The Mighty Quinns: Liam. Kate Hoffmann

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      Liam let the camera lens move along the length of her body

      From his surveillance point, he had a clear view of her through her bedroom window. He watched as she pulled her T-shirt over her head. Her jeans were next and she skimmed them off her hips and kicked them away. “Hmm, black underwear. Pretty racy for an accountant,” he murmured to himself.

      He’d been given a picture of her when he’d accepted the job, but that woman had been all conservative and efficient looking, nothing like this beautiful, sensual lady. But Eleanor Thorpe was a suspect in the embezzlement of a quarter million dollars. What better way to pull off a crime than to play the dependable, quietly forgettable employee?

      But now she was reaching around for the hook on her bra and Liam’s mouth went dry.

      He was about to get an insider’s look at just how unforgettable Eleanor Thorpe could be….

      Dear Reader,

      The Quinns are back! For those of you who read my first MIGHTY QUINNS trilogy, I’m sure you probably realized that I couldn’t just leave the younger brothers—Brian, Sean and Liam—living life as carefree bachelors. After all, what fun would that be?

      The Quinn family has always done its best to avoid commitment. But the three youngest brothers have more to deal with than just the old family legends—where all the men are heroes and the women are schemers. Now there’s a new Mighty Quinn “curse.” After brothers Conor, Dylan and Brendan each rode to the rescue of a beautiful woman in distress, they ended up tumbling helplessly into love. Can Brian, Sean and Liam avoid the same fate? Or will destiny give them their own chance at happily-ever-after?

      I hope you enjoy Liam’s story. And watch for Brian and Sean coming in the following months. And then who knows? There are probably a few Quinn cousins out there waiting to find romance.

      Happy reading,

      Kate Hoffmann

      P.S. I love to hear from my readers. Visit my Web site at www.katehoffmann.com for news about all my books, past, present and future.

      The Mighty Quinns: Liam

      Kate Hoffmann

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For my great-great-great-great-grandfather Patrick Doolin,

       who provided me with my only drop of Irish blood.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Epilogue

      Prologue

      THE THREE BOYS hunched down on the floor of the front parlor, peering through the tattered lace curtains at a figure on the front porch.

      “What should we do?” Liam Quinn whispered. “We can’t let her in.”

      “Answer the door,” his brother Brian ordered. “We have to pretend everything is okay.”

      “She’ll go away,” Sean reassured them both. “Just wait.” Sean was Brian’s twin and they usually disagreed on everything.

      “No,” Liam whispered. “She’s not going away. Not this time.”

      A knot of fear twisted in his stomach and he held his breath. He and his five brothers had been dodging social workers long enough for Liam to know exactly what they looked like. This one wore a gray coat, nearly the same color as the dirty snow that melted on either side of the street. But it was the dour expression and overstuffed briefcase that really gave her away.

      “Answer the damn door,” Brian snapped. “Just tell her you’re home sick and Da is napping in the bedroom.”

      Liam turned to his older brothers, the twins both glaring at him. He was the swing vote, a position very difficult for a ten-year-old. “What if she wants to talk to him, Einstein?”

      “You’ll just have to convince her that he can’t be bothered,” Brian explained. “Tell her he has a contagious flu…and that he’s barfing…and that the doctors said he has to sleep. You can do it, Li.” Brian gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

      The doorbell buzzed again and Liam jumped at the harsh sound. The social workers had been a fear for as long as he could remember. They were like the mythical dragons in their father’s tales of the Mighty Quinn ancestors, always lurking in the shadows and waiting to swoop down to tear their family to shreds.

      Winter was the worst season for the dragons to strike. In the winter, there was no way they could produce a responsible parent. In late October, Seamus Quinn took The Mighty Quinn down to the Caribbean, following the swordfishing fleet to warmer waters where he’d earn a winter income not possible on the North Atlantic. Since he was due to return at the beginning of April, they were still on their own for a few more weeks.

      Liam didn’t exactly have a perfect family, but it was as close as the six Quinn brothers would ever come. Though his older brothers remembered a time when things were better, Liam had never known any other life. Conor, Dylan, Brendan and the twins, Sean and Brian, had all been born in Ireland, a country Liam only knew as an island on a map. But to hear them speak of it, Ireland had been a land filled with magic and mystery and wonderful, happy times.

      Liam had tried to imagine what it was like to have a regular family, a father who came home every night and a mother who cooked dinner and read stories. But all that was over by the time Liam joined the family. Their father, Seamus, had brought his wife and five sons to America before Liam was even born. He’d bought a partnership in Uncle Padriac’s long-liner, The Mighty Quinn, working at an occupation that took him away from South Boston for weeks and sometimes months at a time.

      Liam had been the first Quinn born in America. He had always harbored a secret guilt that maybe he’d been the cause of his family’s problems. He’d pieced together enough bits of information from whispered conversations between his brothers to know that everything had gone bad about the time he was born. His father had begun drinking and gambling, his mother often shut herself in her room and wept, and when they were together, they fought all the time.

      And then she was gone. Conor had been eight at the time, old enough to remember her. Dylan had been six and remembered even less, and, at five, Brendan had only vague memories. As for the three-year-old twins and infant Liam, they’d been left to only imagine the dark-haired beauty who’d sung them lullabies and tucked them into bed.

      “Fiona,”

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