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Claiming His Irish Trainer
Claiming His Irish Trainer
Claiming His Irish Trainer
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Claiming His Irish Trainer

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Leandro Lucian, Argentine hunk of the show jumping circuit, plans to purchase some new broodmares in Ireland, then return home to his family's farm, continue his rehabilitation after a car accident that nearly took his life, and make some tough decisions about his future. He left an up and coming American rider behind in Germany, wishing her well, and with his heart bruised he isn't thinking of another relationship. Until he meets Sibohan Tannabaum.

Now, he's wondering if he can juggle a trans-Atlantic relationship and how he can convince her to come home with him. He's falling hard and fast. But a promise to her father and his reputation stand in his way. He has just one chance to claim his Irish trainer, and if he's successful both of them will win.

Every book in this series stands alone.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateOct 23, 2020
ISBN9781005744786
Claiming His Irish Trainer

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    Book preview

    Claiming His Irish Trainer - Mary Kit Caelsto

    Claiming His Irish Trainer

    A Racehorses & Romance Novel

    Mary Kit Caelsto

    Table of Contents

    Title Page

    Copyright

    Want Free Stories?

    Claiming His Irish Trainer

    Also By The Author

    Preview: Racing Home

    Preview: Steady On Course

    Preview: Spins Are Wild

    About the Author

    The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. Permission is granted to make ONE backup copy for archival purposes.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

    RACING HOME: A RACEHORSES & ROMANCE NOVEL

    Copyright © Mary Kit Caelsto, 2020

    ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

    Cover Art ® 2020

    Cover art by My Author Home

    Book formatting by My Author Home (http://www.myauthorhome.com)

    Electronic Publication Date: May 2020

    This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

    Please support horse rescue and rescue organizations. You may just find your next best friend.

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    Visit https://marykitcaelsto.com/newsletter and sign up for Mary’s newsletter. She offers free serial stories – one equestrian and one fantasy – to her subscribers.

    Get even more free stories by becoming a Patreon at https://patreon.com/marykitcaelsto.

    Chapter One

    A man in his position probably shouldn’t be smiling. Broken hearts didn’t tend to lend themselves to fond farewells and a hope for the future. And yet, as his plane departed from Heathrow for a quick flight to Dublin, Leandro looked out the window and smiled. Right now, things couldn’t be better and that included the realization that the woman he believed he’d loved and admired greatly, was going to return to America to be with the father of her grown son. He wished Sara well and all the happiness in the world. His future lay before him like an unopened present, ready to be discovered and explored. They’d always be good friends, which he believed was the most important part of their relationship—their friendship.

    Armed with the attitude that had seen him through the Rio Olympics and had taken him through many a jump off without any faults, he landed in Dublin. He rented a car at the airport and with the directions programmed into his phone went to the horse breeding facility that would be his home for the next two weeks. Then, he’d return to Argentina to help with the foaling season and move on with his life. But first, see if he couldn’t bring a few of these broodmares home to introduce new blood into his family’s stud.

    A small wooden sign, worn with age, hung by the gate of Tanabaum Racing. The small script underneath said established 1963. At his small family farm Patrick Tanabaum raised some of the best thoroughbreds in Ireland. Sport horse riders from all over the world arrived to look at those that didn’t go on to the track and recently one of their geldings just sold to an Australian eventing rider for a tidy sum of money. He’d spoken with Patrick’s daughter, Sibohan, who ran the office and she assured him they had several lovely breeding prospects for sale.

    The driveway, barely big enough for a truck and trailer, wound beneath large trees, coming to a large stone house. A row of barns sat off to one side, with fenced pastures surrounding them and the house. Horses, a pallet of bays, browns, and chestnuts with the occasional spot of gray and silver, grazed. A group of weanlings slept or grazed beneath a tree not far from the house. He pulled into what appeared to be a parking place next to the house and stepped out, happy to be out of crowded cities and airports and back in the country. It reminded him of home and an unexpected pang of homesickness hit him. He’d be back in his beloved country soon. But first, business.

    He walked to the door and lifted his hand to knock. It opened and a young girl, maybe six or seven bolted out.

    Oh, I’m sorry. I got to feed my pony. She yelled as she ran past him, and he smiled because though the accent was Irish, with her freckles and long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, it could have been his niece.

    I’m sorry if she ran you down. She’s a bit focused when it’s time to go to the barn. The husky, feminine voice pulled his attention to the woman coming to the doorway. She wore a long gray sweater over a pair of riding jeans and jodhpur boots. Her hair, the same dark brown color as the girl’s, tumbled in slight curls over her shoulder and his gut tightened at the sight of her.

    I understand. My niece is the same way. I’m—

    Leandro. It’s good to see you. I’m Sibohan. Come inside. I trust you had a good trip. Her brown eyes missed nothing as she gestured for him to enter.

    I did, thank you. He followed her into a home that instantly wrapped him in warmth and love. Pictures of horses trained through the years hung on the walls. A case with trophies sat in the corner of the living room. A large fireplace dominated the room, and he imagined sitting before it with a fire glowing.

    Glad to hear it. Not to get right to business, but let me show you my office and I’ll check with Audrey and make sure the guest cottage is ready. Follow me. She turned and led him down a narrow hallway that at one time might have gone to bedrooms for a large family. The door closest to the main part of the house had a child’s drawing of a racehorse with the crayoned words Grandpa’s Office on it. The next one had a same drawing that said, Aunt Sibohan’s office. So, the little girl wasn’t hers, he guessed.

    She opened the door. Pardon the clutter.

    A computer sat on a desk surprisingly clear given her words. Sales and tack catalogs stacked into a pile on the corner. A letter tray held spiral bound notebooks, and the shelves behind the desk showcased several trophies, though these looked like from long ago riding competitions and ribbons, along with books on equine training, health, and care.

    Doesn’t look any worse than mine, he said.

    You’re too kind. Take a seat. She grabbed the cell phone on the desk and sent a quick message, her thumbs moving quickly as she typed it out. Audrey will get back to me shortly. She sat and took a deep breath. So, you want to take some of our horses to your family’s farm in Argentina. And why ours when it sounds as if you could have the pick of bloodlines across the globe. Her playful smile lit her face.

    Because they’re yours. The emotion shocked him with his intensity. After his wreck and then dealing with Sara, he’d thought that romance was out of the question for him. Oh, maybe someday he’d settle down with a lovely woman from his home country, raise little polo riders, and call it a good life. But here, with her, his world suddenly tilted on its axis. He glanced at her hand for a ring and saw none, though with her work training horses perhaps she didn’t wear any jewelry. I understand your family has some of the best racing and sport horse bloodlines. The confirmation of your mares complements our homebred stallion well, and I like that your horses aren’t seventeen hand giants. He spoke frankly.

    You raise polo ponies. I can see where a more compact frame would benefit you on the field.

    Indeed.

    Well then, Mr. Luciano, you’re in luck. We have a few mares whose fractions haven’t quite met our standards. They may be available…for the right price. She turned to her computer. Her phone chimed. She checked it. Audrey says the guest cabin is ready. I don’t wish to rush you. There’s no need to talk business right away. Why don’t I share a bit of our family’s history with you? I want you to understand exactly what you’re getting when you purchase one of our mares.

    She stood and went to the pictures hanging on the wall. "This is Lake Isle o Green. He is the sire of our current stud,

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