Okay, there’s a few other things to address in this Author’s Note, but like always, I’m going to point out that this series is a comedy. I’m sure you didn’t really read it expecting historical accuracy, right? For instance, slates weren’t used to write on until a bit after the medieval period. But then, I couldn’t have Lara doodling penises.
Heh. Doodling penises. Sounds a bit naughty, eh?
But anyhow, yeah, we should probably talk about dildos. Because, you know…dildos. They’re fun to talk about. And they’re historical! It bugs me when people get it into their heads that sex toys—and interesting fetishes and kinky stuff—didn’t become “a thing” until like the 1970s. Um, what? Yeah, no. Your ancestors were just as kinky as you are!
Hey, we don’t kink shame around here.
Archeologists have found dildos in Paleolithic sites—even some double-headed ones, I kid you not. Forget ancient Greece, forget ancient Egypt…your Stone Age ancestors were getting freaky with one another (listen, a double-headed dildo is meant to be shared).
The term “dildo” was actually gaining popularity by the end of the 1500s (from the Italian word for “delight” of course), but since I’ve been really vague on the time period for The Hots for Scots (men wearing kilts, but rushes on the floor, equals a confusing time period. So sue me.), I figured I’d leave out the actual word.
Besides, it’s much funnier to have Lara name her dildo, eh?
Treenis. Heh.
As should become obvious by now, I’m not writing this series to be historically accurate, but to make myself laugh. Yes, sometimes I have the sense of humor of an adolescent boy, but you’ll notice I didn’t make nearly as many fart jokes as I could’ve in this book.
You’re welcome.
I hope, somewhere along the way, I made you laugh too.
Now, are you ready for Kiergan’s book? His story is called Scot to the Touch, and features a heroine as delightfully quirky as Lara. Keep reading for a sneak peek!
If you’re anything like me, you’ve been waiting to find out how this rake (cough-manwhore-cough) is going to be brought low! He’s in for a doozy of a ride! Mwa-ha-ha-ha!
You should also know that Nessa’s story, Scot Under the Mistletoe, is available already. This Christmas story was supposed to be the last book in the series, but apparently, I took my sweet time getting around to writing the rest of these books, so you get her story a little early. Ready to find out what’s going on with her? Check out Scot Under the Mistletoe!
But first, I want to offer you a personal invitation to my reader group. If you’re on Facebook, I hope you’ll consider joining. It’s where I post all the best book news first, and you’ll be able to get to know me personally. My Cohort is also instrumental in helping me name characters and choose covers! So stop on by!
And now, for Kiergan…
Sneak Peek
SNEAK PEEK from Scot to the Touch
Her sister was pouting.
‘Twas not a polite thing to say about one’s beloved sibling, but that didn’t make it less true. Davina was pouting, and there was no use pretending otherwise.
With a sigh, Katlyn put aside her own thoughts and stretched her leg out to nudge her sister’s foot. They were seated across from one another in the carriage Grandda commissioned for this journey, and Davina ignored the prodding in order to continue staring out the window.
Well, Katlyn wasn’t going to be ignored. That had happened too often in her life.
“Vina” she prompted. When her sister’s lips tugged down into a frown, Katlyn tried again. “ ‘Twill no’ do to meet yer bridegroom for the first time with frown-lines marring yer forehead.”
That got a response, but not for the reason she would’ve assumed. Her sister swung her frown her way. “Bridegroom? Bah. I’ll no’ marry him!”
Ah. So she was more irritated by the thought of marrying the Oliphant’s son than she was about her complexion? Curious. Davina could usually be counted on to worry about her appearance.
She’d always known the MacKinnons’ hopes for a solid marriage contract rested with her, after all.
Swallowing down the bitterness she’d long ago grown accustomed to, Katlyn did her best to draw her sister into conversation. “Why are ye so set against this match?” she asked soothingly? “Ye ken Grandda is for it, and ye ken ‘twould make a strong alliance.”
The Oliphant land might be some distance from theirs, but the laird had six sons. Bastards, aye, but one of them would become the next laird. The others…well, surely he could spare one. ‘Twas Grandda’s plan; to marry Davina—the suitable MacKinnon daughter—to one of those sons. If her husband didn’t become the next Laird Oliphant, then he’d drag the lucky man back to MacKinnon land and start grooming him.
Without a male heir of his own, Grandda was relying on Davina’s marriage to bring in a suitable future laird, someone strong to ensure the MacKinnons’ continuance.
It took Katlyn a moment to realize her sister hadn’t answered. In fact, she’d gone back to staring out the window, this time directed her worried gaze on their grandfather, who rode with his men.
Worried? Aye, Davina was no longer scowling, but looking…guilty?
“Vina?”
Her sister’s head whipped around, the anger falling back into place like a mask. “What would ye have me say? There’s only one Oliphant son left, aye? Grandda waited too long to make him move, and now five of them are married!”
“Ye ken ‘tis no’ his fault,” Katlyn corrected softly. “His illness—”
Her sister waved away the rebuke. “Aye, I ken it. And I’m glad he’s healthy again, truly. But I wish all six of the Oliphant bastards had been married by now, so we wouldn’t be making the journey.”
Katlyn studied her sister. Davina was, most definitely, the beauty of the family, the pride of the MacKinnons. But the knowledge hadn’t made her arrogant; if anything, it had been a burden, knowing the future of the clan rested on her shoulders.
Since Katlyn herself was useless when it came to marriage prospects.
Still, as a dutiful granddaughter, she did what she could. Even if that was only calming her sister’s fears. “Grandda was able to communicate with the Oliphant over the winter, remember? ‘Tis when he concocted this scheme. If it werenae for his illness, mayhap a formal arrangement between ye and one of the sons could’ve been reached.”
But Davina shook her head. “Ye ken the Oliphant refused to make betrothal contracts for his sons. ‘Tis only women who can be bound by gold that way. A son could refuse to marry me.”
But not one with eyes in his head. “He wouldnae refuse to marry ye, Vina,” Katlyn said quietly.
Her sister snorted and crossed her arms. “ ‘Tis what I’m afraid of,” she muttered, slouching on the padded seat.
There was that flash of guilt again. Curious, Katlyn shifted forward. “What have ye no’ told me, Vina?”
“The only son left.” Davina frowned down at her own knees. “He’s the rake. The one who has made love to countless women. The one who is rumored to be so good with his tongue. ‘Tis said he can make a woman scream with pleasure in under five minutes.”