I'll not be lyin' if I tell ya that I fancy ya a bit myself." "The fancy feelings are mutual." A grin curved her lips right before Declan pressed a kiss to them.

Are ya trying' to kill me, lass?" "Kill you? No." Maggie leaned closer, her hands drifting up and cradling his face as she rolled her hips again in one wicked pass. "Torture you? Maybe.

Are ya tryin' to kill me, Maggie?" Declan bit the words out and his fingers dug deeper into her hips. "Are ya wantin' to see a grown man beg?

Me father always said if ya can find a lass who's brilliant in the kitchen and in the bed ya best not let her go.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the hottest bitch of all?

Scaoileadh Me.... 'Release me.' That was what he said. No doubt about it. It was in Gaelic, but that was what the voice said. Holy. Crap.

You might be a fairy tale leprechaun man but at the heart of it you're still a man who won't talk about anything.

Maggie had a sinking suspicion that those stories her Aunt Lizzie told her, the ones that sent her to bed with her head full of leprechauns and fairies, may be more than fairytales after all.