[You're going to love this one! ~ Lisabet]
Laird of Her Heart
Book
One in the Dundragon Trilogy by Sabrina York
When
Maggie Spencer is mysteriously transported to the Scotland of her
ancestors, she is stunned to come face to face with him.
Dominic Dundragon, the man she’s been half in love with her whole
life. A man who’s been dead for 700 years.
They
both have enemies aplenty. Will she have a chance to win his love, or
will this adventure end in disaster?
Read
an excerpt
Maggie
yelped as, without warning, the burly warrior named Declan whipped
her up into his arms and tossed her over his shoulder. To her horror,
she lost the hold on her locket.
“Wait,”
she cried. She wriggled to get free, but his grip was too hard. When
she pummeled his back with her fists as he strode from the circle of
stones, he chuckled. The beast. But to be fair, he was so large, it
would have felt like a kitten batting him. “Put me down.”
“I
willna,” he said. “The Mackintosh will decide how you die.”
All
right. That shut her up. For a minute. “Die? Why do I need to die?”
What the hell had she done to him?
The
man following, an enormous blond with a scar tracking his cheek bent
down to peer at her. “The Mackintosh’s doona tolerate spies.”
“I’m
not a spy.” Seriously. She wriggled more and Declan smacked her
ass.
Smacked
her ass.
She’d
kill him when she got free. Just kill him.
“Yer
wearing the Cameron colors,” the blond said. “And the
Mackintosh’s doona—”
“Right.
I know. The Mackintosh’s doona tolerate spies.” Her head
was starting to spin from being upside down and jounced around with
each step. Her temper was on a short leash. “But honestly, if I
were a spy, would I wear the Cameron colors? It seems a little
counterproductive in my opinion. I mean, if I’m spying and
all. I might as wear a sign that says, oh, I dunno, honk if you
love spies.”
His
brow rumpled but he didn’t respond. At least, not to her. “She
speaks strangely,” he complained to Declan.
Her
captor snorted a laugh. “She dresses strangely too.”
“Aye.
She does at that. I’ve heard the Cameron lasses are a wild lot, but
I had no idea—”
“I’m.
Not. A. Cameron.” She reached out and smacked the blond, but only
because he came close enough. He reared back and gaped at her—as
though he’d never been smacked before—and then he quickly moved
out of range.
It
hardly mattered, because, apparently, they had reached their
destination, a camp on the edge of the woods. The sounds of nickering
horses and clanks of pots gave her her first clue—she was facing
the other way, after all.
Her
second clue was that Declan dropped her on the ground. She landed
with an oof. She glared at him. He didn’t seem to mind in
the slightest. “Go get my brother, Ewan,” he barked, and the
blond trotted off to one of the larger tents.
When
she stood and brushed off her jeans, Declan bristled and she shot him
a sardonic glare. Did he think she was stupid enough to run away? For
one thing, these enormous men had her surrounded. For another, she
never ran. Not if she could help it.
Instead,
she made a quick survey of her surroundings. The camp was little more
than a huddle of tents with the forest on one side and a sweeping
plain on the other. A small herd of horses were hobbled to one side
and a deer roasted over a pit fire. An entire deer. Before she could
silence the thought—she often had that problem—she said, “You
killed Bambi.”
Declan’s
brow rumpled. “I dinna kill anyone.” And then he asked, “Who is
Bambi?”
“Never
mind.” She crossed her arms and turned away pretending to ignore
them. But she wasn’t. She was aware they were all staring at her
like she was a curiosity in a zoo, but she was taking in tiny details
as well. Like the fact that their clothes were all handmade and
simple. Their hair appeared to have been cut with a chainsaw and
their beards were scraggly and long. Their weapons were what made her
mind really start to spin though.
One
held a crossbow that dated from the thirteenth century. Another had a
Mackintosh dirk that resembled one she’d seen in a museum once.
Declan had a simple calfskin sporran tied to his belt.
Odd.
Could she have wandered into some renaissance faire? But no. It had
been evening when she stepped into the woods and now it was daytime.
Early afternoon. And the acres of woods around the house belonged to
the family. It couldn’t be—
“So.”
She flinched as a deep, melodious voice wafted to her on a hint of
humor. Shivers danced through her, along with a prickling sense of
premonition. “You’ve captured a Cameron spy?”
She
turned slowly and froze as her gaze landed on him. On that
so-familiar face. Broad, handsome, savage. Much more captivating than
the sketch had been. Much more captivating by far.
She
must be hallucinating. She had to be.
He
was the hero of her dreams come to life.
Dominic
Dundragon, Laird of the Mackintosh clan.
Large,
looming and in the flesh.
Her
head went woozy. Her vision blurred. And then, for the first time in
her life, she fainted.
GET
IT NOW!
ABOUT SABRINA
YORK
Her Royal Hotness,
Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author
of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range
from sweet & sexy to scorching romance. Visit her webpage at
www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests.
Get
exclusive reads, enter subscriber only contests and be the first to
know about coming books!
CONNECT
If
you love hot highlanders, be sure to read Sabrina York’s Untamed
Highlanders from St. Martin’s Press!
Lana
and the Laird—Coming in 2016
a Rafflecopter giveaway
2 comments:
This sounds like so much fun, Sabrina!
Great cover, too!
Thank you Lisabet! I so appreciate the share!!!!!!!
Post a Comment
Let me know your thoughts! (And if you're having trouble commenting, try enabling third-party cookies in your browser...)