Movie stars, Irishmen, and love - what's not to love?
What is there we so love about a sexy Irishman? Is it the brogue or the stunning good looks or the charm? Whatever it is, it's there. I've long had a thing for Irish guys of every age, present and past. And you'll note I added "Murphy" to my name when I married so what does that say? And I often write about Irish men....like Desmond O'Neill.
Des first made his debut in An Emerald Heart (Evernight Publishing) as the wayward brother of hero Ash O'Neill. He's such a bad boy with a heart of gold and the kind of charm to talk birds down from the trees I couldn't not give Desmond his own story. It came out just before Thanksgiving with a stunning Jimmy Thomas cover....and I thought I'd share cover, blurb, and a bit of the first chapter to tease readers. If you like, a few buy links just happen to show up at the end of the post!! Oh, and if you like Des - you might pick up An Emerald Heart to get a little of his back story!
Des first made his debut in An Emerald Heart (Evernight Publishing) as the wayward brother of hero Ash O'Neill. He's such a bad boy with a heart of gold and the kind of charm to talk birds down from the trees I couldn't not give Desmond his own story. It came out just before Thanksgiving with a stunning Jimmy Thomas cover....and I thought I'd share cover, blurb, and a bit of the first chapter to tease readers. If you like, a few buy links just happen to show up at the end of the post!! Oh, and if you like Des - you might pick up An Emerald Heart to get a little of his back story!
Desmond
O’Neill arrives in Los Angeles from his native Ireland ready to make a new
life. Although he doesn’t have a job or
plan, Des is confident he’ll find his way.
After all, he’s gotten this far in life with good looks and charm. Fate smiles on him when he meets a major
movie star, Simone Sage. Better yet, she invites him home – and into her
bed. They share lust, not love but soon
their relationship reaches a new level. Neither uses the L-word - yet. Des knows he’s falling in love for the first
time but he likes the high life so he’s in no hurry. When he nets a movie role
of his own, life is sweet. A near
tragedy brings out their true feelings and leads them to a future neither one
expected when they met.
Movie
Star Magic (Evernight Publishing) $2.99
Excerpt:
Chapter
One
Jet-lagged and half-asleep, Desmond
O’Neill stirred as the Aer Lingus jet circled to land at LAX. Below him, the night landscape of Los Angeles
spread to the horizon in a panoramic view dotted with lights large and small. He gazed down at the City of Angels, aware
his new life began now, although he had no idea yet where he might go or what
he would do.
‘Tis grand, and lovelier than I
remembered.
Unbidden, the old Guardian Angels
prayer he learned in childhood popped into his mind and his lips moved silently
with the words, ‘Angels of God, our guardians dear, whose love of God commits
you here, ever this day be at all our sides, to light and guard, to rule and
guide.” Although not much of a church
goer these days, Des didn’t think a wee word directed toward the heavens would
go amiss.
As
the plane circled to land at LAX, Des stared down at the city of Los Angeles
spread out beneath him in a panoramic view.
His new life began now, this moment, in this city but he had no idea
where he would go or what he might do.
Although his brother lived in California, he had no plans to descend
upon Ash like a Biblical plague and wreak havoc in his life. Last time he visited, Ash ended up with a
bullet intended for him, but it all turned out right in the end. No lasting damage done and Ash got the woman
he wanted. The pair lived a charmed American life. Maybe, Des thought, he could too. For now, though, he didn’t intend to tell Ash
he’d come. He would succeed or fail on
his own merit.
Two hours later, driving north along
the Pacific Coast Highway with the ocean to his left so beautiful and blue, Des
decided he’d conquer the place. After
all, he had the devil’s own charm and stunning good looks. He drew women to him like a magnet, and with
few exceptions, Des could charm anyone.
His sweet talk convinced the bitterest old biddies to smile and open
their purses or pussies, whichever he wanted.
A stack of crisp American bills filled his wallet, exchanged for the
Euros he’d brought in his pocket.
The rented Toyota held the road well and he
pushed the speed higher. Confident he
wouldn’t crash, Des sought more and the car soared over the road, hugging the
curves. Unchecked, he might’ve driven to
Seattle before stopping if hunger hadn’t intervened.
At Malibu, a place Des heard about
in celebrity stories, playground for the rich and famous, he wheeled into a
well-known seafood restaurant. He left
the rental in the hands of the parking valet and strolled into the place with a
confident swagger. With my good looks, sure, they’ll think I’m somebody, an actor or rock
star, maybe. He wondered if his
faded blue jeans (designer ones, bought second hand) and his woven button-down
plaid shirt might be too casual, but a quick gander around offered confirmation
he fit with the crowd. Prada sunglasses
hid his blue eyes until he pushed them up onto his head and his boots wouldn’t
shame him. With a casual air, he studied
the two menu boards, one for dining within, the other for dining outside
overlooking the beach. Variations in
both price and food available were the sole differences.
The maitre d’, elegant in a black
silk suit and crisp white shirt, smiled in greeting. “Will it be just you
today, sir?”
“Aye, it will,” Des replied, face
outwardly calm, his insides delighted with the respect given him.
“Would you prefer to dine al fresco,
on the patio?”
Desmond made a quick glance around
the place. In mere seconds he recognized
faces he’d seen before – on television programs dedicated to celebrities and
such. He opened his mouth to say no,
he’d prefer to remain in the restaurant proper but before he spoke, Des’ eyes
fell on a woman on the patio. Sunshine
dappled her platinum hair with both light and shadows and when she glanced up,
her black eyes met his with interest.
The striking contrast between her fair hair and dark eyes intrigued him
but her heart-shaped face, pretty as a Victorian portrait, took his breath
away. Her dainty features pleased him
and her lips curved into a slow, sweet smile as he returned her stare. Within his jeans, his cock perked up with
definite interest. “Ah, yes, I’d prefer
to dine al fresco,” Des said.
“Very well. Follow me.”
He trailed behind the man aware the
blonde watched their progress across the covered veranda with a world-class
view of the Pacific. Des settled into a
chair at the small table in one corner, catty-corner from the woman. A waiter arrived on cue. Desmond ordered a
bottle of Chenin Blanc and perused the menu, settling on broiled flounder
served with rice pilaf and garden vegetables.
His wine arrived and so did a basket of light rolls, hot from the
oven. Aware of her eyes on him, Des
buttered one and ate it with slow bites.
Then he lifted his glass in a silent toast to her.
Her cheeks pinked but her smile
expanded. Des noticed she sat with five
other women, all lovely in their own way, each dressed in exquisite
fashion. Something about her seemed very
familiar but he couldn’t quite place her, although he vowed he knew her. She’s
famous. I’m certain of it. His mind flipped through a stored file of
beautiful women and he came up with the name to match the face. I’ll be
damned – it’s Simone Sage.
Simone Sage claimed to be the
inspiration for wet dreams worldwide.
She’d been known to compare herself to sex goddess icons like Marilyn
Monroe and Farrah Fawcett. Her early
movies bordered a notch or two above pornography but as her fame increased, she
claimed bigger and better roles. After a
decade of stardom, anything with her name in the credits made millions and
could be classed as a definite hit.
Critics often panned her flicks but fans adored the blonde with the
soft, breathless voice and the wiggle in her walk. Desmond, fond of the cinema, had seen most of
her films and liked them. Like a lot of other
men, he’d jacked off to more than a few showings. Flattered that a Hollywood movie star would
look his way, a coup even with his impressive track record, Des craved her with
an addict’s desire. He vowed he’d have
her and imagined what an experience he’d enjoy.
It's no secret, huge Irishman fan here. Brogue, the charm, the cheek...the drinks! LOL Where would we be without Irish cream? I dread to think ;) Or their darn good whiskey.
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