Monday, August 29, 2016

release day || ONE NIGHT STAND by Mignon Mykel

Today is release day for One Night Stand,
book one of the novella series, O'Gallagher Nights, 
a spin-off of the Prescott Family.

O’Gallaghers has been a long-lasting establishment in San Diego, known for its Irish brews and fare. When the next generation of O’Gallaghers took over, it became known for a little bit more…

Conor O’Gallagher.

Thirty-two, six-foot, and all muscle. Flashes of dimples behind his black beard, quick winks for the lady patrons, and a tattoo sleeve that leaves the ladies begging to be his nightly conquest.

Because one of them will be.

Every night at close, Conor brings one, two, sometimes more, up to his apartment and has his merry way with them. The women always leave satisfied, and always know he’s a one and done kind of guy, no repeat performances.

But what happens when one of his one night stands comes back into his life five months later, and pregnant no less?

What happens when one night gives you more than you bargained for?

Conor’s about to find out…

early reviews are in ..!
This is the first book I have ever read by Mignon Mykel, and I am a bit angry with myself right now, for waiting so long to read her books, but I am going to change that after this one. - Miss Betty

Oh. My. Word. This book had me from the very start! More detailed review to come closer to release date, but you NEED to add this to your TBR!!! - Jenn

This was so cute and sweet, yet super H.O.T. and sexy. This is my first read of this author and I know it won't be the last. I really really liked it. It was a very fast read and sometimes I'm skeptical of those, because they don't seem to put everything I need to make it a full story into them, but this one did. - Stephanie

about the author
As an avid reader of the romance genre, I have dabbled in writing it for the last 10+ years! Many of the original stories will remain hidden on my green external hard drive, but the first family, those Prescotts, fought to be heard.

I am a recent Arizona transplant, living with a cat and dog (who only get along when the dog is preoccupied). I love-love and enjoy penning stories of happily ever after.

Connect with Mignon online:


O’Gallaghers was the place to go if you were looking for a good time. The local sport teams hung out there after games, for one, but also because the O’Gallagher siblings were a sight to behold.

At least, in my opinion.

I grew up with the siblings, once upon a time. From the time I could walk and all throughout high school, my parents and I lived next door to the O’Gallagher family. Brenna, the youngest of the trio, and I had been best friends up until the fifth grade. Conor, the oldest, and Rory, three years younger than him, were wild, flaunted sex appeal like nobody’s business, and were fiercely protective of their baby sister.

They also didn’t seem to think she was every bit as wild and crazy as they were, which was actually part of the breaking point in our friendship. By the age of ten, I was no longer good enough for Brenna.

While I remained the quiet, timid Mia, the only part that was wild and crazy about me was the brown, curly locks on my head. Two years after our friendship ended, I still held on to my baby fat while Brenna was the first in our grade to get breasts, then her period. She was the first to grow tall in our class, too. Sure, we eventually all caught up and she became the shortest in our grade, but it didn’t stop the boys from noticing her. She was a five-four, C-cup beauty with raven black hair and piercing green eyes, and we were only twelve years old.

By fourteen, rumor had it she lost her virginity in the back of a high school senior’s van. A classmate of Rory’s, no less.

By sixteen, the rumors started circling she was pregnant. She wasn’t, I don’t think, but it was a popular story, told again and again.

The thing with the rumors was that the people spreading them, the people responsible for them, were extremely careful to keep their words clear of Conor and Rory.

Brenna left for school in her conservative clothes and always returned home in them. She left clean-faced and was sure to wipe the make-up off before heading home.

I’m sure her brothers weren’t stupid, but with everything else going on in their lives—senior year, college, and the like—if Brenna showed up clean and fresh and like the angel they thought she was, they could go on and pretend the same.

I never spread the rumors.

It wasn’t that I was afraid of her brothers; quite the opposite, actually. At all of eight years old, I had fancied myself in love with fifteen-year old, Conor. He shared the same jet-black hair Brenna had, but his eyes were the type of blue you could see from a mile away.

So incredibly brilliant.

As much as I missed Brenna’s friendship, it was the easy smiles her brother always had for us that I missed the most.

I sat at a high-top table in O’Gallaghers, my eyes on the man running the bar, hoping to catch that blue brilliance, willing it to aim my way.

Conor O’Gallagher.

I hadn’t seen him in fifteen years so I doubted he would recognize me.

But I certainly recognized him.

Gone was the lanky, tall, clean-faced kid from our youth. In his place was a taller, broader man with a short, yet thick, beard. The only time he flashed his smile was when he was flirting and he always paired it with a sexy wink. Tonight though, was ladies’ night, which meant he brought the charm up one-hundred-fold.

The O’Gallagher siblings were second generation Irish-Americans; their grandparents were from Northern Ireland. Anyone with any knowledge of Irish history would know that the Irish didn’t wear kilts, but rather tunic things called lein-croichs.

Ok, maybe I looked it up.

But I had been pretty sure kilts were a Scottish thing.


Thursday was ladies’ night, and Conor and Rory brought it up a notch by wearing solid black kilts—last week’s was saffron colored—paired with the forest green shirt that was part of the bar’s uniform. No other bartender did the same, just the O’Gallagher boys.

They also both wore tan work boots, which should have made the ensemble ridiculous but rather…

It was fucking sexy as all get out.

I had been coming in a few times a week for the last three weeks, trying to get the nerve to go up to Conor. Re-introduce myself. See if he wanted to sit and talk, ease him into what I really wanted from him. Yet, every time I came in, I sat at this table, away from the bar and away from Conor.

I licked the corner of my lips as I lifted the glass of Irish ale to my lips, my eyes still on the man of the hour.

Each time I was there, I was helped by one of the female barmaids. If I wanted to be helped by Conor, if I wanted him to truly notice me, I would have to sit at the bar but I still had to form a plan because I wanted more than to just sit and talk and catch up.

You see, for all of Conor’s flirting, he always backed it up. Sure, he flirted with damn near every female in the place, but if he gave you extra special attention, you just knew where your night was going.

Allegedly at bar close, he took one of the remaining ladies up to his apartment for a wild rendezvous. Never a virgin; he wasn’t quiet about his lack of desire to take a virgin to bed. He liked the wild women who knew their own way around the bedroom.

Thursdays, rumor had it, he brought two up with him.

I didn’t want to be one of two tonight, no.

But I did want one night with him.

A night to learn the ropes of sex.

Because if anyone knew what he was doing, it was Conor O’Gallagher.

And I was going to be his first virgin.

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