Fiona's Choice

By Deena Remiel

FROM THE DEPTHS

Ten years after a terrible accident steals her happiness, Fiona Moran has a life as shabby and rundown as the little lighthouse she maintains on the isle of Inisheer—and only fury in her heart for the fabled gods of Ireland. Little does she know, all that is about to change. Backlit by the pouring rain, a handsome stranger appears on her doorstep, and unlike the fearsome deity tasked with sailing drowned souls to their final resting place, this handsome behemoth with a boyish grin is intent upon raising her back to the heights of happiness. He alone can make this offer of bliss. She alone can choose it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
• Release date: Sep 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781944262372

Deena Remiel

It was the mystique of Arizona’s history and landscape that called to Deena and catapulted her career as a USA Today Bestselling Author. When she’s not writing urban fantasy or paranormal romance in the wee, small hours of the morning or in the deep, dark of night, Deena teaches language arts to gifted middle school students. She currently lives in Mesa, but New Jersey will always tug at her heartstrings.

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PRAISE FOR DEENA REMIEL

Remiel’s stories pull you in, captivate your heart, and make you beg for more.

—USA Today Bestselling Author Laura Wright

"Deena Remiel’s Book Waitress series is a rare find. One part Buffy, another part Exorcist, with an extra large dash of hunky reporter, it’s bound to wind up on your favorite series list. It’s certainly on mine."

—Rebecca Royce, Bestselling Author of the Westervelt Wolves

Deena Remiel’s angelic world will make you swoon.

—Erin Quinn, New York Times Bestselling Author

[Deena’s writing] is always done in such wonderful layers. Intense emotions, beautiful descriptions, and wonderfully woven story. They all come together to form her addictive paranormal tales.

—Kristina’s Books and More

FROM THE DEPTHS

Ten years after a terrible accident steals her happiness, Fiona Moran has a life as shabby and rundown as the little lighthouse she maintains on the isle of Inisheer—and only fury in her heart for the fabled gods of Ireland. Little does she know, all that is about to change. Backlit by the pouring rain, a handsome stranger appears on her doorstep, and unlike the fearsome deity tasked with sailing drowned souls to their final resting place, this handsome behemoth with a boyish grin is intent upon raising her back to the heights of happiness. He alone can make this offer of bliss. She alone can choose it.

FIONA’S CHOICE

a LOVE AMONG THE RUINS book

Deena Remiel

www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

FIONA’S CHOICE

Copyright © 2016 Debra Rosenblum

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

ISBN 978-1-944262-37-2

Ebook formatting by Maureen Cutajar

www.gopublished.com

To those who risk it all for love.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Fiona’s Choice seemed to write itself as I sat each day at the computer. The characters burst to life right before my eyes, and their story brought tears. I must again thank my editors: JoAnne Soper-Cook, Tanya Reynolds, and Chris Keeslar for their wonderful attention to detail. I am grateful for my family's patience and understanding as my stories take over my life in spurts. Finally, I must acknowledge my readers, my staunch supporters. It is for you that I escape into and bring romantic paranormal realms to life.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

About the Author

Also by Deena Remiel

FIONA’S CHOICE

Chapter One

Inisheer Island, Ireland

Present Day

Aw, now aren’t ye a pretty one? Connor hoisted the mackerel onto his powerboat, pleased at the bounty he’d collected in such a short span of time. Why, I think yer the biggest of the bunch. I’ll have Fiona smoke and pepper ye fer a fine Sunday meal. Pa would’ve been pleased.

He whistled a lively seafaring tune as he removed the hook from his catch and tossed it in the cooler with his five other unlucky friends. A flash of light caught his attention, and as he wheeled around to investigate, thunder vibrated the air. So intense and deep was the sound, his bones and muscles buzzed right along. Ominous dark gray clouds encroached on the entire expanse of sky.

Now, where the blazes did this fierce weather come from? It’s supposed to be clear skies all day. He grumbled and groused while scurrying about the hull, securing things down to prepare for a hasty departure back toward home.

Home. To Fiona. She was probably fixing something hearty for him to eat alongside a pint when he returned. He wondered if she’d noticed the change in weather, too, and prayed she wasn’t worrying about him. He’d call her. Set her mind at ease that he was headed back to shore. She picked up on the first ring.

Connor? Connor do ye see the madness in the skies right now? Please tell me yer comin’ home.

Yes, love. I saw, and I’m headed back to shore. It’s ragin’ somethin’ fierce not too far away. I’m hopin’ to outpace it. One way or the other, I sure would like a strong cup of tea before settlin’ in on a tall pint of Guinness.

I’ll have those ready fer ye. Be safe. Be fast. I love ye.

I’ll ask the sea gods to help me move along. I love ye, dearie. Keep the lighthouse burnin’ bright fer me?

I will, darlin’.

Putting his full attention on speed and steering, Connor tossed aside his phone and prayed to God he’d get home in one piece. He took a quick glance behind him, only to find the storm clouds billowing and increasing their advance on him and his hapless tinkertoy of a boat. If this pace kept up, he’d be overtaken in a matter of minutes.

Fer feck’s sake! he muttered as raindrops the size of euros pelted his body. The engine, pushed to its limits, sputtered and choked as the sea swelled and lapped up and over the sides of what Connor used to think was the perfect-sized boat for his needs. Perfect fer a lazy day of fishin’, perhaps. Not so perfect to outrun a raging squall.

He was taking on too much water but needed to steer the boat. If he stopped to bail it out, he was dead in the sea. If he kept going, he might be able to make it close enough to shore before becoming totally engulfed. Neither option appealed to him, but with Fiona’s beautiful face clear in his mind and her voice beckoning him, he powered on and didn’t look anywhere other than toward the lighthouse, his home.

As he approached the shoreline and dock, the angry swells tossed him about. With no way to steer the damn thing anymore, he reconciled that the sea and sky had conspired against him for some reason. But he wouldn’t give up so easily. He needed to somehow veer away from the damned rocks! Rocks that would turn his boat into matchsticks and his body into chum.

He grabbed hold of the rudder and pushed it as far left as it would go. As luck would have it, he steered himself straight into a monstrous wave. Well, feck me…

****

Hallo, Connor Moran.

Startled, he bolted upright on the bench and sucked in a huge breath. His eyes took a bit to focus on the mammoth-sized man with long, wavy black hair who sat across from him. The golden, fish-scale armor he wore reminded Connor of his favorite comic book hero, Aquaman. Confusion set in. Who the hell are ye, and what are ye doin’ in my boat?

My name’s Lir, and you’re actually in mine. He grinned a full set of pearly whites. I’d say ‘Pleased to make yer acquaintance,’ but under these circumstances, I don’t think ye’d return the sentiment.

Barely hearing the man, Connor squirmed on his seat, looking about for something to call familiar, but found nothing. Instead, schools of fish darted in jagged patterns to his left, while a forest of sea kelp waved gently in