The Parchment Scroll (Highland Secrets Book Three) from Paper Dragon Publishing!
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Her sister is lost…in the past.
Three weeks after her sister goes missing, Juliette McGowan encounters her on a beach in Scotland. Her sister gives her a scroll full of claims about time travel and disappears—literally.
As a sister, Jules is determined to find her. As a cop, she can’t go to the authorities. The piece of parchment declares magic exists; they’d think she’s nuts.
When a mysterious woman vows she can help her get to the seventeenth century, Jules goes along with it out of desperation.
He’s an infamous barbarian…
Hugh MacDonald is intrigued when he finds a disoriented naked lass on the beach. She holds a scroll that was written by his rival’s wife. Clan MacLeod will pay ransom for her safe return, so he takes her captive.
She challenges his authority—and his desires. What started off as a plan to anger the MacLeods ends with Hugh wanting to keep her for himself.
Can Jules break free of the barbarian, find her sister and return to the future or will she give in to her attraction and desire to remain in the past?
Jules struggled to no avail. The man’s hands were like iron on her waist, and she was laid across the back of a huge black horse, so if she fought him harder, she would probably fall off and hit her head. “Let me go!” she commanded for the billionth time.
Air hit her bare ass, and she couldn’t even reach to yank the shirt down over it. He had her face-down, arms pinned, and damn horseflesh cut into her stomach, stealing her breath. Blood rushed to her head, making her pulse pound in her temples. She wiggled, but he held her tighter. “Seriously! Let. Me. Go.”
He chuckled and held on with only one of his hands.
God, he’s strong.
The guy was huge, too. She was tall for a girl, at five-ten, but this dude had towered over her on the beach. He had to be six-five or six-six, and he was broad, well-muscled, like he lived in the gym. He was hot, too, which just pissed her off. His long dark hair kissed his shoulders, and he had eyes to match.
Another breeze ruffled the shirt, shooting air up her spine. She clenched her thighs and whimpered. No doubt he could see her everything.
His grip burned through the thin linen of the tunic, but he wasn’t hurting her. Not really.
“Hope you’re enjoying the view,” Jules bit at him.
A deep chuckle teased her ears—and made her gut roil. She kicked her legs, trying to flip over and hit him. She’d always hated being restrained, even back in police academy days.
“Calm yerself lass, or ye’ll fall off my horse.”
Jules froze when she felt his big hands on her bare thighs. He brushed higher, getting closer to her girly parts, so she yanked her arm from beneath her and tried to punch his side.
The guy released the hold on her thighs—he only had two hands, after all—and she was able to get a hit in as he tried to grab her wrists.
He missed, she rolled, and clocked him in the ‘nads. Dude cursed—she guessed, it wasn’t English—and Jules took the opportunity to slip from the horse’s back. She landed so hard her bare feet shot pain all the way up to her knees, but the best part was the shock on his face.
Her captor had one hand on his crotch, and those dark eyes were wide. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, staring at her.
She ran. Harder than she ever had to go after a suspect. Her lungs burned, her legs seared all the way into her quads, and her feet were on fire. Maybe bleeding from the rocky terrain, but she didn’t stop to inspect them.
Hooves on her heels made her push harder.
He was yelling curses and orders from best she could tell, but Jules kept going even after she heard the thud of boots hitting the ground. She didn’t look over her shoulder to see where he was, but he was taller and had a longer stride than her, so she didn’t have a chance if she hesitated even for a second.
Hard hands seized her from behind, and then she was enveloped in his heat. He lifted her off the ground effortlessly and said nothing.
The guy stalked to the horse and threw her on its back, but this time he sat her up properly, swinging up behind her before she had time to react, or think about her bare ass on horsehair—there was no saddle. He wrapped her in his arms, and lifted her so she was sitting on his lap, then pinned her to him. The sound he made deep in his throat shot awareness down her spine and Jules squirmed.
She could feel his anger. He was seething, but he still hadn’t hurt her, despite the steel hold he had going on. His bare chest was hot against her back. And what a chest it was! Despite her own anger, her body was aware of every hard muscle, every defined line she could feel through the shirt she was wearing.
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