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I wish I could say these are all St Patrick's Day themed stories but, unfortunately it's a holiday that isn't often showcased. If you know of any in the LGBTQ+ genre please feel free to share the titles in the comment section below or if you found yourself here through my Facebook shares, feel free to comment there too. So, onto St. Patrick's Day 2022, below you'll find 5 tales with strong Irish connections and/or Ireland settings. As with all my holiday-themed posts, if the book links don't currently work, check the author's website and/or social media to find the availability.
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Shamrock Spiced Omega by Susi Hawke
Summary:Hollydale Omegas #6
"I know you're not the kind of omega who needs an alpha to protect him. You’re strong enough on your own. That's why you're my bromega... a bro who happens to be an omega that I would give anything for... "
Greg may be an omega, but he doesn't let that define him. Aside from his almost compulsive need to clean, the most important thing to him is his job as the long-time bartender at The Big O. Greg is far from a delicate omega. In fact, he’s the same size as his best friend - an alpha who he always falls back into bed with when they’re between relationships.
Braden is a casual kind of alpha bro. He spends his time - and makes his money - playing video games. A slacker who never leaves the house, let alone bothers with unnecessary details like getting dressed, Braden is happy to settle into a non-relationship agreement with his bestie. It’s not like they’re gonna do anything silly like fall in love anyway - they’re just bros being bros.
When Greg saves the life of a quirky Irishman, he’s given an unexpected boon - his lifelong infertility is miraculously cured and he finds himself pregnant. Too bad nobody gave him the heads up that this was even a possibility.
Return to Hollydale for a friends to lovers tale of two guys who are perfect for each other, if they can just open their hearts and risk their friendship by taking a chance on love.
This is the sixth book of The Hollydale Omegas series. This book is about 27k and most likely contains an HEA. 18+ readers only please! And yes, this book contains M/PREG, adults adulting in sexy grown-up ways, and way more than an occasional use of potty mouth language.
RATING:
Summary:
Love at Blind Date #2
St. Patrick’s Day is for many things, but a blind date isn’t one of them…
Omega Richard is starting his first job after finishing his residency, and he’s determined to be the best doctor the clinic has ever had with the hopes of being given his own family practice. That means no more falling in and out of love with every man he dates. It means no dates. Work is his first priority. Full stop.
Even if he keeps running into an alpha who makes his heart pitter patter.
Even if each offer by his coworker to set him up is enticing.
Even if the loneliness is setting in.
Alpha Harry loves his job as a lawyer, but he wants more in life, a family and two-point-five kids. His uncle wants the same for him, constantly trying to set him up with the new eligible doctor at his work. Harry is reluctant. He’s already met an omega who caught his eye and captured his attention—twice. Maybe the next time he might say yes to that date.
Besides, who wants to be set up by their uncle?
Okay, maybe St. Patrick’s Day is for blind dates…
When Harry and Richard arrive for their date, they are expecting it to be a disaster. Who goes to a place serving green beer as a sign of romance anyways? Neither even suspects that their blind date would be the one who has already wormed their way into the other’s heart. If only they were both on the same page about where this date should lead.
Blind Date for St. Patrick's is a super sweet with knotty heat non-shifter M/M Mpreg Romance featuring a doctor working hard to make a place for himself, an alpha who knows what he wants and isn’t willing to settle, a nosy old man who won’t take no for an answer, a dog that wins your heart and might be just a tad bit spoiled, a fake relationship that somehow turns real, a groomzilla you may or may not want to smack, an unexpected pregnancy, a fear of garden gnomes, and all the sweetness and humor you expect from Lorelei M. Hart and Colbie Dunbar. It is the second book in a series of standalones featuring blind dates, true love, and adorable babies.
Summary:
Mountain Springs Omegas #4
Sean just wanted to get rid of his nausea before finals, but when the doctor tells him he's pregnant his whole world changes.
Sean doesn't remember the party that led to his baby, but he knows that it wasn't his choice. He'd long before decided to wait until the right alpha came along, and learning of his pregnancy gave him the determination to fight back. It would be easier though if his baby wasn't making him knot-crazy.
Russell needs more experience as a lawyer, but the gorgeous, pregnant, omega tests all his instincts.
Russell is ready for a break after a case with a trying client, but he's not one to turn down a chance to work on a major case. But when he sees the gorgeous omega, and learns what happened to him, his alpha side rages. All he wants is to ptotect the handsome man, and his baby. Can he keep his alpha side in check when all he wants to do is enact revenge on behalf of the man his instincts claim is his?
Recipe for Romance:
One Determined Omega
One Protective Alpha
An unplanned baby
An impending lawsuit
A field of spring clover
Clover Kisses for the Omega is a 13K word , non-shifter, M/M, Mpreg romance, featuring an omega determined to do whtat's right for himself and his baby, an alpha determined to protect them both, some knotty fun, and a bit of luck.
Trigger warning: Sexual assault is a background topic, though not graphically discussed
Summary:
Welcome to Morningwood #4
Dusty’s the town clown. Joseph is the uptight Sheriff. Sparks fly when these opposites collide.
Sheriff Joseph has kept a controlled eye on the quiet shifter community of Morningwood. As an alpha lion, he watches his town like he would his pride. Most days are peaceful, and that’s how he likes it. So, when Clydesdale shifter—and budding bad boy—Dusty starts pulling pranks, Joseph is quick to shut down his antics. Except, with each event, it becomes clear to Joseph that Dusty might be something more than just a thorn in his side.
Though they are in college, Dusty’s friends have all begun finding their mates, leaving him bored and lonely. Instead of sowing his wild oats, he’s left alone with his worries. His whole life he’s assumed he was an alpha, had lied to his friends claiming he was, but really, he doesn’t know. And won’t until he can find someone to be his first. Not so easy in a small, secluded town. He knows who he wishes would volunteer—his crush on the sheriff has grown to embarrassing proportions. Sheriff Joseph has all the emotions of a statue, and there is nothing Dusty would love more than to crack that cool facade. If only the Sheriff felt the same way.
When a new shifter comes to town, sniffing around Dusty and offering him a wild, carefree life, Joseph can’t ignore his attraction. He won’t let his fear of the town finding out, or Dusty’s age to dissuade him. He has to claim his mate or lose him forever. But can someone like him be the alpha Dusty needs?
Sack of Gold is the fourth book in the Welcome to Morningwood Omegaverse series and can be read as a standalone. It’s a steamy, fun romp that may or may not include sexy leprechauns. Hint: It definitely does.
Double Dutch Courage by Helena Stone
Summary:
Ronan Collins has spent most of his life in Dublin hiding who he really is. Coming out would hurt his mother, and Ronan isn’t going to be the second gay man to do that. When he receives news the father he has never known has died, leaving him both a house and a business in Amsterdam, he jumps on the opportunity to get to know the man who fathered him and to discover what he’s been denying himself for years.
Lucas Brandt thought he had it all when Paul Kelly offered him a job and rooms to live in. With Paul deceased he fears he may be about to lose both. He didn’t even know Paul had a son, and now this stranger is on his way from Dublin to pull the rug out from under Lucas’s feet.
The two men don’t expect to like each other, never mind feel attraction. With numerous reasons why hooking up would be a bad idea, why does giving in feel so much better? And is Ronan’s back story really as he’s always imagined it to be?
Sudden changes require great bravery. Can both men find the courage to be true to themselves and each other?
Original Review June 2018:
Ronan Collins has never known his father, he's only known what his mother has told him so when he discovers that his father has died and left him his business and home, Ronan is completely shocked but jumps at the chance to go to Amsterdam and discover what he can. Lucas Brandt was lucky to be mentored by Paul Kelly, not only did Paul give him a job but a place to live too but now that Paul has died, Lucas finds his future in the hands of an unknown son. When these two meet, can Ronan's need to know who his dad was coincide with Lucas' need to know where he stands mesh? Will they discover more than what they are looking for?
Double Dutch Courage is just delightful! Ronan and Lucas are absolutely adorable both as individuals and as a pair. There are so many routes the author could have taken, no doubt they all would have made for a good story but the journey Helena Stone takes these two men on is near picture perfect. I just loved how Ronan is able to finally be himself, even if reluctantly, with Lucas' blend of friendship, co-worker, and tour guide. His choice isn't easy having spent his whole life denying that part of himself in fear of hurting his mother but sometimes we need to search our past before we can find our future.
I was prepared to really hate Ronan's mother especially after she announced she was coming to Amsterdam for a visit. Now I won't give any particulars in regard to her stay but I will say that this was one of those points I mentioned where the author could have taken many possibile paths but the one Miss Stone takes is definitely the better one. If you are looking for proof that communication with secondary characters are important than this is a prime example.
Drama doesn't have to mean angst and turmoil, it can be simple every day misunderstandings, miscommunications, or even just discovery which is exactly what Double Dutch Courage is about: discovering the past, discovering the future, discovering yourself, and the journey connecting these findings. Helena Stone filled the covers with sweet romance, intense connections, beautiful scenery, and just the right amount of heat to bring you a very entertaining, dramatic yet fun romance.
RATING:
Ronan Collins has never known his father, he's only known what his mother has told him so when he discovers that his father has died and left him his business and home, Ronan is completely shocked but jumps at the chance to go to Amsterdam and discover what he can. Lucas Brandt was lucky to be mentored by Paul Kelly, not only did Paul give him a job but a place to live too but now that Paul has died, Lucas finds his future in the hands of an unknown son. When these two meet, can Ronan's need to know who his dad was coincide with Lucas' need to know where he stands mesh? Will they discover more than what they are looking for?
Double Dutch Courage is just delightful! Ronan and Lucas are absolutely adorable both as individuals and as a pair. There are so many routes the author could have taken, no doubt they all would have made for a good story but the journey Helena Stone takes these two men on is near picture perfect. I just loved how Ronan is able to finally be himself, even if reluctantly, with Lucas' blend of friendship, co-worker, and tour guide. His choice isn't easy having spent his whole life denying that part of himself in fear of hurting his mother but sometimes we need to search our past before we can find our future.
I was prepared to really hate Ronan's mother especially after she announced she was coming to Amsterdam for a visit. Now I won't give any particulars in regard to her stay but I will say that this was one of those points I mentioned where the author could have taken many possibile paths but the one Miss Stone takes is definitely the better one. If you are looking for proof that communication with secondary characters are important than this is a prime example.
Drama doesn't have to mean angst and turmoil, it can be simple every day misunderstandings, miscommunications, or even just discovery which is exactly what Double Dutch Courage is about: discovering the past, discovering the future, discovering yourself, and the journey connecting these findings. Helena Stone filled the covers with sweet romance, intense connections, beautiful scenery, and just the right amount of heat to bring you a very entertaining, dramatic yet fun romance.
RATING:
Shamrock Spiced Omega by Susi Hawke
Chapter 1
Greg
“Greg! Can I get another over here?”
I rolled my head from side to side, willing my tight shoulders to loosen as I nodded to the guy at the end of the bar. Ned? Fred? Ted? I knew it was one of the -ed names anyway... I poured him one of today’s special, dyed green beer, and slid it down the counter into his waiting hand before moving on to the big order I’d yet to fill.
I fucking hated days like this one. Not only was it Saint Patrick’s Day, the busiest beer-drinking day of the year around here, but the new kid had done a no-show. Not only was I now short a bar back, I didn’t even have time to call the owner and beg him to call someone in. I’d been hustling from the minute the doors opened today.
The next few days flew by. Or was it hours? Maybe minutes... I had no clue at this point. All I knew was I looked up when Hank the Tank brought out a freshly washed load of glasses and realized there was nobody waiting for a drink. Finally.
As badly as I wanted to sit down for a quick fiver, instead, I busily began wiping down the sticky counters. The Tank and I worked companionably for a bit. The large, muscular alpha stood quietly putting up glassware while I cleaned. Once the counters were set, I began refilling the peanuts.
“Tough day, Greggo?” When Tank broke the silence, I just about jumped out of my skin.
“Let’s just say the luck o’ the Irish isn’t with me today,” I sighed. “Do we know where the fuck Larry is today? The shithead didn’t show for his shift, and I’m the one paying the price.”
“Who’s Larry? Do you mean, Terry? Dude... for a bartender you really suck with names.” Tank chuckled and turned to head back to the kitchen. “I’ll let the bossman know so he can get you some backup.”
I shrugged and moved to start doing more clean-up when I heard screaming and the thud of a fist meeting flesh—the typical sounds of a bar fight. Two huge alphas were going at it over by cage number four, and the crowd was already starting to get involved.
“Call security, Greggo, I’m going in,” Tank said over his shoulder as he pushed his way through the mob.
“Shit, it figures.” I mumbled and hit the button under the counter that would call security in. I pushed around the bar and ran over there myself when I saw the tiny ginger dangling and struggling to free himself from the center of the large birdcage where he’d been dancing.
He was hanging by his light-up green bow-tie, clinging to the cage with his fingertips and the heels of his shoes while wiggling to get free. The only problem was trying to unhook his own tie while also holding on. I would’ve laughed at the human spider impression, if it weren’t for the fact that he was in danger of choking if he lost his grip.
There were seven of those large cages spread around the lower level of the club here, and the other dancers were still dancing for their own groups of admirers. Whether they were ignoring the drama or unaware, I didn’t care. I was grateful they were keeping some of the patrons occupied and out of the melee. The DJ had lowered the volume slightly in this area of the room so we could deal with the crisis at hand. It was our standard procedure here.
Several security guys came rushing over to help Tank break up the fight, while I opened the curved, brass painted metal door and slipped into the cage. I moved quickly to lift the petite ginger up and off the hook he was hanging from—luckily, I’m not a petite omega.
After I set him down, I patted him on the shoulder and took a good look at his coloring. “Are you okay? Take your break and come on over to the bar with me. I’ll give you something cold to drink while you tell me how the hell you came to be hoisted by your own petard, as it were.”
“Not the correct use o’ that sayin’, lad. Funny, though. Aye, I’ll give ya one fer tae humour of it.”
The guy grinned up at me, reminding me of a damned leprechaun or something with his pale, freckled skin, carrot-orange hair, and bright green eyes. I mean... if leprechauns wore thigh high boots, shiny jock straps, and body glitter anyway.
While he climbed up on a bar stool, I eased around the bar and pointed at the soda nozzles. I bit back a laugh when I looked back over at him and he’d somehow conjured a black hat with a big green four-leaf clover design on the front.
It sat at a jaunty angle on his head, making him look all the more like a freakin’ leprechaun. All he was missing was a pipe. Or did leprechauns smoke pipes? Maybe he needed a beard. I shook my thoughts away as I remembered I’d been about to get him a drink.
“7-up? Cola? Ginger Ale? Or there are juices? I’d offer something stronger but you’re working. I’m Greg, by the way.” I paused to let him choose a drink.
“Aye, Greg. Sure, and isn’t it grand ta be meetin’ ya? Seamus Murphy, at yer service. Quite the to-do on me first day, but tis over now and I’ll be thankin’ ya fer some o’ that gingered ale. Normally it’s orange juice I’d be preferrin’, but I need a little bubbly for the tumbly after almost gettin’ hung in a damn cage by me own bloody bowtie.”
I blinked at his musical voice and thick accent. While I poured him a glass of soda, I glanced over to where he sat crunching on nuts. “I have so many questions, but can I start with how the hell you even managed to get hung up in the cage like that? I wasn’t aware those things even had hooks in the center of the dome. That’s... not entirely safe, is it?”
He nodded his thanks as I set the drink in front of him on a clean napkin. “I’m thinkin’ ya saved me arse back there, so ask away, Greggie. But nae, the problem weren’t with the cage, yeah? It was with the eejit thinkin’ he had the right to grab at yer boy. Before that, he’d just been actin’ the maggot. When he got handsy, I smacked his paw and said ta mind his manners, I did.”
“No, shit?” I poured myself a glass of cola and leaned against the counter to chat. For the moment, the bar was continuing to have a brief respite. “What happened after that?”
“Then the fecker snatched me up and hung me like a muppet fer all the world ta see. Dodgy bloody whanker.”
Seamus grumbled under his breath and took a long drink. After he set the glass down again, he ran the back of hand over his lip before giving me his attention again.
“In case I’ve yet ta say it, thank ya fer the assist, young Greg. Tis me life what was saved, and now it’s me owin’ ya a boon, ain’t it?” He looked at me speculatively, as if expecting me to announce the price for my having saved him.
“Naw, man. Fuck that. You don’t owe me shit. Just, I dunno... buy me a beer sometime and we’ll call it square.”
All I wanted at this point was to go home now. Last call was still an hour away, my feet were killing me, and having this poor guy think he owed me something for basic human kindness wasn’t cool.
I left him to his drink and squatted down below counter level to clean the small sink area. Anything I did now was one less job to be done before I could leave. After a few minutes, he began chattering at me again, his voice filled with wonder.
“Ya did me a kindness, yet want nothin’ in return? Fascinatin’, lad. Tell me this then, if ya could have but one thing yer heart desired, what would that be? I know there must be somethin’ ya dream of havin’ in yer life. Sure, and don’t we all have that one big dream?”
Seamus was crunching on ice, while watching me intently as I cleaned the drain below the taps.
I didn’t get a chance to answer him then, because a group of customers came up. The probably-not-a-leprechaun guy never moved from his stool, I guess he’d had enough dancing for one night? I tried not to think of the fact that he was sitting there on my bar stool bare-cheeked and clad only in that sparkling, emerald green jockstrap.
Fuck it. The stool was washable, and Seamus had been traumatized enough for one night. Between customers, I made a point to refill his drink and freshen his bowl of peanuts a few times. I didn’t think it was anything beyond the normal way I’d treat anyone at my bar, but he seemed particularly grateful each time I showed him a kindness. It was almost as if he were taking my measure, in some odd way.
By the time we’d closed for the night, I was beyond ready to leave. I almost forgot how tired I was though, with Seamus there to keep me company. He’d kept up a running tale about some friend of his and his obsession with finding four leaf clovers, in between asking questions about my life. I was mopping the floor when his next question almost put me on my ass.
“Yer a young one yet, any plans on gettin’ knocked up one o’ these days? Or do ya already have a wee one or two at home?”
I look over at him and shook my head wearily. “No, that’s one thing I’ll unfortunately never have. I had a severe case of the mumps as a kid, and unfortunately, they said I’d never have children. It’s rare, but I’m proof positive it can happen. Or, it did anyway. Thankfully, today’s kids have that vaccine so they won’t have to get it like I did.”
Seamus looked at me seriously for a long moment, then tipped his chin. “Aye. Truer words were nae spoken, lad. Tell me though, if’n ya could, would that have been yer plan? Ta have a family?”
“Sure,” I agreed immediately. Probably too fast, but this was a sore point for me. “There’s no point in woulda, coulda’s though, Seamus. That ship has long ago sailed for me.”
“Don’t be an eejit, boyo. I told ya there was a boon due ya, didn’t I? Chin up. Sounds like ya be needin’ what I’m offerin’, aye? Just remember—things ain’t always what they seem in this world, lad.”
I grunted and finished the floor before turning to see if I could offer Seamus a ride home. But he’d vanished. I looked around the suddenly silent bar. Surely, he couldn’t have taken off that fast without me knowing about it, but then again, I had been busy mopping.
A flash of gold caught my eye and I walked over to wear he’d been sitting. A single gold coin lay next to his empty glass and half-eaten bowl of peanuts. I picked it up and held it to the light, but it looked authentic, not to mention had a weighty feel to it where it lay in the palm of my hand.
As I tossed the coin in the air a few times and caught it again, it crossed my mind to wonder where Seamus had been carrying it. I mean, he was wearing nothing more than that skimpy jockstrap and those boots. After a few seconds thought, I decided it didn’t matter and slid it into my pocket.
Now that I was done working, I pulled out my phone and texted my best friend and roommate, Braden. He’d probably forgotten to eat again; the fridge would be empty and there would be nothing open for delivery at this time of night.
At least if I checked in now, I would know for sure if I’d need to stop at the twenty-four drive thru of the burger place on my way. Knowing Braden, I would bet on it with this gold coin I’d found. But then again, Momma taught me to never take sucker’s bets.
Blind Date for St. Patrick's by Lorelei M Hart & Colbie Dunbar
1
Richard
“Relax, you’re doing great, Rich.” Enrique, the office manager of the medical clinic came up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. He’d made me feel welcome when I first walked through the door three months ago and had become the closest thing I had to family in this town. “It was crazy busy too, with the strep running amok in the schools.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d given more strep tests and scripts for amoxicillin in my first solo shift than I had the past few months combined. At least it was one of the easy-to-diagnose things. I’d spent the night before thinking of all the illnesses and injuries that might come in that I was in no way prepared for.
Because that would help absolutely nothing.
“Thanks.” I wanted to say so much more. Enrique helped slow the flow when things got hectic, fixed paperwork I botched without a complaint, and put out any fires that started along the way. I’d heard such horror stories of the “office manager” type medical clinic set-up and almost didn’t consider this position, and then they dangled the carrot, the one I just couldn’t resist; prove yourself in urgent care and you will be given first consideration for your own family practice when an office opens up.
Which was a great deal more than the other places that even considered me. No one ever said it out loud, but being an omega had them seeing paternity leave and logistic nightmares for most places I looked into.
“You should take a shower and go grab a nice dinner and then sleep for a week.” Both of those things sounded fanfreakingtastic. I’d skipped lunch trying not to let the wait times get too far ahead of me, and I was ready to eat my arm. Maybe not my arm, I needed it, but even the protein bars my coworker left in the shared office were looking like food, and from the one time I’d eaten them, I knew that not to be the case.
“I work tomorrow,” I reminded Enrique. I could still get a decent sleep, but sleeping in wasn’t going to happen.
“Okay, not a week, but get some sleep, or better yet...find a nice alpha and go out and have a good time.” And here we were back on this train. Enrique—dear, sweet, efficient, and helpful Enrique—saw his happy life with his hubby as what everyone should aspire to. Which would’ve been fine if his mentioning it didn’t hit me in the gut. I wanted that too, more than anything. Watching my roommate back home fall in love and start a family already had me on that track.
The problem remained; I was quick to fall in love, but it never stuck. Turned out I was in love with the idea of falling in love, and honestly, my career needed to come before that bullshit. This was my chance not to work in a hospital and make a practice for myself. I wasn’t going to bung it up by dating.
“Sleep’s the plan. I’m still figuring out all this.” I swished my hands indicating the office. It was bustling, but two doctors came in to take my place for the evening shift which was usually the crazy one thanks to the closing of most family practices for the day. “Dating is going to wait.”
“Sacrificing your happiness for work is never a good plan.” Why did the older man have to make so much sense? Still, this came first. So many of the people I graduated with were floundering since completing their residencies, choosing positions they didn’t want simply because it was better than nothing. I wasn’t going to blow this opportunity.
“Dating doesn’t equal happiness either.” At least not in my experience, not at the end, anyways. And I tried the no-strings thing and discovered I sucked at it. I either left wanting more than they could give or wasn’t interested, period. No, casual was not my friend.
“But a balance between home and work does, and right now you just have work.” He tsked his finger.
“Because I have to find my place here.” And play all my cards right so I could slide into one of the practices rumored to be opening up in the next couple of years thanks to a proposed expansion plan.
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” He closed his eyes and shook his head as if exasperated. “Just think about what I said. All work and no play makes Dick a lonely boy.”
Gods, I hated that abbreviation of my name, especially said like that by someone who I regarded as a father figure.
“Ewwww...just ewww.”
“You’re welcome.” He stepped back. “Now scram. You had a long day, and tomorrow will probably be just as bad.” If the incoming stream of people was any indication, he was spot on. “They need to send a case of disinfectant to that school, I tell you,” he half-teased.
“Possibly a pallet of it.” I took off my doctor coat and hung it on my hook. “Night, Enrique.”
I gathered my things and ordered take-away instead of going out to eat. I just wanted to be home and in my own bed. The next day I had an extra-long shift, and thanks to Dr. Tyler being on a cruise, I was going to go without a day off for the next while. Worth it, if it meant I could realize my dreams.
Pulling into the driveway of the small bungalow I managed to get for far below market value, I saw what looked like an animal scurry under the porch. Great. Looked like I needed to fix that hole where the lattice lost a crossbar sooner rather than later. The last thing I wanted was a family of skunks or the like nesting under there.
I brought my food inside, put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and headed out to the garage for my tools and to see if I had anything that could temporarily close the hole and buying some time for the creature I spooked under there to leave before I got back out there.
The family who sold me the home had wanted to dump it quickly after they lost their grandmother who had lived there for over fifty years, and they left a lot of junk pretty much everywhere, much of it surprisingly useful, including the scrap board I was able to dig out for the lattice repair.
I turned on the flashlight app on my phone as I made my way to the hole, crossing my fingers the creature was gone or at the very least not a skunk or some rabid opossum or any of the other things my imagination was currently conjuring up. Setting down the board, nails, and hammer, I got on my knees a distance from the fence and flashed the light to see two little eyes glaring back at me, two eyes belonging to a cat.
“Here, kitty kitty,” I clucked my tongue and held out my hand, and to my surprise, he came out. And even more to my surprise, the cat wasn’t a cat at all; it was a small, very scrawny and matty dog. Poor thing.
He came right over and plopped himself in front of me, his chin on my knees, looking up at me with sad little eyes.
“Let’s see who you belong to, little fellow. Maybe I can get you back to your family.” I tentatively reached over and rotated his collar, finding a bone-shaped If Found tag, and as I flipped it over, my heart stopped...the address was mine. “Let’s get you some water and see if there are any vets open tonight, little fellow.”
It turned out the little fellow was Sophia, and she belonged to the previous owner, and by the time I went to bed that evening, I was the new human of the mysterious Miss Sophia, who had been on a wild adventure, the details of which she wasn’t giving up.
See, Enrique, I’m not alone.
Except even with my new furry companion, I very much was.
Clover Kisses for the Omega by Lacey Daize
Chapter 1 - Sean
~Beginning of December~
My stomach roiled, and it was probably only the lack of anything in it that kept me from vomiting into the doctor’s trash can.
I’d been sick off and on for the better part of a week, ever since we’d returned from the Thanksgiving holiday. I figured I’d just ate something bad, and it needed to work its way out of my system.
Unfortunately, finals were the next week, and I didn’t have the luxury of waiting to kick it naturally. I needed to study if I was going to pass all my exams, and running to the bathroom to vomit every time the nausea hit wasn’t conducive to good study habits.
“Good afternoon Mr. Murphy,” the doctor said as he strolled into the exam room of the campus clinic, eyes on my file. “What brings you in today? Nausea?”
I nodded. “Yes doctor. I’ve been feeling sick for about a week.”
He scanned my chart again. “Well, it looks like your vitals are good. Blood pressure, pulse, O-two and temperature are all ok.”
“I think it’s food poisoning. I’ve had nausea and vomiting.”
The doctor frowned. “For a week?”
I nodded.
“Any other symptoms?”
“I’ve been tired, but I think it’s just my body trying to work through this thing.”
The doctor was silent for a moment, going over the chart again before looking at me. “I’m going to have a nurse draw a blood sample to test for a couple things.”
“Umm… ok?”
He cast a smile at me, but for some reason I wasn’t reassured. “She’ll be in shortly. We do our own testing with student assistants, so we’ll have results quickly.”
I nodded. “Should I come back?”
“No, you can wait here.”
“Ok.”
The doctor tried smiling at me again, but it only served to further convince me that something was bothering him.
He left the room, and a female omega nurse came in a few minutes later. I turned my head as she took a blood sample, and noticed the same unease that the doctor displayed.
My thoughts went wild once I was alone in the room. Was there something contagious going around campus? Did I have signs of something more serious than a serving of some bad leftovers?
The questions ran through my head. Luckily I was spared from them continuing for too long by the reappearance of the doctor.
Unfortunately, his expression left me worried.
“Mr. Murphy, when was your last heat?”
I blinked. “They’re not very regular for me, but…” I thought about it. “Beginning of October?”
“You’re sure?”
I bit my lip, then nodded. “It was before midterms. I remember being frustrated because I needed to study.”
The doctor made a note. “And when was the last time you had intercourse?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t.”
The doctor scowled. “You’ve never…?” He left the question unfinished.
“No.” I raised my hands slightly. “My family is a bit conservative and have dissuaded sex before mating, but I just haven’t met an alpha I was willing to go that far with yet.”
The doctor licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to say this Mr. Murphy… but… you’re pregnant.”
I stared for a moment. “That’s impossible.”
He shook his head. “The hormone levels in your blood test are conclusive. You’re just about a month along.”
“No. I’ve never…”
“Has there been any time in the past month or so that you can’t remember, or may have been incapacitated?”
“Not that I…” I paused. “There was a party… a few days after Halloween. I didn’t mean to be drinking, but I must have been handed something. The night is a bit fuzzy, but I woke up in my own room.”
The doctor pulled the stool around and sank onto it. “Mr. Murphy… have you ever heard of a berry party?”
I shook my head.
He sighed. “It’s when… well… Sometimes they’re planned and consensual, but it seems you’re a victim of the other kind. A group of alphas targets several known virgin omegas, spike their drinks at a party, then… pop the berry.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “You mean I was…?” Anger, anguish, disgust, and more emotions than I could name combined and curled through me.
He nodded. “If you’re being honest, and have never had consensual sex, then…”
I curled around myself. I’d been violated, and the baby now growing inside me was the result.
“What do I do now?” I whimpered.
The doctor reached out and rested his hand on my knee. “You have options if you decide that you can’t raise the baby. We have counselors who can help you decide if adoption or termination are a better choice for you.”
I bit my lip, and moved my hand to press on my stomach. I hated how it happened, but I already knew I could never hate my baby. I shook my head.
“I’m still going to recommend a counselor to help you deal with the trauma, and you don’t have to decide right now. Ok?”
I nodded, numb.
“Mr. Murphy?”
I looked at the doctor.
“I can’t give you details, confidentiality laws, but I can tell you that you’re not the only victim. I’ve personally seen other omegas who were likely at the same party.”
My heart dropped. “Pregnant?”
His silence was enough of an answer.
Suddenly anger was my prevailing emotion. “When is the soonest that you can determine paternity?”
The doctor looked startled, then nodded in approval. “That’s what I like to hear. We can schedule a test for that in the next few weeks. It’s not as good as after birth, but these circumstances warrant it.”
“Good. I’ll be testing for paternity then.”
“May I give you some non-medical advice?”
I blinked. “Ok.”
“Don’t talk to the school administration. Their track record isn’t going to help. If you’re fighting, go right to the cops.”
I nodded. I owed it to my baby to prove that their papa was an omega willing to fight for what's right.
Sack of Gold by Kiki Burrelli
Chapter One
DUSTY
"Heads up, Dusty!" Cam called out from the shore a moment before launching a can of beer into the lake. I sank down, then rocketed myself up into the air in order to catch the can as it nearly arched over my head. I landed with a loud splash that showed no mercy to the people around me. Soph shrieked while Seamus dodged the splash by ducking underwater. A little pointless if you asked me, but no one ever did.
Cracking open the can, I let the yeasty, sour liquid pour down my throat. I loved the burn almost as much as I loved the appreciative looks I received when I'd leapt from the water. "Perfect ten out of ten!" I announced to the groans of all those around me.
"It would've been perfect…" Soph replied, turning onto her back so she could look up at the night sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight and the stars stretched on for miles. On this clear of a night, it was so crowded with stars the sky looked milky in places. "…if you hadn't lost your shorts."
Sure enough, floating beside me like a turd in the wind were my boxers. I thought I felt a little freer. I scooped them out of the water, hanging them on my index finger. "Well this night just got a lot more exciting," I announced, receiving many whoops and whoos in reply. Cam had gathered a pretty sizable group tonight, promising they could all be part of an epic prank at Morningwood Lake.
"Those bottoms are mine!" Cam yelled. I flung them toward him, slingshot style, and he caught them as easily as I'd caught the beer. Being a shifter with enhanced speed and agility came in handy pretty often. He draped them over his head like a floppy hat, making everyone around him laugh.
I found myself laughing with them, caught up with the emotion of the night. These days, moments like this were my only chance to relax and unwind. I found Cam's face and he winked, making me warm and wonder if there wasn't more to his words. But I wasn't a bottom—another word for omega in Morningwood, even though omegas weren't required to bottom all the time—I was an alpha!
At least, I thought so.
Still, I thought of the day that Cam came into my life as one of my luckiest days. Right after New Year's, I'd been dying of boredom and all of my friends were finding their mates. All except Soph who was so busy with college and track most of the time that nights like tonight were far too infrequent. My dads had tried to tell me it was because my friends were growing up, becoming the adults they were meant to be and that I should consider joining them.
I didn't know how to tell them that I didn't know how.
I tipped my head back, swallowing the rest of the beer along with my troubled thoughts. I had to worry about all of that every other second of the day, I wasn't going to let it ruin right now. Crushing the can in one hand, I threw it back to shore while hollering for someone to toss me another bottle of bubble bath. A fin appeared in the water, slicing through the black surface like a scene from a horror movie as Jake—great white shark shifter—swam to me with a bottle of bubble bath in his jagged teeth.
Everyone moved out of Jake's way looking like the laziest extras in Jaws. Jake released the bottle as he swam by and I plucked it from the water. Pearlescent pink fluid ran down my hand and wrist, leaking out from the teeth holes in the plastic.
"Dude!" I popped the top off the bubble bath and squirted it into the water around me, taking extra care to rinse off.
When Cam had texted saying he had an idea for a bubbles and beer party, I'd been psyched. It seemed like the texts from my other friends—if I even got texts from my other friends—were all about brunches and baby showers. Harris had called the other week to ask if I wanted to go antiquing with him and Dean Boothe—who kept trying to get us to call him Andrew, or Mr. Boothe, but both were just too weird. Needless to say, I'd declined the invite. I had a hunch Harris had only asked because my dads had begged him too anyway.
I needed more excitement in my life and Cam's plan for the night was simple but perfect: get a few cases of bubbles, a few cases of beer, face the frigid lake waters and see what happened. So far, my skin was so numb I couldn't feel the cold, we were almost through all the cases of bubble bath, and halfway through the beer.
In the distance, an owl screeched.
Cam put his hands out, shushing the crowd. "Hold on, that's the sig—" Hiccup. "Signal."
Every head, including mine, turned his direction. Christine Echo—bat shifter—was the first to curse. The next moment, her clothes fluttered to the ground and she emerged in her bat form, flapping her wings to take her higher into the sky.
My hearing wasn't as good as most of those around me but by the way the more auditorily sensitive shifters around me were fleeing, it was safe to say, our party was about to get crashed.
And yet, I felt no fear. Only excitement.
You're sick, Dusty. Or maybe just a glutton for punishment.
"Dusty, c'mon, it's the Sheriff!" Cam called from the bank. He stretched his hand out toward me, his face devoid of his usual smirk.
"Soph, babe, you gotta swim," I called back to her.
All around us teens and those just a bit older, like Soph, Cam and I, were transforming into their animals. Jake simply swam away to the other side of the large lake while the bird shifters, like Seamus, all took to the sky. Lights of red and blue swirled through the trees throwing their own private rave, but the man behind those lights couldn't have been further from a carefree partier.
Sheriff Joseph.
My legs tingled, and I tried to convince myself that it was because I was trying to swim so quickly, waking up nerve endings that had fallen asleep.
I paused to check on Soph's progress. If anything, she was farther behind me.
"Your mother is going to kill you and then me," I yelled to her. She understood what it was like to have parents that said they wanted to let go and watch you grow, while also never letting go. If Sophie Weaves was delivered to her parent's doorstep tonight in the custody of the Morningwood Sheriff, she'd be locked up for life—likely in some woven cage that her parents made with their own ass strings. It didn't matter that she was nineteen, almost twenty, any more than it mattered that I had just turned twenty and therefore no longer had the word teen attached to any part of me.
I checked back in with Cam at the shore, but when I saw his desperation, I waved him off. "It's okay, go! I'll be right behind with Soph." Everyone else had made it out of the lake, into the lake, or into the sky. It was just the three of us left and as I watched Cam give me one last wink before transforming into his horse and running the opposite direction in the woods, I mentally dropped that number to two.
I turned around and when I was close enough, grabbed Soph's hand to haul her onto my back. I wasn't in my horse form, but I could still swim faster than her this way. She clutched her legs around my middle while I burst into a forward stroke.
"I touched your penis!" she shrieked, jerking her foot away so quickly she kneed me in the jaw. "No! I'm sorry! Save yourself!"
Water filled my lungs when I hissed with pain and I began to cough. "Shift, you idiot," I tried to say between coughs. The lights were brighter now, and I thought I'd heard a door open before closing.
The moment I hit the shore, Sophie shifted and used all eight of her legs to scurry off into the woods. I lay there, panting in the sand and dirt for a second before lifting my body with my upper arms and jumping to my feet—
Just in time for the Sheriff to break through the tree line and shine his massively bright light on my completely naked body.
I squinted, closing one eye while blocking the floodlight with my hand. "Sheriff Joseph, what a surprise," I said, trying to sound sure of myself, but this was too much for even me to keep cool and my words came out more breathy than anything else.
I heard his disapproving sigh and immediately forced every disgusting thought I could conjure into my head to keep from growing hard. Sheriff Joseph was a lost cause for me, a crush I needed to kill, and yet…
"Why do I keep finding you in varying stages of undressed?" the Sheriff replied. He had a rich voice, like whiskey in an old western song. He didn't have a southern twang, but sometimes, when I let myself think about him and all the stuff I wanted to do with him, I would imagine he did. A country accent would suit a staunch, upright guy like him nicely.
"I didn't want to mention this, since you're obviously a never nude but—"
"I'm a what?" the Sheriff asked, his tone a mixture between gruff and curious. I had to be making up the curious part though since all the Sheriff ever seemed to be around me was annoyed.
"Your condition?" I prompted, lowering my voice like I was afraid of someone else hearing us. "The one that keeps you from getting naked?"
"I get naked," the Sheriff replied.
I grinned and tried to hide it behind my hand. I had always been self-conscious of my mouth. And, no, not because I never stopped talking, but because it was so big. Sometimes it felt like half of my face was just mouth and when I smiled, it got that much worse. "Truth is in the eye of the beholder."
The Sheriff sighed again—it was his favorite expression in my presence—and clicked off his flashlight, forcing my eyes to slowly adjust to the partial darkness. The moon still shone brightly overhead, and his cop car lights swirled silently behind him. "That isn't how the saying goes, Mr. Bridle. You don't have to take the whole wrap for this, you know. I've counted at least twenty empty beer cans, and several more unopened." He shone his light on the stack of beers by one of the trees. "You clearly weren't out here by yourself while you all… what were you all doing?"
"Trying to fill the lake with bubble," I admitted, my bottom lip began to tremble from standing naked and wet in the cold. The next second, Sheriff Joseph handed me one of those wool blankets that you always see people wearing in aftermath pictures.
"That's ridiculous. You would need thousands of gallons of bubble bath. You have enough here to maybe fill a hot tub."
"No one said it was a good plan," I mumbled, bringing the blanket tighter around my front. I dipped my face, giving it a low-key sniff. Of course it smelled like the man, like cedar and citrus. Did he spend his time making fresh squeezed orange juice in the woods? I wouldn't doubt it. Though, thinking that Sheriff Joseph did anything for fun was against everything I knew of the man.
My eyes had almost adjusted to normal so I could see the Sheriff better. It wasn't as if I didn't have his face memorized already. He was handsome in a lame Disney prince sort of way. He had tanned skin, always a shade darker than everyone else no matter the time of year and golden hair—the color matching his lion counterpart almost exactly. His face was square and sturdy with defined cheekbones and a chiseled jaw that made the framework for a prominent chin complete with one of those ridiculous dimples at the end. He was gorgeous but in a wholesome sort of way that I should have rebelled against.
Hell, I was rebelling against it. Because the sad fact was, ever since volunteering at the jail for penitence after making some truly tragic mistakes—way worse than trying to bring bubble joy and whimsy to this boring town—I'd realized how head over heels I was for the much older man. His age would be one thing, an issue I'd be happy to look past, but I couldn't look past the way he never gave me the time of day. Unless…
I bent down to pick up one of the empty cans but discovered the can was yet unopened. Cracking the top, I gestured toward the Sheriff. "You don't mind?"
"You're twenty, I mind."
"This is Morningwood, not the normie world, officer," I retorted, bringing the can slowly to my lips.
I felt the heat of his body, stark against my lake-frozen skin. "I mind," he repeated softly as he reached for the can. He was careful not to touch my hand, grabbing it by the top to take it away. After pouring it into the woods—litterer—he turned back to me. "Find your clothes, Bridle. Clean up this mess and then I'm delivering you to your parents."
I groaned and then wished I hadn't. No wonder the Sheriff wouldn't look at me like the man I was.
"Unless you know a few names of people who should be here to help you?" he taunted.
I lifted my chin. "Snitches get stitches."
Again, he was in my bubble, too close—no such thing—for comfort. "Did someone threaten you?" he asked, his voice dipping several octaves.
For a split second I wondered what he would do if I said yes. Then, I answered my own question. He would file an official police report and assign you a number. I shook my head. "It's a saying, Sheriff. It means I saw nothing and will say nothing." I crossed my arms over my chest forcing him to take a few steps back or else we would be touching. I may have been stupidly infatuated, but I wasn't about to get pushed around. I was a horse shifter—not just that, a Clydesdale! And I wasn't going to pretend to be timid for anyone.
"It doesn't have to be like this, Dusty," he said then, much more quietly. "In fact, it wasn't this way until about two months ago. You barely got into trouble, and now, I'm catching you every other week. If something has happened, if someone is making you—"
"No one is making me do anything." It was my turn to use my tough guy voice. "I'll find my clothes and clean up."
I could tell he wasn't happy, but that was simply too bad.
He didn't speak while I rummaged around the leftover piles for my clothing. I wasn't sure where my boxers were, but I found my jeans and slipped them on. I never found my shirt, or hoodie, but Cam had left his black leather jacket behind, so I slipped that over my shoulders. I didn't want to return the blanket Joseph had given me but that was just more of a reason why I should, so I took it off and bunched it up. "Thanks for this," I muttered, setting it down on a log while I got busy gathering the empty soap bottles and beer cans.
"What about this stuff?" I asked, gesturing to the leftover cases.
"I'll donate it to the firehouse," the Sheriff replied.
"Poor Cam," I muttered. He'd brought all the beer.
"Who?" Sheriff Joseph asked keenly.
"No one," I said louder. "Isn't that illegal? Don't you have to take it in as evidence?"
"I would, if I were arresting anyone or charging anyone of anything. But, we can't keep doing this, Dusty. You already have more community service hours than you'll be able to feasibly finish before you graduate. And I don't want to put you in another cell, but I will. It's odd, son. You were always such a good kid, but recently, it's like you're making up for lost time. Is it this Cam? Is he influencing you?"
I tied up the last trash bag—courtesy of everyone's favorite Sheriff—and bent down to haul the bags and the cases back to his cruiser. After, I stood next to his car, my chin lifted again to indicate my obstinate silence.
"Fine," he snapped, jerking the bags out of my grasp and tossing them into the trunk.
My heart fluttered making me wonder if I really was broken. Why did I like his anger so much? I was a goof to everyone else, I knew that. Dusty was always just the class clown—great now I was thinking of myself in the third person.
But I didn't always want to be just a goof and I wasn't going to tell on Cam, even if it got me out of trouble. Not only was he a fellow horse shifter, but he was new in town, a recent transfer from another shifter town somewhere on the east coast called Dix Wallow. He claimed that town was as lame as Morningwood, which always stung because I really did like Morningwood—despite the dumb ass name. I just wished I knew where my place was.
And the main reason why I wasn't going to tell on Cam was because these days, he seemed like the only person who liked having me around. In fact, sometimes, he out-pranked even me.
"Get in," the Sheriff ordered, slipping into the driver seat.
Weren't cops supposed to help you into the car? I couldn't even get him to do that.
"My parents aren't home," I started to say as I slid in the passenger seat. If he wasn't going to put me in the backseat behind the bars, I wasn't going to put myself there.
I shut the door and strapped on my seatbelt while the Sheriff just sat there. When I finally looked over, he was seething.
And I loved it.
"Do you want to try that again, Mr. Bridle?" he asked quietly.
"Try what?"
He grabbed the steering wheel tightly despite the fact that he hadn't yet started the engine. "Lying to me."
"I wasn't—"
"Dusty," he said my name, but it didn't sound like just my name. It sounded like a threat but also like a promise. A promise to do what? Punish me for lying? Would he put me in the back seat? I didn't mind, as long as he wanted to go back there with me.
And yet, something inside of me longed to bend to his will, to listen and obey. I didn't like that part of me because it was confusing. Alphas weren't supposed to be swayed as easily as I was around Sheriff Joseph. "Fine. They are home, but if you bring me back with the siren blaring it's just going to stress them out. They're already on edge because of the new baby and—"
"How is he doing?" he asked, sounding authentically curious.
"Dennis is doing what newborns do, I guess," I replied with a shrug. It was only a little weird to go from being an only child to an older brother at twenty. "I mean… he's a lot of trouble and my dads just started getting him to sleep for some of the night so if you bring me back—"
"Okay, okay," the Sheriff said, waving my words away. And, was that a smirk I spotted? No. It was gone as quickly as I thought I'd spotted it. "You know, if you stopped getting in trouble, you wouldn't have to worry so much about stressing them out."
I leaned back, settling into the passenger seat and readjusting the seatbelt over my jacket. "What's the fun in that?" I asked, adding a shrug that I hoped conveyed nonchalance. "And I could if I wanted to. I promise, mister, I can stop anytime."
That was when the Sheriff laughed. An actual, open mouth, smiley eyes laugh.
I forgot how to breathe.
"If you managed to stay out of my cuffs for two weeks, I would walk around Morningwood in a leprechaun costume."
I tried picturing the staunch figure dressed down in green, a top hat and a sack of gold at his side. "Not that I'm complaining, but why a leprechaun?"
"It's the next holiday," he replied.
This was as close to goofing around as I'd ever seen the man, so my reply was quick. "Deal."
Sheriff Joseph sobered as he pulled out onto the road, his brief moment of merriment long forgotten. "I'm serious about naming names, Dusty. We can't have you guys out here causing trouble. I got three calls about your little party tonight."
"Bunch of rats," I mumbled.
"No, it was Trent, he's a trout—"
"Figure of speech."
"Well, all that I've said still stands. How about we start with the owner of that jacket you're wearing, though I have an idea."
There was more growl to his words than there had been previously and although I wanted to lean over and make him growl again, I slunk away, burying my face behind the collar of Cam's jacket. It smelled like him, like hay and molasses and a little something extra that might've been Mountain Dew. "You might as well give up. I'm not going to tell you anything. One, as I've said, I am not a snitch and two, I might have something going with this jacket's owner and I don't want to ruin it."
"Oh?" the Sheriff asked casually, but his hands tightened to white knuckles on the steering wheel.
"Yes," I said, gaining momentum. I didn't know if the Sheriff had picked up on my ill-formed crush, but I wasn't going to seem desperate in front of him. "He's fun and actually seems to like being around me instead of treating it like a chore, or something that's been court appointed," I added so he knew that I counted him firmly in the other category.
"Is that what these nights are to you? Having fun with your new boyfriend?" His words came out clipped, like he couldn't be bothered to speak them clearly, or even continue with this conversation.
"It was, till you ruined it," I replied, my anger rising. And why was I angry? I was the one sort of lying after all. Was it because I wasn't getting the reaction that I wanted? "Maybe next time you can show up just a half hour later, so I have time to seal the deal." I sat back and looked out my window watching the trees thin. I spotted a street light up ahead and despite the tone in the car my heart lurched. I had minutes left, if he drove slowly.
We came to a stop sign that he breezed through.
I jerked my face in his direction, but he kept his eyes on the road. I noticed his pulse beating in his clenched jaw. That upset to be around me?
He turned up the street to Barnyard Court, the road I lived on along with all the farming and cattle shifters. We didn't have to be segregated like we were, it just seemed to work best. Every house on Barnyard Court had its own field in the back, perfect for lazy afternoons spent grazing.
My brain went into overdrive, firing off ideas of how to prolong my time in the car like fireworks exploding during a Fourth of July show. By the time he parked at the end of the cul-de-sac, I still had no idea and my panic to stay was quickly being replaced with anger. I spotted my house at the very end. All the lights were off except the front porch and the nursery light upstairs. That meant at least one of my dads was awake, but likely not in any shape to care if or when I got home.
Sheriff Joseph was so oblivious to me outside of my role as a troublemaker, I wanted to hurt him like how I hurt. I unbuckled my belt and opened the door, causing the dome light to turn on. The Sheriff's normally golden gaze was dark.
"Yeah, so, thanks. And like I said, try to hold back a little longer at the next party, I'm smooth, but I still need time to work my moves."
"There won't be another party, Dusty," the Sheriff replied darkly.
The hair on my nape prickled against his tone but I tried not to let it show. "Of course not. Night." I got out and shut the door. As I walked to my porch, I felt his eyes on my backside. Would it be weird if I tried to saunter? With my luck, I would just end up falling over.
Still, when I got to my door and the Sheriff was still there, I turned and slowly reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out the full, unopened can of beer I'd felt there when I put it on. I cracked it open, smiled at the cruiser's windshield since I couldn't see inside, and took a sip. I imagined the Sheriff's hands tightening on the steering wheel.
Did they tighten like that when he grabbed a lover? Did he use that same dark tone in the bedroom, the one that brooked no disobedience but somehow made me want to do the exact opposite? My stomach clenched, but it had nothing to do with the alcohol I'd consumed.
Deflated, I opened the door, slamming it as loudly as I dared behind me—which ended up being not loud at all.
Outside, Sheriff Joseph drove away, his tires squealing in his haste to escape from my presence.
"Dust?" my dad called from the top of the stairs. He bounced on the balls of his feet with Dennis propped against his shoulder as he patted his bottom.
"I'm here, I'm home," I said softly, hiding the can behind my back.
"Try not to make too much noise, Dennis should go down for a few more hours," he said, never descending the stairs.
"Yeah, no problem. I'm just gonna grab some food and go to bed." I waited to hear his footsteps retreating, but there was only silence.
"Dust? Did something happen tonight?" he asked with a tired edge.
How did I tell him? How did I describe the way it felt to realize the man I wanted would have nothing to do with me? That knowledge felt like it was slowly sinking into my bones, etching into the hard surfaces so that when I died and dried up, the message would be easily readable:
Sheriff Joseph wants nothing to do with you.
"Nope, everything is fine. Love you, goodnight." I didn't wait for his reply, I wasn't sure if he even gave one. He hadn't been worried about me, just about the possibility that I'd disgraced them both again by coming home in the back seat of a cruiser again. Loophole, it was the front seat this time.
I poured the rest of the beer down the sink, buried the can at the bottom of the recycling bin and disappeared into my room. Taking off my jacket, I hung it on my desk chair and then flopped down on my bed, facing the ceiling.
"Give it up, Dust," I told my ceiling.
It was about time I forgot my wild fantasies.
Double Dutch Courage by Helena Stone
Ronan seemed to search Lucas’s face for something, then lowered his gaze until Lucas was convinced he was staring at his lips. He mused that the sunshine had to be getting to him as the afternoon took on a dreamlike quality. Ronan licked his lips, the tip of his tongue tempting Lucas, teasing him. When Ronan leant forward Lucas wondered what was happening, whether he was imagining things. Surely Ronan wasn’t about to —
The soft press of Ronan’s lips against his elicited a sigh from Lucas. He would have been embarrassed about his reaction if he hadn’t been lost in the moment. It was the second time Ronan had taken him by surprise in this manner, except on this occasion he didn’t appear to have any intention of pulling back.
With so many reasons why this was the worst idea ever, it didn’t make any sense that the overriding thought running through his mind was more.
He cupped Ronan’s neck, keeping the pressure light, barely there. Ronan reacted as if Lucas had used force and pressed his lips firmer against his, parting them in the process.
Lucas was helpless against the onslaught. It had taken him days to stop obsessing about Ronan’s mouth after that quick, shy kiss a week earlier. There would be no coming back from this. He had no doubt he would end up hurt. Even as he had the thought, Lucas parted his own lips, slipped his tongue through the gap and tentatively caressed Ronan’s mouth.
“Oh.” Ronan’s soft exclamation meant his lips parted farther and Lucas took advantage. Fuck being sensible. Fuck worrying about tomorrow, or next week, or six months from today. He was here, now, and the tongue hesitantly exploring his was nothing like what he’d expected and everything he wanted it to be.
The kiss transported him back to his teenage years, to the first boy he’d ever kissed. Clumsy and with clashing teeth, it had been as awkward as it had been exciting. Pretty much as it was now, except this time it didn’t make sense.
He pulled back until the tips of their noses were the only parts of them still touching. Ronan’s lashes fluttered before he opened his eyes. They widened and he lowered his gaze.
“That bad, eh?” Ronan directed his words at the grass beneath their knees.
“Not bad.” Lucas tried to figure out what to say. Not sure what he was reacting to, he didn’t know which words to use either, so the truth would have to do. “It just brought back a memory of something I hadn’t thought about in ages.”
“Oh?”
Ronan still wouldn’t look at him and Lucas didn’t like it. He lifted Ronan’s chin with his index finger. “It reminded me of when I was fourteen and me and Hans, my best friend back then, decided to find out what the big deal about kissing was.”
“It was like your first kiss?” Ronan still tried to avoid meeting Lucas’s gaze.
“Yes.” Lucas smiled. He couldn’t believe Hans had slipped his mind. They’d done a lot of exploring together before Hans decided he was interested in girls after all. He got so lost in his reminiscence he almost missed the words Ronan muttered.
“Makes sense.”
It hit Lucas like a ton of bricks. Here was yet another reason why getting involved with Ronan was the worst idea ever. If he was right, he would be Ronan’s first in everything. The thought that Ronan’s inexperience might include kissing hadn’t crossed his mind until this moment. He wasn’t sure he could make that journey with Ronan without getting emotionally involved. He had to know for sure.
“I’m your first?”
The combination of shame and defeat Lucas read in Ronan’s expression tore at him. He didn’t need an answer. He also didn’t need to think about what to do next. Yes, he would end up getting hurt, but he’d deal with it. It wouldn’t be the first time or, in all likelihood, the last. He could be Ronan’s first and make it a good, a memorable, experience.
“I want to be your second, too.” He didn’t wait and pressed his lips back against Ronan’s before he could respond.
With so many reasons why this was the worst idea ever, it didn’t make any sense that the overriding thought running through his mind was more.
He cupped Ronan’s neck, keeping the pressure light, barely there. Ronan reacted as if Lucas had used force and pressed his lips firmer against his, parting them in the process.
Lucas was helpless against the onslaught. It had taken him days to stop obsessing about Ronan’s mouth after that quick, shy kiss a week earlier. There would be no coming back from this. He had no doubt he would end up hurt. Even as he had the thought, Lucas parted his own lips, slipped his tongue through the gap and tentatively caressed Ronan’s mouth.
“Oh.” Ronan’s soft exclamation meant his lips parted farther and Lucas took advantage. Fuck being sensible. Fuck worrying about tomorrow, or next week, or six months from today. He was here, now, and the tongue hesitantly exploring his was nothing like what he’d expected and everything he wanted it to be.
The kiss transported him back to his teenage years, to the first boy he’d ever kissed. Clumsy and with clashing teeth, it had been as awkward as it had been exciting. Pretty much as it was now, except this time it didn’t make sense.
He pulled back until the tips of their noses were the only parts of them still touching. Ronan’s lashes fluttered before he opened his eyes. They widened and he lowered his gaze.
“That bad, eh?” Ronan directed his words at the grass beneath their knees.
“Not bad.” Lucas tried to figure out what to say. Not sure what he was reacting to, he didn’t know which words to use either, so the truth would have to do. “It just brought back a memory of something I hadn’t thought about in ages.”
“Oh?”
Ronan still wouldn’t look at him and Lucas didn’t like it. He lifted Ronan’s chin with his index finger. “It reminded me of when I was fourteen and me and Hans, my best friend back then, decided to find out what the big deal about kissing was.”
“It was like your first kiss?” Ronan still tried to avoid meeting Lucas’s gaze.
“Yes.” Lucas smiled. He couldn’t believe Hans had slipped his mind. They’d done a lot of exploring together before Hans decided he was interested in girls after all. He got so lost in his reminiscence he almost missed the words Ronan muttered.
“Makes sense.”
It hit Lucas like a ton of bricks. Here was yet another reason why getting involved with Ronan was the worst idea ever. If he was right, he would be Ronan’s first in everything. The thought that Ronan’s inexperience might include kissing hadn’t crossed his mind until this moment. He wasn’t sure he could make that journey with Ronan without getting emotionally involved. He had to know for sure.
“I’m your first?”
The combination of shame and defeat Lucas read in Ronan’s expression tore at him. He didn’t need an answer. He also didn’t need to think about what to do next. Yes, he would end up getting hurt, but he’d deal with it. It wouldn’t be the first time or, in all likelihood, the last. He could be Ronan’s first and make it a good, a memorable, experience.
“I want to be your second, too.” He didn’t wait and pressed his lips back against Ronan’s before he could respond.
I'm a happily married mom of one snarky teenage boy, and three grown "kids of my heart." As a reader and big romance fan myself, I love sharing the stories of the different people who live in my imagination. My stories are filled with humor, a few tears, and the underlying message to not give up hope, even in the darkest of times, because life can change on a dime when you least expect it. This theme comes from a lifetime of lessons learned on my own hard journey through the pains of poverty, the loss of more loved ones than I'd care to count, and the struggles of living through chronic illnesses. Life can be hard, but it can also be good! Through it all I've found that love, laughter, and family can make all the difference, and that's what I try to bring to every tale I tell.
Lorelei M. Hart is the cowriting team of USA Today Bestselling Authors Kate Richards and Ever Coming. Friends for years, the duo decided to come together and write one of their favorite guilty pleasures: Mpreg. There is something that just does it for them about smexy men who love each other enough to start a family together in a world where they can do it the old-fashioned way ;).
My characters are sexy, hot, adorable—and often filthy—alphas and omegas. Feudal lords with dark secrets, lonely omegas running away from their past, and alphas who refuse to commit.
Lurking in the background are kings, mafia dons, undercover agents and highwaymen with a naughty gleam in their eye.
As for me? I dictate my steamy stories with a glass of champagne in one hand. Because why not?
Lacey lives in New Mexico with her four critters. She’s a Jill-of-all-trades by day, but loves writing in her spare time. She dabbles in a variety of pairings, but jumped feet-first into the deep end of omegaverse the first time she read it. She loves the play on social expectations and the different ways to express romance.
Kiki Burrelli lives in the Pacific Northwest with the bears and raccoons. She dreams of owning a pack of goats that she can cuddle and dress in form-fitting sweaters. Kiki loves writing and reading and is always chasing that next character that will make her insides shiver. Consider getting to know Kiki at her website, on Facebook, or send her an email: kikiburrelli@gmail.com.
Helena Stone can’t remember a life before words and reading. After growing up in a household where no holiday or festivity was complete without at least one new book, it’s hardly surprising she now owns more books than shelf space while her Kindle is about to explode.
The urge to write came as a surprise. The realisation that people might enjoy her words was a shock to say the least. Now that the writing bug has well and truly taken hold, Helena can no longer imagine not sharing the characters in her head and heart with the rest of the world.
Having left the hustle and bustle of Amsterdam for the peace and quiet of the Irish Country side she divides her time between reading, writing, long and often wet walks with the dog, her part-time job in a library, a grown-up daughter and her ever loving and patient husband.
Susi Hawke
Lorelei M Hart
EMAIL: Lorelei@mpregwithhart.com
Lacey Daize
Kiki Burrelli
Shamrock Spiced Omega by Susi Hawke
Blind Date for St. Patrick's by Lorelei M Hart & Colbie Dunbar
Clover Kisses for the Omega by Lacey Daize
Sack of Gold by Kiki Burrelli
