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Kiss My Blarney Stone: War Games (Part 1 of a 3 Part Serial)
Kiss My Blarney Stone: War Games (Part 1 of a 3 Part Serial)
Kiss My Blarney Stone: War Games (Part 1 of a 3 Part Serial)
Ebook68 pages55 minutes

Kiss My Blarney Stone: War Games (Part 1 of a 3 Part Serial)

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Romantic comedy with an Irish lilt (part 1 of a 3-part serial)... The year is 1975. The place is Ramhaillim Manor, a whimsical old mansion (which may or may not be haunted) on the west coast of Ireland. The girl is Sharon O’Shaughnessy, an Irish-American spitfire who has just inherited Ramhaillim from her Great-Aunt Deirdre – or half of it anyway, as Sharon discovers when she reaches Ireland and meets Rory Egan, the handsome Irishman who has inherited the other half of the house. This could be a good thing, because Sharon loves horses, and Rory is a horse breeder. Except Rory is also full of blarney, Sharon is quite sure. He’s an incorrigible rascal, and a smart girl shouldn’t believe a word he says. Sharon, of course, is a smart girl. You’ll never find her falling under the man’s roguish spell. Or will you?

LanguageEnglish
PublisherMimi Riser
Release dateDec 2, 2014
ISBN9781311434142
Kiss My Blarney Stone: War Games (Part 1 of a 3 Part Serial)
Author

Mimi Riser

Mimi Riser is a longtime author of fiction and nonfiction, including several series and spanning a variety of genres (with flavors ranging from sweet to spicy hot). Her books celebrate the upbeat, the offbeat, and “beating the odds.” She began life in the urban northeast, but now resides in the rural southwest with her best friend & husband Rob.

Read more from Mimi Riser

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    Book preview

    Kiss My Blarney Stone - Mimi Riser

    <><><>

    KISS MY BLARNEY STONE

    Part 1:

    War Games

    MIMI RISER

    www.mimiriser.com

    Kiss My Blarney Stone is now released as a serial, which means it has been divided into separate parts that are offered individually. This is the first of three parts.

    Serial Copyright 2014 by Mimi Riser

    All rights reserved.

    <><><>

    Smashwords Edition, Smashwords License Statement: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    [Disclaimer: This novel is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.]

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    Kiss My Blarney Stone

    Prologue

    A grand old gal, Kathleen Kelly O’Shaughnessy. Everyone said so. Small of stature she was, but huge of heart. An Irish leprechaun—well, Irish anyway—Celtic to the core, with a smile for all and a generous endowment of good-natured blarney.

    She’d immigrated to the States with Danny O’Shaughnessy, the love of her life and a champion racehorse trainer. Together they’d traveled the length and breadth of the country. After his death Kathleen had continued her husband’s business, moving from job to job, first with her and Danny’s son, then with a fairy-faced waif in tow. Her orphaned granddaughter, Sharon—gold curls and blue-gray eyes like the magical mists of Galway—her sunshine and her shadow. The girl followed her everywhere, and Kathleen adored her.

    But children needed a stable home, didn’t she know, not an endless round of stables. Kathleen had learned that lesson the hard way—bitter hard—with Sharon’s father, God rest his soul. He’d run too free, her wild boy, run into a bad marriage that drove him to a bad end. Her fault, her mistake, but one she’d never make again. She’d failed her son, but she’d not fail his daughter.

    The year Sharon turned fourteen Kathleen bet her life’s savings on one big race, and won enough to retire on. Enough to keep Sharon safe until she could see her wed, and happily so, like the girl’s grandparents had been—and her luckless parents hadn’t. That pair had never understood happiness at all. Kathleen hoped she’d taught Sharon better. She certainly knew the sort of man she wanted for her—knew the very man, in fact.

    The trick would be arranging the matter.

    To that end—without a hint to Sharon, who never guessed the plan and would’ve been mortified if she had—Kathleen sent a letter and photograph to Ireland, proposing a proposal, so to speak. A bold move, for the one she wrote to was none other than Deirdre Kelly Egan herself, the grandmother of the young man in question—grandmother by marriage at least, if not by blood—and the twin sister Kathleen had left behind decades ago.

    They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, and hadn’t spoken since. Blame Danny O’Shaughnessy, the darling devil, for choosing one twin over the other. Deirdre felt Kathleen had stolen her beau. But since she’d ended up with a good husband regardless, a handsome widower with a fine little boy, surely now she could let bygones be bygones.

    Or not.

    Over my dead body! Deirdre wrote back.

    And wouldn’t you know that’s exactly what happened?

    Still, it all worked out. Eventually. Some called it ironic the way things went. Others dubbed it divine destiny. But perhaps it was just the luck of the Irish rising to the fore—with a bit of blarney behind it, of course, doing the shoving.

    Chapter 1

    Boston, 1975…

    How could you have an aunt when neither of your parents had siblings?

    Oliver Winthrop III made it sound like an accusation. He was in one of those moods. Were all law students so sulky and serious? Sharon met his reproachful stare with a shrug. She was busy, and he was, at the moment, in her way.

    "I thought I told you Aunt Deirdre was my great-aunt—my grandmother’s twin sister. She paused in the middle of folding a sweater, her head cocked to one side. You know, I’d never even met Aunt Deirdre, never even seen a picture of her. Gran didn’t talk about her much. Isn’t

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