My professor gave me my first D.

Now my next assignment is due…in nine months.

You know when you meet your new professor, and he ends up being the same man you had a one-night stand with three months ago?

Okay, maybe not. Let me explain.

I hadn’t intended to sleep with my professor. I might be known as the impulsive, prankster daugh-ter in my family, but I’m not insane. I just wanted to have some fun in Ireland at my sister’s wed-ding, and maybe lose my virginity, too.

When I met Lochlann Gallagher at a pub one night, I couldn’t resist him. He was hot, Irish, and en-tirely set on seducing me. One unforgettable night under the sheets with him, and my V-card went up in smoke.

Well, that night had one itty bitty consequence because Lochlann totally made my eggo preggo.

And if this story isn’t crazy enough, Lochlann is not just my baby daddy: he’s now my professor and my advisor for grad school.

Somehow we have to figure out a way not to reveal this rapidly gestating secret while re-sisting the explosive attraction between us.

Except there’s just one more complication to this story: I think I’m totally falling for my baby daddy.

Oopsie daisy.

Title: Oopsie Daisy
Author: Iris Morland
Series: The Flower Shop Sisters Book 3
Pages: tbc
Genre(s): Contemporary, US, Rom Com
Hot Buttons: n/a


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This is the third - and presumably last - book in Morland’s Flower Shop Sisters series (after Petal Plucker and He Loves Me, He Loves me Not) yet it does stand alone. Mari and Dani - the heroines from the first two books - do appear in this one alongside their now husbands, but you really don’t have to have read the first two books to understand this one.

I was keen to read the last sister (Kate)’s book to round out the series. And that’s despite my trepidation whenever there’s a character from the British Isles in an American book - especially Scotland or, as in this book, Ireland. Luckily it wasn’t too cringe - although there was the obligatory attempts to write like American’s hear the Irish accent and random words the Irish say plonked into sentences. But hey…

Ms Morland writes a really engaging story - managing to mix descriptions and dialogue with fun, everyday internal thoughts of the characters, meaning you get to know them - and understand them - quickly and well. You never get bored with her stories and the pages practically turn themselves.

The story premise is something new and interesting - and I suppose a little taboo. Professor inadvertently knocking up his student. It was a fun idea and I was interested to see how it would play out.

And I suppose that’s where the book fell down for me. Lochlann treated Kate like something he was ashamed of and their relationship one that he didn’t want anyone else to know of - despite continuing to be with her when he decided he wanted her.

Plus, a simple conversation with his bosses once he was made aware of the pregnancy situation would have taken away ALL the conflict in the book. For all that Kate was made to be the immature one (and don’t get me wrong, she was quite immature even up to and including the end) Lochlann certainly didn’t act much like a grown up either. It made me feel uncomfortable and I got an icky feeling at many points during the book.

There was sex in the book. I like sex in books. However, when you pair things like talking about boob sweat with Lochlann then going to town on her breasts - it really takes the sexy out of those scenes for me.

I’m not going to lie, I considered giving this book 3 stars - but the writing and storytelling really do elevate it above that. I didn’t fall in love with the characters or the story, but I would still recommend this to anyone looking to round out the Flower Shop series or fans of Ms Morland. 4 stars from me.

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AUTHOR BIO!

 

A coffee addict and cat lover, Iris Morland is the author of over a dozen sexy, small-town romances and romantic comedies. If she's not reading or writing, she enjoys binging on Netflix shows and cooking something delicious.

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THE FLOWER SHOP SISTERS SERIES!

    

I know there are new covers for the first two books (that match the third) but the originals are soooo much cuter than the new ones so I'll keep the old covers!

Click to see other books by Iris Morland

 

I’m a good girl—until I got drunk in Vegas and married a panties-flaming-hot Irishman.

Oops.

I’ve always lived my life by the rules. Unlike my two sisters, I’m the good one. The responsible one. Going outside my comfort zone is when I wear red lipstick before five PM.

That comfort zone of mine? It’s smashed to smithereens on a wild night in Las Vegas when I met—and married—Liam Gallagher.

After one shot of tequila, then two, then too many to count, a good girl’s rules tend to disappear. And so do her panties, and her bra, and various other articles of clothing when she’s with an Irishman who knows his way around a woman’s body.

Now my husband wants us to stay married. For six months. He says it’ll be worth my while. Considering our chemistry underneath the sheets, I can’t say that he’s wrong.

Liam isn’t safe, though. Liam definitely isn’t comfortable. He’s like the male equivalent of wearing red lipstick in the daytime all wrapped up in an irresistible, dangerous package.

Yet this stubborn Irishman isn’t about to let me go, drunken Princess Bride-themed Vegas wedding or no.

Now I have to decide if I’m brave enough to break the rules for love.

Title: He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not
Author: Iris Morland
Series: The Flower Shop Sisters Book 2
Pages: 228
Genre(s): Contemporary, US, Rom Com
Hot Buttons: n/a

Release Date: 16th July, 2019


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This is the second book in the Flower Shop Sisters series and the second to receive the full 5 stars from me. It stands completely alone although Dani and Jacob (but mostly Dani) from Petal Plucker, do appear in this book as Mari did in theirs.

Like I said, this book received the full 5 stars from me and it deserves every one of them. It’s such a fun tale with a relatable heroine, a swoon worthy hero and enough laughter and sex to make every page turn faster than the last.

Mari has gone through some tough times, romantically, in recent months so it doesn't take much to have her ridiculously drunk and seriously married on a trip to Vegas. Despite this random act of craziness, Mari is actually quite a straight-laced, responsible and calm person. Or at least she is around everyone except Liam. Liam makes her crazy which makes for great reading for us. But aside from that, I really liked Mari and could identify with her. I wanted her to do well and reach her dreams. I’ll even admit I shed a little tear when she worked out her issues with her mum.

So now to Liam. Liam Gallagher, to be precise. While thoughts of gobby northern singers (Oasis presumably didn’t make it big over in the US) did freak me out for a few pages, our Liam is fun, bold and sweet enough to make him his own person in my head. He is Irish but I'm happy to note that Ms Morland doesn't go all ‘fiddle-dee-dee potatoes’ on us which means Liam is a very likeable, and realistic, hero. Even more so because he's so adorably dense with his ‘I don't believe in love and marriage’ schtick. Bless his heart!

And while our pair are equally wonderful characters separately - together, they are just amazing. They have chemistry for days and have a real buzz about them. That translates to some sizzling sex scenes. Oooh boy - they really hit the spot! And often.

Ms Morland is onto a winner with the Flower Shop Sisters series and the books seem to just get better. I’m looking forward to seeing if the youngest sister, Kate, (with possibly Lochlann?) will get her own story and I’m already anticipating another great read. In the meantime, if you're a fan of romantic comedies with likeable, relatable characters in extraordinary situations - I would highly recommend this book to you. 5 stars.

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BUY NOW!

 

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AUTHOR BIO!

 

A coffee addict and cat lover, Iris Morland is the author of over a dozen sexy, small-town romances and romantic comedies. If she's not reading or writing, she enjoys binging on Netflix shows and cooking something delicious.

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AUTHOR LINKS!

                  

To subscribe to Iris's newsletter, click here.

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Click to see other books by Iris Morland

 

I’m a good girl—until I got drunk in Vegas and married a panties-flaming-hot Irishman.

Oops.

I’ve always lived my life by the rules. Unlike my two sisters, I’m the good one. The responsible one. Going outside my comfort zone is when I wear red lipstick before five PM.

That comfort zone of mine? It’s smashed to smithereens on a wild night in Las Vegas when I met—and married—Liam Gallagher.

After one shot of tequila, then two, then too many to count, a good girl’s rules tend to disappear. And so do her panties, and her bra, and various other articles of clothing when she’s with an Irishman who knows his way around a woman’s body.

Now my husband wants us to stay married. For six months. He says it’ll be worth my while. Considering our chemistry underneath the sheets, I can’t say that he’s wrong.

Liam isn’t safe, though. Liam definitely isn’t comfortable. He’s like the male equivalent of wearing red lipstick in the daytime all wrapped up in an irresistible, dangerous package.

Yet this stubborn Irishman isn’t about to let me go, drunken Princess Bride-themed Vegas wedding or no.

Now I have to decide if I’m brave enough to break the rules for love.

Title: He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not
Author: Iris Morland
Series: The Flower Shop Sisters Book 2
Pages: tbc
Genre(s): Contemporary, US, Rom Com
Hot Buttons: tbc

Release Date: 16th July, 2019


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Mari

The moment I woke up after my best friend’s raucous bachelorette party in Las Vegas, I realized two things in quick succession:

1. I was spooning with a man who was very, very naked.

2. And I had no idea who he was.

To my horror, the man had his arm slung across me, and it weighed at least a thousand pounds, I was sure. My bladder yelled profanities at me as I pushed at the ridiculously heavy arm trapping me against the bed.

Finally, he turned over, taking his arm with him. I shuffled to the bathroom and didn’t feel the panic hit me until after I’d peed and saw the ring on my left hand.

Ring. Left hand. I didn’t wear a ring there anymore since I’d caught my ex-fiancé cheating on me. I’d thrown the ring David had bought me in his face.

This ring wasn’t that diamond David had gotten me. I peered more closely at it. It was—plastic? Was it from a ring pop?

Did I call the police? No, that was stupid. 911, I got married last night to a stranger. Yeah, that’d go over well. I was sure the Vegas police would just laugh and tell us to get a lawyer.

I heard movement in the room. I froze. Glancing in the mirror, I saw a wild-eyed woman with bedhead, smeared lipstick, raccoon eyes from melted mascara, and a whole bunch of hickeys across my collarbone.

I very rarely swore, but at that moment I wanted to swear until I was blue in the face.

What had I done last night? And who was in my bed with me?

I wasn’t that kind of girl—you know, the wild girl. The girl who had one-night stands in Vegas. The girl who threw caution to the wind.

I’d been about to get married to a man who drove a Prius and was an accountant. I always got the perfect attendance certificate in elementary school. I’d been one of the valedictorians at my high school; I’d gotten an A- once because my teacher had dared to think my essay on fashion in The Great Gatsby was “insipid, at best.” (She’d been wrong, by the way.)

I was Marigold Wright, and I was a good girl.

I prided myself on my good girl-ness. Where my sisters were either oddballs or outright deviants (at least in my mind), I never crossed lines. I liked lines. Lines were comforting. They existed for a reason; otherwise the world would be in utter chaos.

My one real indulgence in life was my makeup obsession. My collection was scattered across the bathroom counter—an excessive amount of products for one person on a brief trip—and strangely enough, having this man see it all seemed like a violation of my privacy. Even more than being in bed with me and him being naked. I began to put my makeup away, knowing in my haste I’d have to go through it and reorganize it when I got home.

“Are you done in there?” a growling male voice said through the bathroom door. “I’m fuckin’ dying out here.” An accent tinged his speech, but I was too tired to try to place it.

I tossed the last products into my makeup bag and scrubbed at my face. Realizing it didn’t matter, I opened the door with a frigid expression.

The man—who wore only a sheet draped around his hips—smiled down at me. No, he didn’t smile; he smirked. I’d never been the recipient of a true smirk before, but this man clearly had perfected the look.

He was tall, so tall I had to tilt my head back. He had to be at least six-five; I was five-ten, so it was rare that men were tall enough that I felt short in comparison. But what arrested me most was how dark his eyes were. Oh, and the fact that he was jacked. Muscles for days, his chest covered in dark hair that matched the beard shadowing his cheeks and jaw.

“Are you done or can I take a piss now?” he said.

I blushed to the roots of my hair. Being a redhead, my blushes tended to be bright and extremely obvious, and this man in front of me seemed very amused with my red cheeks. I wanted to ask him if he remembered what had happened last night, but it was as if the words had dried up in my throat.

Or maybe it was because I had a large male glaring down at me because I wouldn’t let him pee.

“Be my guest,” I said, ducking under his arm. I tried to look as prim as I could, but it was difficult when I looked like a total wreck and didn’t even know this man’s name.

He shut the door with an ironic bow, giving me some time to collect my thoughts. Actually, I didn’t need to collect my thoughts: I needed to run. But as I got dressed and began to toss things into my suitcase, I realized he was the one who needed to leave. This was my room.

I stopped packing when memories started to surface, like images from a movie. I remembered stumbling down the Las Vegas strip, and I could remember this man’s voice beside me. Then the bachelorette party where the bride-to-be, Jenna, kept shoving tequila shots in front of me. Or had that happened before we’d stumbled down the strip?

Worst of all, I remembered the touch of a man—this man—who made heat lick through my veins.

But he wasn’t just any man. He had a name. I remembered that now, because we’d met the day prior to the bachelorette party.

Liam. His name was Liam, but his last name eluded me at the moment. He’d sat next to me at the rehearsal dinner, and then at the hotel pool after that—

Oh God, had I slept with him last night? Based on the hickeys, it certainly seemed plausible. But I couldn’t remember, and that made my stomach curdle.

I needed a bottle of water, ibuprofen, and some explanations. I scrambled around in my suitcase, only to find a gift bag from the bachelorette party the night before. Right as I pulled out a pink dildo that said Pleasure for your pink on the base, Liam emerged from the bathroom.

“I’m flattered, love, but pink isn’t really my color,” he said over my shoulder. “Besides the fact that I’m always the one who does the penetrating,” he added with a wry chuckle.

I tried to stuff the dildo back into the bag, but I only proceeded to empty the rest of its contents, which included: a handful of condoms—ribbed for her pleasure, so obviously there was a theme here; a butt plug with a diamond handle; and a bullet vibe that started buzzing way too enthusiastically for my pounding head.

I could’ve cheerfully strangled Jenna for giving us these party favors last night. Whatever happened to a piece of jewelry or a gift certificate from Starbucks? Something benign, something that didn’t involve things that went up your butt. Although anything could become a butt plug if you really tried, I reasoned.

“Oh my God,” I groaned. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening—”

I turned to face Liam, only to see that he was naked.


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AUTHOR BIO!

 

A coffee addict and cat lover, Iris Morland is the author of over a dozen sexy, small-town romances and romantic comedies. If she's not reading or writing, she enjoys binging on Netflix shows and cooking something delicious.

------------------------

AUTHOR LINKS!

                  

To subscribe to Iris's newsletter, click here.

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Click to see other books by Iris Morland