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The Night We First Met: The Highland Books, #0
The Night We First Met: The Highland Books, #0
The Night We First Met: The Highland Books, #0
Ebook24 pages17 minutes

The Night We First Met: The Highland Books, #0

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A summer night, a chance encounter...

A woman and her child walk into a lonely man's life and change it forever.

Ranald McLatchie has battled loneliness and depression all his life. When his sister bullies him into attending a party, he's a reluctant attendee. But the party holds promise in the form of an unintended guest…

The Night We First Met is a short story and an exploration of what happens when you take a chance on someone. The story is a prequel to Highland Fling, out now, and it also contains the first chapter of Highland Fling.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 28, 2019
ISBN9781386624400
The Night We First Met: The Highland Books, #0
Author

Emma Baird

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Emma Baird works as a writer by day and night. In daylight hours, she scribbles blogs for people and advises on communication. When the sun goes down, she lets her imagination run riot and comes up with weird genres such as plus-size vampire erotica. At some point, she hopes the stuff she comes up with in the dead of night will allow her to write more of it during the day… She lives in Scotland with a patient husband and two demanding cats. You can visit her website here: https://emmabaird.com and she’s on Twitter @EmmaCBaird

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    Book preview

    The Night We First Met - Emma Baird

    THE NIGHT WE FIRST MET

    Ranald McLatchie’s sister re-defined the word ‘bossy’.

    He told her that. They were close enough for it not to offend. Or, more likely, the word sailed over her head. Bossy, she said, was a word only ever used to describe women. A man couldn’t be bossy—a leader, perhaps, or someone who made it clear what he wanted.

    And I want you to get in the car right now, she said, grinning at him. She stood in his ramshackle kitchen, a stylishly dressed woman out of place. The ancient farmhouse with its thick stone walls, parquet flooring and the faint air of dung was no place for designer outfits, high heels and sleek bobbed hair. Rose might have grown up here same as he did, but she’d left years ago—metaphorically and physically.

    He shrugged and looked down at himself. Filthy overalls, fingernails ingrained with black and five o’clock shadow closer to midnight. He wasn’t fit for Rose’s drawing room. Magnolia walls and cream carpets gave no quarter to even the smallest speck of dirt

    Rose’s turn to shrug. Oh, I allowed enough time for you to shower, shave and whatever else you men need to do to make yourself presentable. I’ll get myself a coffee. On you go.

    You had to get up early to catch Rose out. When she

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