The Mystery of the Claddagh Rings

ISBN Digital: 978-1-62830-526-5
Page Count: 69
Word Count: 17775
Rating: Sensual

Twelve Brides of Christmas

Worried about her family, Fiona returns home to find her mother in danger when the Claddagh rings resurface along with the hit men searching for them. Approached by an FBI agent who offers to protect her in exchange for the rings, she must decide—trust a mysterious stranger who is not all he seems. Or go it alone and lose everything…maybe even her life.

Under pressure to retrieve the rings, Agent O’Shea is willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done, even if it means putting Fiona in the crossfire. He never imagines her strength and spirit will touch his heart, leaving him with a choice—give in to his desire for her or ignore the danger she's in to clear his father's name.

As they join forces to beat the odds, will he be able to keep her safe…or will he surrender to the legacy of the Claddagh rings and let her go?


Poppy was on top of the world on a good day. On a bad day…well, Fin didn’t like to think about those. Too many childhood memories steeped in nightmarish scenes of booze, drugs, and abusive men. Which was the reason Fin cancelled her ski trip to Whistler. Poppy was back in residence for the holidays and hadn’t come alone. Soon-to-be-husband number five stood waiting in the wings for a Christmas wedding. The knowledge weighed heavy on Fin’s heart.

She braked to a stop in the driveway and hopped out of her SUV. Enjoying a quiet moment before facing her mother, she inhaled the ocean’s scent and watched gunmetal waves roll into shore. A dusting of snow covered sand dunes and sea grass, beach heather poking through the drifts. Frozen sunflowers and blue hyacinths drooped along white picket fences lining the drive. They looked forlorn and yet beautiful, very much like Poppy herself.

Fin heard a door open and close behind her. She turned to see a man walking down the steps. Hands deep in his pockets, she thought it amazing he didn’t keel over in the biting wind without a jacket. But no, he obviously had enough meat on his bones not to notice the chill. She eyed him, curious about her future stepfather.

He was a man any red-blooded woman would notice in a crowd—well over six-feet tall with an athletic build. Eyes as green as the hills of Ireland offset hard, striking features. She guessed his age to be late twenties to early thirties. For heaven’s sake, her mother had really done it this time. Talk about robbing the cradle.

His gaze took her in from head to toe, the sardonic tilt of his mouth speaking volumes. He’d been expecting a younger version of her mother. Instead, he got tattered jeans and a windblown mane of sable hair—not tight, leather pants and blond, rasta braids extending to her butt. Even her cornflower blue eyes were different than her mother’s mysterious brown ones. Poppy was also tall and curvy whereas Fin was shorter and what she liked to call streamlined, although some would argue she was built like a boy.

“You’re on private property.” Her future daddy’s words held bite, his muscled arms crossing an impressive chest in order to intimidate. “If you’re hoping for Poppy’s autograph, contact her publicist and maybe he’ll send you one. Now leave before I call the cops.”

Fin laughed. Just couldn’t help herself. This one’s a real winner. “Hmm, not even married yet and you’re already barking orders.” She locked the CR-V, and taking a step forward, got in his face. “Get out of my way.”

“Damn. I hate dealing with stalkers before my morning coffee.”

Copyright © 2017 The Wild Rose Press, Inc.