Sexy & Kilted

Tiger shifter, Fergus Macleod, had found his one true love – only to have her snatched away by a powerful laird. Nothing was more important to him than finding his mate, but wouldn't disclosing his secret be too much for any woman to accept?

Sold off in a desperate attempt to pay a debt, Robina Bruce thought her fate was sealed until she was rescued by a knight clad in an appealing kilt and bearing the name Macleod. She would do anything to repay Fergus - even if it meant revealing her own carefully-guarded secret.

When Fergus and Robina confess their deepest secrets, will a divine union form between them or will the revelations drive them apart?

Sneak Peek

Fergus belted another shot of whiskey. The collection of glasses on the table said he’d been drinking far too much, but his heart said he hadn’t had nearly enough. Six months with the woman, and she tossed him away for a laird. Fickle bitch. In retrospect, outing himself as a tiger shifter would have been a bad thing. If Elspeth had run away after Fergus spilled his secret, Alasdair would have killed him. He’d been almost certain she was his destined mate.

Brochan slapped him on the back. “No lass is worth drowning yourself.”

“What would you know of it? Last I checked, you had a willing body warming your bed every night.”

Brochan gave him a sad smile. “That may be, but we both know it’s temporary. Iona is a sweet lass, but she’s no’ the right one.”

“Alasdair settled. I dinnae want to do the same. I ken he cares a great deal for Kenzy, but I want that instant connection you feel with the woman destined to be yours.”

Brochan nodded. “It’s what we all want, but once that thirty-year mark hits, it gets harder to believe she’s out there somewhere. Maybe Alasdair had the right idea, settling down with a good lass and no’ holding out hope for the impossible.”

Fergus snorted. “Alasdair is forty. I’m only thirty-seven. I’m no’ ready to give up just yet.”

“Well, if you intend to find your mate, maybe you should lay off the drinks. I dinnae know any lass who wants a sloppy drunk’s hands all over her.”

Fergus gave him a one-finger salute, tossed back another drink, and slammed the glass on the table. Brochan shook his head and wandered off, leaving Fergus and his broken heart behind. Except. He frowned. Was his heart broken? Or was it his pride that had taken the hit? He’d boasted to Alasdair that he’d found someone special, had practically rubbed it in his brother’s face more than once that he would settle down with his destined mate, and now look at what had happened.

As the raucous laughter from the next table assaulted his ears, he winced and realized that perhaps it was time to move along. He wasn’t ready to return home just yet, but he could wander about town for a bit. Maybe if he was lucky, some willing woman would fall into his arms along the way. He could think of worse ways to spend an evening than in bed with a beautiful woman. He’d been faithful to the bitch who’d dumped him, but maybe he needed a warm body to chase away the memory of what almost was.

Rising unsteadily to his feet, Fergus gave the bartender a salute and weaved through the crowd. He stepped outside and breathed in the fresh air, letting the scent of the nearby meadow wash over him and clear away the fog of too much drink. With an easy gait, he ambled down the sidewalk, pausing between the pub and the law office next door. Fergus gazed up at the stars overhead and wondered if it would be too childish to wish upon one. He’d done it often enough as a child, but he had believed little in wishing stars for a long while now. Maybe it was time to try again.

This is a short novella and only available in Epub format.