Praise for Kate Hoffmannâs MIGHTY QUINNS
âThis truly delightful tale packs in the heat and a lot of heart at the same time.â
âRT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Dermot
âThis is a fast read that is hard to tear the eyes from.
Once I picked it up I couldnât put it down.â âFresh Fiction on The Mighty Quinns: Dermot
âA story that not only pulled me in,
but left me weak in the knees.â âSeriously Reviewed on The Mighty Quinns: Riley
âSexy, heartwarming and romantic, this is a story to settle down with and enjoyâand then reread.â
âRT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Teague
âSexy Irish folklore and intrigue weave throughout this steamy tale.â
âRT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Kellan
âThe only drawback to this story is that itâs far too short!â
âFresh Fiction on The Mighty Quinns: Kellan
âStrong, imperfect but lovable characters,
an interesting setting and great sensuality.â âRT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Brody
AILEEN QUINN kNELT over the bed of pansies, digging into the soil with her trowel until sheâd broken up the clumps around the plants. The wind was chilly and the weather rolling in from the Atlantic was sure to bring rain. But it was spring in Ireland and she was alive to enjoy another summer. At age ninety-six, one couldnât ask for much more.
She braced her hands on the tall handles of her gardening bench and slowly got to her feet. Every day was a blessing, she mused. And with each day came the hope that she would find more members of the family that sheâd lost all those years ago.
As one of Irelandâs most famous novelists, she lived a charmed life. But it hadnât started that way. Sheâd been raised in an orphanage, her father killed in the Irish uprising and her mother dead of consumption when Aileen was two. She had spent her life alone, without a single blood relative to call family.
But then, in the midst of doing research for her biography, she learned of her four older brothersâDiarmuid, Conal, Lochlan and Tomas, who had been sent from Ireland by her mother, hoping that her boys would make lives of their own in a more promising place.
Her investigator, Ian Stephens, had already tracked down one descendant, a lovely young man named Logan Quinn who ran a horse-breeding farm outside Brisbane, Australia. Heâd also found Loganâs parents who had recently visited her in Ireland. Sheâd given David Quinn and his son, Logan, a sizeable gift from her estate, almost a million dollars each.
Aileen smiled to herself. She had so much money and nothing to do with it. Better that it went to help her family. They were the people whoâd be her legacy, the children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren of her lost brothers.
âMiss Quinn?â
Aileen glanced over her shoulder to see Ian Stephens standing at the garden gate. âHello,â she said with a smile. âEither youâre early or Iâve lost all track of time.â
âItâs half past eleven,â he said. âThat was when we were supposed to meet, wasnât it?â
She pulled off her gardening gloves and dropped them onto the padded bench. âYes, it was. Come, letâs get out of this dampness and in front of a warm fire. Iâm cold to the bone.â
Ian offered her his arm as they walked through the garden then onto the wide terrace and into the house. Sally, her housekeeper, appeared almost immediately and helped Aileen out of her jacket. âIâve laid a fire in the parlor,â she said. âIâll bring you tea.â
âThank you, Sally. And bring a cup for yourself. Mr. Stephens has come with news, havenât you, Mr. Stephens?â
He grinned. âI have. Lots of news. All good.â
Aileen nodded. âThen I think weâll also need some of your blackberry scones, as well, Sally. And real butter, not that terrible paste you and Doctor Arnett insist I eat. Iâm nearly ninety-seven years old. What harm will a few bites of butter do me now?â
âYes, maâam,â Sally muttered, sending Ian a secret smile. âBut Iâm sure Mr. Stephens doesnât keep his trim figure by gobbling down butter every chance he gets.â
Ian forced a smile, then cleared his throat. âIâll have butter,â he said.
He extended his arm and Aileen slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. âLetâs go find a quiet place to talk, shall we?â
The stone country house was warm and cozy, filled with comfortable furnishings and items sheâd collected over a lifetime. They walked to the parlor and Aileen sat down in the chair closest to the fire.