A Scot Like You

By Kam McKellar

In Kam McKellar’s 2nd contemporary Scottish romance, Kate Walker tries to restore her wild side by skinny-dipping in a loch while on vacation in Scotland. Too bad she gets caught by a rugged Highlander...

With Balmorie Guest House up and running, Devin MacLaren can finally focus on restoring the holiday cottages on the estate. Recently returned from war, all he wants is the peace and quiet only the Highlands can give him. With Kate's arrival, that peace goes right out the window. As much as he’d like to avoid the sexy troublemaker, he needs her animal expertise to help his retired military dog, Hildie.

Despite their failed first (and second) meeting, Kate can’t help but be attracted to the solitary Highlander; there’s so much heat lurking behind those solemn eyes that she can’t seem to stay away. There’s more to Devin MacLaren than meets the eye. And while Hildie might need her help, it’s Devin who needs her heart.

A SCOT LIKE YOU is the 2nd in the author’s MacLarens of Balmorie series of humorous, fast-paced, short contemporary romances with a Scottish Highland twist. The full series:

1. Mad About Plaid
2. A Scot Like You
3. The Trouble with Kilts
4. Any Scot of Mine

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kam McKellar
• Release date: May 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9780988522534

Kam McKellar

Kam McKellar writes sexy contemporary romance. She has a thing for sweets, accents, kilts, and men in uniform. She hopes to one day inherit her very own castle from a long, lost relative. Nothing wrong with dreaming big! :D Her series, The MacLarens of Balmorie, features the MacLaren brothers, ex-US soldiers turned Innkeepers, who move to the Highlands of Scotland to keep their ancestral legacy going. They're farming the land, restoring and renting out cottages, and converting the west wing of the five hundred year old Balmorie Castle into a guest house. The last thing on their mind is love. But tell that to their first three visitors... The series, in order, is available now: MAD ABOUT PLAID A SCOT LIKE YOU THE TROUBLE WITH KILTS ANY SCOT OF MINE To learn more about Kam and find out when the next MacLaren book is available, visit her at www.kammckellar.com.

Book preview

A SCOT LIKE YOU

A SCOT LIKE YOU

Copyright © 2013 by Kam McKellar

Excerpt of The Trouble With Kilts Copyright © 2013 by Kam McKellar

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 978-0-9885225-3-4

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, uploaded, shared, or transmitted in any form or means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Cover Images: 123rf Stoock Photos

Chapter 1

Don't freak out. Act normal.

Easy to say. But way harder to do. As soon as Kate looked out the window and saw the land 10,000 feet below her, the song from Braveheart wafted through her brain like a summer breeze over heather-covered hills, and she wanted to scream like a groupie at an all boy band concert.

A huge grin split her face, and she bounced a few times—discreetly, of course—in her seat.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she'd be here. And she sure as hell never thought her cousin's trip to Scotland three months ago would result in an engagement with a half Scot, ex-marine, Innkeeper.

Kate sighed. So romantic.

Inevitably, her thoughts turned to the last few months and the utter wreck her own life had become. Funny how things worked out. Lucy's life had risen to joyous highs as Kate's had crumbled to dust.

Just . . . crumbled.

Needing a distraction, she turned to Mrs. Fitz-Grant-Williams. But the elderly woman kept her attention fixed solidly forward. Which might have been Kate's fault to begin with.

When she'd sat down next to Mrs. Fitz-Grant-Williams seven or so hours prior, Kate had struck up a mostly one way conversation. Mrs. F.G.W. had learned all about Lucy's whirlwind romance, Kate's itinerary for the next two weeks, followed by her reasons for the trip, and her break up with He Who shall Not Be Named (one Holden Morten who had earned himself the name Holdenmort for good reason). After that, she might have revealed the origins of her love affair with Scotland—the discovery of Grammy Lin's cache of lusty romances and her well-loved edition of Highlander's Harlot.

After that Ms. Fitz-Grant-Williams avoided her altogether.

Which was okay because Kate brought said book with her to pass the time.

Bringing that old paperback felt like a rite of passage. She wasn't really sure why she'd brought it really. She'd been angry when she grabbed it, angry at Holden. Angry at love. Angry at the book for making her believe in heroes and happily ever afters.

Her cousin, Riley, had swiped Highlander's Harlot (affectionately dubbed, Double H) from Gram's porch swing at the age of thirteen and read it out loud to Kate and Lucy under the covers of their make-shift fort. Ever since, Kate dreamed of her own sexy Highlander with a voice potent enough to conquer worlds, and a body to rock them all.

She sighed.

Screw Holdenmort. Evil jerk.

Not that he'd ever rocked her world or loved her in that way.

But trust was trust. Friendship could be as deep and true as any other kind of love.

Kate forced away the negativity. This was going to be the best vacation of her life, damn it. It had to be because she wasn't going to settle for anything less.

Scotland and Kate, she mused, together at last.

The lovely brogue that came over the speaker to announce their landing nearly did her in. Kate sighed again and settled back.

Fasten your seat belts, lairds and laddies, she thought with a smile, Katherine Lee Walker is about to land.

After a long drive, and some scenery that was a gazillion times more stunning than anything she'd seen in pictures, Kate arrived at Balmorie Estate and the lovely old castle/Victorian manor where the hills were green, flowers bloomed, the long loch gleamed.

The newly opened guest house was everything Lucy had said it was and more, comprised of an L-plan castle with a later Victorian era addition. It was five stories high, with peaks and gables and tall arched windows. Imposing. Grand. Gothic. Its history went back hundreds of years. The MacLaren's history went back even farther.

For a history nut like Kate, the house was twenty-five thousand square feet of ambrosia, give or take a few thousand.

As the driver went slowly past the house and down the curving dirt road that shadowed the loch, Kate gathered her things. She'd insisted on staying in one of the estate's rental cottages rather than the castle—granted the place was huge, but she needed her own space, a place to cry out loud if she wanted, sleep all day, not shower if she felt like it... And the last thing she wanted was to go all weepy and embarrass herself in front of Lucy, Ian, and his guests.

About a mile away and out of sight of Balmorie, the stone cottage appeared as the van left a wooded grove. It sat in an open curve of green that hugged the shape of the loch. Kate could walk right out the back door, go a few steps, and sit on the rocks above the water. Perfect didn't even begin to cover it. When Lucy said she'd pick the right cottage, she hadn't been lying.

Sitting in the shadow of some ruined old castle, which was supposedly nearby, or walking along the loch… Those things, those simple things she hoped would lead to some inner healing.

That was the plan anyway.

Would ye like help with yer bags, miss?

Kate smiled and joined the driver at the back of the van where he removed her luggage. He could ye at her all day long and she'd never get tired of it.

That's okay. I can take it from here. Thanks, though. She pulled fare and tip from her pocket, handed the bills over, and then grabbed a handle in each hand, taking the small stone path leading to the cottage.

There was a number three written on the light blue door. The shutters were the same color and the windows boxes were full of flowers. It was tiny, one level with a front door, flanked by two windows. She knew from the pictures online that it had a small kitchen, a living room with a wood-burning fireplace, and one bedroom with bath.

Sure enough the door was unlocked and the key was on the kitchen table just as Lucy had said in her text earlier.

It was just as cute on the inside. A small bottle of whisky, a basket with fresh bread, cheese, smoked salmon, and a bottle of white wine had been left on the table along with several guides and brochures and the breakfast menu for the next morning.

Tired, she set the wine in the fridge, pulled her luggage into the bedroom, sat on the bed, and burst into tears.

She could have blamed the jet lag, but it'd be a lie.

And she was sick of lies.

Angry with herself, she dried her tears and went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. It was freezing, but invigorating. She wished her whole body could feel that way. Get a jolt. Wake the hell up.

Looking through the