Kate Hoffmann - The Mighty Quinns - Logan

Praise for Kate Hoffmann’s Mighty Quinns

“This truly delightful tale packs in the heat and a lot of heart at the same time.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Dermot

“This is a fast read that is hard to tear the eyes from. Once I picked it up I couldn’t put it down.”

—Fresh Fiction on The Mighty Quinns: Dermot

“A story that not only pulled me in, but left me weak in the knees.”

—Seriously Reviewed on The Mighty Quinns: Riley

“Sexy, heartwarming and romantic, this is a story to settle down with and enjoy—and then reread.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Teague

“Sexy Irish folklore and intrigue weave throughout this steamy tale.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Kellan

“The only drawback to this story is that it’s far too short!”

—Fresh Fiction on The Mighty Quinns: Kellan

“Strong, imperfect but lovable characters, an interesting setting and great sensuality.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Brody

Dear Reader,

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been writing for Mills & Boon for nearly twenty years. It seems like only yesterday that I completed my first novel and sent it in, hoping that it would be good enough to publish. Now, many books later, people sometimes ask if I ever run out of ideas. Fortunately, I don’t. There always seems to be a line of characters just waiting to have their story written.

This month I kick off another set of Mighty Quinns. Only, this time I’m doing something a little different—I’m setting the stories in four different countries! This first book, The Mighty Quinns: Logan , takes place in Australia, and the next book, The Mighty Quinns: Jack , will bring you back to the US. The last two books are still in progress, so I won’t give out any spoilers just yet. But you might want to watch out for a couple of hot Irish guys named Rourke and Dex…:)

As always, without you I wouldn’t have the chance to continue to tell my stories. Whether you’ve been with me from the start or you’ve just discovered my books, thank you for reading! Be sure to check out my page on Facebook for all the latest news.

All my best,

Kate Hoffmann

KATE HOFFMANNhas written more than seventy books for Mills & Boon, most of them for the Blaze ®line. She spent time as a music teacher, a retail assistant buyer and an advertising exec before she settled into a career as a full-time writer. She continues to pursue her interests in music, theater and musical theater, working with local schools in various productions. She lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her cat, Chloe.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Michelle. Never stop believing.

It can happen for you, too!

DROPLETS OF RAIN spattered against the wavy glass in the manor-house windows. Aileen Quinn stared out into the lush green of her garden, her gaze fixed on a niche in the tall stone wall. A small statue of an angel was nestled into the ivy, the rain dripping off the outspread wings as if it wept.

“Are you certain?” she asked.

“I know this is a lot to handle, Miss Quinn. Perhaps we should continue later?”

She gripped the head of her cane and turned back to the genealogist. “No,” she said. “I’m ninety-six years old. There will be no more secrets in my life. That’s why I chose to write my autobiography. I want it all out there so I can leave this world in peace.”

“You realize the chances that your older siblings are still alive are virtually zero.”

Aileen moved to a wing chair near the fireplace and sat down, turning toward the warmth. “Of course. But I would like to know if they had children and grandchildren. I have a family and I’d like to know at least a little bit about them before I die.”

She stared into the flickering flames, her thoughts carrying her back to her childhood. She only had the thinnest of details, facts that the nuns at the orphanage had relinquished after years of persistent questions. Her father had died in the Easter Rising of 1916, shot through the heart by a British soldier. Her mother, left pregnant and desperate to provide for her newborn daughter, grew sick with consumption and brought Aileen to the orphanage a few weeks before she died.

The story had been told so many times in the media, the rags-to-riches tale of an Irish orphan girl who became one of the world’s most popular novelists. Aileen’s stories had been a reflection of her life, tales of struggle and triumph, of heartache and great happiness, and all set in the land of her birth, her beautiful Ireland.

“Tell me again,” she said. “Their names. What were my brothers’ names?”

“The eldest was Diarmuid. He was twelve when he was sent off to work as an apprentice to a shipbuilder in Belfast in 1917. Then there was Conal. He was nine and Lochlan was six when you were born. And Tomas was five. There were three other children who didn’t survive. A baby girl between Diarmuid and Conal who died at birth. And a daughter named Mary and a son named Orin between Tomas and you. They both died of scarlet fever the year before you were born.”

“So there were seven, not four.”

The young man nodded. “Yes.”

“I need to know where they went,” Aileen said, leaning forward in her chair. “How they lived. You need to find everything you can about them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He riffled through his papers. “I was able to learn that the youngest, Tomas, was sent to Australia. He traveled with a missionary and his wife on a ship called the Cambria , which sailed from Cork and landed in Sydney in December of 1916.”

“Then that’s where you’ll begin,” Aileen said. “In Australia. I don’t care how many people you need to hire to help you or how much it costs. I’m giving you unlimited funds to do whatever is needed, Mr. Stephens. And I want a weekly report of any progress you’ve made, no matter how inconsequential.”

“Yes, Miss Quinn.”

“That’s all for now,” she said.

He nodded and walked out of the solarium, his research tucked under his arm. Aileen watched him leave, then drew a deep breath. She’d spent her whole life believing she was alone in the world, a victim of circumstances beyond her control. But now, in a single instant, she had a family, siblings who had once held her and kissed her…and loved her.

The housekeeper walked into the room, her footsteps silent on the ornate rug. Sally set the tray down on the tea table. “I’ve baked some lovely scones,” she said. “Will you not have one?”

Aileen shook her head. “Just the tea, Sally.”