Kiss My Blarney Stone: Ghost of a Chance (Part 3 of a 3 Part Serial)

<><><>

KISS MY BLARNEY STONE

Part 3:

Ghost of a Chance

MIMI RISER

www.mimiriser.com

Kiss My Blarney Stone is now released as a serial, which means it has been divided into separate parts that are offered individually. This is the third of three parts.

Serial Copyright 2014 by Mimi Riser

All rights reserved.

<><><>

Smashwords Edition, Smashwords License Statement: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

[Disclaimer: This novel is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.]

<><><><>

<><><>

Chapter 9

She awoke to late morning sunlight, a hellish hangover, and a dozen perfect roses in a vase on her bedside table. Taped to the vase was a note:

"My apologies for last night. It was Fionula’s idea, but I’m to blame for letting her proceed with it. You’re probably thinking it was a dirty trick, and it probably was. But it worked. I’m sorry if it made you angry, but I can’t be sorry it’s made you mine. I was willing to win you by fair means or foul—I want you that much. More than want. Believe it or not, Sharon, I do love you. I hope someday you’ll love me, too. If you don’t now, I figure I’ve got the rest of my life to work on it. Be warned. I intend to make you happy. ~Rory"

The only man alive who could make a declaration of love sound like a threat.

Sharon pulled the covers over her head and prayed for death. His. At this point nothing else could save her. She had sworn to marry him, committed herself good and proper. Sworn it on the Bible! That cinched it. She might have managed to escape Rory, but she couldn’t escape a vow made before God.

She was royally screwed.

Or would be after the wedding.

Groaning with the effort she crawled out of hiding and stumbled to the third-floor water closet, saved her bladder from bursting, brushed her teeth, splashed water on her face, then staggered back to bed, noticing that she was still wearing the slacks and jersey she’d worn to the scoraicht. That meant Rory had brought her home after she’d passed out, and had put her to bed, trying to be gentlemanly about it by not undressing her first. Then again, molesting a comatose girl, even a naked one, probably wasn’t his idea of fun. Whatever else his flaws, she doubted he was a necrophiliac.

Morbidly introspective, she sat propped against the headboard, wondering when he and Fionula had concocted their scurrilous plot.