(The Scotsman’s Kilt, #1)
Publication date: June 6th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
An enemies-to-lovers, Scottish billionaire romance. A standalone story and book one of the Scotsman’s Kilt series.
Lochlan: It’s true. I’m the heir to the MacTavish Whiskey empire. The cold-hearted SOB who’s been on a drinking, drugging, womanizing binge that was splashed all over the Scottish tabloids for months, until the patriarch of our family exiled me to America to run a winery.
There are only a handful of people left in the Lochlan fan club who think I deserve redemption. Other than I’m worth a fortune, why would anyone want to save a soulless bastard like me when all I want is revenge?
Kenzie: It’s complicated. I’ve been given a challenge to seduce Lochlan MacTavish as part of an initiation into a club. The only way to reach him is through his Silicon Valley winery.
All I need is proof that we slept together and I’m in, but it’s not easy. First, I have to get past my aversion to overprivileged, billionaire Scottish men, and this one is an ass on his best days.
When I botch getting the proof I need, we make a bargain. I’ll be his fake girlfriend to convince his grandfather he’s now a responsible member of society, and I get my proof of a seduction. The problem is, neither of us banked on this growing, off-the-charts attraction between us.
This is another hot, sexy, twisty romance from PaxWorld. Did I mention there are men in kilts?
"Hunk alert!” screams a female, accompanied by the clanging of a large, obnoxious cowbell. She’s swaying dangerously on a stool next to the bar, holding the bell high above her head in one hand while egging her companions on with the other. She rings it again, the sound piercing the air like a scream. I can’t figure out where the damn bell came from, but the sound is splitting my skull.
I’m in the doorway watching about thirty fit young women, some huddled in clusters, while others are standing on black leather couches and chairs, giving a cheering response to the bell ringer.
Their raucous behavior is disturbing in this newly designed space of tarnished metal and aged wood. We use this place for private parties because it’s well away from the main MacTavish Cellars tasting room, which is packed to the rafters at the moment. I came back here to check on this group on my way to look over a shipment we received this morning in the barrel room. I realized something was wrong when I heard muffled shouting coming from the room.
The cowbell clangs again and I resist the urge to rush in and yank that thing away from her before I sustain permanent damage. The cowbell-wielding blonde sings out, “What do we want, sisters?” while motioning to the crowd to respond to her maniacal question. The women chant, “Hunk, hunk, hunk,” demanding a mob’s satisfaction.
Shaun, my server, is wild-eyed and backed against the front of the bar, two stools away from the blonde, fearing for the safety of his manhood. I will kill him for letting this hen party get out of hand. I do a quick search of these brash women. Where the hell is Preston? They both should be working this party, and Preston should be showing Shaun the ropes. Why did he leave a newbie alone with a room full of women?
I slip behind the bar, unseen at the moment by the blonde, to restore order to this chaos. The chant is getting louder. Shaun’s pleading gaze swings to me. I grab a bottle and glasses and lean toward him. “Find Preston and tell him to get his arse back in here. Get Geordie and Calum in here as well,” I say, trying to prevent my voice from carrying. He bobs his head before bolting away from the bar and through the crowd of women, their chants following him as he disappears through the doors.
I’m formulating how to deal with these female hooligans when I catch the attention of the bonny blonde with the cowbell. She’s staring down at me with a predatory grin, the tip of her tongue moving over plump red lips. The lass keeps her gaze on me while she stoops to place the bell on the bar, then casually jumps off the stool. She raises a hand toward the women, still staring at me, and the chanting fades to a dull murmur. Her obedient cult followers slowly remove themselves from the furniture. They’re talking among themselves but are keeping an eye on their leader. Blondie tosses her head back, sizing me up.
“You look like the real deal.” Her voice is sexy smoke and honey, unexpected for someone who looks like a sun-kissed beach girl. She drags her gaze down the length of my body. I’m not happy being judged as a piece of meat, but working here, you accept the attention. When she finishes her long scrutiny, her attention settles on my face. That’s right, look me in the eyes, I telegraph back to her, I’m not intimidated by your antics.
Her smirk says she’s enjoying her brash behavior. “A big strapping hottie like you and in a kilt to boot, but then again, all the men here are equally as hot and wearing kilts.”
Pax is a contemporary romance author who writes the kind of hot, twisty, drama-filled romances that she loves to read. Her novels are about biracial women in interracial relationships that will have you turning pages until the end.
Her current series, Love@work, takes you into the world of Silicon Valley’s billionaire tech moguls. These are powerful men and women who are driven by the changing landscape of business and their seductions in the bedroom.
Come along for a ride in Pax’s world, where it’s always steamy, captivating, and sometimes erotic.
Pax lives and works in Silicon Valley. She’s a California native.
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