Title: Lost in Scotland
Blurb:
Just when you think you're lost, you might end up falling in love.
Sam Farouk is having a bad year. Things have gone down the drain ever since she found her boyfriend cheating on her at the Golden Globes. An unfortunate turn of events forces her to trade sunny Los Angeles with the rainy, chilly highlands of Scotland. She has the chance to work as one of the makeup artists on a new TV series based on a fantasy saga everyone is bananas about, but she can’t help feeling lost and a little bit homesick. Until she starts falling for Hugh MacLeod, the actor set to impersonate the titular role of Abarath, dragon slayer and part-time Casanova
Hugh MacLeod is ready for his big break. After more than a decade taking every possible acting job just to stay afloat, he can finally show his range in a series to be proud of. Hugh’s commitment to his career comes before anything else, and that’s part of the reason why he hasn’t had a serious relationship in a while. But the more he’s around Sam, the more he knows he’s in deep, deep trouble. How is he supposed to not fall for the sexy, mysterious brunette who works all over him every single day? Every touch, every look is torture.
Getting lost in each other might be wrong, but it could end up being just what they need.
Amzn:http://bit.ly/AmazonLostScotland
iBooks:http://bit.ly/iBooksLostScotland
B&N: http://bit.ly/BNLostScotland
Kobo: http://bit.ly/KoboLostScotland
Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31635516-lost-in-scotland?from_search=true
“Stop smirking like that,” I told Hugh in a hushed tone. He looked down at me through his eyelashes as I stroked my brush across his cheek, splattering fake blood across his face. “Someone will notice if you don’t stop.” I took another chunk of makeup and applied it to his skin. His lips pressed into a line, and then he bit his bottom lip, the look in his eyes sending a rush of color to my cheeks.
“Did you have a good weekend, Sam?” he asked, impenitent, with a James McAvoy-esque grin that made him look stupidly handsome.
“It was wonderful,” I whispered, smiling but refusing to meet his eyes. He let out a low chuckle, and I didn’t have to look at his face to know what he looked like when he did that. I loved that he was so happy this morning, but there were at least fifteen people around us setting up for the next scene. Although his behavior was endearing in some ways, it was also irritating. I didn’t understand why he wasn’t trying to be more careful. He didn’t seem to care, but I did. It was hard enough to focus after the two days we’d had together, but he seemed to be determined to make me lose all my concentration.
He made a face as I brought my brush to his cheek again. “Why is this blood so much darker than what I usually have all over me?”
“This is dragon blood. We agreed that fake dragon blood should look different than fake human blood.”
“I see. Why is it so much thicker? What did you put in there to make it like that?”
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
“Is it animal blood? I swear it smells.”
“Please. Do you think we could afford to have PETA on our ass like that?”
“I suppose not.”
“We just added red and blue food coloring and cocoa powder to give it more texture.”
“Hmmm.” He gave me another steely gaze, and I shook my head. There was a giant contraption shaped like a tower covered in the same material of green screens. During post-production, the automated boxy thing would become a dragon. There was a tube sticking out of it that was connected to a spray gun and a tank filled with twenty pounds of fake blood. At some point during the scene, it was supposed to spray blood all over Hugh. Slashing the belly of a dragon would have such consequences.
He reached for the opening in my hoodie and squeezed one of my breasts. I waved his hand away, narrowing my eyes at him. I looked around and made sure it was safe to talk. “You’re being impossible today. How am I supposed to do my job?”
“My hands are cold,” he said with a shrug and a smug grin.
“My boobs are not hand warmers.”
He laughed. “I disagree. They’re so…warm, and inviting. They make excellent pillows, too,” he said in a deep voice, clicking his tongue playfully.
“Did you have a good weekend, Sam?” he asked, impenitent, with a James McAvoy-esque grin that made him look stupidly handsome.
“It was wonderful,” I whispered, smiling but refusing to meet his eyes. He let out a low chuckle, and I didn’t have to look at his face to know what he looked like when he did that. I loved that he was so happy this morning, but there were at least fifteen people around us setting up for the next scene. Although his behavior was endearing in some ways, it was also irritating. I didn’t understand why he wasn’t trying to be more careful. He didn’t seem to care, but I did. It was hard enough to focus after the two days we’d had together, but he seemed to be determined to make me lose all my concentration.
He made a face as I brought my brush to his cheek again. “Why is this blood so much darker than what I usually have all over me?”
“This is dragon blood. We agreed that fake dragon blood should look different than fake human blood.”
“I see. Why is it so much thicker? What did you put in there to make it like that?”
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
“Is it animal blood? I swear it smells.”
“Please. Do you think we could afford to have PETA on our ass like that?”
“I suppose not.”
“We just added red and blue food coloring and cocoa powder to give it more texture.”
“Hmmm.” He gave me another steely gaze, and I shook my head. There was a giant contraption shaped like a tower covered in the same material of green screens. During post-production, the automated boxy thing would become a dragon. There was a tube sticking out of it that was connected to a spray gun and a tank filled with twenty pounds of fake blood. At some point during the scene, it was supposed to spray blood all over Hugh. Slashing the belly of a dragon would have such consequences.
He reached for the opening in my hoodie and squeezed one of my breasts. I waved his hand away, narrowing my eyes at him. I looked around and made sure it was safe to talk. “You’re being impossible today. How am I supposed to do my job?”
“My hands are cold,” he said with a shrug and a smug grin.
“My boobs are not hand warmers.”
He laughed. “I disagree. They’re so…warm, and inviting. They make excellent pillows, too,” he said in a deep voice, clicking his tongue playfully.
“If I weren’t attached to a multimillion-dollar project, I would totally make love to you in front of Edinburgh Castle, public indecency be damned.”
***
“Yeah?” he whispered in my ear. “You hate me?”
“I do,” I replied with a strangled moan.
“Is that so? Then why are your knickers so wet?”
***
“What is it about Scottish men, huh?” I teased.
“What is it about fictional Scottish heroes?” she corrected.
“Samhain, I can be a patient man, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to fuck ye right now. Tell me what ye want, and I will give ye that.”
“Is this one of your lines?” I joked.
He laughed. “No, it isn’t. My character might be rubbing off on me a little, but I meant what I said. I’m willing to be patient, even though I am dying to have ye, right now.” Then have at it, I wanted to say. His words made me smile, because he was willing to take his time with me.
Fortunately for him, that was not what I wanted.
“Is this one of your lines?” I joked.
He laughed. “No, it isn’t. My character might be rubbing off on me a little, but I meant what I said. I’m willing to be patient, even though I am dying to have ye, right now.” Then have at it, I wanted to say. His words made me smile, because he was willing to take his time with me.
Fortunately for him, that was not what I wanted.
“I have been wondering for weeks if you went commando or not.”
[caption id="attachment_2035" align="alignnone" width="300"]
He lifted one of my legs and placed it on his shoulder, and then he did the same with the other, spreading them wide, making sure I was hooked in place.Motherfucker.
What was he doing? This was some Cirque du Soleil shit.
And then my ass was up in the air and my head bumped against the ceiling of the trailer.
“Ouch!” I mumbled, and I heard a muffled “sorry” come from between my legs.
Then I got ticklish, because the motherfucker was laughing right against my skin.
“Oh my gosh, stop laughing! You’re tickling me. I’m going to fall!”
“I’m not going to let you fall. I’m going to make you come.”[/caption]
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