Whisky and Wards

Saorise Kinloch left Leith with a head full of engine grease and a distillery she can't afford, one curse attached, no receipt. The ledgers say every hundred years, a bride. Three owners dead owing her. And the original mash paddle, pried off the wall, comes with a man: Calum 'Whisky' MacAllan, a 1743 Highland enforcer who refused the spirit once and has been paying for it ever since, visible to no one but her. He wants to break the curse. She wants the roof fixed. Neither of them can keep their hands off the other without the wards biting — and every kiss feeds the thing in the tun. The centenary is coming. The spirit is hungry. And no bride in three hundred years has tried baiting it with her own blood. A monster bait Scottish historical romance in two centuries, one still house, and a monster in a motorcyclist's shape.