Last month I asked my readers to vote on which couple they wanted a birthday story and the winner is:
The sexy leprechaun from Gettin’ Lucky is back in this three alarm chili short that will steam up your phone, then turn tooth-achingly adorable.
While folding laundry, Jess gets a steamy surprise from her sexy Leprechaun. Conall’s back, the gorgeous red-headed Irishman with a big secret. This birthday story is hot, adorable, and heart-warming. Perfect for anyone looking for a quickie or a check-in with their favorite Leprechaun couple, Conall & Jess.
Spoilers for Gettin’ Lucky, a free novella, are contained within.
If you haven’t read Gettin’ Lucky yet, you can get it for free!
Jess is the unluckiest woman in the world. Nothing in her world ever goes right. When a tree crashes through her bedroom window, she’s unsurprised until a drop-dead gorgeous Irishman sticks his head inside. In this steamy novella, Jess finds herself falling harder and harder for this man who her best friend swears is a leprechaun.
Will Jess finally get lucky?
Excerpt from Birthday Luck
White sock.
Red sock.
Blue sock.
Orange sock?
The temptation to knot them all together into a giant ball swept over me. Unleash pure chaos upon the dresser! Hurl the underwear into random drawers without a second’s pause and let anarchy rule.
Oh, there was the matching white sock. I reached through the pile of clean laundry, which was a miracle unto itself, and my arm brushed aside a shirt to reveal a solitary green and yellow sock. A frown tried to twist about my lips as I picked up the anklet covered in four-leaf clovers. It was a joke from Abby, along with plenty of other clover-based gifts to entertain her.
How did that one wind up in my basket? I never wore them, especially when he’d…
Heat shivered down my back, my skin prickling at a sudden presence when hands enveloped my belly. The palms swept across the small pooch I’d come to accept as me, and a voice whispered in my ear.
“What’s this comely washerwoman doin’ in my house?” a rich Irish brogue curled in my ear.
All the tension I’d racked up in my body slipped free. I leaned back, my fingers raking up his flaming red stubble. An edge of his sharp emerald green eyes caught me, along with the wry whiskey smile. “I didn’t think you’d make it,” I said, trying to turn my head to kiss him. But Conall remained obstinately clinging just behind me.
His hands rolled higher above my stomach, ransacking the nightshirt I didn’t have time to change out of. As his fingers swept up between my breasts, he tucked his hips tighter to my ass. “And miss out on this most important day? Luck was with me.”
I laughed at how seriously he said that. “Of course it was. It’s always with you.”
“Mmm,” he moaned, pressing both of his palms under my breasts and lifting the full weight higher. I gasped from how gently he stroked my nipples, a fire stewing inside me. His chin planted against my shoulder and he breathed in my ear. “Would you like to have a little luck inside you, beautiful…” He tugged on the edge of my nightshirt, yanking it past my shoulder so he could kiss the exposed skin. “Divine.” His right hand swept over my ass to tug the laundry day panties tighter against my soaked lips. “Washerwoman.”
Conall’s hips jerked forward, grinding his cock between my buttocks while he began to lift my nightshirt higher. “Here I am,” he whispered, his teeth pressing against my ear and nipping down the shell, “a rakish lord out for his daily ride, succumb by the beauty of this country lass scrubbin’ her stockings by the stream.”
His tugging on my clothing grew frantic and haphazard as if he forgot how a simple t-shirt worked. Drawing one hand up my thigh, he pressed barely a touch with his nails, circling inward to my parting legs. With his thumb, he tugged on the seam of my underwear while nuzzling the hollow below my ear. A low grunt of need from him shook through me and I turned.
The usually wild red hair was tamed and brushed to the side leaving him looking as if he’d just taken off his top hat. Only the edge of my eyes caught his suit, double-breasted with buttons of a shiny gold I knew were real. The rest of me was too busy locking my arms around him and devouring his lips. In an instant, the smell of Ireland overtook me. Of cliffs overlooking a sea, the salt spray striking against a rainy drizzle. Or a woman by a babbling brook slapping her wash against the rocks while a rogue looked on from atop his steed.
“I’ve never been with a Lord before,” I said, panting in his ear. I clung tight to his cravat, holding the hard body closer until my breasts pooled against his muscles. Until his thighs, hidden behind silk and wool, knocked into mine. Until the hard cock, eager and willing, pressed against my belly.
Conall chuckled, his hungry hands calmed as they pulled out the sticks in my bun. Slowly, he let my dark brown hair out, combing it as if he was preparing a golden fleece. “Then,” he said, his eyes flashing, “I shall be gentle, my bonny lass.”
Ellen Mint 