Release Day – STEALING CHRISTMAS by Alexa Riley

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Christmas Winter is lucky she loves this time of year, because her name didn’t give her much of a choice. She’s always bubbly and happy. So when she takes a job as an elf in the mall, she’s excited to spread some cheer. But Christmas could never expect what happens when she catches the eye of a stranger.

Nicholas Light owns everything he sees, and when his eyes land on the new elf in his mall’s Santa exhibit, he knows she’s no different. There’s something about her sweet innocence that he has to have, and he’ll concoct a plan to make that happen.

Warning: Grab your jingle bells and swing them over your head… This holiday quickie is gonna light up your Noel. Okay, none of that made sense. But it sounded festive, right? This book is adorable, and you’ll love it. Just don’t get tinsel stuck in the wrong places. Trust us.
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Alexa Riley is two sassy friends who got together and wrote some dirty books. They are both married moms of two who love football, donuts, and obsessed book heroes.
They specialize in insta-love, over-the-top, sweet, and cheesy love stories that don’t take all year to read. If you want something SAFE, short, and always with a happily ever after, then Alexa Riley is for you!
Author Links
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Release Week Blitz and Review – COWBOY RISING by Mia Hopkins

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Feisty reporter vs. gruff cowboy—buckle up for a hard ride…

 Come back to the rodeo with Mia Hopkins and the newest release in the Cowboy Cocktail series, COWBOY RISING!

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About COWBOY RISING 

Journalist Georgia Meyers is writing an article about MacKinnon Ranch in a last-ditch effort to save her job at a failing newspaper. At first, the hot-as-hell rancher wants nothing to do with her. But butting heads leads to knocking boots, and soon she’s getting the real story—in bed and off the record.

Cattleman’s son and petroleum engineer Daniel MacKinnon turned down a lucrative oil career to take over the family farm. Frustrated about giving up his dreams and worried about money, Daniel buries himself in ranch work—that is, until gorgeous Georgia shows up and rocks him to the core. A blazing one-night stand leads to something deeper. Despite their feelings for each other, he’s tied to the land and she’s a rolling stone. When the time comes to part ways, will the lovers choose duty over desire? Or will they face their fears and rise to the challenge of love?

Warning: Get ready for sassy banter, sizzling sex, orgasms galore, and a nerdy dirty-talkin’ cowboy who can go all night long.

On Sale in Digital: November 22, 2016

Amazon

  Add COWBOY RISING to your TBR pile on Goodreads!

CELEBRATE THE RELEASE WITH A GIVEAWAY!

Grand Prize: Digital copies of Books 1-4 in the Cowboy Cocktail series plus a delicate gold and quartz crystal necklace from FeminaHandmade.

5 Runner-Ups: Digital copies of Cowboy Resurrection (Book #2 in the series) 
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Excerpt:

His cheeks red from working outside, the new brother removed his gloves and tucked them under his arm. He took off his hat and shook her hand. His rough fingers were warm.

“Daniel MacKinnon.” He didn’t smile.

Georgia couldn’t explain it. With a heavy jaw and dirty blond hair styled high and tight, he was as clean cut as a cadet—she usually preferred tattooed, bearded types. He looked to be in his mid-twenties—she usually liked seasoned men who were older than her, not younger. But this guy’s hotness seared her eyeballs, nailing her feet where she stood.

“Georgia Meyers, L.A. Chronicle,” she said automatically, all other words escaping her. She was too old, too experienced, and far too smart to react this way—and yet, here she was. Staring slack-jawed at a pretty-faced cowboy like some blue-stockinged virgin at a rodeo dance.

“I know you’re here to see my father,” he said, the low rumble in his voice stroking a sweet spot inside her chest, “but he isn’t available today. You need to reschedule, Miss Meyers.”

His bright green eyes were so distracting, she almost didn’t register his words. “Reschedule?”

“Yeah. You need to come back. Do the interview another day.”

“What?” Snap out of it, Gigi. The story. She yanked her professional persona back in place. “Mr. MacKinnon, I’ve just driven an hour and a half from Fresno to be here. Two days ago, your father said he’d give me a tour of the ranch and walk me through the organic certification process. Isn’t there anyone else I can talk to?”

Daniel’s stoic expression was both infuriating and unspeakably hot. “No.”

Hot or not, who does this guy think he is? She stood up straight. “Okay, let me lay it all out for you. If there’s no one here who will speak with me today, just to make sure my time isn’t wasted, I’ll be more than happy to find another rancher. There are plenty of spreads in your neck of the woods, aren’t there? I’m sure my readers wouldn’t mind learning about conventional ranching operations. Maybe someone at the Hughes Ranch will make time for me. What do you think?”

He narrowed his eyes at her and took a deep but silent breath. His broad chest rose and fell as he looked her over. At last he said, “Can you ride?”

“A little.” Which was completely true, depending on one’s definition of “a little.”

Fresh impatience lit up Daniel MacKinnon’s eyes. “All right. Let’s go.”

 

See what people are saying about the Cowboy Cocktail series:

“Mia Hopkins knows how to put characters on a page.”  – HEROES AND HEARTBREAKERS

“Mia Hopkins is an imaginative author who doesn’t take the easy road to a formulaic book.”– USA TODAY

“Sweet and filthy at the same time, just the way I like it. This book made me so happy.”– READ ALL THE ROMANCE

“The writing is excellent, the emotions leap off the page, and the sex is downright earthy.”– JILL SORENSON, AUTHOR

“Beautifully descriptive…hot, sexy and full of yearning!”  – DELILAH DEVLIN, AUTHOR 

“Off the charts hot.”  – THE ROMANCE STUDIO

“A tantalizing slow seduction of the senses.” – STRANGE CANDY REVIEWS

“Hopkins packs a lot of heat and romance on the pages…Caution: hot, sexy times ahead!”– READER GIRLS BLOG

“Filled with sizzling chemistry, hot sex, and just enough sweetness to leave me wanting more…And those sex scenes…Holy hotness!”  – CRYSTAL BLOGS BOOKS
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Mia Hopkins writes lush romances starring fun, sexy characters who love to get down and dirty. She’s a sucker for working class heroes, brainy heroines and wisecracking best friends.

When she’s not lost in a story, Mia spends her time cooking, gardening, traveling, volunteering and looking for her keys. In a past life, she was a classroom teacher and still has a pretty good “teacher voice” and “teacher stare.”

She lives in the heart of Los Angeles with her roguish husband and two waggish dogs.

You can also visit her online at the following places:

Website Facebook | Twitter | Amazon | Goodreads | Pintrest Instagram

 

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 I’ve enjoyed Mia Hopkins’ cowboys and couldn’t wait for the next in her Cowboy Cocktails. Cowboy Rising is the fifth and latest in the series.

I enjoyed the match of Georgia and Daniel. What appears to maybe not be the best pairing, ends up really working for me. I liked that they came from different backgrounds and we get to see how they grow as their relationship develops. We get the feels along with the sexy times.

I’m always looking forward to the next Mia Hopkins book. I love that she delivers the sweet and the sexy with diverse characters.

Cover Reveal – I NEED YOU TONIGHT by Stina Lindenblatt

The cover of Stina Lindenblatt’s newest novel coming 2017 from Loveswept!

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Old habits die hard. But in this sexy, heartwarming romance, a musician who’s addicted to the temptations of the road falls for a good girl who makes him want to clean up his act.

Mason Dell’s band, Pushing Limits, is a sensation, and he’s having a blast on their biggest tour yet. Then he gets a call from his best friend, who’s in the Navy, asking him to find out why his sister isn’t answering her phone. The dude once saved Mason’s life from a suicide attempt related to a gambling problem—so the two-and-a-half hour drive from L.A. to her small town is nothing.

What he finds is a sweet, successful boutique owner who’s too busy to notice when her phone dies. Nicole McCormick has nothing better to do than work. She’s bored of all the men she’s been dating: stable, career-oriented guys who are nothing like her destructive father. Mason’s is a breath of fresh bad-boy air. Their sexual connection is explosive, and with her shop undergoing renovations, Nicole even joins Pushing Limits on the road.  But when Mason falls off the wagon, that’s one path she swore she’d never go down again.

While Nicole picks up her broken heart and heads home, Mason misses her like crazy. Although he wants to forge a future with her, he just doesn’t know how to leave the past behind. But for love, it’s time to learn.

 GOODREADS

Cover Reveal – STEALING CHRISTMAS by Alexa Riley

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Coming November 29th
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Christmas Winter is lucky she loves this time of year, because her name didn’t give her much of a choice. She’s always bubbly and happy. So when she takes a job as an elf in the mall, she’s excited to spread some cheer. But Christmas could never expect what happens when she catches the eye of a stranger.

Nicholas Light owns everything he sees, and when his eyes land on the new elf in his mall’s Santa exhibit, he knows she’s no different. There’s something about her sweet innocence that he has to have, and he’ll concoct a plan to make that happen.

Warning: Grab your jingle bells and swing them over your head… This holiday quickie is gonna light up your Noel. Okay, none of that made sense. But it sounded festive, right? This book is adorable, and you’ll love it. Just don’t get tinsel stuck in the wrong places. Trust us.
AP new -about the author.jpg
 Alexa Riley is two sassy friends who got together and wrote some dirty books. They are both married moms of two who love football, donuts, and obsessed book heroes.
They specialize in insta-love, over-the-top, sweet, and cheesy love stories that don’t take all year to read. If you want something SAFE, short, and always with a happily ever after, then Alexa Riley is for you!
Author Links
ArdentProse_LogoMain.jpg
 

Chapter Reveal – HAIL MARY by Nicola Rendell


Coming November 28th
Exclusive iBooks pre-order
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At a boxing gym in Chicago, Mary Monahan accidentally knocks out the most handsome man she’s ever met. After she wakes him up with a few slaps and some smelling salts, the very first thing he does is ask her out for ribs and beer. His name is Jimmy. He looks like a Gillette model. And he’s just too hunky to resist.

Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi is mystified that Mary has absolutely no idea who he is. Mystified and refreshed. He is, after all, not your everyday NFL quarterback. He shops at Costco, has a soft spot for Pinterest, and is in the midst of an epic losing streak.

Jimmy falls for Mary fast and hard, the way he does everything—balls out and like it’s fourth and long. And he realizes he’s finally met his match. That stamina he’s so proud of? Doesn’t stand a chance against her Kegels.

But what they don’t know is she’s also his new physical therapist, recently hired by the Bears to work on his rotator cuff…and groin injury. If she can’t help him, he’ll be traded faster than they can say “offensive penetration.”

In spite of the thousands of internet memes featuring Jimmy’s face with captions like: “HEY GIRL, WANT TO TOUCH MY BALLS?” Mary finds herself falling for him and his unrelenting desire to make her his.

Until a toddler shows up at Jimmy’s door.

And throws their lives into total chaos.

***

To the reader: Contents includes love, sweetness, naughtiness, honey, champagne, and an HEA. Safe.
Chapter 1
Jimmy


She’s got a hell of a left hook, and her jab is no joke either. It’s hard to tell what she really looks like, with the big blue rubber mouth guard between her teeth and the black padded headgear covering her jaw and cheeks. But I know this: I want to get my hands on that body. Her tight pink tee is low cut and skin tight, and across her breasts are the words: “NOBODY’S PUSSYCAT.”
A cold draft blows in from the window, making goosebumps ripple up her arms. A thin stream of sweat runs down into her cleavage, and then I watch her nipples tighten. Christ. With little bounces, she heads back to her corner and bends over for her water bottle. Stretchy black leggings and no panty line.
Fuuuuuck.
The buzzer dings and we square up. She holds her gloves up to her face, ready to go. They’re bubblegum pink with white cuffs; the girliest weapons I’ve ever seen.
But never mind the gloves. It’s those eyes that have me. Shit, those eyes. This crazy deep green. Packers’ green. Jets’ green. Green like cash. Green that could make a guy go right out of his mind.
Pow goes a jab into my stomach and I double over, tasting my Gatorade from an hour ago. Before I can breathe, before I can even get up my gloves to slow her down, she pelts me hard with a cross to my sternum that knocks the wind straight out of me. I gasp for air and stagger back into the ropes.
“Jesus Christ,” I moan. “Who are you?”
Her eyes light up in this smile. This beautiful fucking smile that I feel way down inside. Then she bounces on her toes and smacks her gloves together out in front of her. Whap, whap. “I’m Mary!” she says around her mouth guard. “And you’re slow!”
Cute. But, yeah…no. Nobody talks to me like that. Nobody. I hurl myself off the ropes, colliding with her in the center of the ring, skin against skin now. I press into her sexy shoulder with my bicep, feeling the sweat between us. She nails me in the gut again; a solid, low-slung straight, and I think, I can’ t hit a girl, can I?
No. Fuck, no.
So I stretch my arm between us, the padding of my glove holding her steady right below her collarbone. She swings for me but I’m a foot taller and she doesn’t stand a chance. “Jerk!”
Obviously.
But on the upside, now I can really get a good look at her the way I want to; close up, but not so close that she’s pummeling me. Her legs are solid and I can even see that little curve of her hipbones barely showing through her leggings. I let my eyes follow the line of sweat to her inner thighs, to that wet, hot place where everything comes together. Fuck. I want my hands on that place. I want to feel the softness and the strength. I want to know the taste of that sweat. The way that softness gives under my tongue.
Ding goes the buzzer. I push her away, padded knuckles to her shoulder. She spins and gets into her corner, so I do the same.
I grab my water bottle and squirt it into my mouth, watching her all the time. She’s fucking beautiful, this one. Fucking gorgeous. The woman of dreams. Of fantasies.
From a pink Nalgene, she takes one big gulp, two, and a little water dribbles down her lips, rolling in drops down her throat. Her eyes stay right on mine. Her chest heaves. Her eyes flash. Her lips tighten. And that’s when it happens. She peels off her T-shirt and tosses it to the floor so that the only word showing is PUSSY.
Ding.
Her body is fucking perfect. I mean perfect. I moan into my mouth guard and I look her up and down. Lean but not thin. Sexy and strong. A fighter’s body. A woman’s body. A body strong enough to take everything I want to give it. And then some.
She turns to set down her water bottle, bending at the waist. And that’s when I see it. The tattoo. It’s a ribbon of black lace that runs in a beautiful, feminine line down her back from right shoulder to left hip, curving down into her pants. Tough as hell, pretty as can be. And with the sexiest tattoo I’ve ever seen in my life.
Stick a motherfucking fork in me. I’m done.
“Nice ink,” I tell her as we square up again.
“Thanks,” she says, leaning in to my shoulder.
“I’ve never seen one like it.” I hook my arm around her again and pull her in. I smell something familiar. I can’t place it. She slips free and moves behind me. For one second, all I can hear is her shoes on the mats.
“I rebelled when I turned 30. It was either this or a tramp stamp.”
“Of what?” I pivot so my face is close against hers.
“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” She smiles tight around the mouth guard. Her glove comes through the air, cutting through the noise of the gym. Whooosh.
I get my right hand up just in time to block her with my glove. The impact rolls down my forearm like I’m nothing but Jell-O.
She lets another jab fly but misses me—barely—and I slip around behind her. The hair at the nape of her neck is curly and wet, and a long dark braid runs down her back. That strip of wet fabric at the top of her pants, dark with sweat. “Why are we fighting?” I growl as I get closer. “Why aren’t we out drinking? Making trouble? Fucking around? Let me take you out.”
She spins to face me, her eyes wide open, surprised. “You wanna drink with me?”
“Hell yes, I do. And a lot of other things.”
“You want me? Fight me.” She fires her bubblegum pink cannons at my stomach with a one-two combination that makes me feel like I’m nothing but a 283-pound heavy bag.
I try to get in a left cross, but she’s way faster than I am and comes up from under with a hook straight out of Manila.
That one got me in my brainpan, in my marrow. “Fuck that,” I snarl.
“Atta boy!”
No way. Nobody atta boys me. I’m Jimmy Goddamned Falconi. I’m nobody’s boy. Never.
“Atta girl.” I nudge her in the shoulder with my chest.
Around her guard, she says, “You fight like you’re in molasses. But you’re strong. You some kind of athlete?”
At first, I’m about to laugh. For about one second, I think I might be on Candid Camera or something. I mean, I can’t walk to the bathroom on an airplane without someone asking me to sign a cocktail napkin. I can’t get through Costco without someone asking me to sign their shopping list. Some kind of athlete?
I’m Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi. Quarterback for the Chicago Goddamned Bears. I’m somebody.
But there’s zero recognition in her eyes. No flicker of the fangirl. No sign she’s playing it cool either. To her, I’m just a guy getting his ass kicked by a girl in pink gloves.
“Hello?” She presses into my chin with a slow uppercut from the right.
I snap out of it. I don’t even know how to answer her. I play quarterback for the Bears. Ever heard of them? Or maybe, Ever heard of football? America’s Game? Fuck. I wouldn’t even know how to start. I’ve never had to explain it. People just know. “Yeah, I like to work out.”
“Then act like it,” she says, all piss and vinegar, and puts her guard back in her mouth. Wham comes that jab into my gut. Pow goes the straight to my pecs. I loop one arm around her and pull her body in close, hooking the back of her neck with the crook of my elbow. I pull her closer, tighter, both arms around her, to get a feel for her…but also to give myself a goddamned break.
She struggles a little, trying to squirm free, but I see the smile on her face, the crinkle of the skin at her eyes.
I pull her head closer to mine. I must be twice her weight; no way is she going to get free now. We are the welterweight and the super heavyweight. Wrong class totally. But then she wedges her forehead in against my chest. I watch her wind up, her biceps flexing, and, boom-boom-boom.
Every time she connects, I lose a little more air and groan, “Fuck-fuck-fuck!”
“Atta boy!”
Fuck. That.
So I keep her pinned and she starts fighting harder, which makes me want to hang on to her more. I press my nose against her head. In her thick brown hair, I can smell her shampoo, her conditioner. Coconut.
While I’m distracted by that smell, thinking of sunscreen and ukulele music and drinks with umbrellas and her on a beach, she slips out from under my arms and pops up in my face.
Well, shit.
“What, you chicken? Gonna hit me back? Or do you want to dance around for an hour or two? Because I can totally do that. I just have to go home to feed the dog.” Whap-whap go her padded fists.
Oh no, no way. No way am I going to let a pretty little thing talk to me like that. I sniff hard and man up.
I give her a jab. A hook. A cross.
And she blocks me every damned time. Blocks me like she’s fought me before, or like she’s known all along what I’ll do when it comes down to it.
Fucking wax-on-wax off, one-two-three.
Pow-pow go her gloves into my side, and fuck. I think I feel those it in my spleen. Enough. Enough. Anger boils up through me like cheap vodka after a long night.
I’m Jimmy Falconi. And I’m gonna make this girl know my name.
I crack my neck side to side and get serious. I suck air through the holes in my mouth guard and get my fists up. I edge her into the corner and those eyes flash at me. She’s sweating hard and her mascara is smudged. Her hair is mussed and her skin is slick. It makes her look dangerous. Angry. I’d like to smudge that mascara a little more. In bed. Immediately.
But first, I’m going to show her who’s boss.
The more she works herself up, the hotter she gets. That’s when something catches my eye. There’s something written on the white cuffs of her gloves. All fuzzy, written in black marker:
On the right glove: HERE COMES…
On the left:…TROUBLE!
Whomp.
She nails me in the jaw with a haymaker, and my molars shake. “Come the fuck on,” I growl back at her, with my glove pressed to the side of my face.
She smacks her gloves together, and lowers her chin. “Are we sparring or chatting? Hit me!” Bounce, bounce, bounce. Butterfly, bee. Whap, whap, whap. “I’m not going to break!”
I work my jaw open and closed a few times thinking, Okay. Fine. Fine. I didn’t think it was going to go like this, but I can roll with a hostile defense, sure. Wouldn’t be the first time. I give her the old elevator stare—up, down, up again—and get stuck on her belly button for a little too long. But then I get a game plan together. I figure I can hit her in the stomach. Not too hard, not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to let her know who’s in charge here.
Which would be me. Me, pussycat. Me.
Nudging the edge of her shoulder with my glove, I drive her backwards. Our eyes lock and I get this…this…prickle all through me.
This woman.
This one. Right here.
I want her. So fucking bad.
The fucking gym with its ten phones playing mariachi goes silent. The guys by the cooler egging her on go silent. It’s just her and me and the sweat dripping between us. Soft skin, sparkling eyes. She smells like a summer day and she’s looking at me in a way that no woman has ever looked at me. Ever.
Like she’s gonna own me and she knows it.
Which is bullshit.
She gives me a little lift of her chin and tightens her lips around the guard. She wipes her nose with her glove and then lowers her head. “Come on! You going to fight or are you just going to screw around?”
With my left hand, I jab her softly in the stomach. With the right, a play-hook to the jaw. I raise her chin on my glove so her eyes come up to mine. Then I pull her close, my arm around the back of her neck again. “You wanna screw around?” I say into her ear.
Bam, another hit to the stomach. “I haven’t even gotten started,” she answers.
Fuck it.
She wants to play? Fucking fine. I’ll play. I’ll play hard. I square up. But she gives me this eye. This champion eye. A winner’s eye. Cocky like no eyes I’ve ever seen before. Tom Brady doesn’t have anything on this kind of cocky right here. My luck, this girl’s some UFC champion. Christ.
But I can take her. Yeah, I sure fucking can.
Probably.
I decide on a straight jab; a no-fail straight jab that I plan just hard enough to send her reeling but not hurt her, not actually injure her. I know the punch. It works in bar fights and brawls on the field. An all-American move. As I wind up, everything slows down. I’m 6’6”, 283 pounds, and I throw a football for a living. When I wind up, I wind up. As I do, she ducks, fast as fucking lightning. Greased. Elegant. Lethal. So as my arm is powering through the air, as my momentum gets caught behind 12-ounce training gloves, she pops back up like a goddamned whack-a-mole.
Those eyes flash again and she smiles so hard I can see her dimples.
Dimples. Oh, fuck.
I watch her shoulder tighten, her tricep pucker, and that’s when she lets me have it for real.
The punch comes from left to right, blocking out my view of everything. I don’t see the Mexican flag on the wall. I don’t see the graffiti mural over the windows. Nope. The universe turns bubblegum pink.
It doesn’t hurt, not at first, and as I’m flying backwards, airborne, I have just enough time to think to myself, I wonder if this is what a knockout punch feels like…
Before everything flickers to black.
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Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.
Author Links
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Release Blitz – FRACTURES IN INK by Helena Hunting

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Fractures in Ink by Helena Hunting
Publication Date: November 14th, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance

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Synopsis:

Sometimes the things we shouldn’t want become exactly what we need . . .

Waitressing at a seedy strip club isn’t ideal, but it pays Sarah Adamson’s tuition. Her goal is to finish her master’s program and get a job that doesn’t involve tight skirts and groping hands. She doesn’t need distractions. Especially not the one that comes in the form of a hot-as-sin tattoo artist who works across the street from her apartment.

Kicked out at sixteen, and a high school dropout, Chris Zelter is familiar with wanting things he can’t have. His fractured life has never been easy. As the product of someone else’s bad decisions, he knows exactly what happens when the wrong person controls your marionette strings. Now an accomplished tattoo artist in a renowned studio in Chicago, Chris has it together.

Mostly.

Apart from his infatuation with Sarah. She’s way out of his league, and Chris knows it.

But he’s willing to be her bad decision. At least for now.

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 Add to Goodreads

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Buy Links:

Amazon US  **  Amazon CA  **  Amazon UK  **  Amazon AU
iBooks  **  Kobo  **  Nook

About the Author:

NYT and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She’s writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

Connect with Helena:

Instagram   ***   Twitter   ***   Facebook   ***   Facebook Fan group   ***   Website

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Launch Day Blitz – LOVE BETWEEN THE LINES by Christina Collie

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LOVE BETWEEN THE LINES: An Adult Coloring Book for Book Lovers

by Christina Collie

November 8, 2016; Forever Trade Paperback; $14.99/$19.99 Can.

Fall in love all over again with this adult coloring book featuring 45 hand-drawn illustrations inspired by romance novels from bestselling writers Colleen Hoover, Anna Todd, S.C. Stephens, Abbi Glines, K. Bromberg, Jodi Ellen Malpas and more. Sit back, grab your pens and markers, and get ready to explore LOVE BETWEEN THE LINES.

In the pages of this book you will find:

  • Designs to help you relax and reduce stress
  • Hidden images and book quotes
  • Each design printed on a separate page
  • Elaborate drawings s as well as quickie pages for when you just have a few minutes to color

Illustrations inspired by the works of:

Anna Todd, Jodi Ellen Malpas, Colleen Hoover, S.C. Stephens, Abbi Glines, K. Bromberg, Claire Contreras, Jillian Dodd, Amy Harmon, Tiffany King, R.K. Lilley, Molly McAdams, Tara Sivec, Alessandra Torre, Mia Sheridan, J. Sterling, Katy Evans, Emma Chase, S.L. Jennings, K.A. Linde, Beth Ehemann, Tarryn Fisher, Karina Halle, Helena Hunting, Leisa Rayven, Madeline Sheehan, Harper Sloan, and K. A. Tucker

Amazon   **   Barnes & Noble   **   Books A Million   **   IndieBound

 

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About the Author:

Christina Collie is a twenty-eight-year-old Tennessee native who began doodling images inspired by her favorite books almost four years ago before launching Doodles by Christina. Since then she has doodled over 50 images and has sold prints around the globe. Outside of being a huge bookworm, she enjoys watching LSU football, playing with her dog Nola, and hanging out on her best friend’s farm. This is her first coloring book.

 

Website   ***   Facebook   ***   Instagram