Magan Vernon's Blog

 

Sometimes, you’ve got to take a fake date to your sister’s royal wedding…After pumping the breaks on my college degree and being dumped at the last minute, I’m looking forward to skipping off to a whole new country for the week-long event.But I’ll need the perfect distraction to keep both my sister and mother from finding out about my epic disaster life. So when I meet a charming Scottish stunner on the train, whose chivalry and humor have me swooning, a quick coin toss seals the deal on my hot date.It’s the perfect plan, until he reveals he is Lord Jacob MacWebley, odd duckling and long-lost cousin of the family my sister is about to marry into. Thanks for the full disclosure. Oh, and apparently no one wants him there because he might have a claim to the inheritance.Wedding week is going to suck, but it’s too late for other options—luckily, I’m a pro at dealing with a little family drama.But between a gentle countryside horse ride that turns into a chase, and the baking class that ends in a food fight we forget to keep up the lies and start blurring the lines instead… against any available surface. Jacob brings me out of my shell and makes me want to break all etiquette rules, but he’s keeping secrets and if I’m not careful, I might end up royally screwed…—Add to your GoodRead Link here!: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57585308-heirly-ever-afterThe cover enough to entice you? How about the first chapter?Chapter One

Madison

 

“Introducing Miley Cycats, our new baby calico.”

I should have been excited about my first trip to England. Yet there I was, boarding a train to the countryside, still watching a video of my ex for the millionth time.

And his new girlfriend.

And their new cat.

Our breakup had been a few months ago, but I thought, hey maybe we’d work it out to get together before my sister’s wedding.

No such luck.

So now I got to travel solo while wallowing in the fact that the guy I’d been with for over three years had moved on and gotten a precious kitten son while I had nothing. We’d grown apart by the end and I’d realized maybe I shouldn’t have followed him when he pursued his gaming career and left college.

A small detail my mom and sister didn’t know about. They thought I was still going to classes, not following the ex along to seedy motels for conventions while I told them I was attending lectures.

Classes that my sister had paid for…

Now that I was seeing them face to face, after five months, and I’d have to explain everything.

After the wedding, hopefully.

As if the universe completely had it out against me, my suitcase lobbed to the side, the giant purple monstrosity pulling me to a halt in the middle of the aisle.

“Seriously,” I muttered, putting my phone in my pocket and bending down to adjust the suitcase wheel now stuck in the corner of the carpeted aisle. I tried to pull and simultaneously jimmy the carpet, hoping maybe it would miraculously move. “Come on, you stupid thing.”

“Do you need a hand, Miss?” a brogue accented voice asked.

It didn’t sound like my brother-in-law’s English accent. Maybe he was Scottish? Irish?

I didn’t even look at the guy speaking, gritting my teeth as I tried to pull the suitcase loose once more. “No, thank you. It’s fine. I’ve got it.”

“Doesn’t look like you have. Here. Let me help so other people can get by.” He gripped the handle of my suitcase.

Briefly, I glanced at him—five o’clock shadow, a pair of dark green eyes, and a head of shaggy dark blonde hair. A pretty boy trying to show off his strength was not something I needed right now.

“It’s fine. Seriously, I have it,” I said as nicely as I could without gritting my teeth.

“Obviously ya don’t. Come on, just let me help, then these nice people can get by,” he said, keeping his voice even, though the veins in his forearms bulged as he struggled with the suitcase.

A line of people was forming behind him, some whispering, some giving annoyed grunts.

I jerked backward, trying to pull the wheel with me. Last thing I wanted was to make a scene. “It’s fine, really.”

“Here, just let me try to get this unhinged. I’ve almost got it,” he boomed.

 

“I said, I’ve got it,” I yelled, finally having enough. I planted my heels in the ground and used every bit of strength I had.

I don’t know if it was my years of lifting a lot of plates at the diner I worked at or if the guy actually did something, but the resounding RIIIIPPPP of the zipper erupted between us and the bag exploded open.

Everything I’d packed in my suitcase was pressure released onto the aisle.

Great. I got down on all fours, scrambling to stuff everything back into my bag while other passengers went either around me in the aisle or just walked off in another direction.

Except for the damned gentleman who was now kneeling in front of me, holding a pair of my Hello Kitty underoos.

“Thanks for breaking my suitcase,” I muttered, praying my heated face wasn’t as red as the lacy bra I also scooped up along with my underwear. Hopefully no one saw that.

“I was trying to help you, no need to get your Little Cat knickers in a twist over it.”

“They’re Hello Kitty undies, sir. Get your facts right,” I grumbled, keeping my head down as I stood up so he wouldn’t see my face.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re looking a little aff, and not just from the kerfuffle with your luggage.”

I looked up to see his wide smile full of pearly white teeth and complete with one dimple in his cheek. Combined with the accent, I assumed any other girl would find it charming enough to spill everything. But this was a random guy in the middle of a train in a country I’d never been to. I couldn’t tell him my life story.

I’d already spilled enough with my undies.

I shook my head. “You have no idea.”

“How about I get ya a drink at the bar car and you tell me about it?” he asked, crossing his arms so his pale blue button down stretched across his broad chest. The fabric didn’t even wrinkle against him. What was that? Some secret expensive material?

I glanced down at my own outfit of cut off jean shorts and a faded t-shirt. Nothing about me screamed I was desperate, but something in me lit up at the thought that maybe someone other than my ex was interested in me. Even if it was just a drink at a bar car.

Not with some random guy on a train though, Madison.

I chewed on my bottom lip for a minute before slowly looking up to meet those soft green eyes. I swore a flicker of something crossed his stare as we locked eyes, but I could have just been seeing things.

“I’m sorry, but I really need to get to my seat. Maybe I’ll see you around.” I forced a smile before I turned and quickly made my way toward the back. After finding my seat, I placed my suitcase in the overhead bin, then plopped down.

I focused on the window instead of whoever was about to take the spot next to me.

Luckily, it stayed empty and I had the area to myself.

Pulling out my sketchbook and charcoal pencil—I never went anywhere without them—I tried to make out the smattering of trees outside the window. Lately inspiration had been lacking. Maybe if most of my views for the last few years hadn’t been of my ex-boyfriend Chris at gaming conventions, I’d have something to draw.

The outlines of the birches, barely visible through the downpour, cast shadows against the bricks outside the station, as if they were little kids playing a game of tag. My pencil moved as if on its own volition, tapping to the same rhythm as the drops on the window.

“Looks like we’re in for a helluva trip if this rain keeps on.”

I froze, and turned to meet the smug smirk of the guy who’d insisted on playing hero when he wasn’t needed. He lounged in the seat across the aisle from me.

“Are you stalking me?” I swallowed hard. Deep down I sensed there was nothing wrong with this guy, yet I couldn’t hold back my knee jerk response.

“Are you stalking me? he asked, tilting his chin down, those big green eyes of his daring me.

I rolled my eyes, more so I wouldn’t have to keep matching his stare and possibly have my face flush again. “I don’t even know your name or have the foggiest idea of you are. Don’t be so full off yourself.”

He laughed, leaning back against the seat. He was so tall that the tuft of his wavy dark brown hair could be seen over the fuzzy blue of the chair. “Fair enough.”

He then turned toward me, scooting forward as he put a hand out across the aisle. “I’m Jacob. Not a stalker. Just a lad headed to Webley who happened to find a damsel in distress and decided to be chivalrous and help. A damsel who then tried to turn down her knight.”

I pressed my lips together, but my shoulders still shook as I tried to hold back my laugh. Before I couldn’t contain it anymore and burst out, I covered my mouth so I didn’t snort in the guy’s face.

He cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t think my statement was that funny.”

I sucked in a deep breath before dropping my pencil so it rolled down my sketch book and onto my lap. “I’m hardly a damsel in distress and unless your name is Sir Jacob, I highly doubt you’re a knight in shining armor. Maybe shining Prada loafers, but grabbing my fallen clothes doesn’t exactly make you a knight or my savior.”

Something crossed his face that was between a frown and a smirk, but just as quickly he was back to that annoying little dimpled smile. “Very well. Then what should I call you if not damsel?”

“Madison. I’m Madison,” I said before picking up my pencil again.

“Madison,” he repeated, as if savoring my name. “You seem to have quite an eye for art. I can’t even see anything past those dark clouds, yet you have an entire forest laid out.” He stretched across the aisle to take a closer look, but I pulled my book to my chest.

My heart thumped hard against the paper. Sure, I went to school for art, but no one aside from my professors and maybe some random strangers who would pass me at cons saw my work. Especially not chicken scratch sketches.

“Um, thanks. I was just playing around.”

“With this weather, it’s going to be a bloody long ride, so hopefully the conductor sees those trees better than I can.”

“Is it the conductor who drives the train? I thought that was just the guy who walks around and makes sure that everything is okay? Like a cruise director or something.”

He laughed. “I’d never heard someone use that term like that, bonnie, but that does sound right.”

“Um, my name’s not Bonnie.”

He grinned, flashing that damn dimple. “It’s a Scottish term of endearment. I guess it’s like you American southerners calling everyone darling.”

My heart did a little jump at his words and how they rolled off his tongue like a lullaby.

Scottish.

That’s where the accent was from.

And now I had to regain my wits, so I swallowed hard as I tried to tamp down whatever my heart was doing right now. I blamed jet lag and a recent break up for the reaction.

“How did you know I was from the South?”

He nodded toward my shirt. “Your shirt. Raleigh is in North Carolina, right? Or do I have my geography off.”

I glanced down at my clothing, heat flushing my cheeks as I wished I had a better response. “Oh…yeah…it is.”

The train still wasn’t moving, the rain pelting harder against the windows, echoing like a bad DJ trying to mix a beat at a night club.

An older man in a dark blue sweater and matching captain style cap, complete with gold emblem, strutted down the aisle. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain in your seats.” His voice boomed. “We are waiting for the storm to pass, then we’ll be on our way. No need to worry.”

I tried to focus on what else he was saying, but then another sound wafted to my ears.

Jacob stifled his laugh as he glanced at me, then mouthed ‘cruise director’.

Biting down on my bottom lip, I looked down at my lap so I wouldn’t burst out in my own fit of giggles, which probably turn into a snort fest. Traveling cross country with little sleep could get a girl slap happy.

To try and listen to the conductor, I pulled my sketch book back out, absently scratching my pencil against the paper. Once I had a rough sketch, I leaned over the aisle, catching the eye of the Scottish stranger who was the closest person I had to talk to. If we were going to be stuck here a while, I figured sharing in the fun was better than being lost in my own head.

“Pssst, what do you think?”

I handed him the sketchbook and he pulled it over to his lap.

His eyes flipped from the paper to the conductor a few rows ahead of us, then back to the paper as he covered his mouth. His eyebrows raised as he tilted his chin forward as if he was asking ‘him?’

I nodded, looking down so I didn’t catch the eye of the conductor. The one who I just sketched outfitted in a life jacket and flower lei with the words “Don’t worry, a little rain won’t stop this cruise. Who wants to play Bingo?”

Jacob’s face scrunched, his cheeks pinched as his body shook, holding back his laughter.

Which of course started me on a fit of giggles of my own, my cheeks quickly hurting from smiling and trying not to snort out loud.

“Miss?” A chipper voice sobered me as I sat up straight, finding an older blonde woman pushing a cart. “Drinks? Snacks?”

Clearing my throat, I nodded, pulling out my purse. “Yeah, um, do you have Coke?”

She reached into the bin, pulling out a plastic bottle that was probably going to run me airport prices, but my throat was dry from laughing and a little splurge couldn’t hurt.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that,” Jacob’s voice rose over the cart, holding up something I couldn’t see on the other side.

“You don’t need to buy my drink,” I tried to say eloquently as I eyed him, but it came out in a rushed stutter of words.

“It’s the least I can do. Most I’ve laughed in years.” He paid the woman who then pushed past us, off to the next row, dealing drinks and snacks, possibly to distract from the fact that the train was delayed.

Jacob held up the Coke bottle, his eyebrows slightly raised. Even in the dull overhead lights, the man had the brightest pair of green eyes I’d ever seen. They were like a spring meadow after an early rain, and it was a color I wished I could mix myself to paint.

“How about we share it? I have my hydro flask we can pour some in.” I fumbled through my backpack, trying to find the bottle somewhere in my bag amidst all of my other travel supplies.

“A flask? You got some scotch in there, too?”

“What? Is that even legal to transport overseas?” I asked, pushing aside an array of pens and scratch pieces of paper until I found my pink water bottle. My sister Natalie had given it to me as a Christmas gift when the forty-dollar hunk of steel had been what every girl had carried around campus.

Now, after living paycheck to paycheck for so dang long, it felt like a waste.

But I wasn’t going to let Natalie know that, especially since my sister was marrying an-honest-to-god English Lord.

Yup.

My sister hit the jackpot.

And I?

Well, I was flirting with a stranger on a train, stuck in the middle of the English countryside. But, damn, when he smiled, flashing that one dimple in his left cheek, it was hard to think of anything else.

“Ah, that seems to be more of a water bottle, not something I see some of the country folks carrying when they go to dry wheat in the back fields.” Jacob grabbed the bottle as I handed it to him, balancing the Coke in one hand and the bottle in the other, pouring the caffeine I so desperately needed.

“And are you one of these folks? Sir Jacob of the Wheat Fields?” I asked, thinking it was an innocent enough question to ask about his job.

His shoulders stilled slightly then jolted, spilling some of the liquid. It dripped down his hands and onto the floor.

“Ah, shite,” he muttered, setting both bottles down.

“Oh, eep, sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you. I might have some napkins in my bag,” I fumbled around again, hoping that magically something other than pencils would come out if I kept reaching.

“It’s all right, just taken a little off guard, I guess.” He pulled a white cloth from the front pocket of his blazer, dabbing at his hands then picking up my bottle, cleaning that off as well.

But it wasn’t so much a cloth as it was a…was it a hankie? Complete with a little embroidered dragon on the corner.

“I guess you could say I’m sort of a property manager. What about you, damsel, what’s your story?” he said as if nothing had just happened, handing me the bottle before tucking the wet hankie back in his pocket and stretching back out in his seat.

I took a big gulp of my drink, trying to think of an eloquent response.

“Well, I uh, currently work at a diner.”

He smirked. “Thought you were one of those co-eds heading to the countryside for an adventure after graduation.”

I could blame my over tiredness, or the recent break up that had me smiling at the sexy Scottish guy with the whitest smile I’d ever seen. But ultimately it was just me who needed to pour everything out. “I was in school. Then decided to follow my boyfriend across the country for gaming conventions and some minor competitions, which didn’t make him or me any money. So I ended up full-time waitressing at a diner and haven’t gone back to school to finish my last semester.”

“Boyfriend?”

I rolled my eyes. Was that the only thing he got out of that?

“Ex. Recently. I apparently crushed his dreams because I wouldn’t move with him to his grandma’s basement in Tennessee so he could be a professional gamer. Never mind that we both still had only one semester left of school. So when I said no, instead of moving in with his grandma, he moved in with some other gamer girl. Now they have a cat together and post videos that I seriously need to stop watching.”

“Sounds like a real tosser,” Jacob said.

I laughed, not because the statement was all that funny, but more because I’d never actually heard that term said out loud and in my tired stupor, it made sense.

“Yeah. I guess you could call him a tosser. Whatever that means, it sounds right. Though, I could be the tosser in this situation, because I’m the one who can’t seem to move on.”

I blinked hard, then took a large gulp of the drink, pushing back the emotion that was threatening to bubble to the surface. I’d cried enough the last few months when I should have been getting my act together. And now I was having the longest conversation I’d had with anyone since Chris and I had broken up, and it was a stranger on a train.

Jacob’s gaze was locked on my face as if he was studying my reaction. “Tosser means fool or idiot. And I don’t think you’re either of those. Maybe a little hardheaded, but it seems like this ex is the real tosser.”

“Is he? But I’m the one who dropped school and followed him across the country. Annnnnd my mom and sister don’t know any of this, and now I’m going to have to break it to them right before my sister’s wedding. She’s marrying an English Lord and here I am, showing up late with news of dropping out of school.” I shook my head, the emotions that were raking through me now pushing to a hard pounding in my chest.

“We’ve all done stupid shite for a relationship.”

I spun toward him, raising an eyebrow, wondering if he was going to continue.

His face was stoic, as if he was deep in thought, with his jaw tight.

Then he laughed, shaking his head, like he was trying to get rid of whatever memory crossed his mind. “If we’re going to swap stories, mind if I sit next to ye, so we don’t have the whole train listening?”

I took a deep breath as I ran my hands through my mess of frizzy red hair. If I looked half as bad as my tired limbs felt, then he couldn’t possibly be interested. But what could it hurt having a conversation—maybe more light flirting—with a guy I’d probably never see again?

“Sure.” I finally grabbed my bag, scooting toward the window, the rain pelting down beside me, the train still on the same tracks.

He grabbed his own bag and got up, sliding in the seat next to me. I scrunched into myself as if somehow, I could become smaller and not have my arms rub against his expensive-looking suit coat, though I did get a nice whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing. It smelled like mint and clean laundry. I’d been around a pot smoking gamer for so long, I forgot what normal men dressed and smelled like.

“So, where were we?” he asked, taking a small sip from his bottle before screwing the cap back on, the action so casual, yet I couldn’t stop staring at the way his lips pursed and his Adam’s apple bobbed when he drank.

OMG.

Stop. Staring.

“Um…relationship issues?”

He smiled, god, that damn smile and dimple were really getting to me.

“Well, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my ex, but I’m no stranger to bringing bad news home to my family when things don’t go right.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate? That’s pretty dang vague.”

He shook his head. “Let’s just say, being the oldest son in a traditional Scottish family comes with a lot of expectations about relationships, jobs, and everything else. Sometimes it’s hard to live up to those.”

“So, you’re saying we’re both the odd ducks of the family?”

He laughed, raising his glass again. “Quack, quack.”

I clinked my bottle to his. “Quack, quack.”

***

 

It was almost an hour before the train was given the okay to move. Time crawled even as the dreary landscape sped by, the sky still blacker than a tar pit. How the heck the driver saw anything was beyond me.

I should have probably taken a nap, or called my sister, but with barely a connection because of the weather, I didn’t bother.

Instead I spent way longer than I thought enthralled in conversation with a guy I’d just met, who asked me more questions about my life than Chris had in our entire relationship. Yet all I seemed to know about Jacob was that he was from Scotland and had a complicated family history, thus he was going to England, to meet up with some relatives he hadn’t seen in a while.

When we finally rolled into the Webley train station, I checked my phone for a signal and caught the time.

“Holy shit, when did it get so late?” I said more to myself than anything as I hopped off the train, stepping under a metal awning as rain drops continued assaulting it.

“Shite, it is late. Do you have someone coming to get you?” Jacob asked, looking down at his own phone.

I knew he was right behind me as we got off the train, but I expected him to go off and find whatever family was waiting for him.

“Um, well, I was supposed to call my sister when I got in.” I glanced around at the darkened buildings. “But it’s really late now and I don’t know if I want to wake her up…or my mom for that matter.”

He nodded. “We both don’t want to bother our family members or make them get out in this weather, so why don’t we check into an inn? In the maps I’ve seen online, there’s one right on the square. I’m sure they’ll have two rooms for us.”

Warning bells went off in my head about the casual way he was making plans for us. I mean, it was a good plan and we’d each get our own room. I could also send a text to Natalie once I was settled and let her know where I was.

Jacob reached into his pocket, pulling out a small silver coin as he took a step closer, holding the object between us.

“How about we flip a coin?”

“A coin?”

He nodded. “Heads, we go to the inn and get a room. Tails, we go our separate ways now.”

Maybe it was jet lag or the long ride, but my lips moved before I could really think. “Okay flip it.”

He grinned, his eyes meeting mine as he tossed the coin up, catching it and holding it on his palm.

The face of Queen Elizabeth looked at me in profile.

Heads.

 

The post Cover and First Chapter reveal for HEIRED LINES appeared first on Magan Vernon.

Coming May 11th

 

Sometimes, you’ve got to take a job with the devil to pay the bills…

 

Too bad I learned too late the devil wears Armani, is the most uptight man in the history of history, and I just signed an unbreakable contract shackling me to his pompous royal side for the summer.

 

But God, he’s got this British accent that makes my panties melt.

 

Until the words he says catch up with my brain and make me want to throw one of his precious vases at his head.

 

One minute we’re fighting—and the next—we can’t keep our hands off each other. Because somehow, when Mr. Blue Eyes is kissing me, he makes me forget how much he annoys me.

 

And that starts a whole new level of complications I. Don’t. Need.

 

Cuz if you dance with the devil, someone’s gonna end up getting burned…

 

Sometimes, you’ve got to take a job with the devil to pay the bills…

Too bad I learned too late the devil wears Armani, is the most uptight man in the history of history, and I just signed an unbreakable contract shackling me to his pompous royal side for the summer.

But God, he’s got this British accent that makes my panties melt.

Until the words he says catch up with my brain and make me want to throw one of his precious vases at his head.

One minute we’re fighting—and the next—we can’t keep our hands off each other. Because somehow, when Mr. Blue Eyes is kissing me, he makes me forget how much he annoys me.

And that starts a whole new level of complications I. Don’t. Need.

Cuz if you dance with the devil, someone’s gonna end up getting burned…

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Chapter One

Natalie

The usual suspects were already in full swing, haggling for people’s discarded treasures at the Carolina Days flea market.

Some antique dealers, older couples, then me––the recent college grad with a master’s in history and nothing to show for it. Well, I guessed I did have a pile of Mom’s hospital bills, another pile of “while your resume was promising” letters, and a lot of packing tape and boxes to mail out the array of old Pepsi signs, that being the main things that sold on my eBay site.

Plopping down at a table near a row of food trucks, I set down my bag of the day’s finds and hooked my phone up to the free Wi-Fi from the barbecue cart.

“Hopefully, some of this stuff is worth something,” I muttered and dug into the bag I made out of an old high school band T-shirt.

The first thing I pulled out was a Georgian vase I’d been able to persuade a man to sell me for five dollars. The only thing that could potentially have some real historic value if it really was from England and as old as the hand-painted style seemed to indicate.

I took a few photos of the vase from different angles and made sure to get a nice picture of the stamp on the bottom.

Webley, England.

Never heard of it, and I studied English history.

Weird.

I typed Webley, England in my search bar, surprised to get only the bare minimum results of a small town in the English countryside. But the photos that accompanied the sites were like something straight out of a fairy tale with fields of golden flowers and a charming town set in the shadows of a stone castle.

If nothing else, adding the description of the town in the ad could help entice a buyer with wanderlust.

Pulling up my site, I added the photos then typed up a description.

Georgian-style porcelain vase with hand-painted vibrant flowers, reminiscent of the Webley, England, countryside from where this vase originated. Believed to date to the 1800s, it’s in good vintage condition with minuscule chips on the handles and some crazing with age.

As soon as I hit send on that wording, it was time for the next item. The more I could use the free Wi-Fi from the food truck, the less I’d have to worry about going out to the library or somewhere else later to use the internet. One of the first things to go when we had to choose between lights or the web. Lights won out from my mom and sister’s perspective, at least.

Well, maybe a few sales and we could have both.

Before I could finish taking photographs of a handful of brass knobs that I had found , my email pinged with a message from my site.

An inquiry about the vase already?

My heart fluttered as I pulled up the email but then sank defiantly in my chest as soon as I read the words in front of me.

 

I rolled my eyes. Seriously?

I guessed it was better than someone just trying to lowball me on an item, but I’d never received anything like this. And by the haughty tone, I may have offended an English local who had nothing better to do than troll me.

 

The nerve of this guy, really.

I thought about saying something even snarkier but instead put my energy into adding another listing. One that hopefully wouldn’t get any rude emails saying that I didn’t know the exact origin or taken the brass knobs off the wardrobe myself.

After I’d put up the next listing, I had another email waiting for me in my inbox.

Gritting my teeth, I opened the tab, ready to see what else this guy was going to throw at me.

 

What. The. Hell.

Did this guy want me to send him my résumé or something?

Would he even stop if I did?

 

I waited a few minutes to pry my locked jaws apart then sent the email, letting out a deep breath as I did.

Glancing down at my phone, I stared at the mail icon, wondering how soon he would have a snappy response.

Sitting a few more beats, I laughed to myself. I was being irrationally stupid. Probably the lack of sleep and the mixture of dust and pollen in the air had my brain going haywire.

After taking a few more photos of some miscellaneous items I’d purchased, I went back to my inbox. Still nothing new.

Dammit, did I offend the one person who might have possibly been interested in the item? If he even was.

Opening my inbox, I hovered over the button, ready to write another email.

But what the hell would I even say?

Sorry I was rude, how about if I give you a $5 discount because I really need to pay something on my mom’s bills before they go to collection?

Probably too desperate.

Drumming my fingers along the table, I racked my brain for something to say. Anything at all.

My phone buzzed in my hand, the sensation making me drop the device on the table with a small thud.

My shoulders tightened as I quickly picked it up, inspecting the case for cracks before looking at the screen. An international number?

Dammit, was this one of those people who hijacked my phone in the Caribbean again?

As if my day couldn’t get any worse.

With adrenaline still coursing through me from the previous emails and the weight of everything else pouring on, I slid the phone unlocked, my pulse pounding in my ears.

“Listen, if this is another scam thing, you can stop it now, because I have your number and I’m turning it over to the authorities, and my phone company, for that matter.”

I waited a few seconds for a response, my heart beating with each breath.

Then, instead of the line going empty, a clear laugh rang through the speaker.

“I don’t think the American authorities would be able to help you with what I have to offer,” a deep English accent replied.

“Who is this?” I asked shakily, my breath coming in ragged puffs as I tried to steady my voice.

“For a woman who acted so miffed on an email, I guess I should have expected this response.”

Swallowing hard, I tried to calm my thumping heartbeat. “Is this Gavin? From the ad? How did you get my number?”

He laughed even harder than the first time before letting out a deep breath. “It’s posted on your site, miss. If you didn’t want people calling you, maybe you should leave that off. Or not send them emails of your academic résumé and expect them not to call you out on a few things in your listing.”

I opened my mouth then closed it again, the right response not coming to me. So, of course, I went for whatever happened to squeak out. “I can just as easily hang up and block you, yanno.?”

“But you’re not going to, are you? You’re just as intrigued as I am.” His husky tone sent a shiver down my spine even though it was a warm June day.

“Um, if we’re talking about the vase, the price is firm. But there are extra shipping fees for overseas.”

He cleared his throat, a crack in that sultry accent. “This is about more than the vase. This is a proposition or, more appropriately, a job offer.”

“Job?” I squeaked.

“The position is temporary. I need someone with your knowledge of antiquities to help clean out my family’s estate here in Webley, curating some of these objects. Of course, you’d be compensated for your time and travel as well as room and board. As long as you think you can do it and have it done as soon as possible.”

“Is this a joke?” I asked, my heart thudding so hard I swore it was going to leap out of my chest.

“Check your email, Natalie.” His voice returned to that low, husky tone, and if my heart hadn’t already been bumping, it was probably now ready to explode.

“Okay. Um. Hold one moment.”

My hands shook as I pulled the device from my ear then opened up my email app.

The first unopened piece of mail staring back at me was from Gavin Webley with the subject “Formal job offer.”

Webley? What was this guy, keeper of the town or something?

If my heart wasn’t already going into overdrive, I swore it beat even faster, ringing in my ears.

I opened the email and the PDF attachment, scrolling through pages of legalese. Then I stopped when the salary popped onto the screen. A number just over what we were in debt from Mom’s medical bills.

My breath caught in my throat as I tried to control the shaking that ravaged my entire body.

“Miss? Natalie? You still there?”

I sat up, pushing the phone against my ear. “First off, if I’m even going to consider this offer, you can just call me Natalie. No need for the miss stuff.”

He laughed. “Okay, Natalie.”

I huffed. “Is this all just a joke and soon some Tv show guy with a hidden camera is going to come around the corner and tell me I’ve been pranked?”

“Natalie.” My name came off his tongue like a prayer.

I sucked in a deep breath. No getting excited just by a stranger’s voice.

“The job offer is very real. I’ll send a contract via email. You can have your solicitor or attorney look over it if you wish. Once you sign the document, I’ll have travel expenses deposited, and a first-class ticket will be waiting for you. I assume you have a current passport, or will we need to get that expedited as well so you can get here next week?”

“Next week?” I asked, trying to keep the shaking out of my voice. No. Way.

“What? Would you rather make it this week? We can do that, too, but I need an answer, Natalie. Do you want to keep trying to sell miscellaneous items online or do you want to take this position at the estate?”

I should have told him I’d think about it or maybe use the last of the money I had for my cell phone bill to get a cheap attorney.

But I didn’t. “I’ll take it.”

***

I’d been on a plane ride exactly twice in my life, once for my grandmother’s funeral in Arizona and the other for a very long trip to Florida, where my little sister broke her arm on the Dumbo ride and we spent most of our time at the ER.

And I had an unused passport that I got when I graduated, praying someday I’d get out of North Carolina.

With my sister home for the summer and Mom in remission, it was the perfect time to leave. To take the leap of faith I’d been dying to do.

I loved history and studying different cultures, but I’d never seen any of it up close. So as soon as I got off the plane, I immediately bolted for the nearest window, taking in as much of the scenery as I could. Which, since it was early afternoon and at an airport near the city, there wasn’t much but some large buildings and a fog in the distance.

Webley didn’t have an airport, which meant I also had a train ticket in hand, making the journey across the English countryside to the small town.

I thought then I’d get a view of some scenery.

As soon as I got to my seat, it was as if the universe had it out for me.

A crack of lightning followed by a loud boom of thunder shook the car. Then the downpour.

The universe and I couldn’t be that lucky as the train crawled along the tracks.

Instead of getting into the town of Webley in the late afternoon, it was now evening, the sky even darker and the rain hurling down in buckets.

I didn’t have an umbrella and only a thin UNC hoodie that was in my carry-on bag.

I’d changed out of my yoga pants and T-shirt from traveling, thinking I needed to make a good impression for my new boss.

As soon as the cold water soaked through my hoodie, button-down shirt, and even my pants and into my heels, I was past the point of presentability.

Now I was just a shivering bundle of nerves, trying to find a bathroom or somewhere to clean up before I met the driver who was supposed to pick me up.

Annnnnd, since I spent the train ride playing games on my phone, it was dead.

DEAD.

In a foreign country with no one to call.

Not my ride.

Just me, standing there, in the rain, with a dead phone. Why didn’t this thing have a better shelter?

Everyone else who got off the train had already grabbed their luggage and stepped into awaiting cars or taxis.

I, on the other hand, had no idea who I was looking for.

Maybe someone with a sign that said my name?

I couldn’t see anything like that through the heavy rain.

“Great,” I muttered, all hope I once had earlier now deflating out of me.

Looking around the small station, I scanned for a pay phone.

Did they still have those anymore?

Slogging through the door terminal, I made my way to the ticket counter.

Only to have my heart flop down to my feet when I saw the closed sign dangling over the window.

I shook my head as a painful lump formed in my throat.

I could break down and cry or I could move on.

And I had to do the latter.

I was in another country, away from everyone I knew, and I needed this job. For me. For my mom.

Wiping my eyes and pushing aside some water droplets from my mop of hair, I looked at my surroundings again.

Maybe, in the daylight, the place would be charming with the cobblestone streets and Tudor-style buildings. But right now, the only thing I could catch sight of was a neon Guinness sign in a window.

Pulling my suitcase behind me, I sloshed through the street and then opened the heavy door. My mouth watered as the warm air hit my face, along with the scent of fried food.

I tried to eat some of the fancy in-flight meal service on the plane but also didn’t realize how much motion sickness could get to a girl who rarely flew. So I sipped on the complementary soda and ate pretzels. A few hours ago.

A waiter passed me with a tray full of fish and chips, and my stomach grumbled. I swore the patrons at the long wooden bar could hear it, even if they couldn’t see me in the dim light of the room.

I plopped down on one of the leather stools, and my outfit squished like a sponge, a puddle dripping to the floor beneath me.

Quickly, I rolled my suitcase over the splash of water, hoping no one noticed it soaking into the old wood floor.

The blond woman behind the bar, pretending to clean some of the colorful alcohol bottles on the shelf, didn’t even glance in my direction.

Better to ignore me than openly gawk at my mop of hair, the drenched red locks splattering on my back like a wet rag. That was usually the first thing people noticed about me, but then as soon as I opened my mouth and history facts started pouring out, that’s when they slowly backed away.

Well, today, I needed someone to at least pay a little attention to the girl with the soaked clothes and dead cell phone.

And if that wasn’t enough, the guy a few stools down from mine had to get a plate of something fried and delish that had my stomach grumbling so loud, I swore everyone heard it over the loud music coming from the speakers.

Maybe if I ordered a little something, I could ask the bartender to use a charger.

If she’d look at me and if I could find my debit card in my waterlogged purse.

Where the hell did I put that thing anyway?

After buying way-too-expensive Dramamine at the airport and a tube of Chapstick, I knew I put it in there.

Did I have enough left on my card for a big meal?

What was the conversion rate now for dollars to pounds?

Shit, pounds or euros? I thought I was in pound country now…

“What can I get for ya, miss?” she asked in a two-pack-a-day hack that somehow still sounded melodic with her English accent.

“Uh…” I stared at the chalkboard menu above her, squinting as water droplets clung to my lashes, blurring my vision.

I had to call my boss to tell him why I was late, so alcohol was out of the question. What I really wanted was a greasy cheeseburger and fries, but all I saw on the menu were drinks. Though others had food…

First world problems.

“Um, can I, uh, start with a water and get a food menu? And, um, do you have an outlet or someplace to charge my phone?” I held up the dead device, putting on my best smile, though my lips trembled as a nervous laugh escaped.

The bartender rolled her eyes before glancing at the row of full barstools. When she turned back to me, I swore she scowled, her mouth open and ready to tell me to shove my phone somewhere.

But before she could say anything, a slim phone slid across the counter, and the hulking frame of a man scooted into the seat next to me.

Okay, maybe hulking wasn’t the right word, but at my five-foot-two, he was at least a foot taller than me. Unlike me, he wasn’t soaking wet. He wore a crisp suit, molding to his broad shoulders. Then that face, like it was chiseled with a bright white row of straight teeth, a hint of stubble on those high cheekbones, brilliant blue eyes, and tousled, sandy blond hair. He was the opposite of my drenched-rat look.

“Here, you can use my phone,” he said in a commanding voice with an English accent that practically purred.

I would have taken it if I actually remembered the phone number and not just saved it in my dead phone.

“That’s okay. I just need a quick charge to call my ride,” I said quickly, forcing a smile so I would at least seem polite.

He didn’t miss a beat, his gaze still focused on me as he slid his phone back in his pocket. “Your ride may be a while. Most of the roads are flooded, unless she lives in town.”

“I think it’s a he who lives in town, and I’m not exactly sure where he lives.”

He arched an eyebrow, a small crack in his beautiful exterior. “So you have someone picking you up, but you don’t know where he lives? Let me guess, you don’t know his phone number or what he looks like, either, so really, he could be an ole bloke in this place.”

My entire body tensed as I glanced toward the bar, hoping maybe the bartender would come to my rescue with some free peanuts and a charger. But, of course, she was chatting up another set of patrons, not even glancing in our direction.

Way to save a girl from random pub dude.

Really attractive random pub dude, but still.

“I was hired to help out this guy clean out his family’s estate. I’m a historian, and he needs help with some of the older pieces on the property, so I’ll be curating them.” I sat as straight as I could, trying to add as much confidence as a girl with soaking wet clothes could to her voice and appearance.

He smirked, a breathy laugh escaping his nose. “So you met a man online who offered you a position in England to clean out his family’s place, not knowing anything about him, and yet you came? This sounds like one of those catfish TV shows you Americans love.”

I slumped involuntarily as I put my hands on my hips, ignoring how heavy my wet blouse was as it dragged my arms down. “I did do an internet search on this guy I’m supposed to meet. He doesn’t have any social media presence, and the only photos I found of any Gavin Webleys were of an old man cleaning shotguns.”

The man in front of me just smiled, not saying a damn word.

It was the bartender who cleared her throat, and I turned to face her, finally trying to control my breathing after I spit everything out to the smirking guy next to me.

The woman pushed a glass of water and a phone charger across the counter. “Here ya go, love, but if you really are looking for Lord Gavin Webley, I don’t think you’re going to need the charger.”

I stiffened, licking my lips, before I tried keeping my voice and posture steady.

Did she just say Lord? As in nobility? “Did he call into the pub?”

She shook her head then nodded toward the well-dressed man next to me. “Can I get you anything, Lord Webley?”

 

 

The post The First Chapter of Heired Lines appeared first on Magan Vernon.

 

Y’ALL HEIRED LINES HAS A COVER AND RELEASE DATE OF MAY 11TH!

Sometimes, you’ve got to take a job with the devil to pay the bills…

Too bad I learned too late the devil wears Armani, is the most uptight man in the history of history, and I just signed an unbreakable contract shackling me to his pompous royal side for the summer.

But God, he’s got this British accent that makes my panties melt.

Until the words he says catch up with my brain and make me want to throw one of his precious vases at his head.

One minute we’re fighting—and the next—we can’t keep our hands off each other. Because somehow, when Mr. Blue Eyes is kissing me, he makes me forget how much he annoys me.

And that starts a whole new level of complications I. Don’t. Need.

Cuz if you dance with the devil, someone’s gonna end up getting burned…

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A former teen heartthrob turned Zaddy.
HeartThrob is on sale for 99 cents for the ebook and whisper synced in time for you to get ready for the HeartBreaker audio release!
He was just another dad at my daughter’s school.

Another very hot, former teen heartthrob dad.

One I couldn’t get involved with.

Lennox Reign was the hottest teen star over fifteen years ago. Now, he’s staring me daggers across the principal’s office.

Not my fault my daughter got in trouble the first day of school and I seem to have ‘bad mom’ stamped on my forehead.

But now not only do I have to see Lennox and his very grown-up body now at school drop off, but we’re working together on the school bake sale.

If he could just stop being a brooding heartbreaker for like two seconds.

He says he wants to keep the past in the past and move forward with his life, but the closer we get and the more I uncover, the more I can’t help falling for the former actor.
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Not ready? How about a little teaser chapter?

It’s 9:51 a.m., my daughter’s first day at a new school, and I’m already sitting on one of those stained blue chairs outside of the principal’s office, waiting my turn to “discuss my child’s behavior.”

I swear I have “bad mom” written on my forehead by the way the secretaries are looking at me over their computer screens.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m still in my sweatpants and an old band T-shirt and I was barely able to twist my hair up in a bun before getting out of the shower. Working from home did have some perks, but I didn’t expect to have to run out in the middle of the day either.

In my defense of my crazy wardrobe and the whole daughter-being-called-to-the-principal’s-office-on-her-first-day thing, it had been one hell of a summer for both me and my daughter, Ariana, so her acting out was understandable.

Okay, rewind that.

Can’t put the blame on a seven-year-old. She’s the one who got the raw end of the deal in the divorce, having to move with me to her grandparents’ place in Dallas.

Should have prepared better for your financial security, Rach.

Yeah, yeah, voice inside my head, you’re an asshole and should have told me earlier to save money instead of thinking the ex and I would live happily ever after forever.

My stomach lurched as I looked around the front office space with its large windows and the columns outside. Like this was some sort of Ivy League university instead of a prep school in Dallas.

My parents were currently footing the bill for the private school tuition as I struggled to get back on my feet with my freelancing graphic design gig.

Maybe with Ariana in school full-time, I could do that. Perhaps I could finally concentrate on my graphics work and get more clients.

Or, you know, catch up on my Netflix queue and have inspiration hit me at three a.m. while I pushed out a few random pre-made book covers. Either. Or.

But first, I had to deal with my daughter’s first call from the principal. One that had me bringing another uniform for her because apparently there was an incident in the en-suite bathroom of the classroom.

Whatever that meant.

The stained-glass office door whooshed open, a gust of air blowing into the office.

So, I may have whipped my head and full on stared at the man walking in with his button-down shirt and black-framed glasses. Not unlike the typical uniform of the other dads I’d seen at school drop off, but this guy was the only one who, with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, showed full sleeves of ink scrawled on his arms.

There was something familiar about him and those tattoos.

Did I know him from high school maybe? Was he in my math class but back then had dreadlocks and now had his hair cropped short with a slightly messy spiky style?

No, that wasn’t it.

“Mr. Reign,” the secretary crooned, her once scowl now turning into a bright smile.

Reign.

Lennox Reign?

No.

It couldn’t be.

Though, there was a resemblance to the former teen heartthrob of my youth.

Well, not that I knew him personally, but I watched his show when it was on every Friday night for ten years. Then he disappeared. Or maybe I just stopped reading teen magazines and got a boyfriend instead of watching sitcoms on the couch.

Making sure he couldn’t see me, I pulled out my phone and did a quick internet search.

There was an old picture of a boy in a blonde bowl cut, not the man standing before me.

Born and raised in Dallas, Texas…

Okay, I was watching too many documentaries on Netflix and imagining things.

When he took the seat next to me, I tried not to stare, but he was right there…

And he smelled really freaking good.

Not like an overpowering cologne or even just regular laundry soap. But a woodsy, manly smell of cedar and leather. Though it would probably be weird if I leaned in and sniffed him. Especially if I hadn’t even introduced myself.

Did I bother doing that since we were both sitting outside the principal’s office?

Speaking of that, what the hell was he doing here?

“Mr. Reign, Ms. Rise,” a raspy voice called.

I looked up to see a tall woman in a skirt suit standing at the edge of the desk.

From the brochures Mom had handed me when she went on and on about Texas Junior Prep Academy, I recognized the person in front of me as the less-airbrushed principal.

Now, my nerves finally set in and my whole body hummed as I stood. It was as if I was trying to pull my legs through wet cement, taking slow strides toward her.

The woman smiled at both of us, shaking our hands, but there was still something off. A chill that had settled in the air.

We followed her in silence back to a well-lit room filled with stocked bookshelves. Two leather armchairs sat in front of a large oak desk where the woman perched behind.

Glancing at the plaque behind her, I tried to figure out if I could pronounce the Greek name written on the Texas A&M degree.

Ambrosia Alexopoulos.

I should have maybe looked that up and tried to pronounce it before getting here.

“Is everything okay?” The deep timbre of the man’s voice had me jolting in my seat, turning toward him.

But his eyes were trained on the principal. Not even glancing in my direction.

If this was the same Lennox Reign from the TV show, he certainly wasn’t the bubbly kid I used to watch.

The principal nodded. “Yes, Mr. Reign. I’ve informed Miss Lohan that she could get your daughters from their teacher now. They’ve been sitting in the back of the room since the incident.”

“The incident?” I asked, wincing with each word.

The principal nodded. “Miss Rise, I know you aren’t familiar with the school, this being your daughter’s first day, so we won’t be going forward with any sort of punishment. But she does need to know that there are rules. Especially about the proper use of restroom time. Apparently, there was a clog in the toilet that the girls thought they could fix, and instead of fixing it, well, they made it a bit worse. Luckily, our custodian took care of the problem, and both girls just need a change of clothes.”

I had to bite my lip to hold back a laugh. The way her tone was so proper discussing a bathroom. She couldn’t have just said, “Hey, your kids did something crazy in the bathroom, but we’re going to give them a break.”

“And what about Juniper?” the guy asked, leaning forward with his hands clasped together. The movement pulled the fabric of his dress shirt against his biceps, and I had to try not to stare.

More like gawk.

Dang it, get a grip, Rach. Hasn’t been that long since you’ve seen an attractive guy in the flesh. You photograph guys for romance novels, for goodness sakes.

Though those were twenty-year-old boys who were very into themselves. Not the man currently sitting within staring distance. Or sniffing.

And damn did he smell good.

The principal nodded, her voice knocking me out of my thoughts and back to reality. “We will also just be giving Juniper a warning at this time as well.”

Before we could say any more, the door opened.

I turned around to see my little girl running toward me, her crazy mess of blonde hair matted to her head and the new plaid jumper and polo soaked to her skin. “Hey, Mom!”

Standing, I put my hands up before she could get any closer. I prayed that wasn’t toilet water on her and maybe from the sink, but I had a feeling from the story…

“Ariana…”

She put her hands down with a sigh. “I know, I know. I’m in trouble. But we did try and solve a problem. And I did have fun and made a new friend while we did it so does that count for something?”

I blinked, trying not to laugh at her big, toothy grin.

She was an outsider. The girl who would rather play by herself than with the other kids in class. It warmed my heart a little to see her making a friend on her first day. But when I glanced over to see the scowl on the man’s face, I knew this wasn’t the time to start praising her.

“Juniper, we will discuss this later. While you get dressed, I’m going to talk to Ariana’s mother. Okay?” Lennox said, looking down at the little girl with wet, curly blonde pigtails who nodded in response.

Oh. Shit.

If I found those bright blue eyes sexy before, now that they were narrowed in my direction, my heart sank practically into my stomach.

“Ari, why don’t you get dressed too. Okay? We’ll talk about this after school.” I handed her the plastic bag with a clean uniform in it, and both of the girls skittered out of the room.

Or at least I was pretty sure they did once I heard the door close.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the man’s heated stare, and I swallowed hard, needing to stand my ground.

We were both freaking adults here. He couldn’t talk to me like I was a child.

“I guess it’s good they’re still in great spirits,” I said, forcing a smile.

He took a step closer, his statuesque face not giving any sign of emotion. “Ms. Rise, is it?”

“Rachel. You can call me Rachel.”

No change in his expression.

“Rachel. I know you’re a new mom here and it’s great your daughter’s making friends, but mine has never been in trouble. Never had to get me called out of work because she clogged the toilet and flooded the bathroom.”

“Well, accidents happen, Mr. Reign. You weren’t the only one called out of work, and I’m sure the girls both learned their lesson.” I forced a smile, hoping he’d drop the hard-ass look.

No such luck.

I glanced at the principal out of the corner of my eye, thinking she’d have something to say. Before she could even open her mouth, the guy spoke again.

“Yes, we can hope this doesn’t happen again. Make sure your daughter knows that.”

I whipped my head around. “Excuse me? You think my daughter, out of the blue, on her first day, decided ‘Hey, let’s try and unclog a toilet and flood the bathroom!’”

He smirked, the only crack in his exterior. “Never happened before with my daughter, and she’s been going here since preschool.”

This guy had some nerve.

“Yeah, well, people change. Not everyone can solve kids’ problems in twenty minutes with a laugh track.” The words flew out of my lips before I could take them back.

I needed to learn how to use a filter.

“You really just used a sitcom line?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you are Lennox Reign, aren’t you? Former poster boy, even with your own milk mustache campaign? I’m sure you raised enough hell as a teen star,” I spat.

He shook his head, blowing a breath of air out of his nose as he muttered, “Un-fucking-believable.”

Finally, the principal walked around her desk, putting her hands out. “Okay, I think that’s enough. Both of your daughters have been given a warning, and we will make sure this doesn’t happen again. Okay? No need for language.”

“You’re right, Ambro. Sorry for getting out of hand.” Lennox offered her a smile, not even glancing in my direction.

Ass.

She nodded. “Great. And I assume I’ll see you both at the PTA meeting after school?”

I was definitely not one of those overly involved moms, but with her non-blinking eyes focused on me and Lennox’s scowl, I didn’t have a choice.

“Yeah. I’ll see you there.”

As if my day couldn’t get any worse.

Principal’s office for my daughter.

Glares from a former teen heartthrob.

Now I had to go to a PTA meeting.

 

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“Full of Irish charm, sweeping scenery, and swoon-worthy romance.” – Jay Crownover, NYT bestselling author

I need a wife if I want to help save my family’s billion-dollar pub empire. There’s just one problem: I never plan on marrying. So, I need someone who understands that this is just another business deal. I don’t do commitments. And my brother’s executive assistant, Fallon Smith, fits that bill.

Fallon needs help with her grandmother’s expenses, and her pretending to be my fake wife is a way we can make that happen. She’s not my biggest fan, but we can help each other and then go our separate ways. That she’s beautiful and I enjoy spending time with her–doesn’t matter. When all of this is done, she’s heading home to America, and I’ve got a company to run.

A fake wedding and a whole lot of whiskey. What could go wrong?

Get your Eargasm on and listen to a sample or #oneclick your new book, available on #whispersync as well!

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My fellow readers,

Summer. Summer is supposed to be a relaxing time, right? So why do we all feel busier than ever, my fellow readers?

I propose, as an author for the readers, that it’s time we take our summer back, my fellow readers. It’s time we take those relaxing moments. We sit out on the porch or in the nice cool airconditioning and we read. WE READ AS MUCH AS WE WANT INSTEAD OF WORRYING ABOUT MOWING THE LAWN.

Sure, we may still have to do adult things, my fellow readers, but it’s time we all made it a point, even if it’s just a page or just a chapter. Let’s pick up a book, let’s #makereadinggreatagain

And we can start by picking up one of these new releases.

#VernonEndorsed

#FeelTheVern

Once upon a bad boy by Melonie Johnson (last book in a series of standalone with audio and madd market paperback available! ) https://amzn.to/2Y8r7fi
Breathless by Helen Hardt (Bestseling series with whisper sync audio!) https://amzn.to/2FxwvBa
The accidental girlfriend by Emma hart (queen of rom com standalone!) https://amzn.to/2IKawsR
The Locker Room by Meghan Quinn (sports romance #FREE in #KU) https://amzn.to/2J6rmRF
Sign Seal and deliver by Geri Foster (SEAL series ) https://amzn.to/2YaERpG
Seven nights of sin by Kendall Ryan (sexy duet conclusion ) https://amzn.to/2Yluorq
Changing Lines by Toni Aleo (Babies and hockey! ) https://amzn.to/2Ja1iFr
Justified by Jay Crownover (sexy cowboys from a favorite author) https://amzn.to/2NcMtakIndefinite by Corrine Michaels (emotional new duet ) https://amzn.to/2xfz9qR
Super fan by Sarina Bowen (hockey stand-alone from a favorite author ) https://amzn.to/2YecsisTotal Surrender by Erika Wilde (sexy fairytale retelling ) https://amzn.to/2YeVkJE
Walker by Maryann Jordan (Former military heroes ) https://amzn.to/2J4fIXC
Never fall in love with a rockstar (highly recommended angst) https://amzn.to/2XyF9JY
Save the date by Monica Murphy (fun new series form a favorite author) https://amzn.to/2J4acUIWreck my World by Victoria Ashley (sexy erotica) https://amzn.to/2Ylh5rnCommand Me by Geneva Lee (Royal saga!) https://amzn.to/2J8avh8Frat House confessions by Bethany Lopez (New Adult sports romance) https://amzn.to/2XxYzibBaby Cakes by Fiona Davenport (Sexy novella #FREE in #KindleUnlimited )Delayed Satisfaction by (#FREE !) https://amzn.to/2XBnuBi

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My life has revolved around the two things I’ve always loved: whiskey and rugby. Now the marriage clause in my Da’s will has me putting both on the back burner if I want to save the Murphy’s Pub empire and find a wife.

As the last brother to get married, I need a little help, and that’s where my sister-in-law’s American best friend, Leah, comes into the picture. She could use a little Irish luck after the deceitful things her ex did to her that brought her to Ireland. With her take-no-shite-attitude, she’s just the type of girl to help me find a wife. 

That is, if I can remember she’s the matchmaker and not the match.

Each book in the Murphy Brothers series is STANDALONE:
* Straight Up Irish
* Irish on the Rocks
* Dirty Irish


Amazon: https://amzn.to/2YCgAcb
Barnes and Noble: bit.ly/2w1qgAy
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2JFxmTn
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2WKZfgu
iBooks: https://apple.co/2YAhmq5
http://bit.ly/2JMNTFf

The post DIRTY IRISH IS HERE appeared first on Magan Vernon.

And now a message from Magan Vernon, an author for the
readers.

My fellow readers,

As May comes to a close, I urge you, my fellow readers, to
look closely at your e-reader and TBR pile.

Do you have enough reading material for those summer days
where you plan on lounging by the pool? Or, if you’re stuck indoors at work, do
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If the answer is no, then my fellow readers, you need to
stock up and #oneclick these new releases.

If the answer is ‘yes’, then what are you currently reading?
Do you have 100 more books on your ereader to get that fire going?

I didn’t think so, my fellow readers. It’s time that we
#makereadinggreatagain and let’s share these new releases! Share what we are
#amreading Together, we can MAKE READING GREAT AGAIN.

#FeelTheVern

#VernonEndorsed

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The post New Release Endorsements 5/28/19 appeared first on Magan Vernon.

Chapter One

Sean

 “My brother’s wedding is at the end of
the month. He said it’s a small thing without groomsmen, so you don’t need to
worry about matching a dress to my tie or anything. I can get you the times
once Jack bloody gets them to me and hopefully you don’t have a teacher’s
conference or something,” I said, smiling casually. I figured it was a given
she’d go as my date. No need to even ask. But this would be the first time
she’d meet my family. It was a big step, so I was trying to make it as easy as
possible.

For me, at least.

True, I didn’t actually think we
had any chemistry other than in the bedroom. And she tended to correct my
grammar when we went out on dates. But a girl was a girl, and I needed not just
a date. I needed someone to spend forever with.

Or six months, according to my da’s
will.

“I think we’re better off as
friends.”

The redhead sitting across from me
couldn’t even make eye contact as she said the words.

The girl who I’d been dating a
month now. Longer than my last few relationships put together.

I stiffened, trying to figure out
the best response.

Not
now. This couldn’t be happening.

“You can’t just decide this is
over. I’m in this, too, you know?” I asked, trying to keep my voice low so
people around us wouldn’t hear, but my fists clenched at my sides. If this were
a teammate, I’d tell him he was out of his fecking mind for doing something so
stupid.

But this was not a guy on the rugby
pitch, and I had to count my breaths, hoping I didn’t say something stupid.

Normally I wouldn’t be fighting so
hard to get a girl—and usually, I didn’t need to—but the blasted clause in my da’s
will said that each of my brothers and I had to be married within a year of his
death, or none of us would get the family business, a multi-million-dollar pub
franchise.

I never thought I actually wanted
the job. Still wasn’t sure about that one, since my rugby career was finally
picking up.

But, here’s the thing. The will
said that we all had to be married to get the company, and if I didn’t get
married, even if I didn’t want anything to do with running a business right now,
that meant my brothers didn’t get it, either.

My life was so focused on getting
to the next level in rugby that I’ve never even thought about marriage.
Especially not at twenty-three.

But now, when I thought maybe I
could like this girl enough to try to move forward, she has the gall to break
up with me.

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, because you’re always at
practice. Our first date, if you’d call it that, was me watching you at a game
then hanging out at your friend’s flat where you and the team talked about the
game the entire time and sipped on warm beer.”

So maybe I wasn’t the best at
romance. Who was?

I swallowed hard, leaning in closer,
putting on my most charming smile.

 “But what about the second date? All our
little texts and the flowers I sent to your classroom?” I asked.

Not that I was in love with the
girl after a few weeks of seeing her, but she was a real ace. A primary school
teacher who volunteered at a local animal shelter. The type of girl who would
make a fine wife.

So, what if there wasn’t an
electric zing? That would come eventually.

She sighed. “Flowers. Sexting. A
few quick hookups where you left right after you cleaned up? That’s not exactly
romance. Not something I see that warrants meeting families and being wedding
dates.”

What could I say that would change
her mind?

I cleared my throat, taking a long
drink of my water. “Most people would think that sounds like a grand
relationship.”

 “Sean, let’s just be friends, okay? I’m sure
the right girl is out there for you. It’s just not me,” she said quickly,
leaning in to place a quick kiss on my cheek before she grabbed her sweater and
bolted out of the café.

Just like that.

Relief washed over me.

I didn’t have to keep trying to
make time for her between my rugby schedule anymore.

A few people at the other tables
whispered amongst themselves. Like they couldn’t believe I just got dumped over
coffee.

“Shite,” I muttered, putting my
head back against the seat.

I should have been maybe been a
little more pissed off at the situation.

Summer was almost over, and I had
until April to find a wife. If things kept going like they had with the last
few girls, I’d be better off paying a rugger hugger.

No.

I couldn’t do that to Da’s legacy.

It had to be real or at least have
the potential of being real.

I held my breath, then let it out
slowly.

In for five seconds.

Out for five seconds.

It was what I did on the pitch when
I needed to ground myself.

But this time it wasn’t working,
and my brain was still a jumbled mess.

As if the universe knew I needed a
distraction, my phone buzzed in my pocket, shaking me of my own thoughts.

An alert popped up with a word game
I’d been playing the last few months against my sister-in-law’s American
friend, Leah.

Now, there was a girl who I talked
to every damn day and didn’t have to worry about dating. She made that
abundantly clear at my brother Connor’s wedding when she turned me down for a
dance, drank the last of my whiskey, then went off without saying a word.

Feck, but she was just about the
sexiest woman I’d ever seen, so if she was going to talk to me, even if it was
just a little word game, I’d let her.

Just looking at her game icon with
her spiky dark hair and heavily lined eyes, biting that pierced lip, had my once-defeated
body now coming to life. The girl knew she was hot shite, which should have
made me not even pay attention to her.

But that didn’t stop her from
accepting my request to play a game.

She was, after all, my
sister-in-law’s best mate and all the way in America. So, no harm at all in
looking at or chatting with her.

“Is that even a fecking word?” I stared
at “shequel” on the screen.

Shoving the phone back in my
pocket, I looked out the front window, trying to control the jumbled mess in my
head.

But then I caught something out of
the corner of my eye and leaned forward.

The girl across the street. I knew
her.

But why the hell would Leah, the
girl who was supposed to be playing an online game in America, be standing
outside of Murphy’s Pub?

I had to be hallucinating, yet that
didn’t stop me from slowly walking out of the café, didn’t stop my eyes
scanning from the top of her spiky pixie cut, down the colorful butterfly
tattoo on her neck, and then over the white button-down blouse and trousers
that the pub’s waitstaff wore.

Maybe it wasn’t Leah.

My heart thumped hard in my chest
at the thought.

Whoever the gorgeous woman was, she
just walked into one of my family’s pubs. I didn’t have anywhere else to go,
and it was still early on a Saturday.

I swallowed hard, my thoughts
scattered, as I waded through the crowd of patrons.

When I finally reached the
pixie-haired girl, she stood in front of an empty stool filling some rocks
glasses with dark liquids before passing them over to the group of tourists in
Hawaiian shirts behind her.

I may have only met Leah when she
was in town for Connor’s wedding, but I’d recognize that quirk of her lips and
those golden-brown eyes anywhere.

“Shequel?” I asked, sitting at the
empty stool in front of her as she turned around. I wiped my palms on my
trousers, the curse of my nerves, which still rolled through me. Even after all
this time, I couldn’t help the swirl of energy that came over me when I talked
to a pretty girl.

Sometimes it was hard to forget
that I wasn’t the chubby, Celtic punk kid anymore.

“Sean Murphy, finally you come into
my pub for a drink,” she said, flashing a smile.

That gorgeous smile that told me
she was not just a lookalike. That the real deal was in front of me, something
that me grinning from ear-to-ear.

I swallowed hard, trying to gain
some saliva, but shook my head so, hopefully, she wouldn’t notice I was a
sweaty, nervous mess.

What the feck?

 “Your pub? I seem to recall that last time I
talked to you, you had some clothing store back in Chicago. Never mentioned anything
about becoming a Murphy.”

She shook her head, biting down on
her lip, where a silver hoop dangled from her red-painted mouth, before she
spoke. “Not a Murphy. Just a bartender, for now.”

“For now?” I raised an eyebrow,
curious as to how the hell the girl got here and why no one told me. Not to
mention that the girl was also making me smile more than the bird who just
dumped me.

“Aw, I knew ya missed me, mo gra, and you’d be back,” I said, trying
to keep the mood light even though I was still on edge, trying to figure out
why the hell this girl was back in Dublin. Why now? After all this time.

“Your Irish pet names aren’t cute,”
she said with a scowl. Her darkly lined eyes may have been narrowed, but there
was a sparkle in them.

Fecking hell, was she gorgeous,
with her dark hair and eyes, and those colorful tattoos dotting her tanned
complexion. She was like the living dream I didn’t know I had.

But she’d shoot me down in an
instant. Then I might have to deal with my brother and sister-in-law giving me
shite about it forever.

Better just to try and keep it
casual.

“Ah, I think you’re cute, too,” I
said, flashing the smile that usually had girls dropping their knickers. But
this one was completely unfazed.

She rolled her eyes, but a smile
played on her lips as she shrugged, the motion squeezing her breasts together
and giving me a fantastic view.

Fecking
hell, Sean, stop staring at the woman’s tits.

“I’m not here to talk about my
problems, but I am getting the hang of this bartending thing.”

She grabbed a pint glass, setting
it under the Guinness tap. “And if you’re sitting here alone in the pub on a
Saturday night, something tells me you need the advice of a sage bartender.”

“Think I’m just going to spill all
my secrets to you just because we’ve played some online word games and you know
my drink order?” I asked as she set the pint in front of me and poured a shot
of Murphy’s whiskey, placing it next to the glass.

When she looked up at me, it was as
if the wind had been knocked out of my chest, and it took everything I had not
to gulp as a smile crossed her lips, one small eyebrow arched.

“Yes, I do.”

I took a long pull of my drink and
set it down, shaking my head. If I wasn’t already knocked on my arse by her
mere presence, that little smile had me laid out. “I’m not going to just give
you everything, right here. But if you are looking for someone to give you a
tour of Ireland, I can do that. Unless Fallon’s been showing you around?”

Her brown eyes were somehow even
brighter in the low light of the pub. Their calculating stare ran over me as if
she was trying to figure out my story from one little look. “Not seen much
around the area, aside from Fallon and Connor’s place, where I’ve been staying.
And the pub. But it’s not like this is Disney World and I need to see every
little thing at once. Not that I’ve actually been to Disney World, but if there
are some dancing mice down in Temple Bar or something, I might want to see
that.”

I raised my eyebrows, finding
myself smiling. I tried to tamp down my reaction, but it was too late, and my
mouth moved faster than my brain.

“Never been to Disney? Isn’t that
the American vacation place that everyone goes? Feck, I’ve even been there. Da
took the three of us and a nanny when we were just wee lads. Those people in
costumes scared the shite out of me, though. Pretty traumatizing for a
five-year-old when a big, furry duck comes at you, not saying a peep.”

She laughed, a sound that had me
grinning in response. Feck, it was a beautiful laugh.

“Your accent makes things ten times
funnier. I’ve gotten used to the Irish tone working here, but since it’s mostly
tourists, I don’t get enough of it.”

“My accent? You should talk about
yours. You sound like the guys in those old mobster movies.”

True, she did have an American
accent, though hers was more endearing than the ones in the movies. Watching
her smile and get along with me had me wanting to keep pushing and see how much
more I could get her talking.

She laughed even harder, tilting
her head back as her whole body vibrated. My own face quirked into a broad
smile that almost hurt from pulling so hard. What was this girl doing to me? “You
think I sound like Al Capone or The
Godfather or something? Just because I’m from Chicago?”

“Leave the gun. Take the cannoli,”
I said, lowering my voice and trying to mimic that Chicago accent.

She laughed so hard that she
covered her mouth, her nose wrinkling. Then she shook her head. Fecking hell,
she was cute.

“Is that really what I sound like
to you?”

“Do I sound like a leprechaun to
you?” I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her smartass remark, leaning in with
anticipation that had me licking my lips, almost as excited for her response as
I was for the next play in a game.

“No. I was thinking more like maybe
an Irish mobster. Oh, or a fortune teller. You’d make a lovely gypsy, beard and
all,” she said playfully, as if we were best mates who said these things all
the time. Her red-painted nails curled in the edge of my beard before giving
the coarse hairs a little squeeze.

Fecking hell, my cock practically
jumped out of my trousers, and I sat up straighter telling myself to calm down.
We were in a public pub.

“Girls do fancy a beard,” I murmured,
leaning in so close I could see the flecks of gold in her eyes.

So. Fecking. Beautiful.

“Not all girls. Which makes me
wonder if you’re in here to see me because you’re having women troubles,” she
said, quickly pulling her hand away as if she just realized what she was doing.

I leaned back, trying to ignore the
magnetic tug that kept drawing me closer to her, and instead picked up my drink
so I’d have something to do with my hands.

“I do not have woman problems,
thank you very much,” I replied, quickly taking a big gulp of my pint. Then I chased
it with the whiskey and ignored the guilt riddling deep within me.

If she only knew.

“You see the secret to being a
bartender is being perceptive to when someone has a tell. And that lack of eye
contact tells me I’m right. Well and, you know, the whole marriage-will clause
thing,” she said flippantly, but I almost spit out my drink, the liquid lodging
in my throat as I faced her full on.

“How do you…?” I blurted, fumbling
for the right words.

“Please. Fallon is my best friend.
I tell her I caught my on-again-off-again boyfriend in bed with my former
business partner, and she gave me the chance to come here and work in the pub. We
talk about everything. Like Connor and Jack having found wives, and you still
having the lack of one.”

I swallowed hard, at a loss for
words as every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Rubbing the exact
spot, I tried to appear casual, but inside my stomach soured, like it did every
time the fecking clause was brought up.

Not that the clause was a big
secret. The board knew about it, and anyone with public records could probably
find the will, but I thought Connor might have shut his trap about it when it
came to his wife.

I finished the last of my beer and let
out a deep breath. The tension in my shoulders drifted away.

Well, I supposed now that it was
out there, no use hiding it.

“You try finding a wife when you’re
surrounded by rugby players, rugger huggers, or old men in the boardroom. Any
girl I fancy, I don’t seem to have the time for. As evidenced by the bird who
just broke up with me over coffee,” I muttered the last part, watching as Leah
quickly filled my pint glass, not a jot of pity or smugness on her face.

“That’s what the internet is for,
isn’t it?”

“You and I both know a lot of those
sites are just for hookups. Which is all well and good, if I wasn’t looking for
more.” I took another gulp of my pint and let the liquid haze that came from
drinking this early in the day take over.

She sighed. “What you’re saying
sounds like every girl’s dream. Have you ever just approached one of those
rugger huggers, as you call them, and said ‘hey I need a wife for the business,
wanna head to the chapel?’”

I laughed, shaking my head before
taking another pull of my beer. If we were going to have this conversation, it
would probably require a few more drinks. “I don’t want just some random rugger
hugger.”

“Then it sounds like you need a
matchmaker. Or maybe a Cyrano who can feed you lines.”

Realization dawned on me. It was as
if a lightbulb went off in my head. I sat up straighter, and I slapped my hand
on the bar. “You should be that person.”

She put her hands up, her eyes
widening as her entire body shook. “Whoa, buddy, I’m not marrying you. No
offense, but you’re not my type.”

“Well, thanks for that vote of
confidence,” I grumbled, but I wasn’t knocked down yet.

Now that this idea was in my head,
there was no getting it out. My
eyes lit up at the very thought of my marriage worries coming to an end.
Even if I couldn’t have the girl in front of me, if she could find someone like
her…

Leah smiled, leaning on the bar top,
her fingers tapping at the screen of the phone that lay beside my pint, the
little clicking sound driving me mad.

Fecking hell, it was like the woman
knew she could get me wound up. But I had to keep my eyes locked on hers,
letting her know I was dead serious.

“But I can help you find a girl. Just
give me your phone, and we’ll do some swiping.”

“Oh, no, I need more than that.” I
tapped my fingers against my whiskers, thinking of my next move. “If you’re
working here and staying at Fallon’s, something tells me you could use more,
too.”

She pulled back, wincing as if my
words just slapped her. “I don’t like where this is going.”

A new thrill shot through me as I
plopped my glass down, a wave of beer spilling over onto my hand, but I didn’t
care. This was it. My moment. “No, this is perfect.”

“What is?”

“You become my assistant. Like a
personal assistant. I need someone to help keep me in check with everything—Murphy’s
Pub and rugby, plus finding a wife.”

She shook her head slightly. “I
don’t know…”

“It would include the flat Fallon
used to rent next door. Since Jack and Connor both have virtual assistants,
it’s been empty.” I smiled, knowing exactly the thing that might get her to say
yes.

But still, I held my breath,
waiting for her response.

In for five seconds.

Out for five seconds.

Her eyes lit up, but she quickly
looked down as if hoping that I didn’t notice her excitement. “That might be an
option. We’d have to talk salary, and I’d have to crunch some numbers first. Plus,
I can’t just leave the pub without notice.”

 “Sounds like you aren’t saying no.”

“I’m not.”

I grinned, my heart beating fast as
elation took over, and I wanted to reach across the bar and hug the bird. Instead,
I slid my fingers on the wood grain of the bar and took the pint glass back in
my other hand. “Then I’ll have Fallon give you a tour of the flat tomorrow and
you can start work for me on Monday?”

“I’m not that easy, as you should
know after your many attempts to get in my panties last time you saw me.” She
smirked.

I shook my head, keeping my face
neutral so she’d know this wasn’t about getting in her knickers. “Ah, but now
I’m not trying any of that, mo gra. I
want you by my side as my assistant. The person who can finally help me get my
shite together. It’s brilliant.”

She raised an eyebrow. “How do you
figure?”

I leaned back, crossing my arms
over my chest, noticing her brief glance toward where my shirt pulled against
my biceps. Normally I’d take that as an opportunity to flex, make a move on the
bird, but things were different with Leah.

No, things would have to be
different with every girl, if I wanted a wife. If I wanted the company to stay
with the Murphys.

“You know my brothers, or what
Fallon has told you of them, at least, and you’re female. You also ran a
successful business back in America, aside from the shitey business partner
you’ve been talking about, so you know what you’re doing not just in the woman
department, but the Murphy-managing part as well,” I rambled, hoping anything I
said made sense.

Truth be told, I was having trouble
voicing much of anything.

My head and my heart had been at
odds since the will was read.

 “I’ll have to think about it,” she said
quickly, moving down the bar to take another order.

I wasn’t used to this many nos or attempts
to avoid the question, and it was fecking maddening.

“I’m going to message you my number
and the address to the flat, so you have both. In case you decide to accept,” I
called, which got us a few glances from the patrons.

She patted the bar top, saying
something to the people she was helping, then quickly moved back to me, her
eyes slightly narrowed as she leaned in.

We may have been in a dark pub, but
the woman still smelled like fresh laundry and a hint of some floral perfume.
If I weren’t afraid of what would happen to my heart and trousers, I might have
complimented her perfume. Instead, I just smiled.

“Think that’ll work for you, or you
just want to accept my offer now?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows.

Breathe in for five seconds.

“If I say yes and get you another
pint, will you promise to try not to be a shite the rest of the night?”

“Yes.”

She grabbed a pint glass, filling
it to the brim before setting it in front of me. “You get me something in
writing, emailed to Leah Harlowe at Umail, and I’ll look over it to see if we
can come to an agreement.”

I smiled, every tension in me now
exploding as relief washed over me, and I held up my glass. “I’ll have it to
you after this pint.”

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