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The Highlander's Fury – A MacKay Clan Legend

An immortal Fury nearing burnout from vanquishing evil. A raging Highlander determined to remain miserably alone. The goddesses’ plan to save them both with the greatest magic of all.

An average day in the life of an immortal Fury: flex powers, locate evil, administer justice. Until Ciara’s goddess mothers convince her to seduce a brooding mortal. All she must do is swap places with his betrothed. Her assignment is simple: become the seductive wife, bear the man a child, and train the young one in the Ways. Once the boy reaches seven years of age, they’ll swap her back with the wife he thinks he selected and Ciara can resume her job of rousting wickedness from the realities.

Chieftain Faolan MacKay’s advisors plague him daily about his matrimonial duties, dragging prospects from across the Highlands: plump dowries attached to each one. Faolan has lost everyone he has ever loved. He’d rather go straight to the fiery pits of Hell than down the wedding aisle. Out of desperation, his plan takes seed. He’ll select a wife he can ignore. There’s just one problem with this foolproof theory. Nobody ignores Ciara. Against his better judgment, he’s enthralled with the woman, and to Ciara’s surprise, this strange thing called love burns hotter than her hunger for vengeance.

At the end of the seven years, the ruse is up, and all will return to as it was before. Can Faolan and Ciara’s bond overcome the mandate of the ultimate powers?

BUY: Books2Read



A satisfying blend of saucy sensuality and heartrending sincerity. [...] overall, the pithy dialogue and smooth prose made this a genuine pleasure to read. Reviewed by Angela Blount, RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars


“What the hell did ye find wrong with that one? She’s a well bred lass with a tempting dowry and ye’re a blind man if ye missed those breasts.”

Faolan ignored the exploding advisor, staring down at the sea where it white-capped against the blackened walls of the keep. Damn, the man’s voice scraped his nerves raw. He’d give his best dagger if the old fool would cease this endless prattle.

“Ye must marry, Faolan. Ye know as laird, ‘tis your duty to your clan. Do ye no’ wish to leave an heir to protect us when ye’ve gone?”

“Shut up, Fergus! I weary of your banter. ‘Tis all ye’ve blathered about since father died and I’ve heard all I intend to hear.” Scraping his fists atop the roughened stone battlement, Faolan glowered at the gray-haired man. “If ye’re a wise man who values his hide, ye’ll haul yer arse down off this roof and find someone else to nettle.”

Fergus widened the stance of his knobby, bowed legs and puffed his chest as he stood his ground. With a stubborn glint flashing in his eyes, he jutted his grizzled chin a bit higher as he hooked his thumbs into the top of his kilt. “I’ll no’ leave here until ye tell me why ye refused Lady McGonagall. Colum, Ranald and I struggled with that alliance for months. Ye’ve no’ exactly made this easy, ye realize?”

“Who the hell is the laird here and who is the damn advisor?” Fergus clenched his teeth as a distant hint of lightning flickered across the horizon. Frustration pounded against his senses lengthening into icy claws of dread.

Faolan lifted his face to the rising wind, narrowing his eyes to the roiling storm clouds gathering to the north. One deep breath of the electrified wind told him he neared disaster. He’d managed a bit of control over his emotions. He’d be damned if he’d lose his temper over this sorry business and unleash a raging tempest.

Glancing to the sky, Fergus retreated a step, coughed and took a fortifying breath before stepping forward again. “Ye know I mean ye no dishonor, Faolan. But ‘tis time ye chose a wife. I understand why ye find it so difficult. But ‘tis not like we’ve chosen unsavory prospects.”

Faolan thought back over all the women Fergus and the other advisors had selected. No, he couldn’t say they hadn’t been comely maids. Hell’s fire. He wanted nothing to do with a wife. Uneasiness chugged in his gut as he studied the agitated gaze of the spindly-legged, old man. Fergus meant well, as did all the MacKay advisors. Faolan snorted as bitterness lashed through his thoughts. The advisors had their sights on increasing the strength and wealth of the clan. They wouldn’t give up until he stood shackled to a plump, healthy dowry.

As another flash of lightning lit the clouds off to the east, Faolan smiled as it all became clear. Every muscle in his body relaxed with his newfound plan. He exhaled a relieved breath and leaned back against the wall. It all seemed so simple, why didn’t he think of it before? Let them accomplish their obsession to saddle him with a wife. He knew the perfect choice.