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Guest SigPlease welcome Landra Graf to the blog. She writes hot historical romance featuring eminently sexy men in kilts. She also consumes at least one book a day, and has always been a sucker for stories where true love conquers all. She believes in the power of the written word, and the joy such words can bring. In between spending time with her family and having book adventures, she writes romance with the goal of giving everyone, fictional or not, their own happily ever after.


LandraCoverThey’re not your traditional highlanders.

Rafe Gordon, Laird of Nairn, is searching for release from the nightmare of his wife’s passing. When Elsie, his daughter’s new governess, brings with her the temptation of passion and a less-than-perfect-past, Rafe must decide if love truly can conquer all.

Innes Gordon is looking for a good time. When that good time turns out to be the childhood-friend-turned-kept-woman Catriona, he finds himself torn between claiming her ‘til death do us part’ or simply sharing her with his twin.

Hamish Gordon is seeking a woman all his own. While his family’s home is invaded with nuptial ceremonies, Hamish is sent to patrol his older brother’s hunting grounds in search of a thief. Discovering his prey yields the biggest surprise — and Athdara needs his help as much as he needs hers.

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Rafe doubted she’d last more than five minutes in the room with him, not after he made her run. “What is your name?”

“Elsie Macbeth, and yours?”

He smiled. “I didn’t think hoores cared for names.”

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else, sir,” she replied her blue eyes narrowing to tiny slits. He’d struck a nerve.

“So the wet dress, the delayed arrival…” He moved forward. With a flick of his wrist, he unsheathed his dirk and cut the rope to her cloak. “The barely concealed flesh so easy to access, those aren’t traits of a hoore angling for attention?”

He wasn’t prepared for her hand to connect with his cheek. Nor for the following backhand. Her chest heaved as she forced an even breath, but the anger on her face didn’t retreat. He knew when a woman wanted him and hated him at the same time, the same view she displayed now.

The same as his late wife.

“My brothers were right. You’ll do,” Rafe said dragging her to him. Her wet skirts plastered against his legs and she molded perfectly to his form. Her angular face turned upward, eyelids fluttered down, and pink lips tilted towards his. Before he reached them, she pulled back.

“I’m not a hoore.”

He’d do anything to taste those lips.

“No, you’re my escape,” he whispered.