One rule in the castle: stay out of the west wing.

In my defence, breaking in through the doggy door wasn't Plan A.

But my car was in a ditch, the doorbell was disconnected, and hypothermia was making compelling arguments. So. Needs must.

What I wasn't prepared for: Alistair. Specifically, how gorgeous he is. Romance-novel-cover gorgeous.

Then he opens his mouth. Somewhere between accusing me of being a journalist and threatening to personally escort me back into Snowmageddon, I start weighing whether freezing to death might be the more pleasant option. The Tartan Tyrant is rich, rude, and deeply committed to making sure I know I'm an inconvenience.

But survival beats pride. He lets me stay until the roads clear. One rule: stay out of the west wing.

Naturally, that's exactly where my dog goes the second my back is turned. Which is how I find out what he's really hiding.

Her name is Kenna. She's six, she's sunshine in pigtails, and she is nothing like her father. She falls in love with Princess. Then me. In that order. Which is how I end up with a job offer instead of a restraining order.

I crossed an ocean looking for a place I belonged. I did not expect to find it in a freezing castle with a man the entire country has decided to hate — a man who lost everything to the last woman he trusted, and has been building walls ever since.

He's thawing. Not much. Just enough to be dangerous.

Book three in the Braeburn Cliffs series but can be read in a stand-alone. Includes slow burn tension, third act breakup, dual 1st person POV. It's a steamy 🌶️🌶️🌶️ single-dad romance with a snowbound Highland castle, a grumpy billionaire in disgrace, a sunshine heroine who's done shrinking herself, an age gap, forced proximity, a small town that closes ranks, one very loud Yorkshire terrier, and a hard-won HEA.