The Irish Lottery: A Friends-to-Lovers Contemporary Romance (Irish Kiss) Read online

  The Irish Lottery

  ____________

  An Irish Kiss Novel

  ____________

  Sienna Blake

  The Irish Lottery: a novel / by Sienna Blake. – 1st Ed.

  First Edition: June 2019

  Copyright 2019 Sienna Blake

  Cover art copyright 2019 Giorgia Foroncelli: [email protected]. All Rights Reserved Sienna Blake. Stock images: depositphotos

  Editing Services by Leanore Elliott

  Proofreading services by Proof Positive: http://proofpositivepro.com.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  For women everywhere.

  #YesToYou

  Table of Contents

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Noah

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Noah

  Noah

  Lottery Entry #1

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Noah

  Lottery Entry #279

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Aubrey

  Aubrey

  Aubrey

  Lottery Entry #3893

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Aubrey

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Aubrey

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Noah

  Aubrey

  Epilogue

  Get your FREE ecopy of the complete Bound duet!

  Dear Readers

  Excerpt of Professor’s Kiss

  Excerpt of Three Irish Brothers

  About Sienna

  Noah

  “They said no.”

  Aubrey Campbell, my very best friend in the whole world, stared back at me, her dark-chocolate eyes misting up with tears as her heart broke for me. “I’m so sorry, Noah.”

  The bank said no.

  My three brothers—Michael, Darren and Eoin—went in together as co-borrowers, pooling our combined incomes. We offered up our family home and I put up my bar, The Jar, for collateral as well.

  And they still said no.

  I wanted to kick something. To punch something. In fact, I just came from Gallagher’s Gym where I spent an hour pounding the crap out of a bag before I came to Aubrey’s apartment. Didn’t help much. I still wanted to murder someone.

  “Where the hell am I going to get a quarter of a million euros?” I ran my hands through my sandy hair. It was still damp from my shower and I was sure it was sticking up everywhere. That was the least of my worries right now. “She needs that surgery, Rey. If she doesn’t get it—” I cut off, my throat closing around the consequences. I couldn’t even say it. I couldn’t even think it or I’d lose my shit.

  The Irish public health system was…well, it was pretty poor. My ma didn’t have health insurance so they’d put her on the public hospital waiting list. It was almost two fucking years long. Our ma needed this surgery. Now.

  My heart twisted in my chest and I let out a groan.

  “It’s going to be okay, Noah.” Aubrey slipped her slender arms around my waist. “We’ll think of something.”

  We. She said we. For a few precious moments, I didn’t feel alone.

  I wrapped my arms around her, crushing her flush against me. She didn’t protest, in fact her arms tightened around my waist.

  I rested my chin on her head. Her long dark hair smelled like…tropical beaches, coconuts and pineapple. It must be her shampoo.

  Hope was a tiny flame in the heart of this beautiful girl. I never wanted to let her go.

  Fuck. I was so in love with my best friend.

  But she was engaged to someone else.

  Aubrey

  Noah stayed for another hour and we just sat on the couch holding each other for most of it. I could tell that he didn’t want to talk. He left in a daze, saying he had to get to the bar and he’d call me later. I guess he forgot I’m working tonight, a last-minute swap he begged me to do just this morning.

  For the four years I’ve known Noah O’Sullivan, I’ve never seen him like this. He’s been moody and distant since his mother was diagnosed with a heart condition two weeks ago.

  There seemed to be a special kind of relationship between an Irish boy and his mammy. Even more so between the O’Sullivan brothers and theirs as their father has been out of the picture since Eoin, the youngest, was born.

  All the O’Sullivan boys were old enough to live away from home but they always went to their ma’s place for Sunday lunch. Always.

  If their ma passed away—

  Oh, God, I couldn’t even think it. My heart broke for Noah and his brothers.

  Even as I got ready for work later that evening, it was all I could think about. I almost put on my work shirt inside out. And shoved my feet into mismatched socks before hiding the error in my fur-lined boots.

  A key jangled in the lock as I was grabbing my coat and bag.

  Sean walked in, brushing the drops of rain off his dapper grey coat. My fiancé. Baby-faced and clean shaven, his clear blue eyes were startling in his pale skin.

  Sean didn’t live with me. I lived with a housemate in a two-bedroom flat in the southside of Dublin. But Sean did have a spare key that I gave him once we were engaged. It was my compromise over moving in with him right away. I wanted to wait until we were married to do anything as serious as that. I’d never admit it to anyone, not even Noah, but sometimes at night when I was alone, I’d have something close to a panic attack over the idea of getting married. I mean, I was only twenty-three.

  Sean spotted me and paused with the door half open, a chill already wafting in from the foyer. The insulation in these old buildings was horrible. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  Ah, shit. I totally forgot that Sean was coming over this evening. “Crap, sorry babe, I told Noah I’d work tonight. One of the girls called in sick this morning.”

  Sean’s shoulders sagged. “You didn’t think to tell me?”

  “Sorry, it slipped my mind.”

  His eyes went past me to the mess of screen printing all over the living room. I was glad my housemate was always at her boyfriend’s place and rarely home. Even if she was, she was cool with my mess because I always cleaned it up. Eventually. It was my thing. My hobby. It helped take my mind off things. Obviously, it took my mind off things just a little too well.

&
nbsp; “Let me guess,” Sean said, his mouth set in a line of disapproval. “You were screen printing all afternoon and forgot to tell me.”

  “Not all afternoon.”

  “Did you send out those resumes like you said you would?”

  Shit. “I ran out of time.”

  “Aubrey!”

  “What? I had more important things to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, Noah is upset about his ma. I told you about his ma, right? And I thought I’d make—”

  “Jesus Christ, Aubrey. It’s like you don’t want to get a job.”

  “But I have a job.”

  Sean rolled his eyes. “A waitress at a bar.”

  I leapt to my feet, not wanting to have this argument yet again. “Sean, please, don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you I’m working tonight. Let me make it up to you. This weekend?”

  Sean gave me a long look. “Sunday.”

  But Sunday I’d planned to go to the O’Sullivans for Sunday lunch. Dammit. It’d been too long since I’d gone. Truth be told, I missed them. “I, um…”

  Sean made a face and opened his mouth, likely to give out to me.

  “Okay, Sunday. Yes, that works,” I said quickly to appease him. I had forgotten to tell him not to come over.

  Sean wouldn’t let it go yet. “I could have stayed longer at work and worked on that presentation,” he said, annoyance still in his voice.

  “I said I’m sorry.” I shoved a woolen hat over my unruly thick dark locks.

  “Fine. I might as well head back into work.” He turned to head out.

  “Can you give me a lift then?” I asked.

  The prestigious Dublin College of Music was a grand old Victorian-style building and where The Jar was located. It was technically a campus bar but was situated off the main road, so non-university students came to drink, play pool and listen to live gigs.

  “Thanks, babe,” I said to Sean as he turned into the circular drop-off point at the university’s side entrance. “Sorry again for mucking you around this evening.”

  “You’re lucky you’re so cute,” he said.

  I was already partly forgiven.

  He leaned over for a kiss. His lips were still cool from the outside.

  “When will you be finished?” he asked, straightening.

  On weeknights like this one, we closed at midnight. After cleanup and lockup, it meant I wouldn’t be leaving till 1 a.m. “Probably one,” I said.

  Sean’s lips pressed into a line. “It’s not safe for you to be walking home that late.”

  “Noah’s dropping me home,” I said softly. Even though Noah lived out of the way from me, he always dropped me off after closing.

  Sean’s lips twitched at the mention of Noah’s name. He never liked Noah. Noah wasn’t his biggest fan either, and I didn’t know why. Over the years I tried inviting them both out for drinks at our local bar, but they didn’t seem to get on.

  Correction…they didn’t seem to even want to get on.

  I’d long since given up and accepted that my boyfriend and my best friend would just have to live in two separate spaces in my life.

  “Well, okay,” I said, unclipping my seatbelt, “hope you get your presentation done.”

  “When we’re married, I don’t want you working at this bar anymore,” Sean blurted out.

  I turned back towards him with a snap. “What? Why not?”

  Sean snorted. “Come on, Aubrey. Do you really want to be working at a bar for the rest of your life? I mean, I get why you have to now.”

  I worked there when I was a student. Now that my student visa had run out and I was only here on a tourist visa, I wasn’t technically allowed to work. Noah let me work cash in hand.

  I’d been trying to get a real job since I’d graduated with my business degree, but they always rejected me when they realized that they’d have to help me get a work visa if they wanted to hire me. I guess there were plenty of other Irish or European Union graduates with rights to work in Ireland already.

  Damn not being an EU citizen.

  Damn not being Irish.

  That’s why Sean proposed. Well, it wasn’t really a proposal so much as it was a rational solution to the problem. He didn’t get down on one knee. I didn’t even have a ring. He just said “I suppose we could get married” over Chinese takeout one Sunday evening a few weeks ago.

  The little girl romantic in me died a little every time I remembered I wouldn’t have a wildly romantic proposal story to tell my kids. But that wasn’t important, right?

  What was important was that I got to stay in Ireland, the gorgeous country I’d fallen in love with since the day I arrived over four years ago.

  “Well, you don’t, do you?” Sean repeated, snapping me out of my head. “Want to be a barmaid all your life?”

  My first reaction was, what the hell is wrong with that if I’m happy? But I didn’t say it. Sean graduated with a business degree too, and now worked for a management consulting firm. He was one of their rising stars and would go on to do big things. I settled on business because I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life—still didn’t.

  “I guess not…” I said.

  I hadn’t really thought about it. The last four years of working at Noah’s bar had been some of the best of my life. It’d be sad when I had to leave. Once I was married and had a visa to work here, I wouldn’t have any problems getting a graduate job. For some reason, this prospect filled me with dread.

  I gave Sean one more peck and hopped out of the car, running across the sodden sidewalk undercover. I waved at Sean as he drove off.

  It hit me…everything was changing.

  I was getting married.

  Soon I wouldn’t be working at The Jar anymore, I’d be working full-time for some company. And…

  I wouldn’t be able to see Noah as much. When I worked an office job, I’d be working days and he worked nights. I wouldn’t have time to see his family, who had basically adopted me, either. I’d have to start going to Sean’s family events. It was just Sean and his parents at their gatherings. Sean’s parents were nice but very standoffish. Unlike Noah’s mad family. I always got the impression that they didn’t think I was good enough for their precious little son.

  My heart twisted in my chest. Everything was about to change. I wasn’t sure I liked it.

  “Hey, girl,” Candace called out from across the bar when I stepped into The Jar.

  Candace was a tiny spitfire. Five foot nothing of passionate, outspoken whirlwind under a cloud of curly raven hair. Sometimes I was exhausted just watching her work the room, collecting empty glasses, stacking them in Jenga-like piles on her tray before carrying it above her head without dropping a single one, all with her huge, infectious smile plastered on her face. Her real name is Canciana but she introduces herself as Candace. When I asked her why, she said that Candace was her “English name.” It was easier for people here to pronounce than Canciana. I noticed a lot of Brazilians do that. And there were a lot of Brazilians in Dublin.

  I waved to her and headed to the staff room out back to dump my stuff in my locker.

  The Jar was a dimly lit university bar, a wooden bar running along one end, a stage on the other with a dance floor in front, booths and tables in between. The walls were mosaicked with signed photos of the musicians who had drunk or played here, a Who’s Who of Irish and international music fame. The bar’s full name was Whiskey in the Jar, a song sung by The Dubliners, an Irish band popular in the seventies and eighties.

  The Dublin College of Music had a quite a few famous musicians as teachers, and they always came into The Jar to jam.

  In the backroom, I grabbed one of the black The Jar shirts in my size from the washed pile and slid it on instead of my jumper. On the back was printed “wack fall the daddy-o”, a line from The Dubliners song that The Jar was named after. I’d originally made one for Noah as a laugh. But he loved them so much that he ordered a ton from me a
nd made them part of the standard uniform. He insisted on paying me in cash. The gesture warmed my heart. I knew part of it was because he wanted to help me with my financial situation but knew I was too proud to take money from him for free.

  I walked behind the bar and began to unstack the dishwasher of glasses, listening to Candace chatting away about her latest Tinder date fiasco.

  “Nossa, amiga!” Which I’ve learned means damn, girl in Portuguese. “Remind me again why you’re not with that man?”

  I glanced in the direction of Candace’s stare.

  Noah was walking out of the storeroom with a full slab of bottles hoisted over his shoulder, his biceps bulging from under his t-shirt.

  Nossa, amiga indeed.

  But I could never date someone like Noah.

  He was too beautiful. Like, ridiculously otherworldly beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made every woman in the room tear her eyes off her boyfriend and mentally undress him from across the room.

  I couldn’t deal with having a boyfriend that women threw themselves at every friggin’ day. I mean, even when we went out as friends, women hit on him right in front of me. We were just friends. But they didn’t know that.

  Noah was always gentlemanly in front of me. He always turned them down and apologized to me. But I knew his reputation for chatting up women. All the girls at my college had various stories of his playboy ways. Heartbreaker, they called him.

  God of Thunder. That was another one of his monikers. Named as such because of his resemblance to Thor, the mythical god played most recently by Chris Hemsworth in the Marvel movies. And apparently…his ability between the sheets.

  God of Thunder… My cheeks never failed to heat when I heard that nickname. I brushed it off as quickly as I could. I mean, who would ever want to see their gorgeous best friend naked, right? I mean, Noah was like a brother to me… Right?

  Besides, he owned a bar, for God’s sake. Drunk women plus hot bartender equals too much opportunity for him. No wonder he was a player. I didn’t blame him. I just was never ever going to date him. Never.

  Ever.

  Besides, I was with Sean. Sean was cute and smart. Sure, he didn’t make me laugh quite the way Noah did, and I never stayed up late talking with him like I did with Noah, but you can’t have everything, right? I’d rather a loyal boyfriend who’d be mine rather than hot perfection who I could never trust. Right?