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The Sexy Stranger
Book 1 - International Bad Boys Set
JA Low
JALowBooks
Contents
Note from the Author
1. Lilly
2. Lilly
3. Luca
4. Lilly
5. Luca
6. Lilly
7. Luca
8. Lilly
9. Luca
10. Lilly
11. Lilly
12. Luca
13. Lilly
14. Lilly
15. Luca
16. Luca
17. Luca
18. Lilly
19. Luca
20. Lilly
21. Luca
22. Lilly
23. Lilly
24. Luca
25. Lilly
26. Lilly
27. Luca
28. Luca
29. Lilly
30. Luca
31. Lilly
32. Lilly
33. Luca
34. Lilly
35. Lilly
36. Luca
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Author
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Interconnecting Series
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Interconnecting Series
Note from the Author
Previously written as Fate’s Plan - A novella.
The Sexy Stranger is now a standalone novel.
1
Lilly
It’s been years since I’ve seen snow—fluffy white flecks fall to the ground in front of my car, creating a blanket of white over everything it touches—or the rock walls that line the narrow, winding, country roads. The farmers’ cottages that dot the usually emerald green hills now blend into the stark white countryside. The swirling smoke from their chimneys the only way to see where each one is located.
Not much daylight filters through during these winter months. The last of the sun’s rays set over the area’s famous mountains, ‘The Three Sisters of Glencoe,’ nestled in the tourist trail of the Scottish Highlands. My sister and I explored these mountains as children, running through the green fields, picking thistles and field flowers for Nan, and jumping through streams that cut into the land from the snowy peaks surrounding us, freezing your toes if you slipped and fell in.
Our summers were spent helping around the farm—we fed the sheep, milked the cows and goats, picked up the eggs from the chicken coop. Scottie, Nan’s Scottish Terrier, would chase the chickens around the yard every time we’d collect the eggs. It would have us in fits of giggles watching the feathers fly.
A tear falls down my cheek remembering the old days. It’s been a while since things have felt happy around here. It simply hasn’t been the same since Nan died. We loved visiting her every school holiday, enjoying our freedom, which is a far cry from the hustle and bustle of London where we normally resided.
Our parents are world-renowned surgeons, working for London’s elite at their famous Harley Street practice. Because of their dedication to medicine, and pretty much everyone else, they didn’t have much time for us girls. Luckily, when we weren’t with Nan, we had an eccentric Italian nanny named Contessa. She wore bright, vibrant colors, and was a loud, passionate woman who taught us to cook and speak Italian. She immersed us into her culture, one we still love to this day.
Contessa was obsessed with the British royal family, loved everything about it, so much so she’d wear a crown. She thought because her name means countess in Italian, that she must have been switched at birth and actually had been royal. She used to have us in fits of laughter with her made-up tales of royal life.
A sad smile falls across my weary face remembering her. It was a shock when she passed at such a young age. She may be gone, but never forgotten. I wipe the errant tears from my sleep-deprived eyes.
“Oh, shit,” I scream as the car skids across the road in the icy conditions. My heart’s racing a hundred miles an hour, my adrenaline has gone into overdrive. I’ve been stuck in the African desert for far too long—seems I’ve forgotten how to drive in these treacherous conditions.
Thankfully, I rented a Range Rover 4WD, so it will keep me safe on these hazardous roads. If I had gone with the little hatchback the clerk was trying to push onto me, I’d have ended up in some snowy ditch somewhere. Then I’d have had to call Broden, the local mechanic, to come rescue me, which also means Seonaid, his wife, would hear about my return to Glencoe by myself. And with that, by morning the whole village would know, and I’d have busy bodies popping in all day. If Broden had to tow me, I don’t think I’d be able to show my face again in the pub because Wallace would make sure that nobody forgot the time Lilly ran off the road and needed help. They have long memories here. Believe me, it would keep them entertained for years.
The snow’s falling heavier now, my car’s lights are the only stream of light stretching across the vast, dark emptiness, a solitary beacon winding its way through the valley’s treacherous bends. I slow as I enter the village, which is quiet for this time of night with the weather closing in.
The only lights on in the village are from the pub which never closes. Wallace would never dare shut his doors to his fellow villagers. His family has owned this
