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The Kilted Groom by Lauren Smith 

Description 

Taking an antique ring to some stuffy old earl in Scotland should be easy right?

Ainsley Hazlewood has never been to Scotland. But when her grandmother’s last wish in her will is for Ainsley to return an old family ring to its rightful owners in Scotland, she can’t refuse.

Her first night doesn’t go as planned when her car gets stranded in mud and she’s rescued by a handsome, charming Scotsman named Leith. His dashing rescue and the cozy inn he takes her to in order to get out of the rain leads to a fiery night in bed that changes Ainsley’s life.

But when she wakes up alone, she reminds herself that it was just one night. She has a mission to fulfill. Armed with her family’s antique ring; she drives to the estate where she’s to return the ring.

Expecting to meet a grumpy old Scottish earl, she comes face-to-face with Leith instead. Will that one night of passion with her Scottish hero lead to a future filled with love?

Publication Date 2/11/2025

My Review 

This book follows Ainsley Hazlewood, an American woman fulfilling her late grandmother’s final wish by traveling to Scotland to return an antique family ring to its rightful owners. 

What starts as a simple errand quickly turns into an unexpected adventure when her car gets stuck in mud on her first night, leading to a heroic rescue by the charming Scotsman Leith. 😜 

Their instant chemistry sparks a passionate one night stand at a cozy inn, but when Ainsley wakes to discover she’s alone, she thinks no more and returns to her task at hand. Only to find …. Da da daaaaa (yup you guessed it…) her hero is the very person she needs to see!! 😳 

This is a quick, engaging read, perfect for a cozy afternoon. 

It’s novella length, so the pacing is brisk and to the point. 

It also hits most of the tropes along the way… the meet/cute rescue, the fiery night of passion, the shocking reunion, and the emotional journey toward a happily ever after, the spice level is satisfying without overwhelming the story. 

I really liked Ainsley and Leith. Ainsley is determined to honour her grandmother’s wishes. And Leith brings that classic brooding yet charming Scottish hero vibe. 😉 I liked how they were tied the through generations (great great grandparents and that’s where the ring comes into it.) 

Although short, it looks like the setting for maybe a new series 🤞 book two is set in the highlands, and so I hope to see more of Leith and Ainsley. 

The description of the highlands had me thinking of another certain tv series with magic/stones and cheeky Scot’s 😜 

I could easily imagine the heather swaying and the smells coming my way. 

So, if your looking  for a quick read with your coffee, then grab this one. 

I can’t wait to come back and visit again. 

🦋

The Fly-Half and the Fling (The Latharna Ravens Book 1) by Lasairiona McMaster 

Description 

Rhiannon

I walked out of my wedding and straight into the arms of a stranger.
One night. No names. No regrets.
Until I find out who he really is—Robert McAllister, the investigative journalist who nearly destroyed my family. Now the tabloids think we’re a couple, and the only way to control the chaos is to fake-date the man my whole family hates.
Smile for the cameras. Lie through your teeth. Try not to punch him in the throat.

And whatever you do, don’t fall for the enemy.

Robert

Sleeping with Rhiannon Morrigan hours after she jilted her fiancé wasn’t my smartest move.
She’s a rugby icon. A walking headline. Off-limits in every way, and the one subject I swore I wouldn’t write about. But my editor’s ultimatum is clear—write her story or lose my job. Now we’re faking it for the press, and I’m holding the biggest scoop of my career…

If I write it, I’ll lose her.
If I don’t, I might lose everything else.

Publication Date 5/2/2026

Excerpt 

Standing in front of a room full of everyone I know and blowing up my entire life sounded like the perfect revenge for a woman scorned twelve weeks ago when I first came up with my master plan.

It took a while to convince myself that I wasn’t overreacting, even longer to commit to the idea of stepping out of line and doing something, anything to get my own back, never mind something so… public.

But now, my wedding day is finally here. Freedom is within my grasp. My palms are sweaty, my legs are trembling, and there’s a whooshing sound in my ears making it hard to focus on anything other than the thundering heart thrashing in my rib cage.

From the way everyone’s gaze has settled on me, I’ve missed the officiant’s cue to speak. I’m too busy picking at the nonexistent skin around my thumb’s perfectly manicured cuticle to speak. Because even the pretense of a wedding meant I had to get all glammed up. 

I’d already bought the dress, so it needed to have its—albeit brief—moment in the sun. My tits look fucking incredible, and if I’m going to strike a match and scorch my life in front of an audience, I’m going to look like an ethereal goddess while I do so.

Our celebrant’s expectant stare burns my skin, making my cheeks heat even more.

My stomach is a heavy stone, pressing on my too-full bladder from the flute—or three—of Dutch courage I had right before the ceremony, and the unexpected urge to burst into hysterical giggles makes me press my lips together.

“Rhiannon?” George—my adulterous prick of a soon to be ex-fiancé—raises his brows at me with a Bambi-esque look in his big, brown faux-innocent-looking eyes.

Asshole probably thinks I’m nervous about saying “I do.”

I’m not at all uneasy because I’m not fucking saying it.

Bastard.

I decided three months ago that I wouldn’t say those words in this moment. I wouldn’t give either of the traitors a chance to redeem themselves. But torching everything to the ground in a very public airing of dirty laundry suddenly feels very… exposed and ill-planned.

What the fuck was I thinking? I guess anger and embarrassment can make us do crazy things in the moment. But it’s been three months. Twelve weeks of stewing, stressing, and silently plotting a way to make them both pay.

I’m a fucking cliché, the fiancé and the best friend. I almost snort. She hasn’t been my best friend in a long time, but somehow, she’s standing on the makeshift altar beside me, while Bláthnaid, the woman who should be standing up with my sisters, tilts her head, a delicate wrinkle appearing between her perfectly arched brows.

I’m standing in a boutique wedding dress, in Ballygally Castle—a popular venue in Northern Ireland to get married—and I’m about to burn it all down.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Life as I know it is about to go “poof.”

“Take your time,” George whispers, squeezing my hand in an act of misplaced support, his clammy palm cupping mine. If he knew what I was about to do, I bet he would think twice about giving me that not-at-all reassuring squeeze.

I look at him, really taking in his appearance. Before, I’d have found him charming and handsome, but now, all I can focus on is his smarmy smile, his dishwater-brown eyes, and his slicked back dark hair. His suit trousers are just a fraction too short, leaving his bony ankles on display because he insists on wearing trainer socks with dress shoes.

What kind of sociopath invites blisters like that?

A heavy sigh presses on my chest. How did I ever find him attractive? I guess love alters perception, and betrayal redefines it.

If I could yank my hand out from under his, I would. But I don’t trust myself not to punch him in his smug-fucking-face and end up in a custody suite in Larne Police Station.

The celebrant gives me a warm, supportive smile and a nod of encouragement. Poor woman has no idea the home truths I’m about to drop.

It’s about to go down like an episode of a shitty talk show.

I can’t bring myself to look over at Mum and Dad. Choosing to smear the Morrigan family name with scandal and gossip won’t go down well, with Dad especially. I’m hoping once his anger wears off, he’ll be proud of me for taking control of my life like this.

Fuck. What if he doesn’t?

I swallow, hard, but I refuse to let a moment of paralyzing uncertainty upend the last three months of careful planning to seize this moment of righteous comeuppance.

These two arseholes deserve their day in the sun.

I look deep into the eyes of the man I gave my heart to as a teenager. I’m a soon-to-be thirty-year-old women’s rugby player by day, Pilates instructor by night, who has only ever slept with one man.

How pathetic.

One cheating, bland, useless fuck of a man at that. My simmering blood catches fire into a rolling boil.

Ugh. It feels every bit as pathetic no matter how many times I repeat the sentence in my head.

Bile sloshes in my stomach as I reach my bouquet out to my traitorous maid of honor, my childhood best friend, and the woman I can’t make eye contact with right now.

She only got the title so our Clíodhna and Aoife didn’t fight over it. In hindsight, we should have rotated the label between the three of us, but sure wasn’t Isla only too happy to help me “not take sides”?

A tiny voice in the back of my head screams that I should have asked Bláthnaid to step in and do the job. But with two sisters and a very present, persistently pleading, and highly convincing friend since childhood… I kind of took pity on her and let her do the job.

Mistakes were made.

I make eye contact with Blá, who is sitting front and center in the first row, next to my parents. She gives me a wide smile and a double thumbs up, but her eyes give her wariness away. She can tell something’s off, but she’s not sure what it is. She’s going to rip me a new one when she hears what’s been going on.

I couldn’t have told her, or Matty, or either of my sisters because I’d be visiting them in prison for murdering my soon-to-be ex. And they’re far too pretty—and sassy—for prison.

The urge to turn to the women standing on the altar with me is overwhelming.

But I know if I make eye contact with the traitor, I’ll rip her face off with my perfectly manicured nails.

And you can bet I’m too fucking pretty for prison.

I allow a slow, controlled breath to pass through my nose.

I’m too pretty for prison. I’m too pretty for prison. I’m too pretty for prison.

This dress was also way too expensive to cover in blood splatter, even if it would be the blood of my now-enemies.

I slowly open a folded piece of paper with hands I force to stop trembling. I want everyone in this room, especially George and Isla, to know I am not afraid. I have no regrets, and I speak these words with my whole fucking chest.

“I thought you memorized your vows.” George searches my face for something, and all I offer is a wicked grin in return. Ever critical. For a man who can’t remember how to operate the washing machine or cook a frozen pizza without setting off the smoke alarm, he sure is mouthy about my ability to remember.

I remember plenty, you bastard. “Six months ago. Saturday, 1:14AM.” I hold his stare, clear my throat, and begin to read the exchange aloud:

George: I hate sneaking around.

Georgie Boy’s brows shoot up, and he swallows, hard.

Isla: We could tell her. 

There’s a sharp gasp from the crowd as someone has already caught on to the punchline of the utterly tragic joke that I’m about to bring one hundred plus people in on. The gasp could have come from Isla herself. She’s always been quick on the uptake. One of my few regrets about this moment is that I won’t be able to see her face until I watch back the footage from our videographer.

George: No. Not yet. I’m not ready to lose her.

Isla: You can’t have both of us forever.

George: Why not? 

Pretty sure it’s Dad who mutters, “What the fuck is going on?” but I can barely hear him over the satisfied roar in my chest as every single ounce of color drains from George’s face.

There’s not a sound to be heard around the room. Every single person’s attention is held hostage by the piece of paper clutched in my steady hands.

George’s eyes turn pleading. “Rhiannon, please. Don’t do this. Be reasonable.”

I smirk. Be reasonable indeed. Be reasonable, Rhiannon. Fall in line, Rhiannon. Toe the family line, Rhiannon. Be the bigger sister. Keep the peace. Yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags fucking full, sir.

If only Georgie Boy knew how reasonable this moment actually is.

My breath is flowing easier, my heart not racing as quickly, and now that I’ve started, I’m not going to let them off that easy. I came to put on a show, and that’s precisely what I’m going to do, even if my father’s face is telling me to shut the fuck up and be a good little Morrigan girl.

“But darling, we’re getting to the good bit.” I don’t know who else hears what I whisper, but the groomsmen all see when I wink at him.

They don’t seem to have figured out what’s happening yet. Do they know that George has been fucking my best friend behind my back?

“Three months ago.” I turn to the crowd like I’m an actor in a play, breaking the fourth wall. “After I asked why they were texting so much. I thought it was because they were planning my surprise birthday party.” It’s true, I did. My birthday isn’t for a few weeks, but things like that take time, and scheming.

Looking back, I feel so fucking gullible, naïve, stupid.

George: She’s getting paranoid.

Isla: She’s always been insecure.

George: I think she’s just stressed about the wedding.

Isla: Or maybe she knows something.

George: She doesn’t. She trusts us too much.

A sweat-sticky hand closes around my elbow. “Rhiannon, stop. We should talk about this.” Isla’s shaky voice fuels my surge of courage and strengthens my resolve to continue.

It takes every ounce of strength in my body not to shake her off and throw the elbow she’s holding into her fucking throat. But I keep my shoulders square, my eyes on George, and what hopefully looks like an unhinged and wild glint in my eye as I pull out the big guns.

Someone on the altar behind me sneers, “You fucking bitch,” and the hand on my elbow drops as Bláthnaid springs to her feet in the front row. My brother, Taranis, slips his hand around her wrist. I almost snicker. Like that’s going to stop Blá from doing anything.

But our Taranis is a gentleman, and knows she’d throw her elbow into his nose if he dared slip an arm around her waist.

If I’d to place a bet about the scene behind me, I’d say our Aoife, Eef to those closest to her, grabbed Isla by the hair—she’s a scrapper. Clíodhna, the middle sister, probably has Eef by the back of her dress so it doesn’t dissolve into a full WWE match in front of the videographer and photographer’s cameras—let alone everyone else’s mobiles.

“Last night. 11:56 PM.”

A number of people gasp around the room. Someone says, “Oh fuck,” perhaps louder than they intended to. The groomsmen look like they’re about to vomit. I’d guess, behind me, my sisters look murderous. And George, the piece of shit he is, can’t look me in the eye anymore.

Instead, he’s looking over my shoulder, then to someone to my right, probably beseeching my parents with his eyes.

“Someone stop her.” His stale-coffee, brown eyes that lied to me without blinking silently plead. He at least has the decency to look embarrassed and red faced, if not ashamed, and a sheen of sweat has broken out close to his hairline.

George: I wish it was you standing at the end of that aisle tomorrow. 

I think it’s his ma who’s sniffling. She’s loved me from when we were children. I’ve always been the daughter she never had. It may be a little bit petty of me to enjoy, especially as I’m ruining my own wedding, but she’s always fucking hated Isla as well.

Isla: Me too.

George: One more night… and then we’ll figure it out.

Isla: I love you.

George: I love you, too. 

I turn my attention to the congregation, trying to ignore the sharp stab in my chest to find Dad’s seat next to Mum empty. Shit. Shit. Shit.

The rest of the crowd’s faces are a myriad of expressions from mortification to horror and disgust, to rip-them-limb-from-limb rage. Those people are generally my people, ironically including George’s still-crying mother. Is she mad at me for announcing it like this? Or is she upset at him for fucking my maid of honor repeatedly? Maybe both.

Another glance at Dad’s empty seat makes the pang in my chest grow. Maybe he got an important phone call, a sponsorship opportunity came up right at the same moment that I laid my dirty washing bare for everyone to see.

Somehow, I find my voice. “It seems that the wrong woman is wearing the fancy, white dress today, folks, and we’ve all been invited to the wrong wedding. Or at least I have.” I turn back to George. “I’m heading out, but, by all means, you and Isla stay. After more than two decades of friendship, we share the same friendship circle anyway. Yous can have my wedding, I’ll send you the bill, and you don’t have to worry about me finding out—because now…” I sweep my hand out to the congregation. “Everyone important to all of us, already knows.”

I bend over, gather my skirts, and take measured, purposeful strides to the door under the green emergency exit beckoning me toward my freedom.

As the door swings closed behind me, the whole room erupts into chaos, and my usually calm, big brother’s voice can be heard above the din. “You piece of shit!”

My Review 

The Fly-Half and the Fling (The Latharna Ravens Book 1) by Lasairiona McMaster kicks off her new Irish women’s rugby series with a bang, delivering a delicious enemies to lovers/one night stand/fake dating romance that’s equal parts spicy tension/laugh out loud moments and heartfelt moments.

Rhiannon Morrigan, a star rugby player (the fly-half of the title), dramatically jilts her fiancé at the altar and rebounds straight into a scorching no names, no regrets one night stand with a handsome stranger. 

(Plot twist: that stranger is Robert McAllister, the investigative journalist whose past exposé nearly ruined her family!) 

Now, tabloids are spinning their hookup into a full blown romance, forcing them into a fake dating arrangement to manage the PR chaos. 

Rhiannon’s family despises him, Robert’s career hangs on writing about her (or risking his job), and the chemistry between them? Explosive and just a little bit forbidden. 😉 

Rhiannon is a total badass heroine, fierce on the rugby pitch, witty, and fiercely loyal to her sisters (clearly setting up a series of interconnected standalones). She’s no wilting flower, her banter is sharp, her boundaries firm, and i felt like I needed to hug her through her family drama (her dad needed a good talking to! He did not see her side at all!) and media storm. 

Robert, the “enemy” journalist, gets to be portrayed as ambitious yet conflicted, with his own vulnerabilities that make the slow thaw from hate to heat believable. 

The fake dating trope/forced proximity/public PDA/private arguments that turn steamy, and the constant push/pull of “I can’t stand you… but I can’t stay away.” Had me glued to my kindle. 

I loved the rugby backdrop, it added a fresh venue to the romance scene. (Yes we have American football which I’ve read a few of, but no actual rugby.) Women’s rugby isn’t as common in sports romance as hockey or football, and the author infuses it with authenticity (Irish setting, Celtic goddess inspired names for the sisters). 

Expect high stakes games mirroring the emotional stakes, plus plenty of steam as the “fling” evolves into something deeper. The enemies to lovers tension simmers beautifully, building to satisfying emotional payoffs without losing the fun, snarky vibe.

Pacing keeps things engaging, quick hook with the jilted wedding, then layered conflict as secrets surface and feelings complicate the fake relationship. 

It’s steamy but character driven, with humor, family dynamics, and just enough angst to keep you invested. 

As the first in the Latharna Ravens series, it sets a strong foundation, teasing the other Morrigan sisters without overwhelming the main couple’s story.

If you love sports romances with sassy heroines, morally gray heroes who redeem themselves, fake dating done right, and that addictive enemies to lovers spark, then this one’s a winner. 

A standout opener with electric chemistry, fresh sports rep, and all the swoony tension you crave. 

Perfect for fans of fake relationships that turn real. 

Can’t wait for the next Morrigan sister’s story!

🦋

This was meant to go on last month. But somehow I forgot to post! 🤦🏻‍♀️ So here it is now 😝

Lady Arianna’s Secret Spy: The Riddle Sisters Book 5 (A clean Regency romance) by Jennifer Monroe.

Description 

A dangerous truth. A guarded protector. A love she never believed was meant for her.

Lady Arianna Riddle has never been the one people remember. The youngest sister. The practical one. The girl who learned early that quiet was safer than noticed. But when a letter from her late father meant for her late mother lands in her hands, dismissal turns to danger. Someone wants that letter. And they want Arianna silenced.

Christian Ashcombe has learned not to let anyone too close. Working for The Underground has cost him more than most would understand, and trust is a luxury he cannot afford. When he watches Lady Arianna receive a letter at a ball, he knows exactly what it means. And exactly how much danger she is in. He meant to take the letter and disappear. Instead, he takes her.

The dark-haired beauty he noticed from across the ballroom becomes the woman he must keep hidden. But the naive debutante he expected proves to be something else entirely. She is sharp-minded, observant, and the only person who can decipher what her father left behind.

What begins as a mission becomes something far more complicated. For Christian, her mind unlocks clues he has been chasing for years. And for Arianna, he is the first person who needs her for more than her dowry. Somewhere between mistrust and partnership, two people who thought they knew their place in the world discover they were never meant to remain invisible.

But the secret in that letter holds more than answers. It holds the power to destroy the fragile bond neither of them meant to build. And as danger closes in, they must decide whether trust, earned the hard way, is worth the risk.

Lady Arianna’s Secret Spy is a sweet, high-stakes Regency romance about finding your courage, earning trust where it was not freely given, and discovering that being truly seen changes everything.

What to Expect: 

Sweet, closed-door Regency romance

Kidnapping-to-partnership with heart

Spy hero & underestimated heroine

Trust earned the hard way and

A love neither expected

Publication Date 30/12/2025

My Review 

Lady Arianna’s Secret Spy, is the fifth installment in Jennifer Monroe’s Riddle Sisters series. I’ve read a few and I’ve liked what I read. 

As a standalone (though familiarity with the series enhances the family dynamics), it delivers exactly what fans of sweet, closed door historical romances like.

It has high emotional stakes, intriguing suspense, and a heartfelt slow burn connection between two guarded souls.

Lady Arianna Riddle, the often overlooked youngest sister, is a great character. She’s not the glittering debutante or the bold rebel, no, she’s the quiet, observant one who’s learned to fade into the background for safety. 

Arianna’s sharp mind and understated courage shine as she deciphers her father’s cryptic letter, turning what could have been a passive “damsel” role into one of active partnership. 

Enter Christian Ashcombe, the brooding spy hero with a tragic past and a no nonsense demeanor. 

His initial plan to snatch the letter and vanish quickly evolves into a protective (and reluctant) kidnapping, setting up one of my favourite tropes, the classic “forced proximity”. 😉 

Christian’s layers peel away slowly, he’s jaded from his work with “The Underground,” yet Arianna’s quiet resilience chips at his walls. Their banter is witty without being overt, and the tension between mistrust and mutual reliance had me unable to leave this story alone. 

The plot weaves intrigue and suspense into the Regency setting…. a mysterious letter threatening national secrets, shadowy pursuers, and hidden safehouses. 

Danger lurks without veering into graphic territory, and the mystery unfolds at a brisk pace. 

What I really liked about this book was the characters, they protagonists start as “invisible” figures, Arianna overshadowed by her sisters, Christian isolated by his secrets. But they “see” one another and recognise 

lost souls. 

Overall, clever heroines, and protective heroes, this is a winner. 

It’s perfect for a cozy afternoon read that leaves you smiling. 

Highly recommended for fans of the series or anyone seeking a low angst, Regency romance with a dash of spy adventure!

🦋