the author messing up. Below are a few of the more common words and terms used by the shifters. And, just for fun, I added pronunciations (good luck with those).
a bhràthair: brother [a BRA (roll the “r” if Shay says it)-her]
A brathair-faoirm: brother in arms [a BRA (roll the “r” if Shay says it)-her] – fwee – a-i-rm]
a chuisle mo chridhe: pulse of my heart [ah hoosh-la muh cwree]
deartháir: brother or birth-mate [Irish – [ghrih-hawr]
a leannán: sweetheart, darling [a le-anan]
a mhac: son [a-machk]
banfasa: wise woman/nurse (Irish Gaelic from bean feasa) [ban-FAH-sa]
brawd: brother [br-ow-d. Don’t need to roll the “r”]
cahir: warrior (Irish/Gaelic from Cathaoir) [ka-HEER]
caomhnor: protector/guardian of children (from Caomhnóir) [kuheeoo-NOR]
Have you tried the Masters of the Shadowlands series?
Club Shadowlands
“Prepare to be lured to the world of the Shadowlands! Always fresh, intelligent, and emotional Ms. Sinclair knows exactly how to captivate her readers and she delivers it with stunning results…”
~ The Romance Studio
Her car disabled during a tropical storm, Jessica Randall discovers the isolated house where she's sheltering is a private bondage club. At first shocked, she soon becomes aroused watching the interactions between the Doms and their subs. But she's a professional woman--an accountant--and surely isn't a submissive . . . is she?
Master Z hasn't been so attracted to a woman in years. But the little sub who has wandered into his club intrigues him. She's intelligent. Reserved. Conservative. After he discovers her interest in BDSM, he can't resist tying her up and unleashing the passion she hides within.
Excerpt from Club Shadowlands
An eternity later, Jessica spotted a glimmer of light. Relief rushed through her when she reached a driveway studded with hanging lights. Surely whoever lived here would let her wait out the storm. She walked through the ornate iron gates, up the palm-lined drive past landscaped lawns, until finally she reached a three-story stone mansion. Black wrought iron lanterns illumined the entry.
“Nice place,” she muttered. And a little intimidating. She glanced down at herself to check the damage. Mud and rain streaked her tailored slacks and white button-down shirt, hardly a suitable image for a conservative accountant. She looked more like something even a cat would refuse to drag in.
Shivering hard, she brushed at the dirt and grimaced as it only streaked worse. She stared up at the huge oak doors guarding the entrance. A small doorbell in the shape of a dragon glowed on the side panel, and she pushed it.
Seconds later, the doors opened. A man, oversized and ugly as a battle-scarred Rottweiler, looked down at her. “I’m sorry, miss, you’re too late. The doors are locked.”
What the heck did that mean?
“P-please,” she said, stuttering with the cold. “My car’s in a ditch, and I’m soaked, and I need a place to dry out and call for help.” But did she really want to go inside with this scary-looking guy? Then she shivered so hard her teeth clattered together, and her mind was made up. “Can I come in? Please?”
He scowled at her, his big-boned face brutish in the yellow entry light. “I’ll have to ask Master Z. Wait here.” And the bastard shut the door, leaving her in the cold and dark.
Jessica wrapped her arms around herself, standing miserably, and finally the door opened again. Again the brute. “Okay, come on in.”
Relief brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you, oh, thank you.” Stepping around him before he could change his mind, she barreled into a small entry room and slammed into a solid body. “Oomph,” she huffed.
Firm hands gripped her shoulders. She shook her wet hair out of her eyes and looked up. And up. The guy was big, a good six feet,