Reckless Page 5

  “Siobhan?” My name spoken softly and like a question, which has me wiping my eyes quickly. Two young men—brothers—are standing in the yard. Both are not farmers, and they look out of place in my yard. Like when city slickers arrive and stumble upon our house, either looking to buy it or looking for directions.

  The one who is closer has a soft smile on his face. His black suit fits him snuggly. His freshly shaven face gives him that city slick feel. Blond hair brushed to the side finishes off the look.

  My eyes move to the brother who stands a few paces back. He doesn’t wear black. His jeans and white t-shirt is finished off with a black suit jacket. His wild beard and wild blue eyes do funny things to my stomach. They are both attractive, what an odd thing to think of when my father was laid out a few feet away.

  “Yes, I’m Siobhan,” I finally answer on an exhale.

  “Darragh O’Reagan. Knew your father. He was mighty.” The closest one says, and I take his large, and surprisingly soft, outstretched hand.

  “Thank you.” I feel he is smiling too hard, and the smell of alcohol emitting off him has my eyes flickering to his brother.

  “Sorry for your loss.” His voice is deep, and I find myself nodding at him. Darragh still holds my hand, my eyes snapping back to him. “We wanted to know if you had a minute for a chat.”

  It is my father’s wake. But sure why not?

  “What about?” I remove my hand from his and take a step sideways just to put a bit of space between us. Folding my arms across my chest doesn’t do anything to fight off the cold biting into me now.

  “We want to buy your land.”

  Anger that I didn’t expect ripples through me. I unfold my arms and refold them while shifting on my feet I look at both brothers; waiting for what? I’m unsure. Darragh is still smiling while the other is looking around him, like he wants to find somewhere to hide. The fact that he reacts like that makes me like him a small bit more, yet these two brothers have arrived to my father’s funeral to buy stupid land. I push down my anger not wanting to create a stir. “I’m not sure what I’m doing with it.” There is a time and place for everything, and this isn’t either.

  “Thank you for coming,” I add while moving past both men before the second one with the beard stops me with his words.

  “Your father was a good man.” I look at him now. Really look at him, because he sounds so sincere, so honest.

  “Was he?” I find myself questioning. I am sick of hearing what a good man he was. I want to scream that I don’t know the man that was left after my mother died and took him with her. Leaving a shell. Well, not a shell, apparently. Everyone else seems to think he was great.

  His brows pull down and I don’t blame him, he is a stranger, and he doesn’t need to know about our family problems. “Sorry, yeah he was.” I leave quickly and go back into the house. I don’t go to the sitting room that my father is laid out in. Instead, I make my way into the kitchen that also holds a group of farmers eating sandwiches and drinking tea. A big pot of stew sits on the stove. The kitchen is warm and cozy after the cold outside. I settle into an armchair that faces the window and let the room warm me up.

  “Siobhan, sweetheart, will you have a bowl of stew?” I smile now at Teresa. She is a neighbor. Our home is down what is known as the black lane. It sits at the end by itself. Teresa is the closest, and her house is across the road from the lane. I don’t know her, but when I got back, she was there taking over, and I didn’t mind.

  Everyone in the area is here to help, united in their love for my father. Teresa wears a woolly cream Aran jumper and has red rosy cheeks. Sleeves rolled up to her elbows couldn’t cool her down. That wool is thick; I used to own a few of them. Once I moved to Dublin, I left it all behind. Just like the life I knew before.

  Sandie settles at my feet, another thing I am trying to adjust to. She is my father’s sheepdog, one he had gotten after I’d left. She follows me around like she knows I am her owner's daughter. I wasn’t exactly an animal lover, and I don’t want to get attached. I couldn’t take a sheepdog back to my apartment in Dublin.

  “I’m fine, Teresa,” I tell her. My stomach grumbles, but the thought of eating makes my mouth water.

  “Just a small bowl.” She had kind grey eyes that smile, even when her lips don’t. “A small one then,” I tell her, and her smile spreads fast across her face.

  “A bowl over here wouldn’t go astray,” Peter speaks up from the group of farmers, and a few of them follow suit. Teresa is quick to dish out bowls of stew and smiles as they start to dig in. Compliments on the stew are passed around the kitchen making Teresa’s face redden and her laughter deepen, and it was in that moment that I find this sense of peace. In my family’s kitchen surrounded by strangers, with a dog I don’t own at my feet. The heat of the bowl is warming my hands, but the love of these people is going deeper.

  Then silence descends on the room, and the shift is immediate. I look up to find the brothers standing in my doorway.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I’m very lucky to have such amazing readers and Beta Readers. I want to thank the following Beta Readers who worked with me on this book.

  Alpha Readers

  Sandra Curtin

  Emmaline Pearce

  Beta Readers

  Sherry Fram

  Patti Shaw

  Sharon Linkletter

  CLAIMING AMBER

  Emmett Harrington is a far cry from a knight in shining armor. He’s more like the prince of the criminal underworld. His armor a 9mm pistol.

  On the day I get arrested, I ring my best friend to bail me out. Instead, she sends her brother, Emmett Harrington. A guy I had never met before.

  So, a few things about me. I like to party. Nothing wrong with that. I have no filter. That can get me into trouble at times, but I prefer honesty any day. I think that’s what Emmett likes about me, why he won’t let me go. Before I realize it, I’m kept hostage at one of his mansions, and I have been locked up in one of his hotels.

  Turns out, he‘s pissed off a lot of people. He’s cold and unsociable, but underneath the glinting, dangerous surface, there’s something I’m drawn to. I’m intrigued.

  Intrigued enough to throw caution to the wind and follow him down a very dangerous path. One I hope I come back from.

  If you like Mafia Style Romances, then Claiming Amber will feed your addiction for a romance with lots of drama.

  Do you want to read more about Emmett & Amber?

  Claiming Amber (A Broken Heart Series Part Two)

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Michael O’Reagan

  Chapter Two

  Margret Hegarty

  Chapter Three

  Michael O’Reagan

  Chapter Four

  Margret Hegarty

  Chapter Five

  Michael O’Reagan

  Chapter Six

  Michael O’Reagan

  Chapter Seven

  Margret Hegarty

  Chapter Eight

  Michael O’Reagan

  Chapter Nine

  Margret Hegarty

  Chapter Ten

  Michael O’Reagan

  Chapter Eleven

  Michael O’Reagan

  Chapter Twelve

  Margret O’Reagan

  About The Author

  .

  Enjoy this book? You can make a big difference

  Reviews are the most powerful tools in my arsenal when it comes to getting attention for my books. Much as I’d like to, I don’t have the financial muscle of a New York publisher.

  (Not yet, anyway.)

  But I do have something much more powerful and effective than that, and it’s something that those publishers would kill to get their hands on.

  A committed and loyal bunch of readers.

  Honest reviews of my book help bring them to the attention of other readers.

  So if
you’ve enjoyed this book I would be very grateful if you could spend just five minutes leaving a review.

  Thank you very much!

  Reckless Copyright © 2019 by VI CARTER.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Edition: September 2019

  About The Author

  When Vi Carter isn't writing contemporary romance books, you can find her reading her favorite authors, baking, taking photos, or watching Netflix.

  Married with one child, Vi divides her time between motherhood and all the other hats she wears as an Author.

  Vi's main goal is to give readers the same emotional ride that she got from reading Colleen Hoover and Jennifer L. Armentrout books.

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