Taylor Wade. JD had intended to get Gráinne to snitch for him, but
when he falls in love with her, things get complicated.
When Gráinne witnesses Jimmy’s murder, she and JD are forced to go on
the run until Wade can be apprehended. Wade lives up to his nickname, The
Hunter, and JD and Gráinne quickly find themselves at the end of a gun and
running for their lives.
EXTRACT
Over the next couple
hours JD tread lightly around Gráinne and peace settled between them. He hadn’t
had the opportunity to talk to her again with the evening prep, but as he
looked at his watch he knew her shift ended soon.
He’d tried almost every
tactic he could think of to get her to reveal more about herself and he was
getting anxious at her continued aloofness. He didn’t want to have to resort to
seducing her. While the idea of getting her into bed was appealing, he just
preferred to do it under other circumstances. He fancied her like hell, but he
couldn’t let his libido get in the way of his job. She was his best hope at
getting the information he desperately needed. So he’d have to resort to
another tactic if he was going to get her to talk. Blackmail was one he was
loath to use, but at this stage in the game, he had little choice.
There was a lull in the
pub now that the afternoon crowds were gone and the evening prep had been done.
If he was going to confront her, he had to do it now.
Gráinne stood at the end
of the bar flipping through a magazine. The twinkling Christmas lights over the
back bar shone on her dark hair. As she moved, the highlights reflected like
electric current through the strands curling around her face. His heart thumped
a little harder looking at her.
He reminded himself he
wasn’t here to bartend. He was here to gather information. His future depended
on it. He couldn’t afford another wasted day so it was now or never.
His pounding heart made
it suddenly hard to breathe. He hated having to do this to her.
“Gráinne, can we talk?”
“Talk?” She put her
magazine aside. “About what?”
“I think you know.” He
locked gazes with her. He could tell she was nervous by the way she started
fidgeting.
Then she turned away,
refusing to look at him for longer than a millisecond. “My love life is none of
your concern,” she told him, reminding him unnecessarily of their previous
discussion.
“That’s not what I’m
talking about.”
“Then I don’t know what
you mean.” She spun on her heel, intent on leaving the bar area.
He grasped her arm. To
his surprise, she didn’t struggle. But something odd happened as he loosened
his grasp. He felt something powerful pass between them. His fingers tingled as
he touched her. It radiated up his arm and shot through his body.
For the second time
today, he felt himself stiffen, and wished that circumstances were different,
that she was naked beneath him and gazing up at him with eyes he knew would
undo him.
She glanced over her
shoulder, but not directly at him. “Let me go.” Her barely audible words shook
him back to the moment. It wasn’t a command, but he couldn’t help noticing her
words were tinged with pleading.
“Will you stay to talk
with me? I think this is important.” His own voice was softer now. When she
relaxed he reluctantly released his hold. She kept her gaze averted, her arms
folded protectively in front of her, refusing to look at him. He knew she was
waiting for something, anything, to draw her away.
Reaching under the bar,
he extracted the black plastic sack he’d brought in with him today. He knew the
item inside would shatter any peace he hoped to make with her.
He looked at the sack
for a moment, thinking about what could never be between them. There was a job
to be done and it didn’t include getting emotionally involved. He hoped the
more he reminded himself of this fact he’d eventually come to believe it.
Sighing, he extracted a
black velvet bra and held it up for her inspection. She only cast it a
side-glance.
“I take it you know
where I got this.”
“Anne Summers?”
“No.”
“Well then, I have no
idea.”
He saw her swallow hard
then move over to the taps to pour herself a cola. She swallowed deeply from
the glass.
“I think you do. Let’s
not . . . dance . . . around the subject, Gráinne. We both know where I got
this, and I’d lay odds at Paddy Powers your brother doesn’t know what you’ve
been up to.”
His heart ached as he
forced himself to goad her.
The look she shot him
would have incinerated the average man, but he wasn’t average. He was a man
with a mission, and Gráinne was the only one who could help him.
“By that look, I’d say
I’ve hit the nail on the head.”
“So, what of it.”
“Why haven’t you told
Kieran?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
“I somehow doubt he’d
understand why I’m . . . moonlighting.”
JD chuckled lightly.
“Moonlighting? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
“Just stop. What do you
want from me? Not that it’s any of your business what I do on my own time.”
“I need your help.”
A single brow arched
over her eye. “With what? Wait, let me guess,” she seethed, throwing her hands
on her hips. “You want a private show. Or you want me to entertain some
friends. And you’re going to use this,” she fingered the bra he still held in
his hand, “as a bribe to get me to do it for free.”
“Not quite. While I
wouldn’t mind a private show, it’s not entertainment I’m looking for.”
“What’s this?” Kieran
suddenly appeared behind the bar, startling them both. JD saw Gráinne’s face go
pale, and thought she would faint then and there.
