Also by this author: Castle Hill: A Joss and Braden Novella, Fall from India Place, HERO, One King's Way, The One Real Thing, Every Little Thing, Play On, Villain, On Hart's Boardwalk, Fight or Flight
Series: On Dublin Street #6
Also in this series: Castle Hill: A Joss and Braden Novella, Fall from India Place
Published by NAL on June 2nd 2015
Genres: Contemporary Romance
Logan from Echoes of Scotland Street is back with his own smoldering story, as the New York Times bestselling On Dublin Street series returns…
Logan spent two years paying for the mistakes he made. Now, he’s ready to start over. He has a great apartment, a good job, and plenty of women to distract him from his past. And one woman who is driving him to distraction…
Grace escaped her manipulative family by moving to a new city. Her new life, made to suit her own needs, is almost perfect. All she needs to do is find her Mr. Right—or at least figure out a way to ignore her irresistible yet annoying womanizer of a neighbor.
Grace is determined to have nothing to do with Logan until a life-changing surprise slowly begins turning the wild heartbreaker into exactly the kind of strong, stable man she’s been searching for. Only just when she begins to give into his charms, her own messy past threatens to derail everything they’ve worked to build…
Last book in the Series
There comes a time when goodbyes are inevitable… books come and go, some standalones and some part of a series. I am not one to get a attached and sometimes I know when it’s time to call it day with a given series. Well, I can wholeheartedly say that this series is one that I wish would go on forever. I clearly remember purchasing On Dublin Street on my birthday the week that it was first released as an indie. It was one of our very first ever book club reads, and it took all of us by storm. It had all of the elements of a perfect contemporary romance. Years later, it remains as one of my all time favorite reads and with each new book in the series, I find myself falling in love all over again; with new characters and with old. It feels like coming home. My heart warms and my mind gets ready to be blown.
The latest installment is Moonlight On Nightingale Way. It is Grace and Logan’s story and it is one that will leave a lasting impression. Not only because it is indeed the very LAST book in the series, but because Samantha Young brings her A game for the final book. Her writing is top notch and the story is as compelling as its predecessors. I found myself truly enjoying every minute that I spent reading it.
When Grace and Logan meet it is not under the best circumstances but the banter and humor that takes place is so good that I instantly knew I was going to love these characters. They are both complex and with not so pleasant pasts. Every time they graced the pages together, their chemistry was palpable. A series of events take place that force them to come together for a common good. Of course their attraction to each other is undeniable and from that point forward, the story becomes fast paced, a little angsty, a whole lot sexy, and overall just plain awesome!
“I can’t walk away from you even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. You are reality and sweet oblivion wrapped up in one annoyingly argumentative, always-bloody-right, classy, gorgeous-as-fuck package.”
I cannot recommend this series enough and it is my go to when some asks me for book recommendations. Samantha Young has created characters are easy to love. They have all become a part of one close knit group that can only be described as family. So as sad as I am to say goodbye, I know that I will revisit them often and fall in love all over again each time. Pick up Moonlight On Nightingale Way and let your heart lead the way towards a phenomenal ending to an outstanding series.
An Excerpt from Moonlight on Nightingale Way by Samantha Young
His considerate streak was over.
I glowered at my reflection in the gilded silver mirror in my bedroom.
The person looking back at me was unrecognizable.
I looked like hell.
Because of him.
Only hours after I was jolted awake by the dream I needed to stop acknowledging ever happened, I was awoken by the noise coming from Logan’s bedroom. Loud—extremely loud—sex.
“THAT’S RIGHT. RIGHT THERE. OH BOY. RIGHT THERE. OH, LOGAN. OH, LOGAN. OH, LOGAN . . . AHHHHHHH!”
And she was American. He was obviously branching out.
Not that I cared. Nope.
I was, however, surprised and outraged when the next night I got even less sleep because the American was back, and she and Logan went three rounds of “RIGHT THERE.”
And she returned last night for more rounds of it.
Seventy-two hours of no sleep.
It did not look good on me.
If he bloody well returned with the American again, I was going to . . . “What, Grace?” I curled my lip at my exhausted reflection. “Shout at him? Let him have it? Scold him? Because you’ve done so well at it in the past.”
What if the American did make a fourth appearance? I lowered my gaze, unable to look at myself anymore as I stood there with my messy hair, wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt because I was too tired to iron something decent.
Was Logan MacLeod finally settling in to become a one-woman man?
I turned around and strode out of my bedroom, my mood darkening to the black-hole level. Marching through my flat, I snatched up my purse. I needed chocolate and coffee. There was no way I was getting through the day without either one of those.
Locking the door behind me, my shoulders instantly hunched up around my ears at the familiar sound of Logan’s door opening.
Oh God, was life really this unfair?
Feeling my cheeks bloom with heat at the thought of Logan seeing me so disheveled, I turned slowly around.
He was staring over at me as he locked up. “Grace.”
“Mr. MacLeod.” I glanced away, willing the memory of that bloody dream away.
“You all right? You look like shit.”
And that was it.
The straw that broke the back of that damn camel everyone was always piling straw on top of! Looking at him, seeing him standing there, well rested despite his sexual gymnastics at the crack of bloody dawn, I saw red.
“I look like shit?” I took a bristling step toward him.
Logan raised an eyebrow at my tone.
“Do you know why I look like shit?”
“No, but I suddenly have a feeling I’m to blame.” He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly not amused.
“Yes.” I nodded frantically, the lack of sleep making me frenzied in my anger. “You are to blame!” My voice echoed off the concrete walls of our stairwell, but I was past caring. “Seventy-two hours. Seventy-bleeding-two hours I have been awake.”
“That’s not my problem, and frankly, I’m not in the mood to deal with this . . . hysteria.” He walked toward the stairs, dismissing me.
“Don’t you walk away from me.”
He stopped. Turned. He raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to be frightened? Christ, Grace, it’s like getting bitten by a butterfly.”
I huffed, furious that he was making fun of me when my standing up to him was a momentous accomplishment. “How dare you! For the last three nights I’ve had to put up with the constant loud sex from you and your bloody American. I just want peace and quiet! I want some bloody goddamn fucking sleep!”
My words seemed to soak into the coldness of the stairwell, ringing against the walls, stunning Logan.
After a moment’s silence, during which I at once berated myself for losing my ladylike cool and mentally shook my hand for taking a stance, Logan cleared his throat.
“Have you got a glass up against the wall?”
“Excuse me?” I shook my head, confused.
“How did you know I’ve been fucking an American?”
My mouth dropped open at his obtuseness. “Because. I. Can. Hear. Every. Word. She. Says.”
“Och, no. You must be straining to listen.”
My anger reignited. “Are you mad? Why on earth would I be straining to listen?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Are you always this deliberately irritating?” I huffed, mirroring his stance by crossing my arms over my chest.
To my surprise, this caused Logan’s lips to twitch, and his eyes started dancing with humor. “I only seem to irritate you.” He cocked his head to the side. “I wonder why that is.”
“Because,” I whined, my head lolling with exasperation and tiredness, “I’m sleep deprived, and it’s all your fault, you bloody wretched manwhore.”
“Well, this is a whole other side to you. It’s quite unpleasant. I may have to speak to the landlord about it. I can’t take this kind of abuse.”
My head jerked upright and I glowered at him. “I swear if you don’t start taking this seriously I will push you down those stairs.”
“Now you’re threatening my life.” He tsked. “That won’t do it all.”
Posted by arrangement with New American Library, a member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC, A Penguin Random House Company. Copyright © Samantha Young, 2015.
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