LATEST NEWS & UPDATE:

Howdy, y'all!

My son is officially starting back to school on Monday, in a new school, new town (it's secondary/high school), so he's 'all grown up' and my nerves are SHOT. He's had a couple half-days here and there over the last week or so, but that's not the same, right?

This is sticking my kid on a train every morning and hoping I've taught him well enough, that my parenting has been enough to ready him for this major transition in his life. I try to instill 'don't be a dick,' and 'in all things choose kindness,' but we all know how hard that can be in the day to day. Fingers crossed it all goes well for both him, and my little mama self who will eagerly be awaiting the doorbell going at 4.15pm!

Eeeek!

In equally terrifying news, Tracie and I have a release in just one week. One. Week. This project that has taken two years from conceptualising to publishing is finally ready to take the leap from the nest and go out into the big, bad, book world all by itself!

You guys, I am so bloody excited I could burst. This book was so much fun to write, and I think once you get your hands on it, you'll agree!

I've included a chapter teaser at the end of this newsletter. I know some of you don't like to read it, so I've tucked it out of the way - you're going to have to scroll a bit to find it but trust me, you're going to want to get your teeth into it.

In case you missed it, here's the blurb:

The head of the Irish mafia killed my family. Then made me his wife.

Patrick Mahoney erased my bloodline in one brutal night. His answer to my father’s betrayal?

Total annihilation.

But he missed one.

Me.

Instead of finishing the job, he’s claimed me—bound me to him with a ring instead of a

bullet.

Now I’m trapped in a marriage forged in blood and vengeance with my family’s executioner.

For him, it’s strategy, a twisted merger of violence and power. For me, it’s survival.

But grief hasn’t made me meek—it’s made me dangerous. I fight him at every turn—his

cruelty with defiance, his dominance with rebellion.

Yet the more time we spend together, the more our mutual hatred warps into something far

more terrifying.

Because what started with murder and revenge…

Might just end in love.

Preorder the eBook now: https://readerlinks.com/l/4927635

Keep reading for a teaser of Stolen Rival!

Until next time, happy reading!!

Have you joined my reader group yet? If not, then head over to: Margaritas, Men and Mischief with Lasairiona. As the name suggests, it's a place for my readers to chat about all things romance - with a healthy dose of sarcasm, sharp wit, conversations comprised entirely of GIFs, sneak peeks, giveaways and a plethora of memes. It's one of my absolute favorite places on the internet and I'm really enjoying getting to know readers that bit better over there. Don't be shy - we don't bite... much! Come on over!

PREORDERS:

Hockey Halloween Charity Anthology: https://books2read.com/hockeyhalloween

Stolen Rival: https://readerlinks.com/l/4927635

The Fly Half & the Fling: https://books2read.com/flyhalf

The Rival Bet: https://books2read.com/therivalbet

SNEAK PEEK

Chapter 1

Patrick

The thirteenth-century church is decked out with flowers sprayed gold and black, the pews crammed with eager guests thrilled to be invited to the wedding of the decade. A union between the Mahoneys and the O’Sullivans will be talked about for years to come.

My marriage to Niamh isn’t a love match, for either of us.

It’s a way to band together against our enemies both home and abroad, to create an impenetrable force that will rule this region and send those who’d attempt to encroach on our territory scuttling back to their turf.

While I’m not marrying my soulmate—that never happens in our circles—there are some benefits to this alliance outside the business; I’ll have a warm bed to come home to, a wet pussy to fuck, and a mother for my children.

Liam, one of my younger brothers and my best man, stands beside me in a suit tailored to fit his broad frame. The vicious scar he received eight years ago in a deal gone wrong runs from his temple to his mouth, but even that doesn’t detract from his good looks. What it does is gives him a menacing air that makes his enemies think twice before engaging him. My brother is vicious.

We all are.

It’s how we were raised. To be resilient, fearsome, ruthless. Just as well, really. Our parents were taken from us when I was twenty, killed by a drunk driver. An event that thrust me into heading up the family business and raising my two younger brothers long before I was ready.

A wave of guilt rolls through me. Fifteen years is a lifetime, yet my part in their deaths isn’t any easier to bear now than it was then. If it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have been on that road. Made me grow up fucking fast, that’s for sure. Just as well. None of us would be here if I hadn’t. Weakness equals certain death in our circles.

Liam murmurs a question about me being ready, and I nod. The organist begins to play, and the congregation rises to their feet. My fiancée makes her way toward me, dressed in the finest ivory silk. Her proud father glances at her with every other step, and her mother sits on the left-hand side of the church with tears already ruining her carefully applied makeup. Her brother makes eye contact with me, and an understanding passes between us. A silent promise to respect and look after his sister, even if I don’t love her.

It’s a request I readily accede to.

Securing the hard-fought turf in Ireland that my father carved out more than thirty years ago is my top priority, one I undertake with pride. The Mahoneys and the O’Sullivans will make a formidable union, an impenetrable force. Together, we will render the McCarthys weak and ripe for takeover.

For too long, that misogynistic prick, Brendan McCarthy, has ruled this island, and he’s way past his due date. Once my organization doubles in size, he’ll be the minority player, and will either bend the fucking knee, or die. His choice.

Niamh appears more nervous with each step she takes in my direction, her knuckles white as she clings to her father’s arm. I smile in encouragement, and when her eyes meet mine, her shoulders relax.

The sound of a bullet whizzing past my left ear sends me to the ground. The church erupts into chaos. Snatching my weapon from its holster, I tuck and roll. A volley of gunfire echoes off the stone walls. Guests dressed in their finery dive to the floor, taking cover behind the flimsy wooden pews.

I empty a magazine, taking out three men with headshots. Reloading, I fire off more rounds. Darragh, the youngest of the three of us, has a smear of blood across his cheek. I’ve no idea if it’s his blood or someone else’s, and I don’t have time to check. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself anyway.

“Fuck!” Liam curses from somewhere behind me. He emits a roar followed by more cursing.

“You hit?” I take out another masked gunman with two to the belly.

“Flesh wound. I’m good.”

Silence falls as I empty my second magazine. I pat myself down. I’m out. A high-pitched whistling rings in my ears, and I shake my head to dispel it. Bodies are scattered across the floor, most unmoving save for one or two groaning. My first thought is for my brothers. I search behind me, relief coursing through my veins as I lay eyes on them. They’re okay. They’re okay.

I scan the pews, looking for my best friend, Cillian, the only other non-family member invited that I actually give a shit about. He sticks his thumb in the air, although I can tell he’s shaken up. That’s nothing compared to his wife, Molly, who’s clutching her husband, her skin pale, her face slack with disbelief. It’s unsurprising. They’re not a part of this world. Cillian is a trauma surgeon and Molly, a cardiac specialist.

Thank fuck they left their baby at home with a sitter.

“What the fuck?” Liam grinds out.

Ignoring him, I holster my weapon and stumble up the aisle. Niamh lies beside her dead father; her hand still tucked in the crook of his elbow. A bubbling sound comes from her chest, her features twisted in pain. She doesn’t have long. Splashes of red stain her ivory gown, the contrast as grim as the events that have taken place here today.

I crouch beside her, stroking a few blonde strands off her forehead. Cillian drops to his knees beside me, triaging my dying fiancée. Even though it’s pointless, I don’t stop him. I may not be a doctor, but I’ve seen enough death in my life to know when a person is past saving.

“Patrick.” Her strained voice is barely audible.

I lean forward, putting my ear next to her mouth. “Yes, my love?”

“I’m sorry.” She’s gone before I can tell her she’s got nothing to be sorry for. As I stare into her lifeless eyes, a fire explodes within me, one born of a vengeance, of a vicious need to maim and kill. To destroy.

And I will.

Every last motherfucking one of them.

Cillian and Molly inspect the injured and wounded. By the time they’re done, seventeen people have lost their lives, including Niamh’s brother and mother. An entire family wiped out in less than sixty seconds. A family I’d intended to merge with mine. A family who, for all intents and purposes, became mine the second I agreed to marry Niamh—a twenty-year-old woman with her entire life ahead of her.

The five assailants who attacked us are also dead. I rip off their balaclavas, recognition sending a fiery blast of fury through my veins. These men all work for the McCarthys.

I tear a strip off my shirt and wrap it around Liam’s arm. Sirens sound in the distance. The Garda will be here soon.

“We need to move,” I bark at my brothers. “Cillian, Molly, wait here until I’ve checked it’s safe.”

Darragh hands me a magazine, and I reload. The three of us make our way to the church entrance and pause, weapons ready. More assassins could be waiting outside. I scan the area. Nothing but rolling green fields and hedgerows springing to life after a harsh winter. Crows circle overhead, squawking.

“Looks clear,” Darragh says.

I’m inclined to agree, but there are no guarantees. Still, we can’t stay here. I glance behind me, beckoning to my best friend.

“Cillian, get Molly out of here. Now!”

He nods, arm braced around his wife’s waist as they stumble down the aisle I should have traveled with my new bride. Instead, I’m stepping over dead bodies and planning a massacre of my own.

Once they’re safely in their car and his brake lights disappear down the lane, I jerk my head.

“Let’s go.” We sprint to my bulletproof SUV and climb inside. There’s no further gunfire, no sign of anyone else hiding in the bushes.

I floor the accelerator, kicking up stones and gravel as I leave the church behind. Guessing which route the Garda will probably take, I turn onto the first road on the right. We make our way back to the house on the outskirts of Dublin via country roads, and we’re not followed or stopped.

As soon as we set foot through the front door and close it behind us, I turn to my brothers. “This is the McCarthys doing.”

“What do you want to do?” Darragh asks. “Wait, or hit them now?”

“We hit them now,” I say. “The longer we leave it, the more time they’ll have to prepare. With the O’Sullivans gone, they’ll be emboldened.”

Nightfall takes too fucking long to come, but at least the enforced delay allows me time to assemble a team and brief them. As the clock strikes midnight, we line up in front of the McCarthy’s house around five miles from our own. It’s a striking place befitting that of a boss. Soon-to-be former boss, our last true rival, and one I intend to eliminate.

I peer through the sights on my AK-47. The place is in darkness, but that means nothing. They’ll be waiting. I scope out the estate for the guards I know are there.

“Four on the roof, six at ground level,” I murmur. “There’ll be more. Watch your six.”

“What’s the endgame?” Liam asks.

“Kill them,” I snarl, my blood a river of hate. “Kill them all.”

Preorder Stolen Rival now: https://readerlinks.com/l/4927635