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Saturday, November 24, 2012

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!



 

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. Im 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.



 

1 comment:

  1. 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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