Exclusive
Great Scot! Read the Prologue of Naina Kumar’s 2026 Romance ‘Just a Highland Fling’
Outlander better make some room in Scotland for Just a Highland Fling! Flirting With Disaster author Naina Kumar will release her next romance book on July 21, 2026, and Swooon has an exclusive sneak peek of the prologue.
Just a Highland Fling follows Neelu Pillai as she makes a last-minute decision to fly to Scotland for her estranged father’s wedding. She’s hoping this will be a quick trip, but she winds up sticking around after her rehearsal dinner rant is the reason her father gets left at the altar.
Neelu goes on a road trip to find her father’s runaway bride, and she’s joined by the hot desi bagpiper she hooked up with a few nights prior. During this bumpy ride, the connection between Neelu and the dashing bagpiper deepens.
Swooon has an exclusive excerpt of Just a Highland Fling’s prologue. Below, you’ll find out Neelu’s first impression of a hot Scot playing the bagpipes. And for those of you in New York, Kumar will also be at Dell Romance’s Cozy Night In event — with Swooon! — at the Ripped Bodice on October 28. Tickers are sold out, but you can buy a signed copy of books from Kumar, Sarah Adams, Joss Richard, and Ava Wilder here!
Read our exclusive excerpt of Just a Highland Fling’s prologue below:
There is nothing less attractive than a man playing the bagpipes, which quite frankly is a tragedy. I mean, the getup is hot. Kilts that cut off at the knees, showcasing lovely calves, strong muscles, sometimes a little hint of sinewy thigh. And the stance: the tender cradling of the bagpipe under those brawny arms. It melts something inside you. Makes you think, Huh, maybe this guy has nurturing instincts. Maybe he would cradle me that way. It’s the perfect blend of strong and soft. Swoony in a gruff, almost accidental way.
But then it starts. The initial jarring drone that burns your ears, followed by the absurd, almost cartoonish puffing of the cheeks.
Though I suppose I don’t really have time to ponder the anti-aphrodisiac effect of bagpiping at the moment. Right now, I have bigger things to worry about. Namely the fact that the middle-aged white woman who had been walking down the aisle of this little church at a slow, stately pace is now standing frozen halfway to the altar.
The violinist continues playing, but the bride doesn’t move at all. From where I sit in the back row, I catch a couple exchanged glances between the folks lining the pews.
“Maggie,” someone hisses, but Maggie doesn’t move.
Since her back is toward me, I can’t see her face, but I can sure see my father’s. His brows are furrowed, and the light overhead highlights the deep grooves in his forehead. His lips move, but he must be speaking softly because I can’t make out what he’s saying. He takes a half step away from the altar, his hand outstretched toward Maggie, a bewildered expression on his face.
And that’s when Maggie bolts, pivoting on her heel and barreling right back up the aisle in a blur of frothy lace and tulle.
A chorus of gasps is released all at once, but it’s my father’s voice I hear chief among them.
“Maggie! Wait!”
But Maggie doesn’t listen. If anything, she runs faster. She’s almost all the way out of here when her red-rimmed eyes latch onto mine. It only lasts a millisecond. A quick, barely there acknowledgment, but it makes my gut twist. A sour taste fills my mouth.
And then she’s gone, flying out the kirk doors. My father follows only a few feet behind her, running toward the exit, still calling out her name.
People all around me are getting up, craning their necks, a flutter of motion on every side, but it’s the bagpiper chasing after my father who catches my attention.
His kilt swings around his legs, and his broad chest swells with exertion.
All thoughts of Maggie and my father slide out of my brain.
This man has height and width in spades, and his pitch-black, perfectly wavy hair whips around his face as he races past me.
My heartbeat doubles, then comes to a roaring stop when his brown eyes pin me with a bone-chilling glare.
“This is your fault,” he whisper-yells at me on his way out of the church, his arm pointed accusingly in my direction.
And I can’t even argue with him.
It absolutely is.
Excerpted from Just a Highland Fling by Naina Kumar. Copyright © 2026 by Naina Kumar. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
