I'm thrilled to announce that Fallen Snow (Wild Scots, #4) is live!
This story features:
a swoony rock star broken by grief
a laid up snowboarding champion whose dreams are in tatters
their hideaway at her castle home
the second chance they both needed
and a father-son bromance that nearly steals the show
This is a standalone and delivers a heartwarming HEA.
Scroll down to read chapter one - a sweet, teenage first kiss for our hero and heroine <3
Fallen Snow (Wild Scots, #4) - Opening Scene
Viola
At the awed giggles from the booth behind me, I peeked around, then hid a smile. In winter kit, like everyone in the ski centre’s bar, the two girls eyeing me were probably snowboarders, too. They elbowed each other as if trying to get up the courage to come say hi.
It was a trip, being recognised. My very own fans? Hell yes.
I twisted back to find the bartender in front of me.
“Hot chocolate, please,” I requested. “Throw everything on it. I’m celebrating.”
I was seventeen and constantly watching what I ate. This was as wild as I got.
“Did you win?” The bartender lifted her chin at my competitor’s bib then picked up a huge white mug.
I tapped the snowboard leaning against the bar for luck. “Aced my heats. I’m up for the big one next.” It would be my first medal in an adult competition. My entry into the world of pro snowboarding.
“Good luck!” She turned to the coffee machine, and I hugged myself in glee.
A man dropped onto the stool next to mine. Dirty-blond hair peeked from under a beanie, and a thick hoodie bulked out his leather jacket. Not a sportsman. Not dressed like that.
Handsome, for sure.
A spike of interest zinged inside me. He couldn’t be much older than me, maybe eighteen. I was away from home and on a high. Good-looking boys were on my radar.
“Hey.” He gave me a cocky once-over then dragged his gaze away to the bartender.
My hot chocolate landed, and I breathed in the sweet steam then smiled my thanks at the woman. “This smells amazing. Is that marshmallows in the whipped cream?”
“Sure is. There’s chocolate flakes, too.”
My groan was almost indecent, and I picked up my spoon and started my attack.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” the guy beside me said. “If it’s that good, I need in.”
I snorted. “I’m eating this with way too much enthusiasm.”
“Have at it. That’s what you’re meant to have after skiing, right?”
I gestured again to my board. “Not a skier. Does that count?”
“You any good?”
I gave him a reckless wink. “Aye. Very.”
He grinned, and dimples popped. Damn. He was too cute for his own good. High cheekbones, a slightly too-wide mouth, and a flare of light in his eyes that I took way too long over admiring.
Freckles on his nose. God.
The giggling resumed, and my new friend glanced back.
“Shit.” He grimaced and raised his shoulders an inch. “I think I’ve been spotted.”
I paused mid-bite. “Uh—”
“Give them a minute, and they’ll come over. I guess I have to get used to this.”
“I don’t think they’ve noticed you, specifically.” I wrinkled my nose, not really wanting to burst his bubble.
“You obviously don’t recognise me. Not a music fan?”
In Valle d’Aosta, the mountainous area of Italy which hosted this winter games event, there were evenings of concerts to entertain the spectators once the sport was over. I’d gone along to listen to the bands last night but not stayed, needing to be well-rested. I gazed at Mr Might Be Famous, happy with the excuse of trying to work out who he was. A musician, then, and English. He had a right to worry about crazy fans with that face.
He stared right back, his gaze touching on my custom clothing, the VM of my branding.
I shrugged, glancing away before it got awkward. “Sorry. No clue. And I still don’t think those girls are looking at you, no matter how big a star you are. I’m probably more famous.”
His lip curved. “Want to bet?”
Magic words. Adrenaline eked into my blood, just as it did when I prepared for a jump. Priming my body and getting me ready for…something.
On cue, one of the girls stood. The musician raised his eyebrows at me, and I waited, amusement curling in my belly.
The youngster stopped beside us and took a breath. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
We both drew up a little taller.
“Are you Viola McRae? I’m a huge fan.”
I couldn’t help my grin. My seat buddy gave a huff of a laugh.
“I am,” I replied. “Thank you very much!”
“Oh God! You killed it today. That was some epic big air.” She gestured with her hands, her eyes wide. She was adorable, twin plaits poking out from under her neck warmer. “I don’t know how you can just go for it off the ledge. I break out in a sweat on the baby slopes.”
“It isn’t easy, but give yourself a break. Time and practice changes what you’re thinking about. I used to get that gut-drop feeling from the height, but now my mind is on the kick. My position in the air. With a few more years under your belt, you’ll get there, too.”
She jerked her head, the bobble on her hat wobbling. “Thanks! Hey, can I get a selfie?”
I smiled, and she whipped out her phone, leaned in, and took the shot. Then her friend sidled over, and I let them take another picture and answered questions on my style—I rode goofy—my left leg at the back. One of the girls did, too, and I was delighted to talk shop.
They left, and I twisted back to my drink. I’d spooned up most of the cream-marshmallow-chocolate topping so I picked up the huge mug, warming my hands while I took a long sip. Then a second.
The boy watched me. His attention crackled over my skin.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he said.
I licked my lips and put down my drink. “It would be mean to crow, and I’m a nice person.”
Amusement danced in his eyes. “Leo.” He put out a hand. “Leo Banks. I mean, just ‘Banks’. I’m meant to be using that as a stage name.”
We shook.
My amusement ramped up as Leo’s cheeks pinkened. “I’m Viola—”
“McRae. I heard from your fans. Now I know what the VM stands for on your hat. Nice to meet you, Viola.”
The warmth in me spread. “Are you playing tonight, Leo Banks?”
“Already did. I’m up-and-coming, touring for the first time. I get the early slots.”
Over his shoulder, I caught sight of a group entering the bar—JJ, who was on my team, plus a few others from the snowboarding circuit. If they dragged me into their posse, I’d spend the night listening to bragging and one-upmanship. I didn’t hide my sigh.
Leo peered around. “What’s wrong?”
“Just a guy I don’t really want to talk to right now.”
“The blond?”
“No, the other one.”
“Preppie boy, then. Is he chasing you?”
“Something like that.” JJ had asked me out and had a habit of standing too close. I kind of liked him but I hated his over-competitive edge and how rude he could be about people.
“Want to get out of here? We can get these to go and head to my room. I’d planned to watch a movie.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re inviting me to your hotel room?”
Leo palmed his neck. Instantly, he appeared younger. Sweeter. The proud persona gone and an unsure boy in his place.
“I don’t mean… That wasn’t a pick-up line. Just to see a film. I don’t know anyone here, and you’re alone. Or you were…”
JJ sauntered over, his crew trailing. He blocked Leo, his back to him. “Vi. Pretty good run today. Come and sit with us.”
Pretty good? I’d beaten my personal best and was favourite in the final. He’d come fourth in his event, barely qualifying. I leaned around him. “Sorry, I have plans. Leo. Good to go now?”
Leo stared at JJ’s head.
JJ drew away, as if he’d just noticed I wasn’t alone. He flicked his focus over Leo, lingering on his leather jacket. His lip curled in distaste.
With a steady glare, Leo stood. On his feet, he was a couple of inches taller than JJ. The light that had been in his eyes—amber irises, I noticed—turned cold. Flat.
Sexy.
Tension rose.
Weirdly, I kind of liked Leo gazing at JJ in that way. Like a dominant stag about to take down a competitor. Most people fawned over him.
I grinned and waved to the bartender. “Can you please pour these into takeaway cups?”
She decanted our hot chocolates, and I collected them, forcing JJ to step back as I stood.
“See you later, everyone,” I almost sang.
The snowboarding party moved on, and I passed the cups to Leo before reaching for my bag and board.
Leo watched them go. “Why do guys have to be like that?”
“Competitive? Kind of the nature of what we do.”
“It’s messed up.” In a slick swipe, he took my heavy bag and shouldered it, then moved through the tables, our drinks balanced against his chest.
Outside, we wandered the covered path that led to the main complex, protecting us from the fresh snowfall. Night had fallen, purple skies looming over the mountain landscape. Clear cold air drove the cobwebs from my brain and realisation of what I was doing trickled over me. I didn’t know this man. Going to his hotel room… Was that a strange idea?
Leo seemed to notice my hesitation. He walked backwards a few steps then scooped up a handful of snow from a rail with his free hand, crunched it in his fist, and threw it at me.
I jumped back in mock-outrage. “Are ye challenging me to a snowball fight? I live on the snow. I’ll own ye.”
By way of answer, Leo only smiled, disarming me entirely. “I meant what I said. I really do just want to watch a film. It would be nice to do that with a friend. Touring is a weird mix of loneliness and being around too many people.”
“Are you here alone or do you have a band?”
He thumbed at himself. “Solo artist. But I have session musicians. None I’d call friends. I’m not exactly alone, though.”
We arrived in the bright lobby of the main hotel on the mountain. I was staying here myself, but not alone either. I cocked my head at him. “Oh yeah? Who are you here with?”
“I’ve already made a fool of myself in front of you. If I answer that question—”
“Viola?” a voice came from behind us.
Oh heck. I turned and pasted on a smile. “Dad!”
“Your dad’s here?” Leo asked, low.
My father, a huge Highlander, strolled over and folded his arms. He cast an interested eye over my new friend. Leo was about the same height but had none of dad’s bulk. My father operated the mountain rescue local to our castle home and was used to bossing people around. He was also the overprotective sort and liable to ask questions.
My cheeks heated. I was seventeen, for crying out loud. I shouldn’t be blushing if my dad found out I was hanging out with a guy.
“Who’s this?” he asked with an edge to his casual tone.
“Dad, meet Leo. We’re going to watch a movie.”
“Leopold?” A woman joined us from the other side of the lobby. “I was looking for you. Have you eaten?”
Now, Leo reddened.
She was beautiful, in an elegant pantsuit and with her fair hair swept up. Like Leo, she wasn’t dressed for snowsports, as most people on the mountain were, and, like him, she had the same wide mouth in an easy smile.
Very obviously his mother.
“Mum, this is Viola. We’re going to watch a film.” He rubbed the back of his neck again.
Our parents made wry faces then regarded each other.
Dad started. “Ah, forgive me, I recognise ye. You’re Christie Banks, are ye not?”
Leo’s mum parted her lips. “I am! I’m surprised anyone knows me.”
“My wife was a big fan when you were in your modelling career. She’d get a kick out of knowing I met ye. Actually, ye met my brother once, years ago.”
Dad moved past us and joined Leo’s mother, the two chatting happily. Leo closed in on me.
“Leopold?” I raised an eyebrow.
“You see? Not very rock star to be here with my mum.” He shook his head, but a smile held on his lips.
“Do you think they’ll notice if we sneak away?” I side-mouthed.
Dad’s attention snapped back to me. “I heard that. Be back in your room by midnight, aye? Don’t make me come looking for ye.”
I took my bag and handed it plus my board to Dad, grabbed Leo’s fingers, and fled.