These Highland hotties are about to meet their match!
Sexy Ewan MacKinnon meets fellow soul-searcher Gemma on a hiking trek through Scotland. They have wildly creative sex along the way, leaving them both with delicious memories of their journey. But at the trail’s end, will their adventure be over, too?
Proud Cam MacKinnon is king of his castle. And he has a castle. Really. But he gives up all semblance of control when Summer shows up for a murder mystery party. Because he has to have her. And one weekend of uninhibited sex should be plenty…shouldn’t it?
Heart-stoppingly hot Alec MacKinnon is honorable to a fault. So he shouldn’t sleep with his friend’s gorgeous daughter, Isla, right? But when Isla falls into his arms, what’s he to do? After all, aren’t some things just meant to be?
Almost all the reviewers (and myself!) love Rhonda Nelson’s books. If she’s writing about military men or plain old Joe’s (is there such a thing? ;-)), it makes no difference. So her doing a 3 encounter in one book mini-series with men in plaids…well, to say we’re all salivating is an understatement!
Just see for yourself by checking out this small excerpt…
"Some best friend," Gemma Wentworth muttered between clenched teeth.
He’d left her? Here? In the wilds of Scotland, a little over half-way along the famous West Highland Way?
Gemma felt the impact of what he’d done fully smack into her. She stared at the young Irish couple who’d delivered his message.
"Are you certain?" she asked faintly. Her stomach gave a sickening little pitch. "You saw him leave?"
The girl nodded sympathetically. "We did. He climbed right into the lorry and took off, he did."
But—but she’d only gone to the bathroom, Gemma thought, her mind gauzy with shock. She turned toward the little store, then scanned the parking lot and surrounding area just to make sure that Jeffrey—her oldest and dearest friend—wasn’t going to magically appear.
"He said to give you this," the guy chimed in, handing her Jeffrey’s backpack. It felt lighter, meaning he’d taken his clothes and pounds of grooming products. Her friend was more particular about his appearance than she was, the great jerk. "Said he wouldn’t need it anymore and that…he was sorry," the young man finished, evidently finding the message and the words distasteful.
Sorry? Anger bullied the initial shock aside as she considered what he’d done to her. Sorry? She gave a grim laugh. Oh, he’d be sorry all right. What sort of friend abandoned another so-called best friend without so much as a goodbye in the middle of a foreign country? One entirely too sure of her devotion, obviously. One who was certain he’d be forgiven. One who had met an attractive Scot ten miles back and, given the choice between her company and that of a handsome stranger, chose the latter. Argh!
In retrospect, she should have predicted this. After all, hadn’t Jeffrey disappeared at many a ball game and party over the years? Particularly when the possibility of romance had presented itself? She whimpered low under her breath. Still, the coward should have had the nerve to tell her he was leaving, not just disappear and leave it to this couple.
"You’re welcome to walk with us," the girl offered with a pitying smile that confirmed she was under the mistaken impression that Jeffrey had been Gemma’s boyfriend. They were often mistaken for lovers, but aside from the fact that she’d never felt romantically interested in him, Gemma lacked something Jeffrey needed in a partner—a penis. The girl looked up at her companion. "Isn’t that right, Willem?"
Red-headed, gangly and freckled, Willem nodded. "Spot on, Jenny. It’s better to be with a group than off on your own," he said.
"You are going to continue, aren’t you?" Jenny asked anxiously, as though the thought had just occurred to her. "You’ve come so far. It’d be a shame to quit now."
That was true, Gemma knew. Still… The West Highland Way was a ninety-five mile hike that began in Miln-gavie and ultimately concluded at Fort William in the Scottish Highlands. Both her grandmother and mother had made the walk. It had been a rite of passage, so to speak, for the Wentworth women, who were of Scottish descent. While everyone had their own reasons for treading the path, according to her mother, Wentworth women had never failed to find clarity and peace on it, a sense of their higher purpose. They insisted that, for whatever reason, walking this trail had some sort of mystical way of putting their feet on their life’s proper path.
Truthfully, Gemma didn’t know if she bought into the hocus-pocus aspect of it—she was definitely dissatisfied with her life at the present—but she’d felt compelled to make the journey all the same, had felt this bizarre need to do as the Wentworth women before her. Though she would admit to feeling a strange sense of homecoming