Forgotten & Found: A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Boxset

by Serena Akeroyd

  Standing there, amid the frilly, lacy curtains, was the most masculine man I’d ever seen in my life.

  And I meant that.

  It was like a thousand aftershave models had morphed into one handsome creature that had just walked through my door.

  At my side, I could feel Jenny’s ‘hot guy radar’ flare to life, and for once, I couldn’t damn well blame her.

  This guy was . . . well, he was enough to make me choke on my words and splutter to a halt.

  The tea room was all girly femininity. It was sophisticated enough to appeal to businesswomen with its mauve, taupe, and cream-toned hues, and the ethereal watercolors that decorated the walls. But the tablecloths were lacy, and the china dishes and cake stands we used were the height of Edwardian elegance.

  Moms brought their little girls here for their birthday, and high-powered executives spilled dirt on their lovers with their girlfriends over scones and clotted cream—breaking their diets as they discussed the boyfriends who had broken their hearts.

  The man, whoever the hell he was, was dressed to impress in a navy suit with the finest pinstripe. It was close to a silver fleck, and I could see, even from this distance, that it was hand tailored. I’d seen custom tailoring before, and only a trained eye could get a suit cut so perfectly to this man’s form.

  With wide shoulders that looked like they could take the weight of the world, a long, lean frame that was enhanced by strong muscles evident through the close fit of his pants and jacket, then the silkiness of his shirt which revealed delineated abs when his bright gold and scarlet tie flapped as he moved, the guy was hot.

  With a capital H.

  “How can we help, sir?” Jenny purred, and despite my own awe, I had to dip my chin to hide my smile.

  Even if I wanted to throw my hat into this particular man’s game, there was no way he’d choose me over Jenny. Fuck, I’d screw her, and I wasn’t even a lesbian. Not even a teensy bit bi. I’d gone shopping with her enough to have seen her ass, and I promise you, it’s biteable.

  So, nope. I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of this Adonis seeing me when Jenny was in the room.

  Yet. . . .

  When I’d controlled my smile, I looked over at the man, and his focus was on me.

  My breath stuttered to a halt.

  Why wasn’t his gaze glued to Jenny?

  Why weren’t those ice-white blue eyes fixated on my best friend’s tits, which Jenny helpfully plumped up as she preened at my side?

  For a second, I was so close to breaking out into a coughing fit, it was humiliating. Then, more humiliation struck in a quieter manner, but it was nevertheless rotten—I turned pink.

  Now, you might think you know what a blush is. You might think you’ve even experienced it yourself a time or two. But I was a redhead. My skin made fresh milk look yellow, and even my fucking freckles were pale. Everything about me was like I’d been dunked into white wax.

  But as the heat crawled over me, taking over my skin as the man looked at me without pause, I knew things had rarely been this dire.

  See, with Jenny as a best friend, I was used to the attention going her way. I could hide in the background, hide in her shadow. I liked it there. I was comfortable there. Sometimes, on double dates, she’d drag me along, and even the guy supposed to be dating me would be gaping at Jenny. As pathetic as it was, I was so used to it, it didn’t bother me.

  But now?

  I just wasn’t used to being in the spotlight.

  Especially not a man like this one’s spotlight.

  When you’re a teenager, practicing with your mom’s blush for the first time, you always look like a tomato that’s been left out in the sun, right?

  I was redder than that.

  I could feel it. I could fucking feel the heat turning me tomato red.

  When Jenny cleared her throat, I thanked God when it broke the man’s attention. He shot her a look, but it wasn’t admiring. It wasn’t even impressed.

  If anything, it was irritated.

  Okay, so now both Jenny and I were stunned.

  Fuck that, we were floored.

  Literally.

  Our mouths were doing a pretty good fish impression as the man turned back to look at me.

  Shit, was this some kind of joke?

  Was it April 1st and I’d just gotten the dates mixed up again?

  “Ms. Keegan?”

  Oh fuck. His voice.

  Oh. My. God.

  That voice.

  It was. . . .

  I had to swallow.

  Did men even talk like that?

  It was low and husky and raspy and made me think of sex, not just mediocre sex, but the best sex. Toe-curling, nails-breaking-in-the-sheets sex. Sex so fucking good you couldn’t walk the next day. Sex so hot that it made my current core temperature look polar in comparison. Sex that I’d never been lucky to have before, so I pined for it in the worst way.

  Jenny nudged me in the side when I just carried on gaping at the man. “Y-Yes. That’s me.” I cleared my throat, feeling nervous and stupid and flustered as I wiped my hands on my apron.

  Sweet Jesus.

  Was this man really looking for me while I was wearing a goddamn pinafore?

  Even as practical as they were, I wanted to beg the patron saint of pinnies to remove it from me. To do something, anything, to make sure that this man didn’t see me in the red gingham check that I always wore to cover up stains.

  And then I felt it.

  Jenny’s hand.

  Tugging at the knot.

  I wanted to kiss her. Seriously. I wanted to give her a fucking raise! As I moved away from the counter and her side, the apron dropped to the floor as I headed for the man whose hand was now held out, ready for me to shake in greeting.

  There are those moments in your life when you know you’ll never forget them. They can be happy or sad, annoying or exhilarating. This was one of them.

  As I slipped my hand into his, I felt the electric shocks down to my core. Meeting his gaze wasn’t hard because I was stunned, and I needed to know if he’d felt that, too.

  From the way those eyelids were shielding his icy-blue eyes, I figured he was just as surprised.

  It was like a satisfied puma was watching me. One that was happy there was plump prey prancing around in front of him.

  Shit.

  Did I just describe myself as ‘plump prey?’

  And like that, my house of cards came tumbling down because what the hell would this man want with me?

  I was seeing things.

  God, I was so stupid sometimes.

  I cleared my throat for, like, the fourth damn time, and asked, “I’m Ms. Keegan. You are?”

  His smile, when it appeared, was as charming as the rest of him. His teeth were white, but not creepy, reality-TV-star white. They were straight except for one of his canines, which tilted in slightly. In his perfect face, it was one flaw that I almost clung to. Because with that wide brow, the hair so dark it looked like black silk that was cut closely to his head with a faint peak at his forehead, the strong nose, and even stronger jaw, I needed something imperfect to focus on.

  Then, I sucked down a breath and remembered what Fiona had told me once upon a time. When I’d been nervous about asking Jamie Winters to homecoming, she’d advised me in her soft Irish lilt, “Lass, that boy takes a dump just like you do. He uses the bathroom twice a day and undoubtedly leaves a puddle on the floor for his ma to clean up. I bet he’s puked a time or two as well. Had diarrhea and the good Lord only knows what else. Just you think that the next time you see that boy and want to ask him out.”

  Yeah. It was gross, but fuck, it had worked. Her advice had worked so well I hadn’t asked anyone out because I could only think of them using the damn toilet!

  Still, looking at this Adonis, there was no imagining that.

  Surely, gods didn’t use the bathroom.

  Did they?

  “The name’s Finn. Finn O’Grady
.”

  My eyes flared at the name.

  No.

  It couldn’t be.

  Finn O’Grady?

  No. It wasn’t a rare name, but it was a strong one. One that suited him, one that had always suited him.

  I frowned up at him wondering, yet again, if this was a joke of some sort, but as he looked at me, really looked at me, I saw no recognition. Saw nothing on his features that revealed any ounce of awareness that I’d known him for years.

  Well, okay, not known. But I’d known his mother. Our mothers had been best friends. And as I looked, I saw the same almond-shaped eyes Fiona had, the stubborn jaw, and that unmistakable butt-indent on his chin.

  At the reminder of just how forgettable I was, my heart sank, and hurt whistled through me.

  Then, I realized I was still holding his hand, and as he squeezed, the flush returned and I almost died of mortification.

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  Secrets & Lies is now free!

  Meg’s love life was missing a spark until she discovered her need to be dominated. When her fiancé shared the same kink, she thought all her birthdays had come at once, and then she came to learn their relationship was one big fat lie.

  Gabe has loved Meg for years, watching her from afar, and always wishing he’d been the one to date her first and not his brother. When he has the chance to have Meg in his bed—even better, tied to it—it’s an opportunity he can’t refuse.

  With disastrous consequences.

  Can Gabe make Meg realize she’s the one woman he’s always wanted? But once secrets and lies have wormed their way into a relationship, is it impossible to establish the firm base of trust needed between lovers, and more importantly, between sub and Sir…?

  This story features orgasm control in a BDSM setting.

  Secrets & Lies is now free!

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  About the Author

  I'm a romance novelaholic and I won't touch a book unless I know there's a happy ending. This addiction is what made me craft stories that suit my voracious need for raunchy romance. I love twists and unexpected turns, and my novels all contain sexy guys, dark humor, and hot AF love scenes.

  I write MF, Menage, and Reverse Harem (also known as Why Choose romance,) in both contemporary and paranormal. Some of my stories are darker than others, but I can promise you one thing, you will always get the happy ending your heart needs!