Jewels of the Sun (Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy)($7.32Value)

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BOOK ONE OF THE GALLAGHERS OF ARDMORE TRILOGY In Gallagher’s Pub, where the fire is burning low and the pints are waiting, #1 New York Times bestselling author Nora Roberts has a story to tell... Determined to reevaluate her life, Jude Murray flees America to take refuge in Faerie Hill Cottage, immersing herself in the study of Irish folklore and discovering hope for the future of the magical past. Finally back home in Ireland after years of traveling, Aidan Gallagher possesses an uncommon understanding of his country’s haunting myths. Although he’s devoted to managing the family pub, a hint of wildness still glints in his eyes—and in Jude, he sees a woman who can both soothe his heart and stir his blood. And he begins to share the legends of the land with her—while they create a passionate history of their own. Don’t miss the other books in the Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy Tears of the Moon Heart of the Sea “America’s favorite writer.”— The New Yorker “Roberts, a storytelling wizard, is at her best here, creating a fantastic setting for the continuing romantic tales of the Gallaghers.”— Publishers Weekly  (starred review) Nora Roberts is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of more than 200 novels. She is also the author of the bestselling In Death series written under the pen name J. D. Robb. There are more than 500 million copies of her books in print. Dear Reader,   Those of you who are familiar with my books know that Ireland is one of my favorite places to visit, in real life and in fiction. It’s a country of dramatic cliffs and quiet fields. One of myth and magic and legend. In Jewels of the Sun, I’ve borrowed from some of those myths and created my own legend. It could have happened. I’d like you to meet the Gallaghers of Ardmore: Aidan, Shawn, and Darcy, who run the local pub in this pretty seaside village in the county of Waterford. Not far from the village is a cottage, a place of magic where a lonely American woman comes to explore her roots and her heart. She won’t be alone in the house, for there is another lonely woman in residence. She just happens to be a ghost. With the help of a faerie prince who loved well if not wise, Aidan Gallagher of Ardmore and Jude Frances Murray from Chicago will find their place, and take the first step toward breaking a hundred-year spell. I’d like to take you back to Ireland with me, through the doors of Gallagher’s Pub where the fire’s burning low and the pints are waiting. I have a story to tell you.   Nora Roberts   Come away! O, human child! To the woods and waters wild, With a fairy hand in hand, For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand. —W. B. YEATS   ONE OBVIOUSLY, WITHOUT QUESTION, she’d lost her mind. Being a psychologist, she ought to know. All the signs were there, had been there, hovering and humming around her for months. The edginess, the short temper, the tendency toward daydreaming and forgetfulness. There’d been a lack of motivation, of energy, of purpose. Her parents had commented on it in their mild, you-can-do-better-Jude way. Her colleagues had begun to glance at her, covertly, with quiet pity or unquiet distaste. She’d come to detest her job, resent her students, find a dozen petty faults with her friends and her family, her associates and superiors. Every morning the simple task of getting out of bed to dress for the day’s classes had taken on the proportions of scaling a mountain. Worse, a mountain she had absolutely no interest in seeing from a distance, much less climbing. Then there was the rash, impulsive behavior. Oh, yes, that was the final tip-off. Steady-as-she-goes Jude Frances Murray, one of the sturdiest branches on the family tree of the Chicago Murrays, sensible and devoted daughter of Doctors Linda and John K. Murray, quit her job. Not took a sabbatical from the university, not asked for a few weeks’ leave, but quit, right in the middle of the semester. Why? She didn’t have the faintest idea. It had been as much a shock to her as to the dean, to her associates, to her parents. Had she reacted in this manner two years before when her marriage had shattered? No, indeed. She’d simply continued her routine—her classes, her studies, her appointments—without a hitch, even while shuffling in the lawyers and neatly filing the paperwork that symbolizes the end of a union. Not that there’d been much of a union, or a great deal of hassling for the lawyers to legally sever it. A marriage that had lasted just under eight months didn’t generate a great deal of mess or trouble. Or passion. Passion, she supposed was what had been missing. If she’d had any, William wouldn’t have left her flat for another woman almost before the flowers in her bridal bouquet had faded. But there was no point in brooding over it at this late date. She was what she was. Or had been what she was, she corrected. God only knew what she was now. Maybe that was part of it, she mused. She’d been on some verge, had looke