The Luck of the Irish Blog Hop

Wel­come! I hope you’re enjoy­ing your hop around some of the best author sites on the web! I’m giv­ing away a copy of Fine Print to one lucky win­ner, along with a book to be loaded on the Kin­dle 3 that’s up for grabs! Good luck! If you’re just hap­pen­ing along this post, and would like to get in on the fun, click HERE to get start­ed. Here is the list of words we’re using for the sto­ry. I think I got em all! Love, smile, kiss, tongue, cud­dle, nip­ple, ear­lobe, fin­ger­nail, green, fire­place, book, whiskey, ride, Dublin, sham­rock, knick­ers, silk scarf, leather boot, Pot of Gold, Blar­ney Stone, and “Why is it green?”

Kel­ly only drank enough of the green beer to keep it from slosh­ing over her cup to stain her hand, but couldn’t stom­ach more than a few sips. Beer shouldn’t be green.

She picked her way back through the crowd. Drop­kick Mur­phys blared through the speak­ers, and one group in the cor­ner even sang along to the rau­cous cho­rus. She doubt­ed any of the St. Patrick’s Day rev­el­ers had ever been to Ire­land, or had any sort of Irish blood cours­ing through their veins–gallons of Jame­son Irish whiskey didn’t count–but today every­one was Irish. While most Amer­i­cans used March 17th as an excuse to get drunk, Kel­ly would have been just as hap­py to stay home with Sean, and cud­dle in front of the fire­place.

He’d promised her a din­ner at her favorite restau­rant if she’d join him for pool at the Sham­rock Lounge for a few hours.  The bar was a favorite of theirs year round, espe­cial­ly since she’d been hired to paint a big pot of gold mur­al on the far wall. Although now it was cov­ered with sig­na­tures on each gold piece, tes­ta­ments to the feat of chug­ging “The Big Dublin”, a beer mug as big as a fish bowl.

The sound of Sean’s laugh­ter drew her eyes to the pool table, where he leaned against the edge, laugh­ing with his friends. His bud­dy Patrick seemed to think today was his own per­son­al cel­e­bra­tion, even though he was half Russ­ian and half Swedish. Still, Kel­ly couldn’t imag­ine spend­ing a St. Patrick’s Day with­out the big lug.

She saun­tered across the room, feel­ing sexy in Sean’s favorite mini skirt. She brushed aside the girl who had roped her man with her green silk scarf–teas­ing him with one green fin­ger­nail scrap­ing down his chin–and didn’t even make eye con­tact with the drunk guy who asked her to kiss his blar­ney stones. She was even able to ditch the green beer on an emp­ty table.

Remem­ber that one year when we slept St. Pats off at my mom’s house?” Patrick drained his glass. “And I didn’t aim well, and she was bitch­ing about the mess on the toi­let?

But Patrick, why is it green?” Patrick and Sean mim­ic­ked in uni­son. The sto­ry was as old and stale as the beer stains on the pool table, but Kel­ly couldn’t help but smile along with them, while simul­ta­ne­ous­ly feel­ing sor­ry for Patrick’s moth­er.

We could fill a book with the stuff we did to your poor mom.” Final­ly Sean caught her eye, and gave her that sexy smile that melt­ed her. The dim­ple in his cheek was one of the first things that attract­ed her to him two years ago, and he still had the pow­er to make her ear­lobes pink with that grin. The knowl­edge that he had the abil­i­ty to kiss her sense­less with those lips, and his tal­ent­ed tongue was enough to get her knick­ers in a knot, and make her nip­ples perk.

Hel­lo, love.” He set his pool cue aside and pulled her into his arms. “You’re look­ing mighty fine tonight.”

Kel­ly snug­gled into his embrace, step­ping between his leather boots. “So are you. I was just stand­ing over there won­der­ing if you were ready to go home and search for my pot of gold.”

He chuck­led, and kissed her through his smile. “I thought you want­ed to shut this place down with Patrick, but when you put it that way–”

Dude!” Patrick slugged Sean hard enough to jos­tle Kel­ly. “You can’t leave ear­ly, you’re my ride.”

You live two blocks away. It wouldn’t kill you to walk.” Sean elbowed back. “You real­ly think I’d choose you over this tasty morsel?”

I don’t blame you for being whipped. I might just be a lit­tle jeal­ous.”

Right on cue, a cute lit­tle brunette approached them, steal­ing Patrick’s atten­tion away. Kel­ly took advan­tage and dragged Sean through the door.

You real­ly think I’m tasty?”

Sean spun her around, and pinned her against the wall, the cold brick seep­ing through her jeans and sweater, empha­siz­ing his heat pressed against her front.

Hmm, I can’t remem­ber. Let me taste…” He kissed her, send­ing his tongue on a rav­ish­ing tour through her mouth, and nib­bling and lick­ing her lips. “Deli­cious.”

Kel­ly sighed. “Take me home, Sean.”

Thanks for stop­ping by! Good luck in the draw­ing! We’ll be chat­ting on Sat­ur­day 319 at 7pm at Gem Sivad’s Place. I hope you can join us…we have a lot of fun.

See you there!

Kel­ly only drank enough of the green beer to keep it from slosh­ing over her cup to stain her hand, but couldn’t stom­ach more than a few sips. Beer shouldn’t be green.

She picked her way back through the crowd. Drop­kick Mur­phys blared through the speak­ers, and one group in the cor­ner even sang along to the rau­cous cho­rus. She doubt­ed any of the St. Patrick’s Day rev­el­ers had ever been to Ire­land, or had any sort of Irish blood cours­ing through their veins–gallons of Jame­son Irish whiskey didn’t count–but today every­one was Irish. While most Amer­i­cans used March 17th as an excuse to get drunk, Kel­ly would have been just as hap­py to stay home with Sean, and cud­dle in front of the fire­place.

He’d promised her a din­ner at her favorite restau­rant if she’d join him for pool at the Sham­rock Lounge for a few hours. The bar was a favorite of theirs year round, espe­cial­ly since she’d been hired to paint a big pot of gold mur­al on the far wall. Although now it was cov­ered with sig­na­tures on each gold piece, tes­ta­ments to the feat of chug­ging “The Big Dublin”, a beer mug as big as a fish bowl.

The sound of Sean’s laugh­ter drew her eyes to the pool table, where he leaned against the edge, laugh­ing with his friends. His bud­dy Patrick seemed to think today was his own per­son­al cel­e­bra­tion, even though he was half Russ­ian and half Swedish. Still, Kel­ly couldn’t imag­ine spend­ing a St. Patrick’s Day with­out the big lug.

She saun­tered across the room, feel­ing sexy in her leather boots, and know­ing that her jeans were Sean’s favorite since they hugged her ass. She brushed aside the girl who had roped her man with her green silk scarf–teasing him with one green fin­ger­nail scrap­ing down his chin–and didn’t even make eye con­tact with the drunk guy who asked her to kiss his blar­ney stones. She was even able to ditch the green beer.

Remem­ber when we slept it off at my mom’s house?” Patrick drained his glass. “And I didn’t aim well, and she was bitch­ing about the mess on the toi­let?

But Patrick, why is it green?” Patrick and Sean mim­ic­ked in uni­son. The sto­ry was as old and stale as the beer­stains on the pool table, but Kel­ly couldn’t help but smile along with them, while simul­ta­ne­ous­ly feel­ing sor­ry for Patrick’s moth­er.

We could fill a book with the stuff we did to your poor mom” Final­ly Sean caught her eye, and gave her that sexy smile that melt­ed her. The dim­ple in his cheek was one of the first things that attract­ed her to him two years ago, and he still had the pow­er to make her ear­lobes pink with that grin. The knowl­edge that he had the abil­i­ty to kiss her sense­less with those lips, and his tal­ent­ed tongue was enough to get her knick­ers in a knot, and make her nip­ples perk.

“Hel­lo, love.” He set his pool cue aside and pulled her into his arms. “You’re look­ing mighty fine tonight.”

Kel­ly snug­gled into his embrace. “So are you. I was just stand­ing over there won­der­ing if you were ready to go home and search for my pot of gold.”

He chuck­led, and kissed her through his smile. “I thought we were going to shut this place down with Patrick, but when you put it that way–”

“Dude!” Patrick slugged Sean hard enough to jos­tle Kel­ly. “You can’t leave ear­ly, you’re my ride.”

“You live two blocks away. It wouldn’t kill you to walk.” Sean elbowed back. “You real­ly think I’d choose you over this tasty morsel?”

“I don’t blame you for being whipped. I might just be a lit­tle jeal­ous.”

Right on cue, a cute lit­tle blonde approached them, steal­ing Patrick’s atten­tion away. Kel­ly took advan­tage and dragged Sean through the door.

“You real­ly think I’m tasty?”

Sean spun her around, and pinned her against the wall, the cold brick seep­ing through her jeans and sweater, empha­siz­ing his heat pressed against her front.

“Hmm, I can’t remem­ber. Let me taste…” He kissed her, send­ing his tongue on a rav­ish­ing tour through her mouth, and nib­bling and lick­ing her lips. “Deli­cious.”

Kel­ly sighed. “Take me home, baby.”

 

Whadd'ya think?