Happy Release to The Irish Lottery!

Happy Release to The Irish Lottery!
I can’t wait for you to meet these four sexy Irish brothers!!!

Hope you enjoy them! 😉

xoxo Sienna


The Irish Lottery

A Contemporary Friends-to-Lovers Romance

“Such a great book and an incredible message! ” ~ Amy Loves Reading Book Blog

The Irish Lottery: Four hot Irish brothers ready to play out your ultimate fantasy…

Noah
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Our ma is sick and this lottery is the only way to raise that much money quickly.

But when my best friend in the whole world, the girl I’ve secretly loved for years, turns up as the winner I cannot believe it.

When I read the secret fantasy she’s submitted I almost choke.

She just wants us to give her what she’s never had…

…an O.

This could be the very thing I need to convince her that we should be more than friends. I could give her what she wants—the sexiest night of her life…and more.

I just hope she’s happy when she finds out who’s behind the mask.

The Irish Lottery is a standalone friends-to-lovers contemporary romance. 

“…flipping fantastic!!! Such a beautiful story about family, friendship and love” ~ Early GR Reviewer

Get your hands full of these Irish men
(FREE with Kindle Unlimited)


Excerpt of The Irish Lottery

“I have an idea on how to raise the money for ma’s surgery.”

My three brothers blinked back at me from their various places around my living room. I’d called an emergency O’Sullivan brothers meeting and they’d all come in a flash.

I was the eldest. Michael was next, only a year younger. He and I look most like our da, with sandy-blond hair and strong square jaws, aquiline noses and high foreheads. My eyes were blue like our ma’s, while his were green. I kept my hair longer and as my ma always says, “unruly,” while Michael’s was cropped short and always styled. Michael ended up as legal counsel to some of Ireland’s richest men. Which was why he was sitting in my living room in a tailored pinstripe suit, having just left work.

Darren was next at twenty-three, two years younger than Michael. He’d always been the strong, silent type and good with his hands. He was still in his work overalls, a smudge of oil on his cheek, having come straight from his garage that specialized in motorbike repairs.

Eoin was the youngest. He and Darren looked like our ma and had her dark hair and thick lashes, except their eyes were green like da’s. He was lounging in one of my armchairs in his rugby sweats, blades of grass in his damp hair, so I knew he’d just come from practice. Eoin might only be twenty-one but he was a rising star in Irish rugby. He was getting a reputation off the field, too.

We were all so different in personality but we came together when it counted. I knew each one of these men had my back. I just hoped they’d agree with what I was about to propose…

“I’m going to sell tickets to a lottery,” I announced.

I was met with blank stares.

I barreled on before anyone could interrupt, outlining my plan. The blank looks turned to frowns.

“Hang on. Tickets to what now?” Michael spoke first.

“To win a night with me,” I said. “To do whatever they want.”

“You mean…sexually?” Michael asked, his voice going higher than usual.

Darren let out a snort. “No, he’s going to play bridge with them. Of course, sexually, dipshite.”

Michael shot Darren a glare.

Darren just shrugged. Nothing rarely phased his cool façade.

“You’re going to whore yourself out?” Eoin asked, his wide jade eyes on me.

“Well, jeez,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck, “when you put it that way…”

“That,” Eoin interrupted, “is fucking deadly. Getting paid to ride a hot rich chick…” He gyrated his hips.

I rolled my eyes. Trust Eoin to turn this into a joke. I grabbed one of the open bags of Tayto crisps so I could throw something at him.

Michael let out a snort. “It’d be more like some wrinkly old prune with cobwebs across her vag—”

I threw the cheese and onion crisp at Michael’s head instead.

He tried to catch it in his mouth and missed.

“So what if she’s old?” I said. “If I raise the money ma needs for this surgery…”

“Oh, shite,” Eoin said, his eyes widening as if he just thought of something. “What the feck is ma going to say?”

“I won’t tell her.” I hated keeping where the money came from a secret. But it was better this way. Who cared about a little white lie if it kept her alive?

“But—”

“I’ll wear a mask on the promo shots and make the winner sign an NDA.”

“An NDA?” Eoin asked.

“A non-disclosure agreement, doofus. Even I know that,” Darren said.

Eoin punched Darren in the arm, which kick-started a punch-off between them.

“You think you can sell enough tickets?” Michael asked me. He had a serious look on his face.

Out of the three of us, I figured he’d be the hardest to get on board with the plan. Even if he did get past the…controversial and extreme nature of the idea.

“I think so. I ran the numbers. If I sell each ticket for five euros, I’d only need to sell 50,000 to make enough to cover the operation.”

Michael’s eyes bulged out of his head. “Fifty thousand tickets? Where the fuck are you going to find fifty thousand women who are desperate enough to fork out five euros for a mere chance at winning you? I mean, yeah, you pull the chicks alright, or at least you did when you hadn’t been dick-dazed by Aubrey yet—”

“Hey!” I protested.

“—but fifty thousand tickets?” Michael continued. “Shite on.”

My shoulders fell, my idea souring before my eyes. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe I was an idiot to think I could sell fifty thousand tickets to this fantasy lottery.

“What if we all do it?” Darren said.

We all turned to look at him.

“What?” I asked.

“If one O’Sullivan brother is tempting enough,” Darren said slowly, “surely four O’Sullivan brothers will send ticket sales through the roof.”

The rest of us O’Sullivan boys stared at Darren. Then at each other.

All four brothers.

One woman…

Get your hands full of these Irish men
(FREE with Kindle Unlimited)


WIN a $25 Amazon GC!

To celebrate the release of The Irish Lottery I’m giving away an Amazon GC on my Facebook Page.