Seduced by Destiny

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Overview

All her life, Josselin Ancrum has been trained for combat, hoping to exact vengeance for her heroic mother, who was killed fighting the English. When asked to spy for the Scottish Queen, Jossy joyfully accepts. But when a handsome stranger rescues her from sudden danger, his charm distracts her from her mission.

On the surface, Drew MacAdam may appear to be nothing more than a carefree champion, but his heart harbors a dark secret: This Highland hero is actually a skilled ...

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Overview

All her life, Josselin Ancrum has been trained for combat, hoping to exact vengeance for her heroic mother, who was killed fighting the English. When asked to spy for the Scottish Queen, Jossy joyfully accepts. But when a handsome stranger rescues her from sudden danger, his charm distracts her from her mission.

On the surface, Drew MacAdam may appear to be nothing more than a carefree champion, but his heart harbors a dark secret: This Highland hero is actually a skilled English soldier with a hatred for war and for the Scottish. Yet from the moment he meets the feisty Jossy, he's captured by her fiercely loyal heart. He's determined the honey-haired lass will be his ultimate prize - until the tragedy of their entwined legacies is revealed. Are these star-crossed lovers to be divided by their pasts? Or will they be...seduced by destiny?

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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
Morgan follows 2010's Captured by Desire with a delightful romance set in 16th-century Scotland. Josselin Ancrum is a battle-trained Scottish maiden raised by warriors. Traveling to Edinburgh to witness the arrival of Mary, Queen of Scots, she quickly rouses trouble with her sharp tongue and is rescued by Drew MacAdam, an Englishman masquerading as a Highlander. Averse to fighting, Drew takes to the golf links, defending England by winning Scottish purses. Josselin loves Drew's charm and willingness to spring for beer, but worries their mutual attraction will distract from her new, secret mission to serve the queen. Despite being "the worst spy ever," she takes up her sword in defense of Queen Mary while Drew cheers her on. Readers weary of Scottish romance clichés will be thrilled to see these cheeky commoners trading blows and puns far away from drafty castles. (Mar.)
romancereviewsmag.com
For Seduced by Destiny:

"I loved the characters and I loved the golf part of the story--an insight into how it was way back then....Brilliant personalities and great golf scenes and some good history as well. Worth reading..."

nightowlreviews.com
For Seduced by Destiny:

"Interesting and romantic....contained a lot of humor and fun seduction. This is a great book for a fun, lighthearted read for anyone who enjoys historical romances."

Monica McCarty
On Captured by Desire:

"A rich, sensual, pull-at-the-heartstrings romance."

Bertrice Small
On Captured by Desire:

"A wonderful and rich tapestry of a novel."

Jennifer Ashley
On Captured by Desire:

"A finely crafted tale...a satisfying read."

Renaissance Magazine
On Seduced by Destiny:

"Adventure and romance abound in this fast-paced and spicy tale."

From the Publisher
Starred review from Publishers Weekly for Seduced by Destiny:

"Morgan follows 2010's Captured by Desire with a delightful romance set in 16th-century Scotland....Readers weary of Scottish romance cliches will be thrilled to see these cheeky commoners trading blows and puns far away from drafty castles."—Publishers Weekly

For Seduced by Destiny:

"Interesting and romantic....contained a lot of humor and fun seduction. This is a great book for a fun, lighthearted read for anyone who enjoys historical romances."—nightowlreviews.com

For Seduced by Destiny:

"I loved the characters and I loved the golf part of the story--an insight into how it was way back then....Brilliant personalities and great golf scenes and some good history as well. Worth reading..."—romancereviewsmag.com

On Captured by Desire:

"A wonderful and rich tapestry of a novel."—Bertrice Small, New York Times bestselling-author

On Captured by Desire:

"A rich, sensual, pull-at-the-heartstrings romance."—Monica McCarty, New York Times bestselling-author

On Captured by Desire:

"A finely crafted tale...a satisfying read."—Jennifer Ashley, USA Today bestselling-author

On Seduced by Destiny:

"Adventure and romance abound in this fast-paced and spicy tale."—Renaissance Magazine

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780446548175
  • Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
  • Publication date: 3/1/2011
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Pages: 352
  • Product dimensions: 4.10 (w) x 6.70 (h) x 1.20 (d)

Meet the Author

Kira Morgan's past adventures include stints as a ballerina, a typographer, a film composer, a piano player, a transcriber, a singer, and a voice-over actress. In her current incarnation, she's a wife, mother, and writer of swashbuckling historical romance. She does her best writing on cruise ships, in Scottish castles, on her husband's tour bus, and at home in her sunny southern California garden.
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First Chapter

Seduced by Destiny


By Morgan, Kira

Forever

Copyright © 2011 Morgan, Kira
All right reserved.

ISBN: 9780446548175

Prologue

February 27, 1545

The three battle-weary Scots slogged across Ancrum Moor. In spite of the devastation surrounding them, their spirits were at ease, for most of the blood spilled upon the sod was that of their English foes.

Earlier, when they’d beheld the scores of enemy troops marching toward them across the moor, the three comrades-in-arms had exchanged grim farewells, sure ’twas their last day alive.

But to their amazement, the traitorous Border Scots who’d chosen to ally themselves with the English had finally come to their senses. In the middle of the fighting, they’d heeded the plaintive call of the pipes and turned coat on their English captains, assuring a Scots victory.

Now there was nothing to do but bury the dead, return home, and brace for the next skirmish. The English never tired of war, it seemed, and the Borders bore the scars and scorched earth to prove it.

The three men crossed the trampled grass, solemnly picking their way through the fallen, giving more than one mortally wounded English wretch a final blow of mercy with a misericordia.

Then Will paused over one of the dead bodies and frowned, poking it with the tip of his sword. He crouched down to take a closer look.

“Sweet Mary, Mother o’…” he breathed.

“What is it?” Angus grunted.

Will rolled the body over, and all three took a shocked step backward. They recognized the bonnie Scots lass from their village of Selkirk. Her name was Lilliard. But her once-soft honey curls were caked with blood, and her rosy lips were ashen. One fist still clutched her sword with a death grip, but she’d been unable to block the last fatal blow—a blade thrust beneath her ribs that had stopped her heart.

“English devils!” spat Angus. “She was but a maid.”

Will shook his head. “Poor lass didn’t have a chance against them.”

“Wait.” Alasdair narrowed his keen eyes. “Who’d let a lass on the battleground?”

The question gave them all pause. No Scotsman worth his dirk would allow a helpless woman near a field of war.

Will rubbed his grizzled jaw. “Wasn’t her husband killed by the English?”

“Aye, I think so,” Angus said, “two years back, at Solway Moss.”

Alasdair nodded at the bloody linen shirt and gray jerkin draping her poor lifeless body. “Those are his clothes.”

“And his blade, no doubt,” Angus added. “She was likely lookin’ to avenge his murder.”

“But the poor lass had no idea o’ the danger,” said Will.

They stared in thoughtful silence for a while. Then Alasdair cleared his throat. “We should carry her home.”

When they lifted her small body to place her on a plaid, they discovered her arm was broken and both of her legs had been gashed to the bone. The lass hadn’t gone down without a fight.

With their tragic burden, they traversed Ancrum Moor and continued several miles to Selkirk, to the isolated stone house where the lass had lived.

As far as they recalled, Lilliard had no family in the village. The men didn’t even know her surname. Still, Alasdair could read, and there might be some missive in the woman’s house that would help them locate her kin. If nothing else, they could at least give a proper burial to the brave lass.

The cottage appeared empty. No one answered their knocks. When they pushed the door open, no fire burned on the hearth.

’Twasn’t until they lowered the maid’s broken body gently to the floor that they spied a small lass in the corner of the room, a flaxen-haired beauty with wide green eyes and her thumb in her mouth.

They froze, speechless, as the tot studied them with stern appraisal, one by one. After a moment, she popped her thumb out of her mouth and toddled forward a step, then stuttered back, plopping onto her bottom with a startled blink.

The men winced, expecting a piercing wail. Instead the lass opened her mouth and uttered one loud, distinct, emphatic word.

“Da!”

Edward Armstrong was halfway home before the wrenching sobs stopped racking his body. He’d fled through the forest, tears streaming down his cheeks, unable to face his fellow soldiers. He didn’t know whether they’d won or lost the battle at Ancrum Moor, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t fit to defend the English crown. Jesu—after what he’d done, he wasn’t fit to muck out King Henry’s stables.

He leaned against an oak trunk, fighting a dizzying wave of nausea. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—her fair cheeks, her innocent eyes, her pleading lips—just before…

He stumbled to his knees and retched into the bushes, but nothing could purge him of the hideous memory.

He hadn’t meant to hurt the lass. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. Violence was against his nature. But his brothers had expected him to fight alongside them, and he’d joined the battle at their prodding.

They’d never told him he’d be killing women.

He shivered, then rose on shaky legs, wiping his damp brow with the back of one trembling hand.

He had to get home. Everything would be fine if he could just get back home.

God’s wounds! What had the lovely maid been doing there? Her angelic face didn’t belong in the midst of such a massacre.

When he’d first glimpsed the Scots lass wielding a blade, Edward’s instinct had been to retreat. He’d had little enough desire to engage the Scots soldiers, none at all to battle a Scots maid.

But then she’d turned a dewy, stunned gaze up to him, and her lips had moved in silent prayer. As he lowered his eyes, he saw that her left arm hung limp at her side, and blood had begun to soak the bottom of her oversized shirt like a rapidly blossoming scarlet rose.

She was too weak to lift her sword, and ’twas a miracle she was still standing, for he could see both thighs had been deeply slashed by a blade. She was going to die—she was losing too much blood to survive.

Death would come slowly and painfully, and she seemed to know it. What she begged of him with her glance was mercy.

Without hesitation, he did what he thought was right. While the battle raged ruthlessly around them, he granted her the mercy she requested.

Only after he pulled the blade out of her frail chest and watched her sink lifelessly to the ground did he realize what he’d done. God forgive him, he’d slain a woman.

He pressed his palms hard against his eyes, then ran a shaking hand back through his hair. He had to get home. He had to go somewhere familiar, where he could remember the gentle soul he’d been and not the monster he’d become.

’Twas nightfall when Edward at last staggered through the door of his cottage, a safe three miles across the border.

His six-year-old son Andrew knew at once that something was wrong. The lad was perceptive and bright, as curious and interested in life as Edward had been in his youth… before his brothers had pressured him into taking up the sword.

Andrew would grow to be a better man than he was. The lad was blessed not only with his departed mother’s piercing blue eyes and rich brown hair, but also her brilliant mind, her even temper, her strength of character. Andrew would succeed where his father had failed.

Edward knew what he had to do. He stirred the fire to a cheery blaze and lit all the candles in the room, chasing away the dark shades that haunted him. Then he asked the lad to pour him ale while he fetched a scrap of parchment, ink, and a quill from the cupboard.

The ale did its work. His hands stopped trembling, his stomach settled, and his mind cleared. He dragged a candle close and, with a steady hand, scrawled out all of it in plain terms—his sin, his shame, his atonement.

When he was finished, a strange peace settled over him. He rolled up the parchment and gave it to Andrew, kissing his son’s head and bidding him take the missive to his uncles’ house.

Andrew may not have understood what was wrong, but he sensed his father’s urgency. He ran the whole mile in the moonlight, breathlessly giving the note to his Uncle Thomas, who read it aloud to Robert and Simon. The more Thomas read, the more upset they all became.

His uncle finished the missive, then flung open the door, and the three of them raced with Andrew all the way back to his father’s house, dragging him along until his sides ached.

They burst in through the door, making the candles in the room flicker wildly. Uncle Thomas gasped and tried to block Andrew’s view, but ’twas too late. Andrew saw his father swaying from the rafters, just like the outlaws that were sometimes hanged from the town gallows.

While Andrew regarded them in stunned silence, his uncles swore and sobbed. They cut his father’s body down, cursing the Scots with words Andrew had never heard before, saying the Scots were to blame for his father’s death. He wasn’t sure, but it sounded like his uncles were angry at the Scots for giving swords to lasses.

They buried his father in the yard by the light of the moon and spoke a few words over his grave. Then they looked down at Andrew, and Uncle Simon placed his hand on Andrew’s shoulder.

He said that today the uncles were going to make Andrew’s father a solemn promise. They’d take care of Andrew from now on. They’d feed him, clothe him, shelter him, and, most importantly, train him. The Scots would regret slaying his father, they said, for they intended to turn Andrew into an unrivaled swordsman and a fierce killer—a man of whom his father would have been proud.

Chapter 1

August 19, 1561

Andrew… Drew… scowled as he eyed his opponent across the field. He’d trained long and hard for this duel. He didn’t intend to lose, especially not to the cocksure Scots nobleman who was currently brandishing his weapon with all the grace of a crofter chopping wheat.

Drew seldom lost. He’d earned his reputation on the tournament field as a master. He was lithe, strong, and intimidating. His arm was powerful and his aim deadly. He’d left his last two opponents gasping on their knees and the one before that cursing into the dust.

Ian Hay would likewise prove an easy conquest. The barrel-chested Scot was currently making a great show of flexing his arms, adjusting his trews, and gauging the position of the rising sun, which was nearly invisible on this unusually gloomy summer morn. But it seemed to Drew that Hay was merely delaying his inevitable demise.

The motley mob of peasants and merchants and nobles who crowded around them, shouting and shoving and placing hasty wagers on the match, did not agree. By the loud cheers they sent Hay’s way and the nasty aspersions they hurled at Drew, ’twas apparent most of them had bet heavily on their local hero.

Unable to stall any further, Hay mopped his brow, cleared his throat, and approached, gripping his weapon so tightly that it seemed as if he meant to throttle the life out of it.

The crowd hushed, their gazes locked on the combatants.

Drew took a calm breath and waited.

Despite the man’s poor form as he swung, there was a tap as he managed to connect with the ball, sending it bounding well down the green, where it arced to the left, bounced four times, but somehow landed at the far edge of the grass, a good two dozen yards past the hole.

Nonetheless, his supporters roared with gloating satisfaction, and Hay let out a triumphant cackle. He bowed, inviting Drew to do better.

Drew lifted the corner of his lip in a grim smile. Oh, aye, he’d do better. He hadn’t left his home, changed his name, and risked his life, roving through the land of enemy Scots, just to lose to a smug Lowlander with a distinct hook in his swing. Drew might not be spilling the Scots’ blood as his uncles would have wished, but he was definitely doing his part to drain their coffers.

Ignoring the raucous bystanders, who tried to rattle him with insults, Drew made a small mound of sand and placed his elm ball upon it. He glanced at the blades of grass in the rough to gauge the direction of the breeze. A light wind normally blew in from the North Sea, which was visible from the links, just past the rise, but today the air was still and veiled with fog. He could only faintly discern the imposing rock of Ard-thir Suidhe, which rose above Edinburgh like a fortress wall.

Drew chose the spoon from among his clubs, earning him a scornful bark of laughter from Hay, which was echoed by the crowd. Apparently no one realized how short the hole was. Drew balanced the club easily in the fingers of his left hand as he set the head down with calculated precision behind the ball, then clasped lightly with his right hand.

Ironically, much of his golfing aptitude came from the training his uncles had given him with a sword. His grip was solid, yet not too tight. Flexibility, whether holding a blade or a golf club, was the key to control and accuracy. The rest of his skills he’d learned from Lowland golfers who were more than willing to show a stranger a thing or two about golf for a few pints of beer.

Drew glanced up once toward the hole, which was slightly to the right on the rise ahead. ’Twas hardly necessary—he could have played the Musselburgh links blindfolded.

The Scots who’d wagered on Hay gathered as closely around Drew as they dared, yelling and stomping and waving their hands in an effort to break his concentration.

Taking an even breath, Drew shifted his weight back then forward, swinging the club with smooth power. It whistled and connected with a solid crack. The ball shot straight ahead, rolling and bounding down the green like a hound on the hunt, slowing and settling directly in front of the hole.

Hay made a pained, strangling noise, which he quickly disguised with a cough, and his constituency groaned in collective disappointment. Then he waved to his servant to bring along his satchel of clubs as he shuffled off toward his ball.

Drew always carried his own clubs. He refused to engage a servant to do something he could do just as well himself. Besides, he preferred to keep the Scots at arm’s length, and that included the serving class. He was an Englishman masquerading as a Highlander, and the fewer who knew his secret, the better.

As they ambled down the course, trailed by the disgruntled crowd, Hay tried to strike up a probing but friendly conversation. “So, MacAdam, have ye played much at Musselburgh?”

“A time or two.” The truth was he’d played at Musselburgh enough to know it like the back of his hand. This might be the country of his foe, but he liked it well enough to spend a good deal of time here. There was a wild quality about the eastern coast of Scotland that pleased him.

Hay’s servant, upon reaching his ball, extracted a fairway club from the satchel. Drew cleared his throat, wondering if the servant had made a mistake in his choice. After all, the ball wasn’t that far from the hole.

But the servant arched a knowing brow at Drew. The crowd hushed, and Hay lined up behind the ball, wiggling his backside to get the proper posture. When he finally swung forward, the servant’s choice proved to be a prudent one after all, for Hay all but missed the shot, only narrowly clipping the top of the ball, which rolled forward to end up, by fool’s luck, beside Drew’s.

The Hay faction cheered, and Drew let out a whistle of disbelief, which Hay mistook for admiration.

“Aye, we Lowlanders have golf in our blood,” Hay boasted, resting his club on his shoulder and marching happily forward. “Tell me, MacAdam,” he said loudly enough for the onlookers to hear, “do they even play the sport where ye’re from?”

In England? Drew thought. Not anymore. Golf had been outlawed there. But that wasn’t what Hay was asking. As far as anyone knew, Drew MacAdam was born and bred in the Highlands. No one here had heard of the Englishman, Andrew Armstrong. Still, these Lowlanders had almost as much contempt for their northern brothers as they did for their English foes.

“In Tintclachan?” Drew replied in his best Highland brogue. “Nae. There’s naught but rocky ground and lochs so deep ye’d drown chippin’ your way out.”

“Indeed?” Hay nodded to the crowd, as if to confirm that a Highlander couldn’t possibly have the experience to win this match.

“Aye.” Drew nodded out of courtesy to indicate Hay could play first. “And ye’d be lucky to swing a club without hittin’ a cow.” He gave the bystanders a wink, and the few of them who’d wagered on Drew to win chuckled in response.

Hay took a putting cleek from his servant, who then spread a cloth on the grass before the ball and helped his master to his knees. Hay doubled at the waist to line up his shot, his hands flat on the ground, his arse in the air. He cocked a wild eye at the hole as if to threaten it into submission. Then he straightened, and with three practice swings, he knocked the ball forward, missing the hole by more than a foot.

“Damn!”

The crowd’s oaths were somewhat coarser. Some of them had wagered a week’s earnings on Hay to win.

The servant helped Hay struggle to his feet while Drew waited without comment. Just as he’d expected, this was going to be an easy match. Hay was already losing his temper on the first hole. By the seventh, he’d doubtless be apoplectic and completely unable to control his shots.

Drew advanced toward his ball. With scarcely a wasted motion and before the onlookers could distract him with their taunts, he tapped it neatly into the hole.

Hay started in surprise. “Oh.” He added grudgingly, “Well done, MacAdam.”

After that, it took the man not one, but two more attempts to sink his ball. By then his ears were red, and the onlookers were growling in irritation.

“Your drive,” Hay muttered.

Drew nodded and walked past the green to tee off. The path to the second hole was much longer, with a marshy patch in the middle. On a sunny day, he could do it in five strokes. Today, with the mist heavy on the course, ’twas hard to tell.

He lined up the shot with his longnose club while the mob closed in, whistling and jeering. Ignoring the detractors, he swung back, but as he swung forward, an overly enthusiastic Hay supporter waved out his arm, and Drew’s club caught on the man’s sleeve, destroying the shot. The ball sliced to the right, landing near the edge of the rough.

Half of the crowd cheered in approval, willing to seize on any advantage. The other half, recognizing the man’s behavior as unsporting, shoved and rebuked the offender.

Drew frowned. He’d seen men cheat like this before. ’Twas one thing to bellow and stamp and cast aspersions. ’Twas another to physically interfere with a man’s shot.

Hay, however, was a man of some character. “Ye can take the shot o’er, MacAdam,” he offered.

Drew nodded his thanks. But to be honest, he didn’t want to take all of the challenge out of the game. “Nae, let it lie.”

Hay seemed unsure whether to be grateful or insulted. He nodded in deference to Drew’s courtesy, then took the club from his servant and groused at the onlookers, “I’ll play my own game, if ye please.”

While they moved down the course and Hay carried on about unruly crowds, Drew grunted, only half listening. He was distracted by the sight of something odd upon the waves in the distance—strange shadows shifting through the veil of mist. As he scanned the horizon, the dark flank of a ship emerged from the fog. Ghostly white sails billowed on its three masts as it sailed toward Leith Harbor. Behind it another vessel materialized.

Hay, oblivious to the ships, chattered away as he struggled to keep up with Drew. “ ’Tis a foul day for this time o’ year—not golfin’ weather at all.”

Drew stopped, squinting to try to make out the colors of the flag flying from the highest mast.

“I suppose it could be worse,” Hay blathered on. “It could be rain—”

He suddenly crashed into Drew with an “oof,” but Drew was too preoccupied to take notice. Ships came into Leith Harbor all the time, but there was something different about this pair.

“Those galleys,” Drew said, “whose colors are they flyin’?”

Hay sputtered, then shaded his eyes with one hand to try to make out the ships.

His servant joined them. “They’re French, sir.”

“French.” Two French galleys sailing up the Thames in London would have presented a threat. But here, Drew reminded himself, there was a strong alliance between France and Scotland that went back centuries.

“Aye, right ye are,” Hay chimed in, pretending he could see that far. “They’re French. Ye can tell by… Wait.” He straightened abruptly. “French? French? Is it…” He elbowed his way past Drew and scrambled through the rough to get a better look. “Nae. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t due to arrive for another two days!”

“She?” Drew asked, turning to the servant.

The crowd began murmuring in wonder as the servant gazed into the distance with curious adoration. “The new queen,” he breathed.



Continues...

Excerpted from Seduced by Destiny by Morgan, Kira Copyright © 2011 by Morgan, Kira. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 7 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 7 Customer Reviews
  • Posted March 2, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    If love is a battlefield what can you use to shield your heart from being broken?

    Andrew MacAdam was raised by uncles as a result of the fate that created a situation that had taken his father's life. Instead of going to war and raging against his enemies this Englishman lived in Scotland battling another type of competition - the game of golf. Josselin Ancrum was also raised by others who were not her parents but she was lived for the fight each and every scrape she got into was an opportunity to seize the day with both hands. When these two forces collide nothing but the earth stopping its rotation is going to keep them apart.

    Drew and Jossy both their loved respective countries and Queens and while Jossy did not have to pretend to be something she was not. But after she is offered the opportunity to be a spy for her Queen she understood the concept of living a lie. Jossy had agreed through her devotion to the Queen of Scotland to be a dedicated spy, just not a very good one not for a lack of trying. Drew on the other hand took nothing but golf seriously until Jossy was in his line of sight and the fates be damned that woman was going to be his.

    But spies lead dangerous lives and walk under the cover of darkness, or in Jossy's case you serve beer and yell at the locals to behave themselves. Their paths cross on the golf course during the day and torturing each other every night in the inn where they did not do much sleeping.

    Yet the past always comes back to haunt you and lying to each other was the least of the stupid decisions they made. You might consider kidnapping bad, or getting into a sword fight with one another pretty awful, yet you would be wrong because these two decide to wager everything on each other forgetting the past or at least trying to.

    This book brings up the history of the game of golf into an historical romance which I can't recall having been done before. Ms. Morgan loves the original story and interesting concept while having her characters produce strength and sustainability. She has scored in this book for more than 18 holes of golf that is for sure.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 18, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    Golf in the Highlands! - Great springtime read!

    I thought this was a fun book to read. On one hand, it was a typical Highlander romance with "star-crossed lovers", enemies and duels - but it also had a champion -- golfer. I know, golf is said to have originated in Scotland, but I never thought I would run into it in a historical romance! To me, this gave the book a sense of humor as well. Jossy and Drew had both been orphaned as children by the same war. Drew's father had killed Jossy's mother out of mercy on the battlefield. But he still felt guilty so went home and killed himself. Drew is raised by his 3 uncles, and Jossy is raised by the 3 men who found her mother on the battlefield and brought her home. She calls them her 3 dads. Years later Jossy and Drew meet in Scotland. Drew is posing as a Highlander so that he can play golf - at which he is very good. Jossy, by being in the right place at the right time, has been enlisted as a spy for the Queen. She starts working as a beer wench with a beer cart on the local golf courses. It is inevitable that their paths would continue to cross. Jossy was really headstrong, which I liked about her. It gave her some fire to survive in some of the predicaments she found herself in. She was also fiercely loyal to things she loved, regardless of the consequences. Drew was fun-loving and always seemed to deal with each situation with humor. He wasn't beyond setting up his golf partners by betting them drinks per hole, and then losing the hole, only to get them drunk enough that he won the game easily in the end. Where Jossy was all about revenge for her mother and war - Drew did not have a stomach for fighting, and even though was a master swordsman, rarely did he draw his sword. Opposites attract as they say, and these two were in a relationship before they knew what had hit them.

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  • Posted March 18, 2011

    Cute Highland Romance

    Josselin's mother died on the battlefield, fighting the English, trying to avenge her husband's murder. The three kinsmen who found her body brought her home, only to discover a small child, now orphaned. The brothers raised tiny Josselin as their own, teaching her to read, write, fight, and hate the English.

    Drew MacAdam's father was at that same battle, when he came across a Scottish maid so badly injured she implored him to kill her to end her suffering. He did, then felt such remorse over killing a woman that shortly thereafter he took his own life. Drew was raised by his uncles to hate the Scots and trained in sword skills.

    Josselin is in Edinburgh to see the arrival of Mary, the new Scottish Queen. Her uncles have agreed to let her go, provided she dresses as a man and avoids trouble. Drew abhors fighting, and prefers to beat the Scots at their own game - golf. He is in Edinburgh at this time, disguised as a highlander to avoid the troubles of being English. Josselin is upset by some of the catcalls at the new Queen and jumps to her defense - calling attention to herself and potentially getting herself killed. Drew jumps in to assist and outs her as a woman. The Queen is impressed and sends her servant with a message for Josselin. Of course Drew is intrigued, and fears Josselin is too naive to handle her change in circumstance. He feels duty-bound to keep an eye on her. Josselin is suspicious of Drew and wants to keep an eye on him. Add a bit of attraction, three uncles and three fathers, and a bit of political intrigue and bam! nothing goes the way it was planned...

    My thoughts: This was a really cute read. I felt very lighthearted as I read Seduced by Destiny. I liked "Jossy" and Drew, even though they were both a bit irritating in their surety that they were smarter/better at swords than the other. Their passion, once ignited, was certainly hot, and I rooted for these two to have an HEA, despite their differences. The descriptions of their surroundings, the flirting back and forth between the h/h, and the stubborn uncles/fathers made for entertaining reading. The political intrigue portion of the story fell a bit weak in parts, but overall I read Seduced by Destiny with a smile.
    3 1/2 stars!

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  • Posted February 22, 2011

    A MUST READ!A AMAZING SCOTTISH HISTORICAL ROMANCE WITH DARK SECRETS AND DESTINY!! SEDUCED BY DESTINY BY KIRA MORGAN

    SEDUCED BY DESTINY BY KIRA MORGAN is an exciting historical romance set in 1561 Scotland,It is written with depth,details,twists and turns. It has romance,history of golf,love,passion, sweet sensuality,witty banter, seduction,spy,revenge,intrigue,loyalty,danger,commoners trading puns and banter,secret mission for the Queen and finding your destiny. The heroine, Josselin,a Scottish lass raised by three combat warriors after her mother was killed in a battle with the English, is sexy,beautiful,smart,witty,has a wild spirit,frank,loyal,audacious ambition,skillful with a sword,has a secret,hates the English and will meet her destiny.The hero, Andrew(Drew),is handsome,sexy,an English soldier who hates war,hates the Scottish,is prosing as a Scottish Highlander,is a golf champion,raised by his three uncles after his father killed himself when Drew was a child.Josselin's mother was killed by Drew's father as a mercy killing,but after doing so Drew's father committed suicide.He could not live with the fact he killed a woman on the battlefield dressed as a man.When Josselin and Drew meet sparks fly.They are attracted to each other.With dark secrets between them,can they survive their growing love and the danger that larks? This is a fast paced,story full of witty banter,sparks of passion and intrigue.Can their love survive the dark secrets that lark? With their destiny entwined together, love,friendship,family and truth will prevail.This is a story of destiny and love that will warm your hearts,with laugh out loud moments and a love that will last forever.I would highly recommend this story especially if you enjoy intrigue,passion,romance,destiny,Scottish settings and a bit of Scottish history.This book was received for the purpose of review from Reading Romance and the publisher and details can be found at Forever, an Imprint of Grand Central Publishing and My Book Addiction and More.

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  • Posted January 18, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    A refreshingly superb sixteenth century romance

    In 1561 Scotland, raised by three combat veterans, Josselin Ancrum is a trained warrior. She travels to Edinburgh to see the arrival of Mary, Queen of Scots. However, her mouth gets her involved in a brawl. Undercover as a Highlander, Englishman Drew MacAdam rescues her from a nasty situation.

    Drew prefers fighting on the golf links than the war zone where he proves better than the locals winning Scottish money. Josselin is attracted to Drew as she enjoys drinking beer with him as long as he pays the tab. However, she refuses to allow anyone to interfere with her quest to secretly keep her queen safe. Her undercover effort fails as she cannot conceal her zeal from anyone, but her sword proves mightier than the golf club when it comes to protecting Queen Mary. Meanwhile Drew roots for the woman he adores even though he assumes she can out fight him regardless of his choice of weapon.

    This refreshingly superb sixteenth century romance stars two unique protagonists as she is a warrior skilled with the sword and he is golfer skilled with the clubs. Their engaging banter is fun to follow as Kira Morgan provides a brisk entertaining historical (see Captured by Desire) due to a wonderful pair of battling combatant in love.

    Harriet Klausner

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 23, 2011

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 27, 2011

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