All Our Luck: Complete Irish Reverse Harem Series Read online

  All Our Luck

  Complete Irish Reverse Harem Series

  Copyright © 2019 by Roxanne Riley

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction and any portrayal of any person living or dead is completely coincidental and not intentional. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the author, other than brief excerpts for the purpose of reviews or promotion.

  This collection contains the four books in my Luck of the Irish series: Double the Luck: A Ménage Romance, Triple the Luck: Irish Reverse Harem Romance, Four Times the Luck: Irish Reverse Harem Enemies to Lovers Romance & Just My Luck: Irish Ménage Romance

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  Table of Contents

  Double the Luck

  Chapter One

  Rowan

  Chapter Two

  Delia

  Chapter Three

  Keenan

  Chapter Four

  Rowan

  Chapter Five

  Keenan

  Chapter Six

  Keenan

  Chapter Seven

  Delia

  Chapter Eight

  Delia

  Chapter Nine

  Rowan

  Chapter Ten

  Keenan

  Chapter Eleven

  Delia

  Chapter Twelve

  Rowan

  Chapter Thirteen

  Keenan

  Chapter Fourteen

  Delia

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rowan

  Chapter Sixteen

  Keenan

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rowan

  Epilogue

  Delia

  Triple the Luck

  Chapter One

  Lucy

  Chapter Two

  Barry

  Chapter Three

  Seamus

  Chapter Four

  Cillian

  Chapter Five

  Lucy

  Chapter Six

  Barry

  Chapter Seven

  Lucy

  Chapter Eight

  Seamus

  Chapter Nine

  Cillian

  Chapter Ten

  Lucy

  Chapter Eleven

  Barry

  Chapter Twelve

  Seamus

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cillian

  Chapter Fourteen

  Seamus

  Epilogue

  Lucy

  Four Times the Luck

  Chapter One

  Gina

  Chapter Two

  Flynn

  Chapter Three

  Gina

  Chapter Four

  Conor

  Chapter Five

  Gina

  Chapter Six

  Neil

  Chapter Seven

  Gina

  Chapter Eight

  Noah

  Chapter Nine

  Gina

  Chapter Ten

  Gina

  Chapter Eleven

  Flynn

  Chapter Twelve

  Conor

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gina

  Chapter Fourteen

  Neil

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gina

  Chapter Sixteen

  Noah

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gina

  Epilogue

  Gina

  Just My Luck

  Chapter One

  Molly

  Chapter Two

  James

  Chapter Three

  Molly

  Chapter Four

  Molly

  Chapter Five

  Molly

  Chapter Six

  James

  Chapter Seven

  Chris

  Chapter Eight

  Molly

  Chapter Nine

  Chris

  Chapter Ten

  Molly

  Chapter Eleven

  James

  Epilogue

  Molly

  Double the Luck

  Double the Luck

  A St. Patrick’s Day Irish Menage Romance

  Luck of the Irish Book 1

  Copyright © 2019 by Roxanne Riley

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction and any portrayal of any person living or dead is completely coincidental and not intentional. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the author, other than brief excerpts for the purpose of reviews or promotion.

  Chapter One

  Rowan

  Despite being thousands of miles away, walking into Aunt Molly’s place immediately seems just like home. The entire vibe of the house feels like Ireland, even though it’s on Molly’s ranch in Texas. And our aunt’s unique presence is palpable inside, from the family photos on the walls to some familiar knick-knacks on her mantle.

  “I’m half expecting her to come down those stairs and tell us to put the kettle on,” Keenan says.

  I glance at my brother, who’s smiling wistfully as he picks up a little ceramic sloth I remembered him getting Aunt Molly for her birthday one year.

  “And fuss at you for how long your hair’s gotten,” I tease him.

  He rakes his hand through his hair. It’s not long by any means, but the way it hangs over his forehead would drive Aunt Molly insane. She was perpetually fussing at both of us about keeping our hair out of “those gorgeous faces!”

  We explore the rest of the house, and the weight of our beloved aunt’s presence lingers in every room. We barely speak as we get to know our new home and pick out our rooms and so on. Our Aunt Molly had helped raise us after our mother’s death, despite being saddled with a terrible marriage and three stepsons, so when she had decided to move to Texas a few years ago, we’d both been deeply saddened.

  We hadn’t had the chance to visit her recently, either, so the call informing us that she had passed away had hit us both hard. It had been a total shock, too. A congenital heart issue that no one had known about had led to an unexpected heart attack.

  We’d never expected to inherit her Texas ranch, but here we were, preparing to learn how to herd cattle and count chickens… or whatever it is you do on a ranch. To be honest, we hadn’t done much in preparation, and maybe jumping in blind was foolish, but it was a little late for that.

  There’s a knock at the door.

  “I’ll get that.” I leave Keenan to explore and go to answer the door.

  I’m struck dumb by the sight when I swing open the door. The dark-haired woman standing on what’s now our front porch is absolutely fucking stunning. Her curvy body is incredible, and as my eyes flit over her gorgeous rack, I can’t help but think about that old saying about everything being bigger in Texas.

  Her smile is dazzling, and her dark hair is twisted in a long braid down her back. I can’t help but imagine myself gripping that long braid and tugging it back to kiss those full, pink lips.

  “Hi, there,” she says, and the twang of her drawl immediately charms me as she offers me a foil-wrapped dish of some sort, “You must be one of Moll’s nephews. My name’s Delia, I live next door.”

  The sweet scent wafting up from the dish in my hands is nearly enough to make me drool, if her fabulous body wasn’t doing that to me already.

  “Thought I’d bring y’all one of my world-famous apple pies to welcome you to the neigh
borhood,” she says cheerfully, a bright smile on her face.

  “That’s so kind of you,” I reply, shifting the pie into one hand and offering her the other, “And it smells incredible. I’m Rowan Donoghue.”

  She touches my hand and jumps as a static shock cracks between us.

  “Well, then,” I muse, “Guess the sparks are flying already.”

  I can’t hide my grin as I wink at her.

  Delia groans, but she’s laughing. “That was awful.”

  I’m laughing, too. “It can’t have been that bad, you’re laughing.”

  “True,” she admits. “But maybe I just have a terrible sense of humor.”

  “Well, looks like we already have something in common, then,” I reply.

  She snorts. “Well, Rowan,” she says, “it’s nice to meet you.”

  I’m about to invite her inside when a sudden sound interrupts me. I can’t really describe it, other than to say that it is extremely odd and alarming.

  Delia seems to immediately know what the sound means, though, and takes off running toward the chicken coop. I run after her, confused and startled. When I step into the coop, I see Dahlia looking around, listening for the sound. Not sure what I’m looking for, I scan the coop as well for anything amiss, and I notice a chicken with a hunk of bright red plastic sticking out of his beak, which seems to be the source of the sound.

  I reach out and gingerly try and remove the thing from the chicken’s beak, and to my horror, I can’t get it out. I tug again and only seem to upset the chicken more, and my panic levels rise. Delia reaches past me and gently scoops up the terrified bird.

  I watch, fascinated and mildly horrified, as she carefully positions the chicken’s back against a bent knee and very gently presses on it in what looks to be a very cautious, delicate Heimlich maneuver. The red thing begins to sort of slowly grow as it’s pushed out of the chicken’s throat until finally, it flies across the coop.

  I pick up the object. It’s a weird little square plastic tube with a cartoon head on it that looks vaguely familiar, but the character is one I can’t recall the name of.

  “What the hell is this?” I ask.

  Delia gently sets down the ruffled hen, looking over at the thing in my hands. “Oh, lord, that demon Pez dispenser.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She laughs, taking the object from my hands.

  “Your aunt has a huge collection of Betty Boop memorabilia up in y’all’s attic,” she explains, pointing to the little caricature on top of the object, “And for some reason, this Pez dispenser keeps ending up outside. She’s had to pull it from a cow’s nostril, she’s run over it with her tractor, and somehow the bastard thing is still in one piece.”

  “Why the hell doesn’t she throw it out?”

  “She did. Twice,” Delia admits, “But somehow the thing kept coming back. I would have laughed and said she was making up the stories, but I saw her throw it out the week before it became a cow bogey.”

  I shudder a little bit. Betty Boop’s little painted plastic face will probably haunt me the rest of my days, if Delia is to be believed. I wonder why her collection is relegated to the attic, since she lived alone, but I’m grateful that we weren’t assaulted with a house full of visuals of the little cartoon flapper.

  “Maybe I should burn the damn thing,” I grumble.

  “You’d probably unleash some evil spirit that would burn your house down,” Delia jokes.

  At least I hope she’s joking.

  She hands me the Pez dispenser, lingering for a long moment and gazing up at me with huge green eyes. After a long pause, she clears her throat. “Well, I’d better get back, but I’ll see you around.”

  She slowly steps away from me and starts to head out of the coop, but is interrupted by Keenan stepping into the doorway. “Everything all right, Patri-? Oh, hello,” he says, as he looks at Delia.

  “Hi, you must be Rowan’s brother,” Delia reaches out a hand to shake, “I’m Delia Lambert, I live next door.”

  He takes her hand and smiles. “Pleasure to meet you, lass, Keenan Donoghue.”

  Her cheeks turn a bit pink when he calls her “lass,” and I feel jealousy bubbling in my gut.

  “Delia just helped rescue me from a chicken choking,” I say, explaining why we’re in here.

  Rowan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Um, wow, that’s-”

  “A literal chicken,” Delia interrupts, struggling not to laugh.

  “Ah. Well, lass, would you like to join us for dinner?” Keenan asks, sounding hopeful.

  I kick myself for letting him be the one to ask. But regardless, I’m glad when she nods. “I’d like that.”

  We lead her back into the house. “Can I get you a drink, Delia?” I ask, “Wine, whiskey, beer?”

  I realize too late that I’m probably only reinforcing the stereotypes about the Irish being heavy drinkers by offering nothing but alcohol.

  “A beer would be fine,” she says.

  And somehow even that’s a turn-on. A self-reliant woman like this who will kick back and enjoy a good beer? I hand her the bottle and the sight of her lips wrapped around the opening of the bottle makes my cock twitch.

  “So, Delia, you run a ranch, too?” Keenan asks as he starts putting together stuff for our meal.

  Delia leans against the counter and takes another sip from the bottle, nodding. “Yeah, I do. I’ve actually got a larger herd and more animals in general. You’ve met most of Molly’s animals, but she seemed to like gardening and growing things more than chasing after critters.”

  That makes sense to me. Molly definitely loved animals, but I remembered how passionate she had been about her garden. We’d fought to keep it alive even after she left for Texas, but none of us had the green thumb she did.

  It makes me a little sad to think about another batch of her beloved plants withering away without her touch, but maybe with a little luck, Keenan and I can scrape through and keep things green.

  “I have to admit,” Delia says, “You two aren’t quite what I was expecting. I know Molly said y’all were businessmen and all, but I didn’t figure you’d come down here in suits,” she gestures.

  I waggle my eyebrows at her, loosening my tie.

  “Well, if you want us to take them off, all you have to do is ask,” I joke.

  Her cheeks redden and I grin. She takes another swig of beer and my mind flashes on an image of those pretty pink lips wrapped around my cock instead. Fuck, I want her.

  I distract myself by helping Keenan with the burgers. We had decided to go with a stereotypical American meal for our first meal in Texas. Plus, it’s easy, so our jet-lagged arses can handle it.

  “So, Delia, is it just you out here by yourself?” Keenan asks.

  She nods. “Yeah, just me and the critters.”

  “Seems like that must get lonely,” he muses.

  Delia shrugs. “I suppose, but there’s good people around here. I used to be good friends with your aunt, and I’ve got friends in town, so I don’t go too crazy.”

  I wonder if any of those friends in town might be attractive girls I could set my brother up with, so I can keep Delia for myself.

  “What about you two? What could possibly convince two successful, handsome Irish fellas to pack it all in and move to Texas?”

  “We were both getting a little bored of the grind, and when we found out Molly left us the place, we decided it was a sign that we needed to try something new,” Keenan explains.

  Delia raises an eyebrow. “That’s a hell of a change of pace,” she says incredulously, “Do you two have any experience with animals?”

  “We had a cat when we were lads,” I admit.

  Delia lets out a low whistle. “Are you good with the crops?”

  We exchange a look, knowing neither one of us has ever been successful with so much as a houseplant. “Not really,” Keenan admits.

  She grimaces slightly. “Well… guess you boys really did want an adventure.”

&
nbsp; We both laugh, a little sheepishly. “Yeah. We’re fast learners,” I say, flashing her a grin, “And I’m sure an… experienced lass like you could teach us a thing or two.”

  I wink at her and she laughs.

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it, city boy,” she replies.

  Maybe I’m mistaken, but I swear I hear an undercurrent of lust in her voice.

  I want this cowgirl to ride my cock like a bucking bronco.

  We finish making dinner and set the table, dishing out burgers and fries and settling with Delia at the table. A comfortable silence falls as we dig in, until it’s broken by a little moan of enjoyment from Delia.

  The sound sends blood rushing to my dick, and when I look over and see her rapturous expression, I wish she was making that face for a very different reason.

  “You boys know how to cook,” she says, sounding pleased and surprised, “This is delicious!”

  I bet you taste even better, my dear, I thought.

  “Glad you like it,” Keenan says, smiling, “We learned a lot from Aunt Molly.”

  We enjoy the rest of the meal and dish up some of Delia’s “world-famous” apple pie for dessert. The whole thing feels like the most quintessentially American meal ever, and I love it. And I can see why her pie would be famous, it’s heavenly.

  “This is the most amazing apple pie I’ve ever tasted,” I tell her.

  Keenan nods his agreement, his mouth stuffed too full for him to speak.

  She flushes with pleasure and smiles. “Y’all are so sweet. Thank you.”

  She stands up and starts to clear the dishes and I stop her. “What are you doing?”

  “Well, you guys did all the cooking, I was just going to clean up,” she says, looking surprised.

  I shake my head. “Absolutely not, you’re our guest, we’ll take care of all that.”

  I take the plates out of her hands and plunk them in the sink. She raises her eyebrows and smiles. “How are either of you still single? Cooking and cleaning? I can’t believe no lucky woman has snatched you up.”

  I lean into her slightly, a smirk on my face, “You offering?”

  Her face reddens and she stammers for a moment before Keenan interrupts with a laugh that sounds forced. “Give the girl a little breathing room, Rowan, she’ll have plenty of time to learn how obnoxious you are, don’t give it all out on the first night.”