When Clarissa Kelly inherits an Irish castle, the only one thing standing in her way is the devilishly handsome man living there.
The American girl thinks she can take my castle?
Wildheath is rightly mine. The old man promised it to me.
Then here comes this gorgeous girl who thinks she can just land on my doorstep with her windswept hair, bat those pretty green eyes at me, and I’ll just give in.
No matter how much she distracts me with those full, pouty lips, or how cute that dimple on her left cheek happens to be—she’s not taking away MY castle.
No. I’ll not let that lass outfox me, no matter how badly I want to press her against the wall and give her a proper welcome…
Right away I know Ian O'Brien is trouble.
With his stormy gaze, and hard, unforgiving scowl—the man is impossible.
For some reason he expects me to just hand over the keys to my birthright.
Yeah, that’s not happening.
Someone needs to tell this Irishman that possession is nine-tenths of the law. So I’m moving into the castle with him.
But if I’m going to lay claim to what belongs to me, I’ll have to ignore the man. Pretend not to notice those broad, powerful shoulders, and that curly black hair that begs for me to run my fingers through it.
Because it’s time to show this infuriating Irishman that he’s finally met his match.