The End
Also by Aubrey Irons
Standalone Stepbrother Romance:
Score: A Stepbrother Sports Romance
Secret: A Military Stepbrother Romance
Cockney: A British Stepbrother Romance
Crude: A Stepbrother Romance
Soldiers of Fortune Series:
Heat
Burn
Scorch
Roar
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About the Author
Aubrey Irons enjoys writing about bold, sassy, and intelligent women and the dominant, cocky, and quite typically forbidden alpha males who love and lust for them; gripping stories, happy endings, and enough heat to keep things extra steamy!
In the real world, Aubrey is kept plenty entertained by her own tattooed Marine husband, their precocious and adorable three year old, and one very ill-behaved puppy.
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Part II
Burn: Soldiers of Fortune Book 2
Copyright © 2015 Aubrey Irons
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.
This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please do not continue reading this book of you are under the age of 18 or are offended by content of this nature.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older and are in no way blood relations. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.
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1
Quinn
What a fucking week.
I toss back a hefty gulp of the champagne I swiped from the catering tent, wrinkling my face at the fizzy bubbles tickling my nose.
Flats; I definitely should have worn flats, I grumble to myself and hike up my bridesmaids dress with one hand as I stalk my way high-heeled through the rose garden.
Ok, I'm well aware that sneaking off to the greenhouse in the back gardens of my father's estate to slam down stolen champagne probably isn't what I should be doing thirty minutes before my sister's wedding. But with the week I've had, I'm basically categorizing the bubbly in my hand as medicine, and my normally quite sensible sensibilities can go ahead and deal with it.
An ”amazing opportunity,” my youngest sister Chelsea had called it after hearing about the job offer at our late father's company.
Yeah, well, the real 'amazing opportunity' - the one that I wanted - was the team leader position in the research group I was in back at the hospital; the one I was pretty much “guaranteed” by the Administrative Director.
Of course when that Director is kind of maybe your sort-of boyfriend, and you walk in on him getting blown by some slutty young med student, it's amazing how quickly your guaranteed position turns into her actual position.
And no, that's not a euphemism; he actually gave her the job he'd promised me.
Ok fine, the job at Archer Holdings is a great job, but that doesn't mean that coming to work for my father's company doesn't feel like moving back in with your parents after failing out in the real world. I mean, it's not like being a Doctor by twenty-seven is exactly slacking, but I can't help but feel like a washout coming back to work for “Dad's” company.
I'm taking another swig of champagne as I shove open the door to the greenhouse, and I guess that's the reason I don't realize I'm not alone until he speaks.
“Looks like I'm not the only one that couldn't wait until after the ceremony for the champagne toast.”
I actually spit champagne out as I whirl at the uncomfortably familiar man's voice behind me, and when my eye land on him, my jaw about hits the floor under my feet.
No fucking way.
This isn't happening; this seriously can't be happening. It can't be him; there's just no possible way this is real.
But his dark greenish brown eyes lock onto mine as the recognition dawns there, and just the faintest shadow of a grin teases at the corners of his mouth; “You?”