What is it About a Scot? Release Contest!

It’s release day for CHRISTMAS IN KILTS: Holiday Season Boxed Set with authors Terri Brisbin, Lecia Cornwall, Bronwen Evans, Lavinia Kent, and May McGoldrick. There is a giveaway contest further down the page. WIN 5 eBooks, one from each boxed set author.

Tis the season to fall in love! These five bestselling authors bring you great tiding of highlanders and romances this holiday season!

Outlander surely did a lot to raise the profile of the sexy Scot. This is my first time writing a Scottish hero, and I fell in love with Dougray as soon as he popped into my head. What is it about a Scot that is so sexy? I have thought about it a lot over the month it took me to write Dougray’s story.

So here are my reasons for loving a sexy Scot?

  1. Who doesn’t love a man with a big sword
  2. They wear kilts for goodness sake
  3. They have an adorable yet husky, sexy accent that is hard to understand so you’re never quite sure of what you just agreed too
  4. They’ll take you to see the Loch Ness monster and then protect you from it
  5. They have men like Gerald Butler who look good in anything and better in nothing
  6. They get drunk, get mad wae it and then grab your hand and suddenly you’re on a night out with them
  7. They are as wild and dangerous as the fabulous Scottish scenery
  8. They are the brooding warriors of old with hearts of gold
  9. They take tupping their woman vera seriously
  10. They are definitely men’s men and proud of it

What do you love about a Scot?

Here’s a snippet of Dougray’s story, A SCOT FOR CHRISTMAS

In the comments below, if you can tell me what Dougray compares Emma’s singing to, you go in the ‘release day’ draw to win a copy of one of my backlist ebooks (single ebooks only). Open internationally. Closes 5th November.

I hope you enjoy the holiday boxed set and it gets you in the Christmas spirit!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

A Scot for Christmas Excerpt:

Dougray’s head pounded as if a smithy was hammering a horseshoe in it. He had stayed up late with Angus and Thornton playing billiards and drinking copious amounts of Angus’s fine Scottish whisky long into the early morning hours. Lady Emma had been too tired to join them for dinner so it had been just the men reminiscing.

He’d been relieved. Emma’s presence unsettled him. He worried about why she had come and he worried at his reaction to seeing her again. He bloody well knew one thing though. She was the reason he’d drunk so much last night.

She stirred something in him that he did not want or need.

So hung over he’d even missed his morning ride, around eleven he’d forced himself out of bed and come to his study to try and get the important correspondence seen to before he had to spend time with his guests.

He was progressing well, and soon his large pile was down to ten missives and a set of accounts for the highland sheep farm, which was part of his estate. He thought he might have time after lunch to take a ride in the fresh air with Thornton, when someone started to play the piano in the ballroom next to his study. While the playing was competent, the sounds vibrated in his already thumping head, making it difficult to concentrate.

Then the singing started.

He sat at his desk with his head in his hands because the playing was now accompanied by what was the worst singing he’d ever heard. It sounded like a stable-yard cat was being strangled. As it was a woman’s voice the only person it could be was Lady Emma Duckworth. Did she comprehend how awful her singing was?

Curiosity and self-preservation made him rise and follow the noise. He was about to tell her to cease the infernal racket, when at the doorway to the ballroom all he could do was stand and stare. Emma looked ethereal with the sunlight flittering over her as she sat lost in the music. Her head was thrown back as she sang with passion. She played a soulful melody and sung the words to the song with such sadness in every ill hit note that he was not surprised to see tears streaming down her cheeks.

He listened to the words of the song


’Tis the last rose of summer 
Left blooming alone,
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone!
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh
To reflect back her blushes,

Or give sigh for sigh.
I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one,
To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them:
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o’er the bed
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.
So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from love’s shining circle,
The gems drop away,
When true hearts lie wither’d,
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone.


As she sang the last line, This bleak world alone, a strong and unwanted longing filled him. He was sick to the stomach of being alone but the idea of opening up his heart filled him with dread. Plus, how could he be true to Francesca if he let another woman into his life.

He would never put himself in that situation again. Nothing hurt worse than the total agony of being in love, and then having the love of your life die—in your arms, powerless to save her.

So caught up in his own sorrow, he almost missed the fact that she’d finished singing and that she was sitting quietly sniffling back her tears at the piano. He didn’t want to disturb her in her private sorrow. He wondered who had hurt her so. Perhaps he had met a kindred spirit, someone who understood the devastation of loss. As he made to turn away she looked up and saw him, quickly wiping the tears from her face.

“Thomas Moore always makes me cry. I hope my singing didn’t disturb you. I’m terrible at it,” she added with a self-depreciating laugh.

He returned her infectious smile. She did not seem to care how really awful she was, and he admired her for it. Francesca had never done anything unless she’d been perfect at it. “I did think a cat was being strangled, but you play very well.”

She stood up and approached him not offended at all by his observation. “Thank you. It’s a shame I can’t sing, as I rarely get to play now. Most ladies are expected to sing as well as they play. After my first performance my mother made sure I was never asked to play again.”

“You may play and sing here whenever you want. Perhaps just close the door,” he added with a laugh.

And soon they were both laughing and in that moment his headache was forgotten. On the spur of the moment he asked, “I feel like some fresh crisp air. Would you care to accompany me on a ride?”

“I’d like that. Best we make the most of a fine day. You never know when the weather might turn.”

“True.” He gave her a mocking smile. “Besides, you seemed very keen to see Loch Linnhe. That is the reason for your visit is it not?”

She laughed again. A light tinkling sound that lifted his spirits further. Emma did not seem to mind being teased. Francesca hated to be the brunt of any joke.

“Perhaps on our ride, if the sights you show me are impressive, I’ll share my reasons for invading your little hunting party,” she teased back.

As her smile faded he said, “I promise I will not pry.” She merely nodded and he added, “Shall we meet in an hour on the front steps, and in the meantime I’ll get the groom to find you a suitable mount. As I recall, you are a competent rider?”

She nodded. “Yes. I love to attend the foxhunts. When in Yorkshire I ride almost every day.”

“Then you must feel free to do so here as well. I shall put a horse and groom at your disposal. It’s not safe to ride alone in an area you do not know.”

“That is most kind. If you’ll excuse me I shall go and change.”

He stood watching as Emma made her way up the stairs. He could not remember the last time he’d wanted a woman’s company. It must be the song. As he made his way to the stables to organize a sturdy steed for Emma he realized he hadn’t looked forward to a ride in a long time.

Buy Links:

Amazon US

Amazon Canada

Amazon UK




Google Play


Blurb for the boxed set:

A HIGHLANDER’S HOPE by Terri Brisbin
A village harlot who would never dream she could have a different life meets a Highlander who visits for the holidays and brings with him an offer and hope.

When a snowstorm forces a charming lass hiding a broken heart to take shelter in a castle with three fine Highland lairds just days before Christmas, there’s a game afoot—who will be the first to win a kiss and maybe her heart.

She’s ready to embrace her life and future as a spinster, he’s trying to have one last hurrah before he gives into his family’s wishes and proposes marriage to his neighbor, but fate has other ideas when the lady and the Scot meet at a holiday house party in the wilds of Scotland.

What happens when a highlander finds himself stranded, maybe kidnapped, with an English lady around Christmas… maybe the mistletoe will help answer that question.

An encounter between an English officer and a desperate aunt trying to keep custody of her young niece leads to a little magic during the holidays.

Read. Feel. Fall in Love


Follow Bronwen Evans:

USA Today bestselling author Bronwen Evans (Bron to her friends) grew up loving books. She’s always indulged her love for story-telling, and is constantly gobbling up movies, books and theater. Her head is filled with characters and stories, particularly lovers in angst. Being able to write her characters’ stories is never work, it’s a dream come true. Is it any wonder she’s a proud romance writer. She writes both historical and contemporary, sexy romances for the modern woman who likes intelligent, spirited heroines, and compassionate alpha heroes. Her debut Regency romance, Invitation to Ruin won the RomCon Readers Crown Best Historical 2012 and was an RT Reviewers’ Choice Nominee Best First Historical 2011. Her long novella, To Dare the Duke of Dangerfield, was a Top 5 Finalist in the Kindle Book Review Indie Romance Book of the Year 2012 and the RomCon Readers Crown Best Historical 2013. Bron lives in New Zealand with her Cavoodle Brandy. When not ensconced in her study writing her characters’ thrilling journeys to their happy ever after, Bron can be found on the golf course. www.bronwenevans.com

Latest posts from

5 Responses

  1. Cathy Newberry

    Thanks Bronwen Dougray compares Lady Emma’s dining to the sound of a strangled barn cat.

  2. Teresa Broderick

    It sounded like a stable yard cat was being strangled. Brilliant! This sounds like a great, touching story. Best of luck with it.

  3. Judie Marilyn Greenlaw

    he compares her singing to a cat being strangled …