1871 Irish South Boston comes to life in this engaging story of love and revenge. Guilt-ridden, Irish barrister, Ian O'Farrell, wants to regain his honor and his father's respect - two things stolen from Ian when he failed to protect his younger brother from treachery. To do that, he sets aside his goal of fighting for Irish interests in the courts of London and travels to Boston to find the man responsible for his brother's death. There, he meets Brianna Cavanaugh, and suddenly a chance for a fulfilling future jeopardizes his mission and the redemption of his father's favor.
Brianna Cavanaugh arrived in America, nursing heartache after the brutal slaying of her fianc?. Now in Boston, a town leagues away from the violence and anguish she left behind in London, she only wants to put the past behind her. Then, Ian O'Farrell walks into the church soup kitchen, turning her peaceful life upside down as she fights to hold her emotions in check or risk being burned again by love.
PRINT ISBN 1-60154-051-5
(240 pages) Spicy
Brianna Cavanaugh ran her tongue across dry lips before trusting herself to speak. “I'm sorry. I'm not familiar with anyone by that name.” She prayed she sounded convincing. She hated lying, but consoled herself with the thought that it was in Rory's best interest. Would lying for a good cause be considered a sin?
Dark eyes probed her face as though attempting to uncover her deception. Warmth rose in her cheeks, and her palms grew moist. She darted a glance at the entry. Rory occasionally stopped by the hall to visit her...
Please God, don't let today be one of those days.
“Are you sure you don't know Lynch?” the stranger asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “I was assured he is a member of this parish and assists the Charitable Irish Society at this soup kitchen.”
Sweet Mary . “It is a large parish, sir.” She swiped sweat-slicked hands on her apron, then moved slowly around the table, causing the man to turn his back toward the side entrance.
The door Rory was most likely to use.
“It would be difficult to know everyone,” she continued. “Perhaps this gentleman...Lynch, did you say...is a parishioner but...” She gave a tiny shrug.
“He's slender, with red hair and a ruddy complexion. Dresses like a dandy. Quite unmistakable.”
At the far end of the hall, a door opened. Several men, all acquaintances of Rory, wandered in. Her heart began to pound.
“Miss?” Eyes black as a moonless night bored into her.