Spotlight & Giveaway: Highland Warrior by Heather McCollum

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Heather McCollum to HJ!

Hi Heather and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Highland Warrior!

 
Thank you so much for having me here on Harlequin Junkie! I’m so excited to introduce you to Joshua and Kára in my newest release, HIGHLAND WARRIOR.
 

Please summarize the book a la Twitter style for the readers here:

Kára Flett is a widowed mother, a warrior, and the fiery leader of her people on remote Orkney Isle off of Scotland. Raised to be the fiercest warrior in Scotland, Joshua Sinclair refuses to lead the beautiful Orkney leader in a war that would see her and her people dead.
 

Please share the opening lines of this book:

“Retreating, Sinclair?” John Dishington, the sheriff for Lord Robert Stuart, smirked from his place by the table in the receiving hall of the Earl’s Palace. Cocky, scarred, and always looking for a fight, Dishington was one warrior Joshua Sinclair certainly would not miss when he left Orkney Isle.
“I will retreat only if God calls his Horsemen back to Heaven,” Joshua said, using the legend
around him being the Horseman of War. It was a familiar role and usually shut the mouths of fools. “I am journeying back home to the mainland of Scotland for Samhain, not retreating.”

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• Joshua Sinclair is the probably the biggest, baddest hero I’ve ever written!
• He was raised by his insane father to be the biblical Horseman of War.
• The book has quoted advice at the beginning of each chapter from the ancient guide, The Art of War, by Sun Tzu.
  I realized that Joshua likes to start fires because he is actually always cold, a secret he keeps. My husband is the same way.
• Kára is a widowed mother, and her theme song is Bitch by Meredith Brooks. Listen to it after you read Highland Warrior and you’ll see why.

What first attracts your Hero to the Heroine and vice versa?

There is an instant attraction between them because they are both wild, fierce people willing to take risks. Determination and stubbornness cause them to rage against one another, but it also fans the flames of uncontrollable passion. They are like fire and ice coming together!
 

Using just 5 words, how would you describe Hero and Heroine’s love affair?

Raw
Powerful
Wild
Desperate
Steamy
 

The First Kiss…

Seduction? Kára almost laughed. She had no idea what to do with him, her half-made plan forming as she went. But one thing was certain—she couldn’t let him leave Orkney now that he wasn’t working for Robert. If there was a chance of wooing him to her side of this war, she must try. And if her bringing him to Hillside as her lover deterred Torben from pursuing her, so much the better.
She moved silently back to the rope, holding to the top where she could slide down. He stood below in the darkness. There was only enough light from the cracks in the wooden door for her to see his broad bare shoulders directly below her. I will slide down. Then kiss him, coyly tease him, and invite him back to Hillside Village.
Using the rope, she swung over the edge and down the length, her legs raised to settle over his
shoulders. Her heels caught against his chest so she could clench his head with her thighs. “Fortunately for you, Highlander, I do not rape, either,” she said, squeezing.
Before she could do anything else, he grabbed her hips, the strength in his grip slightly biting as he yanked her around. Her heels slid to his upper back, bringing the crux of her legs right before his face. She heard him inhale deeply as if smelling her heat.
“Mmmmm,” he murmured, and his hands dug into the back of her arse, pushing her hips forward against his mouth.
He exhaled from the back of his throat, forcing hot breath out. The heat penetrated her trousers,
straight to the ache between her legs, making her breath catch as a pulse of lustful fire flared up from it. Without thinking, she rocked into him, her legs clenching around his head, and he repeated the fiery exhale.
Stunned at her immediate response, she loosened her hold to slide her legs down the slope of his back, settling her crossed feet on his arse, her legs wrapped around his thick body. Coming level with his mouth, she kissed him. A carnal, overwhelming heat surged within Kára as his warm lips slid against hers. Holy hell.
He tugged the end of her braid to free its binding and raked upward through her loosening hair. His fingers slid to her nape and up along her scalp as they pressed bodies and mouths together in the dark. Hunger swelled inside Kára, hunger like she’d never felt before, not even with her husband when they were married. She felt ravenous for this man, as if she were starving, her body breaking and shedding the ice in which she’d encased herself over these lonely years. Her plan to lure him with teasing burned to ash under the pressure of his body against
hers.
Despite the savage way they clung to each other, his kisses did not bruise. She swept her tongue inside his mouth. He growled low, holding her under her arse and letting her slide farther down until her crux met the thickness of his cod through the wrapping over his hips. He tasted of honey mead and smelled of wild wind, raw strength, and clean man. Kára felt hot and lost. Without thought, she ground her pelvis against the largeness of him. It had become instinct,
a deep need.
His lips slid a path along her jaw to her ear. “Ye smell of lust, dróttning.”
“Kára,” she rasped. “My name is Kára. It means wild.”
He chuckled softly. “Kára,” he whispered near her ear, the word coming slow as if he savored her
name on his tongue, tasting it as if tasting her.

Without revealing too much, what is your favorite scene in the book?

Kára is helping her best friend, Brenna, during the birth of her first baby, and Joshua gets roped into helping.

“You are the strongest here, and we need her up,” Hilda said. “The babe is coming finally, but it will be easier on them both that way.”
She beckoned quickly to him, and he found himself walking over, inhaling fully to gain strength. But the heat and smells did not help him. ’Tis like birthing a foal, he told himself, which he had done many times before.
He stepped up onto the bed, his boots planting behind the heavily burdened woman. “Do not let her slip,” Kára said, letting him grasp Brenna under her arms. He had no choice but to hold her under her ample bosom.
Just like a mare in trouble. Like a horse. That is all. Done this dozens of times before. If Brenna could only neigh, he would have little problem with this. He opened his mouth to ask but decided against it. No woman he had ever met responded well to being asked to neigh.
Joshua lifted and Brenna groaned, a sound torn from her straining body. Kára leaped up to loop her friend’s arms through the rope. “She is too weak to hold on,” Kára said, looking at him. “Hold her there.”
“Hold her here?” he asked, his voice rising, but she had already jumped down to the floor, leaving him. “Through the entire foaling…birthing?”
“I see a wee foot,” Hilda called from under Brenna’s wet and bloody smock. Joshua kept his gaze focused on the door, the place he longed to go. Nothing would make him look down at all the blood and fluids pouring from the woman. He’d rather watch entrails fall out of a man. Or maybe even his own arm cut clean off. The loss of his own blood would not make him feel more unsteady than he did at that moment.
“Brenna!” Calder yelled from the front room. He pushed the cloth separating the room aside and strode in with another man behind him, a man Joshua knew.
“Pastor John?” Joshua called from his position on the bed. The cleric’s wide-eyed gaze snapped up to meet his. “What are ye doing on Orkney?” The last he saw the young holy man, Pastor John was performing the wedding ceremony between Joshua’s brother, Cain, and Ella Sutherland back in Caithness.
He swallowed, his gaze dropping to Brenna and then back up to Joshua. “Chief Sinclair knew I was headed this way and…” He had to raise his voice to be heard over Brenna’s keening. “And uh… uh… Cain wanted me to see if you were well.” His gaze dropped again to Brenna, one hand going to his own forehead before he looked back up with wide eyes. “Are…are you well?”
Kára’s grandmother threw her arms out to stop him from answering, which was good because Joshua had no idea if he was well or not. “This is women’s work,” Harriett Flett called loudly.
“He is no woman!” Calder shouted, pointing at Joshua.
“Calder?” Brenna asked, and Joshua felt a bit of strength return to her body.
“What the hell is going on?” Calder asked. But Joshua did not have time to answer as the lass yelled again, her body tensing with another wave of pain.
“Dearest Lord, we call upon your blessings. Bring peace and strength,” Pastor John said, closing his eyes and laying one hand on his Bible.
“He is a minister,” Calder said.
“What?” Brenna yelled, the word full of sudden strength. “I am not dying! I need no holy man.” Anger seemed to give her more strength, helping her heels push into the bed under her.
“She is not dying,” Kára added, fury pinching the beautiful determination in her face.
“Not for last rites,” Calder called, dodging around Kára’s grandmother to tip his face up to Brenna’s. “Will you wed with me, Brenna Muir? Right now, before our child enters this world?”
Another contraction pulled her strength, and Joshua braced himself as her muscles contracted. A deep groan issued from her as her entire body tensed.
“Two feet now,” Hilda called. “We must work the shoulders out.”
“Aye, aye,” Brenna panted, her eyes once more opening to focus on the soon-to-be father. Calder waved Pastor John over. Poor fellow looked pale and shocked by the violent scene. Joshua did not blame him. Men were meant to take life from the world and were not meant for the horrors of bringing life into the world.
Calder glanced at the stains on the bed and Brenna’s smock, his face also going pale as his lips opened.
“’Tis like a horse birth,” Joshua called down to them both. “Think of it that way. But do not ask her to neigh.” Everyone in the room, except Brenna, looked at Joshua as if he’d lost his mind. “It will keep ye standing to think of it that way,” he said.
“I…I have not seen a horse birth,” Calder said.
“Well, damn,” Joshua said. “Deep breaths then, I guess.”

If your book was optioned for a movie, what scene would be absolutely crucial to include?

Kára stole Joshua’s clothes to keep him on Orkney, and now she is using the children to convince him to help them fight against the ruling tyrant.

Joshua grabbed the blanket off the wool tick that he had slept on next to Fuil and folded it around his waist into a mockery of a pleated wrap. It looked ridiculous, the brightly stitched flowers against his large form.
He had never been deceived by a woman before, or a man, for that matter. His brothers and he had played pranks on one another growing up, but he hadn’t anticipated a trick by the lass. He had not anticipated her asking him to lead her people to their deaths in a futile fight, either. Why the hell else would she have led you to her tupping den? Was it all a farce to get him to stay on Orkney?
Joshua’s fist hit a hanging pail, the metallic twang loud in the quiet barn. Cracked, it fell to the earth with the force. Was there no limit to Chief Kára Flett’s boldness?
He looked to Fuil who had tossed his head at the explosive sound. “And ye let her strip me naked.” The bay horse raised his hoof to scrape the stall door. “Damn woman,” he said from between clenched teeth.
He pushed through the barn door, and the icy wind of the desolate landscape stole his breath. Why the hell wasn’t he back at Girnigoe Castle right now? Because you let a bonny lass trick you, you arse. Stalking, completely naked under the blanket, his damn ballocks pulled up higher than when he had to swim in a frost-edged loch, Joshua strode across toward the hill. The bottoms of his feet burned with cold as he crunched through the thin layer of snow and frost, his fury the only thing heating him.
Aunt Merida would scold him for risking illness. He knew that God did not protect him more than other men. ’Twas a legend made by his da, but he would not die from something as piddling as cold, even if he seemed more sensitive to it. Besides, the fire of his anger beat away the attacking wind.
Down the other side of the slope he saw a lad who looked like the one who had grazed him with the thrown dagger outside the tavern. The boy ran into the door of the underground cottage where he’d left Kára standing with her family last night. She better be in there. Along with his clothes and Sinclair sword. He jogged down the slope and stepped through the door. The heat from the central fire washed over him, but what stopped him from moving farther inside was the crowd, the very…short…crowd. All of them sitting across the floor, perfectly quiet and still, except for a few who wiggled in place. “Joshua Sinclair…” Kára’s voice shot toward him from the doorway of the bedchamber. “Meet the children of Hillside.”
Joshua swallowed down the curse on his tongue, glaring at Kára. She met his gaze unabashedly and then nodded to one little lass who stared back at her. The child looked to be about five years old. Curls framing her round face, the wee one came forward holding a jar. “Jam from my móðir, my mum,” she said, tilting her chin high. He stood still, unsure what to do. With a determined frown, the child shook the jar before him. Joshua forced his fist to relax enough to unfurl his fingers and take the jar. The little girl flashed him a smile and turned, sitting back down among the throng.
There must have been twenty children in there, perhaps more. A lad stood next, serious in face, with a wooden sword strapped to his side. “For your mighty horse,” he said, handing Joshua a turnip. “I heard he is fond of them.” Joshua nodded and then focused on balancing the vegetable on the top of the jar.
Next stood an older lass with a knitted woolen scarf. She walked toward him, her arms extended. “I made it,” she said, giving him a shy smile.
One by one, they rose, each one of them handing something to him in some sort of tribute until a pile of wool, dried flowers, food, and painted stones balanced against his bare chest. He would have lowered them to the ground but was afraid they’d topple and the loosely tied blanket covering his loins would fall.
When the last child sat, Kára crossed her arms over her chest, her feet braced in a battle stance. “I thought you might want to meet the children who will be forced to work on Lord Robert’s new palace this spring. Without pay. Without food. Without the ability to say no.”
He held all the little gifts in silence. Kára clapped her hands together once, and the children stood as if they’d rehearsed this attack on his conscience. They formed a line to leave, each one stopping before him to curtsy or bow.
“Please stay,” the little girl who brought the jam said.
“I can help you with your horse,” the turnip-gifting lad said.
“I can knit you another plaid in wool,” the older girl said, giving a curtsy.
“I think you are the strongest person alive,” said a little lass with wide eyes.
“We need you on our side.”
“Take us to victory,” said a boy who was just shy of being called a man. “I will fight with you.” The smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose brought a hollow twisting to Joshua’s stomach. The boy had no idea of the ghosts he conjured within him. All the children plucked at Joshua’s resolve.
He looked up at Kára, knowing it had been her plan. He frowned, his gaze rising to where she maintained her stance in the bedroom doorway. Her brother, Osk, peeked by her shoulder along with the younger lad who had been waiting outside, apparently on guard to alert them of his coming. Kára did not look smug nor victorious. She looked damned determined.

Readers should read this book …

for a wild and steamy adventure in 16th century Scotland where the hero is a brutal warrior with a golden heart and the heroine is a widowed mother with fiery determination.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

I am currently writing the next book in my Sons of Sinclair series, HIGHLAND JUSTICE. I also have a book coming out in a different Scottish romance series in August, THE HIGHLANDER’S PIRATE LASS. And I’m writing a short story for a Halloween anthology about a Scottish legend.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: A signed copy of Highland Conquest, the first book in the Sons of Sinclair series (US only, e-book for International). Note: Highland Warrior, although the second book in the series, can definitely be read as a stand alone book.

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: Scotland encompasses the isles surrounding it, including Orkney just above mainland Scotland. Even though Orkney is treeless and windswept, it is beautiful in it’s wildness, and there are amazing prehistoric stone dwellings to see. Would you venture over to Orkney from Scotland if you could visit?

 
a Rafflecopter giveaway

 
 

Excerpt from Highland Warrior:

Joshua’s horse has just been stolen.

Joshua whipped around, his fingers going to his mouth where he blew two short whistles. A neigh, from behind one of the buildings, tore through the growing twilight. Yells followed. Bandits. Fools! Fuil was a warhorse and listened to no one but him. The only thing that would have made him move was a treat dangled before him. Damn horse thieves!

Maybe Robert’s rant about the native people eating horseflesh was true. Had he starved his people enough to turn them into barbarians?

Joshua ran around the side of the thatched cottage, skidding to a halt before three men trying to control his raging steed. Their eyes were wide as they raised hands to the snorting beast, the whites of Fuil’s eyes showing and his ears laid back. The horse could kill them on his own, but the thieves might injure his friend. Fury roared in Joshua’s ears, and energy shot through his blood at the thought that they would steal him. And eat him!

Barely noting that the woman from the tavern stood nearby, he drew his sword from the scabbard strapped to his back, stalking forward. Sucking in large swaths of air through his nostrils, he prepared to win this contest by intimidation alone.

One of the fiends turned to see him advancing, his panicked eyes growing even wider. He had no sword and raised his fists before him, the snorting horse behind him. Damn. The thief was young, probably only recently growing into his pitiful beard.

The second man was dressed in ragged clothing, insufficient against the cold. He held a dagger and a wild glare.

The third bastard surged toward Joshua, sword held by his two hands, striking downward. Joshua met the attack, the two blades clanging together. Desperate or foolish? Joshua wasn’t sure, but the man seemed immune to intimidation. Joshua easily parried the man’s lunge, spinning to bring his elbow down at the base of the man’s skull, knocking him flat, his face in the dirt.

Pivoting to the man holding his puny dagger, he yelled, “I will jam your own blade into your foolish skull.”

The man’s lips curled back as he spit. “There are worse things.” It was the look of desperation that made Joshua drop his sword to the turf. Even a horse thief could lose hope. That did not mean he deserved to be skewered.

In two strides, Joshua knocked the dagger from the man’s hand and threw a punch into his nose, dropping him to the ground without any effort.

“Foking monster!” the barely-a-man yelled. He charged, his fists still raised. Joshua held up his own fists, but instead of swinging at the lad, he swiped his leg across as he sidestepped, tripping the thief, who fell hard. Three steps back, Joshua swooped up his sword and spun back to Fuil.

“Stop!” came a voice from the road. Fire ripped across the outside of Joshua’s upper arm. He looked down to see a slice in his tunic where a dagger had cut through as it grazed him, the weapon skidding across the pebbled ground beyond. He’d been merciful with the thieves and yet they sought to kill him.

Rage added even more strength to his sword arm. Lifting it high, he spun and charged toward the foe who had drawn his blood.

“No!” screamed the woman from the shadows, but Joshua didn’t slow.

A part of him realized she ran toward them, but he focused on his enemy. The thrower’s size broke through Joshua’s fury. Round eyes. Thin frame. Pale, shocked face. It was a boy, a young boy. Just like…

At the last second, Joshua diverted the thrust of his sword, swinging it down along the lad’s side, and skidded to a halt. Breathing hard, he loomed over the boy. The promise of death surfaced on his face, one that would hopefully stick in the lad’s nightmares so he wouldn’t fight someone three times his size again.

“Ye bloodied me.”

“Stop!” yelled the woman, grabbing Joshua’s injured arm. Before the frightened lad could respond, the young thief, who Joshua had tripped, yanked the boy around, yelling at him in their local dialect. The two of them ran off into the growing darkness, their arms pumping.
The woman dropped her hold on him and clenched her hands together. Her chest rose and fell. The other two men remained unconscious where they had fallen, and Fuil stepped over their prone bodies as he came up to Joshua. The horse nosed him as if asking where his treat had ended up.

“Fuil,” he mumbled, letting the chill in the wind calm his anger. “Your blasted stomach gets us into such bloody trouble.”

Joshua watched the worry mix with anger on the woman’s fine features, and she finally turned away from the lads who faded into the shadows. She murmured something in her ancient language and grabbed his arm to inspect the wound.

“Do ye know them?” he asked.

“This needs to be cleaned, but no stitches are warranted.” She squatted to catch together a small pile of fresh snow, standing to wipe the blood from the cut.

He caught her chin to bring her gaze up to his, her eyes growing round for a split second before narrowing. Questions pressed within him. Who are you? Were you helping them? Why were you standing back watching? But answers to those questions might lead her to walk away from him, for which he was definitely not ready.

He leaned in, tethering her gaze completely. “Were they going to eat my horse?”

Her lips rose into a grin, and she jerked back, breaking free of his hold. “No, Highlander. Despite Lord Robert’s lies, we do not eat horseflesh. Although, if the choice between eating you or eating your horse arose…” She squeezed his arm as if testing the meat on his bones. “No, even then your horse would be safe.” She shook her head. “I would choose to eat you.”

His frown relaxed, and for a moment they stared at each other. Her mouth softened with the faintest hint of humor. The wind calmed, the snow falling straight down to catch in her pale hair. “It is good to know my faithful steed is secure.”

“Do you not worry for yourself?” Her gaze traveled down his form. “Because ye look…delicious.”
Lightning coursed through his body at her words, making his jack awaken below the layers of his woolen plaid. Although, he was fairly certain it had been paying attention since he’d seen her standing in the tavern, all curves and long legs.

“I can take care of myself,” he said. Her brow rose, and Joshua watched as the tip of her tongue came out to touch the edge of her bottom lip. Heat began to roll through him. Was he reading her signals correctly? A woman like this did not seem like the type to tease. She seemed more like someone who knew what she wanted and almost always got it. And if she wanted him right now, he, bloody hell, wouldn’t refuse her.

“Did ye find a place for my horse and me to stay for the night?” he asked, keeping his gaze locked to hers. Snowflakes swirled about, hitting his cheeks.

The intensity in the woman’s almond-shaped eyes made the rest of the world disappear, even the bite in the sea breeze. “Aye,” she said, sliding a finger up to tuck the wisps of her hair behind her ear. “You can stay with me. That is, if you can find me.”

His heart beat faster at her words, and his grin grew. “Ye are right here, so I have already won.”
Without warning, she spun, jogging inland away from the village. Was the woman insane? Where would she go? There were no trees in which to hide, and the landscape of rolling hills was free of most dwellings. “I will find ye easily. I have a horse, lass,” he called, noticing the twilight was deepening quickly.

She turned to jog backward. “And I have cunning, Highlander,” she called and raced off. He watched her run, the sway of her braid like an entrancing pendulum. She glanced several times over her shoulder as if making sure he would follow, but her form was quickly fading into the darkening landscape.

He strode to Fuil to mount but yelled over his shoulder, “I can easily run ye down and catch ye.”
Her laughter floated back to him on the twilight wind.
Kára pumped her arms as she ran, her boots easily finding purchase on the familiar moor. He will follow.

A man like the infamous Joshua Sinclair, Horseman of War, would not turn away from a challenge. When he’d walked into the tavern, she had known instantly who he was. Very few were as large as the Highland warrior and no one as darkly handsome. The first things one noticed about Joshua Sinclair were his broad shoulders and towering height, which displayed his muscular frame so perfectly that he resembled the pictures her brother drew of the warrior Danes from long ago. He wore the belted wool wrappings of his homeland around his narrow hips and fur leg wraps above his boots. His hands were large and calloused from holding the massive sword strapped across his back.

When he’d stared into her eyes, his full mouth curving into a seductive smile over white teeth, heat had slid down through Kára, like honey warmed in the sun. Now that was a reaction to capture a woman’s notice, but her plan was still ridiculous. What the hell was she thinking, baiting him to chase after her? Her grandmother’s words rang in her ears. We need to find a warrior to lead us to victory against Robert Stuart. Joshua Sinclair was the largest, deadliest warrior on Orkney, and probably all of Scotland.

Excerpts. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Joshua Sinclair was once the fiercest and most notorious warrior of the mighty Sinclair clan of Northern Scotland. But now there’s nothing and no one that can make him take up arms again. Except a beautiful woman, it seems.

When Kára Flett, daughter of a fallen Norse chief, finds herself unexpectedly sheltering the strongest, most brutal warrior in the land, she throws together a risky and outrageous plan to bring him to her side. Threats of violence bounce right off him. Offers of gold seem to entice him even less. Desperate enough to use the pleas of the village children to sway him, she’s shocked when he’s completely unmoved. There’s only one tactic left for her: seduction.

Her hasty proposition falls completely by the wayside, though, as she and the Highlander come together in a carnal inferno. But bringing him into her life also brings his enemies to her clan’s doorstep—the very clan Kára is trying to protect. And as their feelings deepen, Joshua will have to decide between duty and love once and for all.
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Meet the Author:

I am Heather McCollum, writer of 16th and 17th Scottish romance full of adventure and intrigue, sprinkled with humor, history, and spice. Brawny Highlanders and feisty heroines are my favorite characters!
I am also a mom of three kids (ages 14, 20, 22), dog-mom of one rescued geriatric golden retriever, and wife of one 6 foot 4 inch Highlander. When I’m not trying to help my kids make it through the day, baking things I see on The Great British Baking Show, or writing, I’m usually educating women on ovarian cancer (I’m a ten-year survivor). I love kilted heroes, chai lattes, and eating buttered air-popped popcorn for dinner on Friday nights (my dog loves this one too).
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