The Highlander's Hope - A Contemporary Highland Romance

by MacKay, Cali

  Kissing hadn't been on his agenda for the evening. Not that he hadn't been thinking about it since he'd walked in, but he kept telling himself to ignore the urge. He'd been doing a damn good job of it too until she turned around. Then, something in him just snapped. He'd felt as if he'd go crazy if he didn't taste her here and now.

  Just once. I'll stop after that he promised himself, keeping the kiss light.

  His mind told him to pull back. Put some space between them. And he had every intention of doing just that when he felt Callie's hands tentatively settle on his shoulders.

  Putting his arms around her waist, Dylan gently tugged her up against his body. Deepening their kiss, he teased her lips with his tongue until she opened for him.

  For him the outside world seemed to fade away. The only thing things he was aware of were the sweet taste of lemonade that lingered on her lips and the feel of her body next to his. Slowly he moved his hand up her slender body and buried his hands in her silky dark hair.

  The rumble of thunder and sudden flash of light rudely yanked Dylan back to reality. Pulling back he dropped his hands to her shoulders and tried to get himself back under control. His heart pounded, his breathing was heavy, and his body yelled for release.

  Jesus, what the hell just happened?

  He'd kissed plenty of women, desired plenty too. Yet he'd never felt quite like this before, like he'd just run a marathon. And it had only been a kiss.

  Say something.

  Usually so charming with women, Dylan found himself at a loss for words.

  Anything, Talbot. Don't just stand here.

  She wasn't looking at him, but rather studying a spot just over his left shoulder. Her lips were red from his kiss, a light pink blush crept all the way down her neck, and her hair was starting to fall free of its customary ponytail. At that moment Dylan thought she was the sexiest woman he'd ever met.

  Outside he heard the rain pelting against the windows and the older glass rattled under the assault. It was the only sound in the too quiet room.

  “I'm...” Dylan began but stopped. Apologizing didn't seem right. He wasn't sorry he'd kissed her. At least not sorry in the way she might take it. It had been an incredible kiss, but it could also complicate an already complicated situation.

  “Are you okay?” he asked instead.

  Chewing on her bottom lip, something he noticed she did when nervous, Callie nodded. “Don't you know I always make out with guys in my kitchen after I feed them?”

  While she answered him with a straight face, he knew she was joking to make light of the situation. During their outing in Newport, he'd seen evidence of a very dry and quirky sense of humor.

  “Maybe I should start coming over for dinner more often then.” He meant the response to be more easygoing banter to lighten the atmosphere. Unfortunately, it didn't come out that way. Instead of laughing and coming up with a great comeback as he expected, she pulled away from him and resumed cleaning.

  Afraid he would make matters worse, Dylan silently helped her finish cleaning off the table and load the dishwasher.

  Now what? He couldn't leave after that. Somehow he needed to smooth things over. Make things comfortable between them again if he planned on holding up his end of the bargain with Phillips. How though? He didn't have a clue. Dylan was out of his element where this woman was concerned. She was so different from the women he usually spent time with. Throw in the fact that she was Warren's daughter and hell - he was drowning.

  “Dinner was delicious. Thank you.” His mind worked a mile a minute trying to figure out the right thing to say. “If it's okay I'd like to do it again sometime.” Both the dinner and the kiss he thought. He continued on before she could respond. “Would it be okay if I call you this week?”

  Callie didn't answer at first. And Dylan wondered what was going through her mind. He could almost see the wheels turning. Finally after what seemed like a lifetime, she gave him a tentative smile. “Umm. Sure. If you want. I'll be around. No place to be except work.”

  Her response pleased him. A lot. More than it should have. Time to make your exit, Talbot. Before you do something stupid. Like kiss her again.

  “Good. I'll talk to you soon then.”

  *End of Sample—Read on for a sample of Champagne and Lemon Drops*

  Champagne And Lemon Drops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance

  By Jean Oram

  One woman. Two men. One meddling small town. Raised by her older sister in the small town of Blueberry Springs, all Beth Wilkinson wants is to create a family so big she’ll never be alone. Things are going great until her accountant fiancé, Oz, throws their life in the air, sending her on a journey of discovery paved with choices--including whether to return to her old life.

  Please enjoy this sneak peek of Champagne and Lemon Drops by Jean Oram.

  Part 1: The Not Too Distant Future

  (April)

  Chapter 1

  Beth worked to pull in a deep breath against her gown's sleek fit. If she could breathe properly, everything would feel exactly the way she had always dreamed it would. She would know, without a grain of doubt, that today was more than just a reaction to the events over the past thirteen months. That this moment was her true destiny.

  That she wasn't being a spaz. That she was marrying the right man.

  Because when life handed you an opportunity you didn't turn your back or drag your feet. You made a choice and you leapt.

  Did Cinderella hesitate? Hell no. That girl took the leap with both feet.

  And right now, Beth was leaping. No parachute required. Both feet in.

  Well, almost.

  Her sister, Cynthia, stepped closer to adjust the veil around Beth's shoulders. She closed her eyes as she breathed in her sister's familiar, reassuring perfume. "Here goes nothing, right?"

  Cynthia shook her head with a smile. "You know, it's funny, I thought Gran and I would be giving you away to—"

  "I know." Don't say his name.

  Cynthia added quickly, "I just didn't expect it."

  "And I didn't expect Dad to be stuck overseas and unable to give me away."

  "Sure you didn't," Cynthia said, shooting her a wry look. "He couldn't make my wedding, why should he make it to yours?"

  Beth stuck out her tongue. "He always liked me best." She clasped her trembling hands, trying to force all thoughts from her mind. Bad Cynthia. Stirring up thoughts and worries. Bad, bad sister. Beth concentrated on happy images of walking down the aisle. Her and her hubby would say their vows and live happily ever after in a nice home and have a family so big she'd be surrounded by people—her people—just like she'd always wanted.

  Cynthia fussed with the veil and Beth batted her sister's hands away.

  She ignored Cynthia's raised eyebrow which meant she was trying to read Beth's mind. Her snoopy big sister always had to know everything. Beth flashed her a smile. Cynthia relaxed, tossing her head in a way that tousled her wavy hair leaving it sexy and perfect and making Beth think of champagne and movie stars and an easier life. Beth patted her slick chignon and glanced in the mirror. Maybe she should have left her hair down.

  "You look fine, quit worrying," Cynthia laughed.

  Shouts erupted outside and Beth turned to the window, her sister leaning over her shoulder. "What's going on?"

  Beth gave the foggy window a swipe with her hand. "I can't see anything." She plunked down in the church's window seat, her dress puffing up around her like a sea of whipped cream. Below, a flash of crows bobbed on the walkway. No, tuxedos. More shouts filtered up through the snow-laden trees.

  She stood again, pressing her nose against the cold glass to get a better look, and gasped.

  This could not be happening.

  Stupid pigheaded, testosterone-driven men!

  "What?" Her sister crowded against the glass. "What?"

  Beth gathered the folds of her skirt and shouldered past her sister.

  "You can't go! It's bad luck if
he sees you!"

  "Oh, I'll show those men some bad luck," Beth muttered, wrenching open the heavy door. She took the stairs as fast as she could, restricted by her heels and fluttering tulle. She reached the front doors of the church in time to witness her fiancés—past and present—position themselves to duke it out.

  One fit form ducked, dodging a punch from the other. Shoes lost traction on the icy steps and a body twisted and arched through the air. A man's mouth stretched into a perfect, comical O. In slow motion he landed head first, his body grinding into the walkway like a broken bird falling from the sky.

  A scream broke the silence. Hers. She screamed, unable to stop, the terror of the scene freezing her in place before adrenalin kicked in, propelling her through the gathering crowd and toward the unconscious heap—the man she loved. Gingerly she touched the fallen man's face as the other man she loved was herded back by a dark wall of groomsmen.

  She looked at her blood-covered fingers. This was going to change things. She could feel it. Her nuptial bad luck had caught up and snared her like an unsuspecting mouse heading for its free cheese.

  There wasn't enough oxygen. The world spun rapidly to the right and she couldn't breathe. A blurred vision of dress hems and shiny black shoes was the last thing she saw before collapsing on top of the wounded man.

  - End of Sneak Peek -

  Enjoy the rest of this FREE story, Champagne and Lemon Drops by Jean Oram, by downloading it from your favorite online book vendor or by visiting www.jeanoram.com.

  Thanks for reading!