About WHEN A SCOT TIES THE KNOT
On the cusp of her first
London season, Miss Madeline Gracechurch was shy, pretty and talented with a
drawing pencil, but hopelessly awkward with gentlemen. She was certain to be a
dismal failure on the London marriage mart. So Maddie did what generations of
shy, awkward young ladies have done: she invented a sweetheart.
A Scottish sweetheart. One who was handsome and honorable and devoted to her,
but conveniently never around. Maddie poured her heart into writing the imaginary
Captain MacKenzie letter after letter … and by pretending to be devastated when
he was (not really) killed in battle, she managed to avoid the pressures of
London society entirely.
Until years later, when this kilted Highland lover of her imaginings shows up
in the flesh. The real Captain Logan MacKenzie arrives on her
doorstep—handsome as anything, but not entirely honorable. He’s wounded, jaded,
in possession of her letters… and ready to make good on every promise Maddie
never expected to keep.
About TESSA DARE
Tessa Dare is the New York
Times bestselling, award-winning author of more than a dozen historical
romances. A librarian by training and a book-lover at heart, Tessa lives in
Southern California with her husband, their two children, and a big brown dog.
Quotes
“Dare’s marvelous third Castles
Ever After Regency romance (after Say Yes to the Marquess) builds a gradual, intense romance between
two people who are determined to avoid love and commitment….Dare’s swiftly
moving plot is enhanced by the seamlessly developed romance, and the sensuality
is heightened by the slow awakening of the pair’s mutual attraction.”—Publishers
Weekly, **STARRED**
“With sharp, clever banter, breathtaking sensuality, colorful
descriptions, and solid cultural detail, this compelling, often hilarious
escapade puts a refreshing spin on the [‘imaginary lover’ theme and adds
another winner to Dare’s riveting ‘Castles’ series.”
—Library
Journal, **STARRED**
“Dare’s latest begins with a fairy-tale twist of fate, then leads
readers on a mesmerizing and intense emotional journey that explores love in
many forms and the powerful pull of dreams.” —Kirkus, **STARRED**
“Dare delights with another marvelously romantic story that delivers a
deep sigh, a tear and a smile. With her painfully shy heroine and vulnerable
hero, readers are immediately captivated and will savor the joy of this
imaginary-sweetheart plotline. You’ll stay up all night to reach the
unforgettable ending.” —RT
Book Reviews, **4.5 Stars, Top Pick!**
Excerpt:
September 21, 1808
Dear Captain Logan MacKenzie,
There is but one consolation in writing this absurd
letter. And that is that you, my dear delusion, do not
exist to read it.
But I run ahead of myself. Introductions first.
I am Madeline Eloise Gracechurch. The great-
est ninny to ever draw breath in England. This will
come as a shock, I fear, but you fell deeply in love
with me when we did not cross paths in Brighton.
And now we are engaged.
Maddie could not remember the first time she’d
held a drawing pencil. She only knew she could not
recall a time she’d been without one.
In fact, she usually carried two or three. She kept
them tucked in her apron pockets and speared in
her upswept dark hair, and sometimes—when she
needed all her limbs for climbing a tree or vaulting
a fence rail—clenched in her teeth.
And she wore them down to nubs. She sketched
songbirds when she was supposed to be minding
her lessons, and she sketched church mice when
she was meant to be at prayer. When she had time
to ramble out of doors, anything in Nature was fair
game—from the shoots of clover between her toes
to any cloud that meandered overhead.
She loved to draw anything.
Well, almost anything.
She hated drawing attention to herself.
And thus, at sixteen years old, she found herself
staring down her first London season with approxi-
mately as much joy as one might anticipate a dose
of purgative.
After many years as a widower, Papa had taken a
new wife. One a mere eight years older than Maddie
herself. Anne was cheerful, elegant, lively. Every-
thing her new stepdaughter was not.
Oh, to be Cinderella in all her soot-smeared,
rag-clad misery. Maddie would have been thrilled
to have a wicked stepmother lock her in the tower
while everyone else went to the ball. Instead, she
was stuck with a very different sort of stepmother—
one eager to dress her in silks, send her to dances,
and thrust her into the arms of an unsuspecting
prince.
Figuratively, of course.
At best, Maddie was expected to fetch a third son
with aspirations to the Church, or perhaps an insol-
vent baronet.
At worst . . .
Maddie didn’t do well in crowds. More to the
point, she didn’t do anything in crowds. In any large
gathering—be it a market, a theater, a ballroom—
she had a tendency to freeze, almost literally. An
arctic sense of terror took hold of her, and the crush
of bodies rendered her solid and stupid as a block
of ice.
The mere thought of a London season made her
shudder.
And yet, she had no choice.
While Papa and Anne (she could not bring her-
self to address a twenty-four-year-old as Mama) en-
joyed their honeymoon, Maddie was sent to a ladies’
rooming house in Brighton. The sea air and society
were meant to coax her out of her shell before her
season commenced.
It didn’t quite work that way.
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