Hollywood Games

Brace yourself, Scotland. Hollywood’s coming…

Hot Earl Rory MacGinley and feisty redhead Zoe Maxwell are in love, but true love can’t save Rory’s ancestral home from falling down. When a Hollywood superstar lands on their doorstep wanting to film Braveheart 2 at Kinloch Castle, it sounds like a dream solution to all their problems. But it’s about to turn into an absolute nightmare.

A bonkers script that rewrites Scottish history, celebrities who believe in pixies and past lives, and a mystical holy man with nefarious plans. It’s not just the castle that's coming under siege.

With tensions running high and more drama behind the camera than in front of it, it’s up to Rory and Zoe to rewrite the script, save the castle’s future, and secure their happy ending.

When Hollywood meets the Highlands, things will never be the same again…

The morning of Brad Bauer’s return to Kinloch, Zoe was as nervous as a cat in a dog pound at the thought of Brad and Rory meeting for the first time. 

Brad was used to being the star—the biggest, the brightest, the best-looking. But if Brad were a star, in her mind Rory was a supernova, eclipsing Brad in every way.

They had to make sure this visit fed, not compromised, Brad’s substantial ego. 

He was due to arrive in the afternoon with his assistant, Crystal, stay for dinner, then be driven to Inverness for the night by Barry, his driver. At least he wasn’t expecting to stay, as the rooms were far from ready.

Zoe had been working in the estate office all day, running to the cabin at lunch to load the Rayburn with more fuel. Rory had been quieter than usual, and by the time Brad was due to arrive, had disappeared completely. 

She texted him, then went to the main entrance of the castle to wait. Crystal had messaged her to say they were five minutes away, so Zoe stood outside at the top of the wide steps leading down from the huge entrance doors to the cobbles of the front courtyard, fretting about where Rory had got to. 

She was about to ring him when she heard a noise and turned to see him exiting the castle. Her jaw dropped.

Gone was the scruffy and feral estate manager. In his place stood the Earl of Kinloch. 

Rory’s hair had been washed, brushed, and dried, falling in perfect aristocratic curls around his powerfully masculine face. 

He wore a whiter-than-white ironed shirt; a moss-green tweed waistcoat and jacket, tailored for his colossal form; a tie with an SAS tie clip, and seven medals mounted to a metal bar pinned to his jacket. On his bottom half, a kilt, dark brown socks pulled to just below his knees, and polished brown boots. 

The effect was spectacular.

Zoe stood, trying to reassemble her brain whilst her body prepared to have sex with him right there and then. 

He closed the gap between them, put his arms around her, and brought his lips to hers. There was no gentle exploration, no subtlety. He kissed her like he was possessing her, holding her to him, plundering like a pirate king. 

She exploded with light, nerves firing and misfiring, a chain reaction cascading through her cells, leaving her muscles confused and weak. As her legs wobbled, he held her, leaning so she was nearly parallel to the ground. His mouth was ruthless, taking everything she could give, then stealing more. 

Zoe gripped the sides of his jacket, feeling the scratchy tweed. Her heart raced and her head spun. Just as she thought she might lose consciousness, Rory brought her back to stand. 

She opened her drowsy eyes to see a glint of victory in his. He set her down and immediately turned away, striding down the steps, his arm extended, his voice powerful and confident: 

‘Mr Bauer, I’m Lord Kinloch. Welcome to my home.’

Brad had arrived.

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