Saints and Sinners
SAINTS AND SINNERS
by
Shawna Moore
Like fine wine and hot sex, it just gets better with age…TORRID BOOKS CLASSICS, reissues of great erotic romance books from the vaults of Torrid Books, for your intimate reading pleasure.
TORRID BOOKS
www.torridbooks.com
Published by
TORRID BOOKS
www.torridbooks.com
An Imprint of Whiskey Creek Press LLC
Whiskey Creek Press
PO Box 51052
Casper, WY 82605-1052
Copyright
Ó
2004, 2013 by
Kimberly Shoemaker
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 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
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.
ISBN
978-1-59374-231-7
Credits
Cover Artist: Sahara Kelly
Editor: Bev Haynes
Printed in the United States of America
WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT
SAINTS AND SINNERS
Saints and Sinners is a great book. The sexual tension is very tense and so thick you could cut it with a knife. Moira is a great heroine with a go-get'em attitude that you will love. Reilly comes off as a real gentleman, but deep down he's really rugged and sensual.He makes no excuses for wanting Moira and goes after what he wants with no holds barred. You do get real insight into the life of the1920's and the different people and style of New York. I think historical fans, especially the ones with a soft spot for the 1920's era, will love this book and Shawna Moore's style of writing.
Angel Brewer, TRS-Blue
Shawna Moore has concocted an Irish stew that is really spicy. Her historical setting livens up things although the book is so hot it could singe your eyeballs. If you enjoy erotic, you will enjoy this book. I fell in heat with our hero with one blink of my imagination.
Brenda McCoy, Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance
“In Saints and Sinners, Shawna Moore takes us back to the sinful roaring 20's for a exciting ride with a sexy as sin hero, a sassy heroine, and sex so hot it left my laptop burning! Ms. Moore's debut novel from Whiskey Creek Press proves she's an author with a fantastic future in erotic romance.”
Melissa Schroeder
, author of THE HIRED HAND,
Whiskey Creek Press.
“Ms.
Julie Esparza,
JERR
“Shawna Moore has penned a gritty, jazz-age tale with characters true to their times and themselves. Speak-easys, bathtub gin and borgata blend into a seamless backdrop as a strong-minded young woman comes of age in the arms of a man determined to rise above his roots. Saints and Sinners is a delightful trip back in time.”
Rayne Forrest
, author ACROSS TIME, MOUNTAIN HIGH
Shawna Moore expertly recreates the seedy side of New York in the 1920s, complete with speakeasies, flappers and gangsters, in her novel SAINTS AND SINNERS. The tawdry setting immediately comes to life with realistic dialog and convincing interaction between the characters.
SAINTS AND SINNERS by Shawna Moore portrays the corruption and decadence of 1920 New York so realistically that I was totally absorbed. At first, I was unsure about whether Reilly deserved Moira but came to the conclusion that she was his salvation. You must read SANITS AND SINNERS to decide for yourself and tumble back in time to the hedonistic roaring twenties.
Donna, E-cataromance
Dedication
SAINTS AND SINNERS is dedicated to my beloved late mother, to my real-life hero and husband, Dave, and to my father. Without the love and devotion of these three, my writing dreams couldn’t become reality.
Chapter 1
Greenwich Village, 1923
“Just realize, you’re about to make a deal with the Devil and there will be no turning back. I pray for mercy on you and your soul, Moira Monaghan.
”
Concentrating on Helen Flynn’s words as opposed to where she walked, Moira collided with something much sturdier than the wooden counter at Bainbridge’s Department Store. The boxes in her hands shifted and threatened to spill. Oh, to be sure, the man’s blazing blue eyes could hold her captive for the rest of the afternoon. Or the rest of her life. No. Now wasn’t the time to waste on matters of the heart. If she didn’t stop dawdling and concentrate, she’d never get the window display completed.
“Here, let me help you with those.” A tall, flame-haired man flashed her a smile. His hands, rough from work, played against hers as he steadied her. His Irish whiskey voice caressed her. She shivered at the contact with his body. Her loins flooded with warmth.
Despite her tightening grip, various and sundry empty boxes scattered over the floor. Moira swallowed several improper words. If one of those prettily wrapped packages were damaged, the owner, Horace VanMuir, would deduct it from her wages.
“Thank you,” she managed, still mesmerized by the man who’d set her heart hammering. If she managed to get the window display finished before lunch, it would be no small miracle.
Gallant to a fault, he picked up the packages and carried them to the front window. “Over here, right?” he asked, balancing the boxes one atop the other.
Dry-mouthed and unable to do more than nod, Moira followed him. Only two steps into her journey, her worn garter gave way. Of all times. She should spend her money on a new garter belt instead of rouge and face powder. Soon her stocking would slip down her to her ankles, revealing more than was proper.
She sought refuge beside a display counter. From here, no one would see her dilemma. Moira inched her hand underneath her hemline. Her fingers trembled as she quickly rolled the stocking around itself and the overstretched garter for support. The fact her hemline rested a few inches above her ankle would buy her time. She looked up and met his hot gaze. Too late for high hopes.
“Reilly Dunne. Pleased to meet you. Moira, is it? Let me get that for you.”
His husky tone set her on edge. What did he want to get? The boxes? Surely, not her garter that had come unfastened? Had he noticed it? Her fingers froze over a spot above her knee.There. That should conceal the stubborn thing until she could escape and adjust it in private. She looked into his face. His eyes the color of a cloudless summer sky shone with mischief. How did he know her name? “Yes, Moira Monaghan. I can fix it myself.”
As he bent and swept his arm toward the floor, she noticed her earring and heaved a sigh of relief. Time to fix the clasp on that one. Reilly wasn’t interested in her garter belt but wanted to retrieve that silly bauble. Or did he? He winked and passed her the piece of jewelry.
“Some women prefer to do things for themselves,” he said. “Doesn’t hurt to have a man around in case you change your mind.”
The honeyed tone of his brogue washed over her, and her thoughts became even more muddled. His nostrils flared with each breath he took. Like a wild beast, he was. What type of heart beat beneath his striped linen shirt and gray woolen vest? Lusty? A sort who devoured women like a pot of Sunday stew? Or did he savor them slowly like a glass of fine wine?
He assayed her much as one might a coat in a window. Moira glanced down at her dress. Despite her chemise, the nibs of her nipples were visible. One fleeting moment of contact, and she’d reacted in such a shameless way. She replayed his words. What exactly did he mean by doing “it” by herself?
“You’ve been most kind.” She gave him her Sunday-best smile.
Shame, Moira Monaghan. You’ll feel the fire of Hades for being so naughty
. Who cared? If this was sinning, so be it. Today she’d flirted for a brief second. At twenty-three, she was determined to become a woman in every sense of the word. Maybe a man like Reilly might make her dream come true?
“Seems I’ve upset you.”
Waves of desire washed over her. He held her gaze, and she noticed a cobalt blue deep within his gorgeous peepers. Yes, he was makin’ eyes at her. Stripping every bit of clothing from her body in the process. Ogling him sure beat dressing mannequins for window displays any time of day.
“No. I’m just not used to such kindness so early in the day.” Or at any other time.
“Speaking of the time of day, I have an appointment to keep. At least I saw something I liked while shopping for my mother’s present today. Something very nice, indeed.” He reached for her hand and drew it to his lips. For a brief moment, his lips brushed against the back of her hand and almost brought her to her knees. “Been wonderful meeting you.”
“Yes. You too.”
Moira cringed at the sharp staccato of heels against the wooden floorboards. Now she’d get a touch of her boss’s tongue. Kate Flannigan stormed over to where they stood, intent on bawling Moira out from the fierce look on her face.
“Moira!” Kate crossed her arms. “What are you doing standing around looking foolish? Go take care of the display and stop wasting time.”
Moira’s temptation raced to her rescue. “She was helping me. I needed an idea for a Christmas present for someone, and this helpful clerk assisted me. Let me see them again,” he asked and reached for Moira’s hands.
Strong, hot fingers stroked her wrists. His thumbs teased up and down the length of her pinkies, milking each one in turn. “Just what I thought. You wear the same size gloves.”