Excerpt from A Wee Bit of Scots Magic
Joynash books llc
(June 05, 2017)
“Do you think we should lower our prices?”
Raye Munroe rocked her hips into her husband’s forward thrust, doing her damnedest to ignore his whispered question. It was so not in tune with her fantasy.
“Well, do you?”
She opened one eye.
Ian supported his lean body on rigid arms, looking down at her. A frown creased his brow as his hips rocked. “A ten percent cut might give us the edge we need. On the other hand...” He withdrew, almost completely.
Raye grabbed him and pulled him back into her body. “I can’t believe you’re asking me this right now.”
“It’s been on my mind.”
“Can’t it wait?” She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to recapture her fantasy, in which Kieran, dispossessed laird of Clan MacDonald, deflowered Tess, the virgin daughter of the ruthless warrior who’d stripped Kieran of his birthright. It was a scene from Raye’s favorite romance novel, Highland Passions.
Ian slid back out. “The ad copy’s due today.”
Damn it. Her hopes of a climax were melting as fast as her daydream. Okay, so after five years of marriage, sex with Ian had gotten a little routine. She supposed that was only to be expected. But damn it, did he have to bring up the café right now? She’d been so close.
Kieran MacDonald would never talk business during sex.
“If we don’t do something to lure our clientele back,” Ian said, “we might as well just close down.”
It was like he’d dumped a bucket of ice on the bed. She and Ian had sunk their life savings into Coffee and Scones, a trendy coffeeshop on the edge of the historic district. The Scots theme had been Raye’s idea—Ian had wanted Caribbean décor. Business had been fantastic for the first few months—they’d been planning to hire more help, maybe even expand into the vacant space next door. Then Starbucks opened up three blocks away, right on the corner of Broad and Main. With a parking lot. Just like that, their bottom line turned a bright, ugly red.
If Ian and Raye couldn’t steer some thirsty traffic through their brass-handled front doors, they were headed for bankruptcy.
“Yeah,” she said. “You’re right. We have to lower our prices.”
“What do you think about a buy-one-get-one day for the college crowd?” Ian dropped his head into the crook of Raye’s shoulder as the tempo of his lovemaking increased. “Maybe I’ll even break out my grandfather’s bagpipes.”
Raye groaned, but not from pleasure. She loved everything Scots—her husband most of all—but Ian had absolutely no talent on the pipes. A sick cow made prettier music.
“We want to attract customers, not drive them away.”
She nuzzled the side of his neck. “Forget the bagpipes. But you could wear the Highlander costume I bought you.”
He grunted. “No way am I wearing a skirt.”
“It’s not a skirt. It’s a kilt.”
“Same difference.” A fine tremor rippled through his body. “God, Raye, I’m getting close.”
He stopped talking then and deepened his thrusts. Raye concentrated on matching his rhythm. A mildly pleasant sensation washed through her, but it was nothing like it used to be. When she and Ian first got together, it’d been one shuddering orgasm after another. Now? Now she needed daydreams