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  • Writer's pictureKryssie Fortune

5 Fact Thursday -Love by the the Stroke of Midnight by @ravenMcAllan #romance #scotland

1. The first setting, of an island on a loch in Scotland is loosely based on Loch Lomond, near where until a few months ago, I lived. The island is a mixture of several, but I deliberately didn’t include Inchconnachan, which has wallabies living on it. I thought that might just complicate things. 2. You can (and believe me I experienced it) get four seasons in one day! If you ask my children, they will say you can get them in half an hour. Once, on their way home from school, they had sun, snow, wind, rain, hail, minus degrees and so warm they took their coats off. 3. The castle is a mixture of a ruin nearby (but not on the loch) and shh, don’t tell anyone, an English castle in Northamptonshire. The bothy is a romanticised (or modernized) version of a black house I visited on Skye. 4. Then there’s Wanaka, in New Zealand. It’s is one of my favourite places. I was lucky enough to be there last year, and the famous Wanaka Tree features in the series. The flight in in stunning, and not for the faint hearted, but it gave me a lot of ideas for the series. 5. The hero and heroine’s names are traditional, and have special meanings… (Now you’ll want to see what…)


Love by the Stroke of Midnight is out on 23rd March (but up for preorder now at

Book one in the Castle on the Loch series


History, family, fate. Accept it or deny it at your will. The day you discover your boyfriend is using you as a free meal ticket—and a way to save his money—is the day you say bye-bye. Marcail Drummond does better than that. She sells up, plans the rest of her life and heads north. It’s time to go home, to a castle on an island in a Scottish loch, and face up to the fact she’s not quite the same as the rest of her family. They can see the past—and the future—and hear others. Heal the sick and help the broken-hearted. She can’t. After all, talking to yourself isn’t the same thing, even if one of the voices in your head is male and argues a lot. As far as Marcail is concerned, it’s just her way of amusing herself. To Paden, it’s more than that. To him, it’s a matter of life and death. A wee tease… Loch Lomond and the Trossachs, Scotland Present Day Marcail Drummond staggered out of bed, tired and sated, and wished she could sleep for a few hours more. As it wasn’t going to happen, she turned to speak to the man who had shared her night to…to what? To see no second indent in the pillows. No crumpled sheets except where she’d slept—or not slept, as the case may be. In fact no sign of any occupant—except herself. She surely hadn’t imagined the night she’d just had? The sinfully sexy, hot, male, aroused body next to hers. The way his hands had caressed her so skilfully and held her close when she flew over the edge and into one of the best climaxes ever. How he’d gradually inched inside her, almost reverently, until she’d tightened herself around him and begged… “Please fill me now…please.” And he’d obliged so they could move together. Then another climax, this time as he also came hard and fast, and the long gradual coming down to earth, held close and cherished. The soft words in her ear… “Mo ghaol, it’s been oh so long…” Marcail blinked. Had she dreamed it all, or…or what? There couldn’t be any other explanation—could there? Somewhat disgruntled, she stood up and stretched. Boy she ached. Ached in places she hadn’t known it was possible. If that was what happened after an erotic dream, she wasn’t sure she’d have another one in a hurry. “I’m here when you need me.” That was the last thing she wanted. She had enough to worry about, without him niggling her. It was bad enough to know his voice was in her head—whoever he was—but surely he wasn’t in her dreams as well? “You know I’m yours, however, wherever and…” “Enough.” She put her hands to her hot cheeks. “Go away and let me get on in peace.” “As ever, I’ll do your bidding.” That’ll be the day. Marcail muttered under her breath, stripped the bed, got washed and dressed and headed out. She hadn’t the time to argue with herself, voices, or the man in the moon. Dammit, she hadn’t even seen his face. “You’ll know me.” “Ha, as if I’m bothered.” She ignored the laughter that appeared to surround her at that mental comment. The long drive ahead was her priority. The journey north wasn’t easy. Especially after that night of very explicit, erotic dreams, where she woke up hot and bothered, every nerve in her body throbbing, and dozed off again before she welcomed ‘him’ into her bed. The man who, she understood, was important, but whose face she couldn’t see. Why? What was she missing? “Me.” “Go to hell.” The laugh in her mind echoed around the room. “Naughty.” “Look, head voice, go away.” She was used to it, but at times she could see it far enough. “You were annoying when I was two, albeit I thought it was normal to talk to myself and a mysterious other. You never knew when to butt out in the past and it seems you still don’t. Why? What does it all mean? I thought everyone must have a head friend.” “Only people like us.”

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