Feel like going Wild Irish this year? What better way to celebrate St. Patty’s Day than with green beer, corned beef & cabbage and SEX?
Come get lucky with the Wild Irish series as it follows the Collins clan, seven brothers and sisters, who work in the family pub in Baltimore while searching for love. I thought it might be fun to share fun facts about the series.
- All of the titles of the books not only contain a day of the week, but they are also song titles. While I was writing the series, I created a playlist of the songs to inspire me.
- The idea for the stories evolved from the poem, Monday’s Child, which I mistakenly thought was called Sunday’s Child when I first started. Hence…the mother’s name – Sunday. Oops!
- I selected Baltimore as the setting because I absolutely love visiting that city. Beautiful place.
- I selected the family’s surname Collins in honor of my Ellora’s Cave editor, Kelli Collins.
- I spent hours looking for Irish names online as I tried to name my characters. In the end, I used Keira, Teagan, Tristan, Killian, Ewan, Riley and Sean.
- I used the lines of the poem in shaping each story. For example:
Monday’s Child is fair of face – Keira was very beautiful.
Tuesday’s Child is full of grace – Teagan was my talented musician
Wednesday’s Child is full of woe – Tris suffered a broken heart before finding his HEA
Thursday’s Child has far to go – Killian was stationed in Iraq during a stint with the Army.
Friday’s Child is loving and giving – Sigh…so Ewan
Saturday’s Child works hard for a living – That was Riley—always going a mile a minute
And Sunday’s Child is bonny and blithe and good and gay – My Sean.
- Due to popular request, Wild Irish Christmas was written to share the story of how father Pat met and fell in love with Sunday.
- Sunday is dead when the series starts, but she plays a role in each story.
- Waiting for Wednesday actually released on St. Patrick’s Day. How cool is that?
- My favorite story in the series is Saturday Night Special followed closely by Friday I’m in Love.
- Any Given Sunday was the hardest book in the series to write. Mainly because I knew it would be the last and I REALLY didn’t want to say goodbye to this family.
Now…how about an excerpt from the first book in the series, Come Monday?
She rushed into Professor Wallace’s office shortly after nine with an apology hovering on her lips.
“Shut the door, Miss Collins,” he said before she could speak. “And lock it.”
She obeyed, wondering at his too-calm disposition.
Again she complied and a tiny part of her marveled at his ability to make her follow his commands. She wasn’t the type of person to take orders easily from anyone. She’d spent far too much of her life in charge, the responsibility of caring for her family weighing heavily on her shoulders.
“You’re late,” he said.
Again she started to apologize, but he placed a firm finger against her lips, halting all sound.
“I warned you.”
“Turn around and bend over the desk. Lift your skirt in the back.”
She shivered at his request before her fantasy broke briefly.
Why am I wearing a skirt? I never wear them.
Shrugging off the wayward thought, she bent over his big desk, her mind only slightly aware of the fact the surface had been cleared.
His hand lightly brushed the back of her thigh as he helped her raise her skirt to her waist. She whimpered softly at the impact of his touch.
“Shh,” he soothed. “This is for your own good.” As he spoke, he brought his hand down against her buttocks. Over and over he spanked her as she trembled against the wooden desk. Her body revolted against her mind, the ingrained part of her that said this was wrong, as she lurched back, aching for more of his blows. His hand fell without restraint, without ceasing, and before she could make sense of what was happening, she came. Loudly.
“Ahh!” Keira bolted upright in bed and glanced around, afraid she’d woken her sisters with her cry. Riley and Teagan didn’t stir, a fact for which she was grateful. They’d think she’d had a nightmare and there was no way she could explain that fantasy to them.
She silently gasped for breath, her body trembling, demanding the climax she’d dangled in front of it then ruthlessly denied. A trickle of sweat ran down her cheek. She wiped it away, wrapping her arms around her bent knees, trying to regain some semblance of control.
She’d never fantasized about such things before entering Professor Wallace’s class. In the four short months she’d been his student, her mind had wandered to so many dark, forbidden places she wondered if the man had somehow hypnotized her. She’d never experienced such intense, powerful fantasies. She took a deep, calming breath and lay down again.
Figured. Her first real taste of hardcore, passionate need and it was directed at a man who was completely unattainable. He was her teacher, for God’s sake. She glanced at the clock. In six hours she would be alone with him—and heaven help her, because she was sure she’d never be able to hide her desires from his too-knowledgeable gaze.
He was too perceptive, too attentive.
* * * * *
Keira stood outside the door to Professor Wallace’s office and took a deep breath. It was five minutes to nine and she was functioning on less than two hours sleep. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, distracted by one red-hot fantasy after another. It seemed the good professor had hit three sevens in her sexual jackpot and had released the flood of coins—or in her case—unending, flowing arousal.
No use prolonging the agony. She straightened her bag on her shoulder and knocked.
“Come in,” his deep voice beckoned. She shivered at the sound and wondered how in the hell she’d make it through this meeting without ripping her clothes off and throwing herself on his desk.
Opening the door, she stepped inside, tentatively hovering on the threshold. He looked up from the stack of papers before him and offered her that too-gorgeous smile.
“You’re right on time, Keira. I like that.”
She nodded and smiled tremulously. One glance at his handsome face and her body was already staging its own show. A quick glance down proved her nipples were rock hard and poking through her cotton blouse. As she started across the room, she felt an unfamiliar stickiness between her legs. Christ. She was soaking wet.
“Please shut the door,” he said, after she’d only gone two steps. She turned to close the door with a shaking hand and cursed her weakness. She was running on empty and seriously wishing she’d gotten some sleep.
As she approached the desk, she stopped and stared briefly at the smooth surface. For a moment, her dream of lying facedown upon it drifted back and she felt a rush of heat flush her cheeks. Mercifully, Professor Wallace didn’t seem to notice her distress.
“I trust you brought your past assignments.”
She nodded and reached into her bag, pulling out the endless stack of C papers she’d accumulated over the semester.
“I thought we’d begin by looking at the very first paper you wrote for my class again. I believe it was the one-page description of a special place.”
She shifted through her essays, recalling her dismay at discovering a C-minus on her first paper. Little did she know the trend would continue for weeks on end. She’d been pleased with her description of the restaurant and sure the paper would receive an A. Finding it in the stack, she handed it to him.
“Ah yes. You wrote about your family’s restaurant, Pat’s Irish Pub. An interesting choice.” He looked down as he spoke and she remained silent as he briefly skimmed her writing. “This is the family restaurant where you work.”
She nodded. She’d yet to speak a word, too afraid her voice would betray her nervousness, her agitation.
“Tell me why you chose the restaurant as your special place.”
She considered his question for a moment, wondering how much she should share. She shrugged. “I suppose I wrote about it because I’ve spent so much of my life there.”
He frowned and she sensed he wasn’t happy with her answer. “I’ve lived in the same apartment for twelve years. I wouldn’t choose it as my special place merely because of its familiarity.”
Twelve years. Again, she tried to guess his age. If he began teaching at twenty-two, he could be as young as thirty-four. He cleared his throat and she shook herself, aware he was waiting for her response.
“The restaurant is more than just a home to me.” The moment he’d issued the assignment, she’d known she would write about the restaurant. It was the first place she’d thought of.
“What is your major, Keira?”
She sucked in a breath at her name on his lips. Why did the mere sound of it run through her like a tornado-force wind?
“I’m a business major.”
“That makes sense,” he replied with a nod.
“I don’t understand.”
He grinned. “In my experience, business majors tend to cut to the chase. They are rather no-nonsense kind of people.”
She thought he’d described her well. She also knew he didn’t consider his words to be a compliment.
“Your description of the restaurant is very factual, very observant, very boring.”
She narrowed her eyes. “It’s detailed and accurate.”
“Close your eyes, Keira.”
Her voice seized up as she considered his request. When she was able, she muttered one question. “Why?” Her heart raced at the idea of leaving herself even a tiny bit vulnerable in his presence.
“I want to do an experiment.” He waited and she realized that refusal would be futile. Professor Wallace was a man who didn’t take no for an answer. That thought sent a fresh round of juices to her already-drenched panties and she squeezed her legs together to fight the onslaught.
He quirked his eyebrow and she slowly closed her eyes.
“Describe this room.” She started to open her eyes but he halted her. “With your eyes closed.”
She struggled to remember what any part of the room looked like. She’d been so preoccupied with the office’s lone inhabitant that she’d failed to truly look around. The only piece of furniture that seemed vaguely familiar was the desk, and even then, only from her rather raunchy fantasies.
“There’s a desk in the middle of the room,” she said at last.
His light chuckle sent her hackles up and she forced herself to try to think of more. “There are bookshelves on the wall.” Which wall, she couldn’t recall.
“Stop relying on what you can see, Keira.”
She considered his suggestion and realized she could sense many things about the room. “It smells of leather in here. Leather and old books and,” she paused, sniffing the delicate odors, “your cologne.”
“Very good. What else?”
She turned her head slightly and was immediately struck by the silence. “I can’t hear anything. It’s remarkably quiet in here.”
He seemed to agree. “One of the reasons I hold my office hours so early. I relish the peacefulness. By this afternoon, the noise of all the students out in the hallway and on the campus outside my window will fill this room. You mentioned the desk. It’s right in front of you. Touch it.”
She bent forward, thankful her eyes were closed, praying he couldn’t detect the slight shaking of her hand.
“How does it feel?”
“Smooth,” she replied, running her hand along the surface. “And cooler than I would have imagined. It would feel cold against my cheek.” Her eyes flew open when she realized the strangeness of her remark.
Professor Wallace’s eyes were studying her intently.
Come Monday is available at
Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, Barnes and Noble,
All Romance Ebooks, and Sony.
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