When the song was over, it was a mayhem of cheers.
No one cheered as loud as drunk Scots having fun.
I barely gave him time to put the guitar down and step off the stage before I threw myself at him, almost knocking the breath out of him.
He laughed in my ear as he held my chest close to him. He swung me around as if we were dancing and I covered his face with kisses, ignoring the thin layer of sweat on his jaw and his neck. I was acting like an infatuated groupie, but I was past the point of caring.
I needed my fill of him. He was looking entirely too delectable for me to be indifferent to his charms. He put me down on the floor just as the band started playing Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon” and I wrapped my arms around his neck, swaying with him.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” I asked, and he replied with an amused frown.
“What do you mean?”
“Are we going to keep surprising each other at every possible occasion?”
“God, I hope so,” he replied with a devilish smile. “I don’t think I’ve recovered from the shock of seeing you walk down the aisle yet.”
“And I don’t think I will ever recover from seeing you play my favorite love song.”
“I hope we didn’t sound too rough. We’ve only been practicing for a few weeks.”
“How could you even . . . ?”
“I did it when you weren’t in my trailer. As it turns out, the network’s rules of conduct for us kind of played in my favor. My brothers and I rehearsed over video chat. It wasn’t easy, and I thought we had a few more months to rehearse. Now that I think about it, it makes perfect sense!”
“What does?”
“The fact that Declan was so hard on me and kept telling me to rehearse any free moment I had. He knew!”
“He did,” I confessed. “Pretty much everyone here was in on it. I couldn’t have done it without them.”
“You did great.”
He held my gaze, eyes clouded with love, lust, and a bit of drunkenness. He leaned down, his lips less than an inch away from mine. His hands fell lower on my hips, and then he gave my arse a squeeze.
“Now, a soft kiss. Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.” He said the words solemnly, placing his lips on mine in a chaste kiss that paved the way for a more tumultuous, intense, spellbinding, breathtaking one. He kissed my mouth and possessed my tongue until I was dizzy. I thought about the quote and frowned, trying to guess whose it was.
“Lord Byron?” I asked.
“John Keats,” he whispered in my ear. He pulled back, studying my features a little more, and I fell prey to his hypnotic gaze. My eyes fell on his lips, and impulse took over. I needed more. I needed another blissful kiss. I leaned forward to kiss him, but he pulled back.
“You’re such a damn tease!” I said, scrunching up my nose. “I am your wife! Kiss me or else!” I pulled away from his embrace, but he wouldn’t let go.
Instead, he burst out laughing and held me even tighter. I was flush against his chest and I could feel it shaking with laughter. I couldn’t help it—I ended up laughing with him.
Our families and friends, momentarily distracted by our playful bickering, smiled and looked lovingly upon us.
“That’s right. You are my wife, my Sam.” His eyes softened, and he gave me a look full of adoration. He kissed my forehead first, the tip of my nose next, and my lips last. He lingered on them, alternating soft kisses with more urgent ones that did nothing but undermine my self-control. I almost forgot about everyone else around us.
“Let’s go home, Hugh MacLeod. You look like you’re drunk,” I whispered playfully in his ear.
“Drunk on whisky? Maybe. Drunk on you? Definitely.”
Thank you for reading!
First off, I need to thank the readers! Thank you for loving Lost in Scotland! Without your feedback, support and encouragement, there wouldn’t be a sequel!
I hope you love A Scottish Wedding as much as I do.
Thanks to my wonderful editor, Caitlin with Editing by C. Marie. It’s always a pleasure working with you. You give me peace of mind and make my words better, and that’s invaluable.
Thanks to Marla Esposito with Proofing Style, for her outstanding work.
Thanks to Emily, for loving this story when it was just a bunch of scenes all over the place. Thanks to Mae Wood and Zeia Jameson, for being on this journey with me.
Samantha with Samantha Leigh Design: thank you for another wonderful cover! A Scottish Wedding looks so beautiful next to Lost in Scotland.
Thanks to Alexandria with AB Formatting: I can always count on you!
Thanks to Enticing Journey, The Elite Reader and Love Kissed Book Promotion, Itsy Bitsy Book Bits for handling the promo.
My wonderful readers group, Hilaria Alexander Rockettes! I love your sass, ladies. Thank you for listening to my ramblings and loving my words.
Lauren Brynolf, I hope this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Thank you for agreeing to help me out.
A big, huge thank you to all the wonderful women of the indie community who inspire me on a daily basis and make me want to become a better version of myself. There are too many of you to name, but you know who you are.
Manuscript Minxes, thank you for the daily motivation! I love the way we keep supporting each other!
Thanks to the bloggers who rock my socks off and work tirelessly to promote the work of indie authors. I couldn’t do this without your help.
A special thank you to Abeautifulbookblog, Prisoners of Print, Schmexy Girl Book Blog, Maryse Book Blog, Typical Distractions, Aaly and The Books, Reviews by Reds, Disheveled Book Blog, Reading in Sarah’s Corner, A Page to Turn Reviews, ItaPixie’s Book Corner, Marieke’s Books, Beauty and her Books. Thank you for supporting me.
This is just a small selection of the music I listened to while writing A Scottish Wedding. You can play the entire playlist on Spotify!
How Would You Feel – Ed Sheeran
You Da One – Rihanna
Fake Love – Drake
Third of May – Fleet Foxes
Cranes in the Sky – Solange
Redbone – Childish Gambino
Hello – Erykah Badu
All I Want is You – U2
I Was Made For Loving You – Tori Kelly ft. Ed Sheeran
Guidin Light – Foy Vance ft. Ed Sheeran
Let’s Stay Together – Al Green
Everlong – Foo Fighters
Hilaria Alexander was born and raised in the south of Italy, where her family still lives. She was bit by the travel bug early on and lived in Tokyo and Orlando for a while before settling down in Oklahoma City with her husband and kids.
She loves books—obviously—as well as movies and TV, and is addicted to award shows. She can’t play an instrument to save her life, but she loves music, which is one of her biggest inspirations when plotting new stories. If you have questions about her or her books, ask her on Facebook and Twitter, or email her at [email protected]. For excerpts, news and giveaways, join her readers group.
My editor, who also happens to be my best friend, told me she thinks I write like a prude. That EVERYONE thinks I write like a prude. She made it clear that my next book will not be published if I don’t “spice things up.”
Instead of replying calmly, like the “old” Prudence Clearwater would have, I stormed out of her office and told her to go to hell.
After a few days spent wallowing, unsure about my future, I decided that I should:
Ignore the naysayers and backstabbing.
Re-evaluate my inner circle, especially my deceitful BFF.
Focus on my writing and figure out where I went wrong.
Accept any help I can get, especially from my old college crush, who happens to be a successful book agent and looks like a Viking God.
Keep my friendship with the aforementioned Viking God platonic, even when he makes me tingle in all the right places.
Or maybe, since I�
��m not a prude, I should just live a little . . . and surrender to the charming Ben Hallstrom.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Music brought them together,
But it just might tear them apart.
Leaving New York.
It was the best decision I ever made.
Packing up and moving to the other side of the world changed me.
I turned a new page, leaving the past behind.
Amsterdam felt like home‒for a while.
But I was still stuck.
Unable to move forward.
Then, Lou Rivers showed up,
Instantly, I felt my life shift again.
A constant reminder of the life I once had,
The mistakes I left behind.
He's the musician I dreamed of being...
If I were stronger, bolder, braver.
But I wasn’t.
He taught me how to love music again,
And for the first time, I feel like I know what to do.
But how can I?
How can I become myself without giving up on us?
Lucy has always been a good girl. The most hardcore thing she's done in her life was falling for a divorced man ten years her senior.
But he was the love of her life, and she married him. When her Peter Pan of a husband decided to divorce her, she thought it was her chance to start anew. That was until she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Besides looking like Britney circa 2007, she is taking it well, real well. You might see her walk around the hospital during chemo sessions with bright colored wigs and outrageous t-shirts that seem to shock the most conservative employees. One of them reads FU CANCER.
Strong and independent,
Wrong for each other in every way.
But the heat, the passion, the pull.
Undeniable.
Irresistible.
When we were together,
The chaos turned to desire,
Need.
Bliss.
I was his.
He was mine.
For the time-being.
Different countries.
Different worlds.
Just sex.
No strings attached.
That's how Boyd Rivers wanted it.
And exactly how I liked it.
But sometimes, fate has other plans...
Can it really be not about love?
A Scottish Wedding (Lost in Scotland Book 2) Page 18
