“Playful, passionate, and positively unputdownable!”—New York Times bestselling author Christina Lauren
IT’S TIME TO FLIRT WITH A MAN IN A KILT
Cassie Crow, a pop-culture reporter for a TV talk show, is focused on becoming a “serious” journalist. But when she stumbles into a kilted Highlander with a killer accent, Cassie decides that taking one night off from work and spending it with a sexy Scot couldn’t hurt. . .
Logan Reid has built a career on his charm, hosting a series of off-the-wall hijinks on the Web. But when the Scottish prankster meets the all-American, equal parts intelligent and irresistible Cassie, Logan realizes that one night of fun won’t be enough. Could it be that this career-focused, commitment-phobic couple is finally ready to take a chance at true and lasting love?
“Life is short, lass.” “When good things happen, try not to question it.”
Getting Hot with the Scot is a fun and entertaining romantic comedy from author Melonie Johnson. When I first laid eyes on the synopsis, I just knew I had to check this book out and I am so glad that I did! Now, I’ll be a 100% honest with you, when I first dove into this book, I wasn’t 100% sure about it. For some reason, I had the hardest time getting into the story. But, I gotta tell you, I am so glad I didn’t give up. I am so glad that I kept going and gave this book the chance that it deserved because I ended up totally loving it. Once you get to know Cassie and Logan, they are impossible to not fall in love with!
Cassie and Logan were such a fun pair. Logan was a riot and prankster. I’ll be straight with you, I didn’t know if his intentions were true in the beginning, but I soon discovered that there was a lot more to Logan than meets the eye. Not only is he sexy as ever, but add in his thick Scottish accent and I was a goner. I mean, I just loved hearing his character talk. I felt like I was right along in Scotland with the characters. Add in that the story-line is actually one of my top troupes, I was a goner. I mean, there is nothing better than a night of passion, that suddenly turns into more. Cassie and Logan had some intense sparks between them and I was so excited for the possibility of more between the two of them. The road to happily ever after for these two definitely wasn’t an easy one. There were a lot of bumps along the way. But, I really enjoyed seeing Logan and Cassie’s relationship grow and I especially enjoyed seeing Logan come to terms with his past and taking a risk on a love of a lifetime.
Getting Hot with the Scot was a totally fun read. I loved getting lost in Cassie and Logan’s story. I thought the plot was a lot of fun and the characters were a riot. I loved the friendship that Cassie had with her girlfriends and loved the closeness that Logan had with his family. Together, Logan and Cassie were an undeniable match. Their sparks intense and the tension between the two of them left me begging for more. I loved the will they/won’t they moments along the way. I loved the angst between them and seeing them trying to figure things out. They weren’t perfect, but I loved that about them. They had lots of growing to do and I just couldn’t wait to see how their story would unravel in the end.
Overall, I thought this book was a really enjoyable read. It was sweet. It was romantic. It had lots of humorous moments and others that just tugged at my heart. I had a great time getting to know these characters and had fun getting swept up in their story. This is my first book by this author and it certainly won’t be my last. I can’t wait to see what adventure this author has in store for us next.
*I was provided an ARC copy of this book, in exchange for an honest review*
Would you look at that? The man is wearing a kilt.
Note to self: Cassie Crow—be careful what you wish for.
The man groaned again and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight now cutting across the hidden al- cove.
“Are you all right?”
“I will be fine once ye douse that blasted light.” He squinted up at her. “Be ye a new chambermaid?”
Chambermaid? She eyed the wide sleeves and open neck of the old-fashioned piratey shirt he wore. “Not sure what kind of weird-ass stuff you’re into buddy, but I don’t do RPG.”
“Weird . . . ass?” His dark red brows drew together as he shaped his mouth around the letters. “Are pee gee?”
“Role playing games. You know, like cosplay or what- ever.” She pointed at him. “Look, you’re the one wearing that get-up and talking like a reject from Macbeth.”
He narrowed his eyes at her finger. “Be ye a witch?” “What did you call me?”
With another groan, he lurched forward. Oh God, what if he was hurt? For all she knew he was a member of some historic castle tour who got lost in a back passageway and hit his head. She leaned down to inspect him for bruises.
He threw a hand out, palm up, warding her off. “Back away, sorceress,” he hissed.
“Seriously?” She slapped his hand out of the way. “Here, let me help you out of there.” Cassie tugged gently on his shoulder. The voluminous shirt was loose, but she could feel—and appreciate—the thick spread of muscle beneath the soft fabric.
Just my luck, I finally run into a hot Highlander, and he’s delusional.
The man waved off her assistance and struggled to his feet, shaking a wild tousle of thick, red hair out of his eyes. Cassie never fancied herself to be a ginger girl, but it worked on him . . . or maybe that was the kilt talking. She eyed the swath of plaid fabric wrapped around his hips and wondered, like any female in her position would, what might or might not be under there. Reluctantly, she raised her gaze and caught him scrutinizing her in return.
“What be these strange breeks ye wear?” he asked, moving in a circle around her.
Cassie swore she could feel the weight of each of his eyeballs resting on her denim-clad backside. Fair enough. After a prolonged moment, she glanced over her shoulder. “Get a good look?”
“Aye.” He swallowed. “’Tis most unseemly, lass.” He shook his head, gaze still glued to her ass.
“They’re called jeans.” She pivoted to face him. “Are you for real?”
He met her gaze, his answer falling from his lips in a deep, rich brogue with trilling r’s that curled her toes, “Aye, lass, I’m real.”
Cassie’s heart hiccupped. Of course he’s real. Unless those shots were stronger than I thought. “Were you at the whisky tasting?”
“Whisky?” His green-gold eyes lit with interest. “Do ye have whisky for me, then? I could use a wee dram. Be a good lass and fetch it for me.”
“Ha! I think you’ve had enough, mister. Is that how you ended up stuck in there?” Even as she said this, Cassie doubted it. She didn’t smell a hint of alcohol on him, though she did pick up other pleasant smells. Mint and clove and man and . . . Stop being ridiculous.
His broad shoulders lifted and dropped. “I dinna ken.” “How long were you in there?”
Cassie dragged her attention away from the wide curve of his shoulders and leaned past him, inspecting the dark, narrow space behind the bookshelf.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, panic edg- ing his voice. “Nay, lass. Doona be going in there.”
“Why not?” She inched forward and tried to get a bet- ter look.
“It canna be safe.” He tugged on her wrist again, his fingers warm and firm.
Tiny butterflies danced along the path where his skin touched hers. She brushed away the tingling sensation and slipped out of his grip, careful not to snag her bracelet. “Well, you were in there, and you appear to have man- aged.”
“Are ye daft, wench? I was trapped!”
She sniffed, not sure she liked being referred to as a wench, and frowned up at him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
He closed his eyes and slumped against the shelf. “I canna recall anything afore the moment I woke to find my-self crammed within yonder wall.” He blinked and fo- cused intently on her. “The moment I found you, lass.”
Cassie decided she liked being called lass much better than wench, especially when he was looking at her like that. Gazes locked, her other senses sharpened, heighten- ing her awareness of his body and its proximity to hers. She cleared her throat. “Hm. I think it’d be more accurate to say I’m the one who found you.” Telling herself she was only searching for injuries, she reached up and tentatively skimmed her palms along his temples, her fingers trailing his scalp.
“Looking for devil’s horns?” The man cocked one wicked brow at her as he raised his arms to mirror her movements, running his hands over her head and shoul- ders before brushing his palms down her back. “Ye’ve naught got any fairy wings, so I’d say we’re even. In fact,” he whispered against her hair, standing so close the low burr of his voice became a purr in her own chest, “ye feel perfect to me.”
Like the migrating monarchs her dad studied, the but- terflies made a return trip, enveloping her in a fluttery haze. She shivered. Whether it was the Scot or the scotch or both, Cassie didn’t care. He was here and she was here, and damn it all, it was about time she skipped to the good stuff. With a forceful mental click, Cassie turned off her brain, tilted her chin up, and caught his mouth with hers.
He made a low sound in the back of his throat, of pro- test or surprise, she wasn’t sure. But then his hands settled at her waist, and he returned the kiss. His mouth was somehow soft and hard at the same time, and when he slipped his tongue between her lips, she felt more light- headed than if she’d downed every shot of whisky that had been on that tasting list.
Cassie rolled her tongue against his, savoring the deli- cious contact. He met her thrust for thrust, deepening the kiss until she was swept away on a tidal wave of desire. This. This is what I’ve been waiting for. She clung to him, hands gripping his shoulders, swimming in sensa- tion, drowning in it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
A Star Wars junkie and Shakespeare groupie who quotes both Yoda and the Bard with equal aplomb,
award-winning author Melonie Johnson—aka #thewritinglush—is a two-time RWA Golden Heart®
finalist who loves dark coffee, cheap wine, and expensive beer. And margaritas. And mimosas. And
mules. Basically any cocktail that starts with the letter m. She met her future husband in that most
romantic of places—the mall—when they were teenagers working in stores across the hall from each
other. They went on to live happily ever after in the suburbs of Chicago with two redhead daughters, a
dog that’s more like a small horse, and a trio of hermit crabs. After earning her Bachelor of Arts magna
cum laude from Loyola University Chicago, Melonie taught high school English and Theatre in the
northern Chicago suburbs for several years. Now she writes smart and funny contemporary romance
and moonlights as an audiobook narrator under the pseudonym, Evelyn Eibhlin.
Buy this book: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250193094
Author website: https://meloniejohnson.com/
Author Twitter: @MelonieJohnson
Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/meloniejohnson/
Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MelonieWrites/
SMP Romance Twitter: @SMPRomance or @heroesnhearts
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