Passarinho and the Highlander Book Tour & Giveaway

Passarinho and the Highlander: Adventures in Love and War by Fran Connor Genre: Historical Romantic Adventure

A privileged young woman in 1730s Boston sets out on an adventure to rescue her father from a debtor’s prison in Jamaica. A dashing Scottish soldier offers to help her in return for her help in exposing a traitor. Shipwreck, spies, murder, war and a rival for the Highlander’s affections combine to thwart her mission. She finds the darker side of life in the Caribbean is a far cry from her sheltered upbringing. To survive and succeed in her rescue she must adapt and, on the way, she discovers a secret about herself that could have disastrous consequences for her future. Buy or download now through Kindle Unlimited and enjoy this gripping Romantic Adventure with a flawed heroine. Goodreads * Amazon

I live in SW France for the lifestyle after a career in a UK Police Force. I have six published novels, three more in the pipeline and six plays that have been produced on stage. My screenplays portfolio contains seven feature length scripts with one about to go into production. I write mainly Historical Fiction but I do other genres too. I don’t do cop stories, I had enough of the real thing. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

She could see the ship better now as it cut through the surf towards her. Had they seen
her? Pain shot through her legs as she lifted herself onto her knees. To stand up, she knew,
would capsize her makeshift life raft. She did not care if they were pirates or if they were
French, Spanish or British. All she wanted as she knelt looking at the ship was a drink of
water to slake her desperate thirst.
Susannah may have grown up in a sheltered environment back in Boston, but she was
no foolish or naive girl. A semi-naked woman appearing before men who may have been at
sea for months may invite disaster. But water… she needed water.
Now the ship was close enough for her to see the people onboard, though she could not
tell their nationality. A man stood on the poop deck with a telescope that she hoped was
looking at her. She pulled up her chemise to try to cover her breasts.
An awful feeling swept through her body when she saw the ship turn away from her,
and then elation. They lowered a boat over the side, furled the sails and dropped anchor.
Susannah looked up at the sky. “Thank you!”
Her eyes searched the boat party for an officer or gentleman as it approached. That was
more of a hope than a likelihood as she checked them out. Her mind flitted through available
options and found none.
Without a doubt the vision that the nearest sailor beheld must have been the strangest
he’d ever seen. Had he read Robinson Crusoe published twenty years before? His tarred
pigtail and scarred face did not suggest to Susannah a reader.

The boat pulled alongside Susannah’s raft. Still on her knees with one hand trying to
hold up her chemise, she looked at the sailors. “Hello, could you help me? I’ve had rather a
difficult problem. I would appreciate passage to civilisation.”
The men in the boat roared with laughter.
One of them seemed to have a slight resemblance to an English gentleman from the way
he held himself. His clothes, though well-worn, did have signs of quality, and he wore a
tartan sash.
“Glory be! And of whom do I have the pleasure?” said the man in a cultured Scottish
accent, much to Susannah’s relief.
“Miss Susannah Fitzpatrick of the Boston Fitzpatricks, sir. I am a survivor of the Diana
shipwreck.”
“Well, Miss Fitzpatrick, I do believe you will have a fascinating story to tell. It must
wait until we are aboard. We cannot anchor off for long for reasons that will become clear to
you. I am Donald Murray of the Auchterarder Murrays, Miss Fitzpatrick, at your service.” He
gave a slight bow while still sitting down in the prow of the boat and then offered his hand to
help her aboard.
Donald Murray, in Susannah’s brief assessment, was a man in his late twenties. Under
his sunburn, red beard and long, unkempt hair that matched the colour of his beard, he may
even have been handsome. His bearing, which she first mistook as that of an English
gentleman, was that of a proud Highlander.

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