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Rogue Bruce enjoys running a Scottish castle turned bed-and-breakfast with her Aunt Baillie from America. They specialize in hosting romantic Elizabethan-themed weddings, complete with resident ghost, Lord Kai. But love is something Rogue is not the least bit interested in. Content with her work, she requires no male accompaniment for happiness.
A new delivery service brings Bruce MacKenzie, a Thor look-alike in plaid and denim, fetching more than the usual number of groceries from town, while Jonathan Olson, a snobbish, dark, Rhett Butler type, arrives at the castle to administer a writing seminar for aspiring authors. With two men after the heart she’d thought safely locked away, Rogue is flattered and confused. But when things start to take a sinister turn, danger befalls Rogue and those dear to her. The musical soundtrack of Rogue’s life flares from complacent, to dizzyingly romantic, to heart-thumping scary in this sizzling triangle.
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“Who created these torture devices for women?” Rogue Bruce muttered as the high-heeled ankle boots her glittery Seattle friend, Rafael, had picked out for her squeezed her toes. Her steps made soft clicks on the temporary polished flooring as she dashed around the white-silk-draped chairs inside the reception tent set up on the castle grounds. She lifted her floor-length emerald skirt of fluff and ribbons and screamed internally about her aching feet. “Spike heels make my legs look better, she tells me. Heels? Seriously? Buried under twenty yards of bloody material, who will even notice? I swear, and this dress weighs a ton.”
And why must my
bloody underwear be authentic if no one knows or sees it? Seriously, another
full day of endless agony in this restrictive Elizabethan costume of layered
torture is maddening. You know an evil man
must have created the corset. No woman would have designed something so miserable
and called it fashionable. How many times had she pleaded with Aunt Baillie to
let her wear something soft, something comfortable like pants and a jacket
during these events? Her aunt’s normally sweet face would transform into a
stony glare, forcing Rogue to relent and don one of the many costumes made
specifically for her as owner of the Scottish estate.
“The Baillie Castle Bed and Breakfast promises a
fairy-tale environment for couples in love and bridal parties creating a
stop-time fantasy for families and guests,” Rogue mimicked her American aunt
and business partner. “Remember, these expensive weddings pay the taxes and
daily upkeep of your renovated castle.”
Kathleen Shaputis, author/ghostwriter, lives in the glorious Pacific Northwest with her husband, Bob, a clowder of cats, two pompously protective Pomeranians with little social aptitude, Brugh and Miss Jazzy, and an overgrown adolescent blue tick coon hound, Juno.
If not writing during her lifestyle in an acre of forest, she keeps busy reading from her never-ending, to-be-read pile and watching romantic comedies. Her hygge in the woods.
WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:Website: http://www.kathleenshaputis.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/NWAuthor
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