Brandon: Bad Boy of Kinsale
Book Three of the O’Farrell Legacy
I am very happy to announce that the third story in the series is now available for purchase online at Kobo, Amazon, Draft2Digital and Smashwords, as well as Apple iBooks, Barnes & Noble, etc. This is Brandon’s story, a bad boy if ever there was one. But just wait until you read what he gets up to!
For Brandon O’Farrell, it’s all fun and sex until someone gets hurt. He just didn’t think it would be him. He loves all women, so how could he get hurt? But one night of playing with fire showed him how.
Aine O’Donahue soon finds a new man in her therapy group and feelings she has long since buried begin to shake her world. She sees something in the angry man before her, and he…well, it’s clear he’s smitten.
The secret of Aine’s past must remain hidden, and all men are off limits, especially those in her therapy group. Brandon discovers her secret, a move that will bind them forever, yet rip them both apart. As Brandon’s bad boy moniker threatens to surface, Aine’s faith in him falters, and now only a miracle can bring them together.
And of course, the little teaser to entice you:
Just when she thought they’d never find it, the bush ended and a deep swath of slightly rocky beach opened out before them. All around the far shores of the lake, there were only trees. It was dark now, although there was still light from the moon. If there had been campfires, they would have seen them, but there were none. They were alone.
Brandon got out of the truck and wasted no time getting naked. Aine was less brave, checking out the area beyond the front of the truck. “Should we leave the headlights on?” she asked timidly.
He easily dismissed her worries. “Nah. There’s the moon to see by. C’mon,” he waved with his arm.
She undressed, carefully putting her clothing on the front seat, and then gingerly made her way across the stones to feel the cold water seeping up to wet the bottoms of her feet. It was so cold!
“Are ye sure? It’s quite chilly,” she said, standing stiffly, ankle deep in the lake.
Brandon had waded in without pause and was up to his waist when he turned and looked at her. “Ah, no bother. Ye’ll get used to it. It’s only cold at first,” he said.
“Liar,” she yelled at him but it was hardly an insult when she was laughing.
“Come on,” he encouraged her. “It’s really not so bad.” He strode back to where she stood, him with a god’s body limned with moonlight, emerging from the lake like a child of Lir, a swan come to life, one with the water. He splashed water on his chest and arms and ran wet hands down his face. Droplets shone on his tanned skin, the muscles beneath outlined and defined in stark relief.
She stood transfixed as he approached her, not realizing what he was about until it was too late. She’d been focussing on his body, every inch of his maleness, when he suddenly scooped her up to carry her like a baby, then turned his back to the shore, walking determinedly into the water with her in his arms.
She squealed as the water touched her buttocks, gasped as he lowered her partway into the lake and then raised her up again. He was laughing, and she was trying her damnedest to climb higher on his body.
Slowly, he began to lower himself into the water and she struggled out of his grasp to flip around and sit on his shoulders. It worked until he swam out from under her, dropping her fully into the lake.
She stood up gasping, her wet hair plastered across her face, the tendrils like a veil, covering her eyes, temporarily blinding her. He chose that moment to dive and come up between her legs, scaring her, making her think for a moment that some giant fish was attacking her.
Again a squeal, followed by laughter and an unrepentant Brandon standing before her. They were nearly chest deep as he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply.