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SPOTLIGHT TOUR – 5 ROUNDS by Nikki Castle
When Remy suddenly finds herself apartmentless, she’s offered a temporary place to stay, but her new roommate, Tristan, a notorious womanizer, and MMA fighter, has never been her favorite person. After one steamy encounter, the two are forced to deal with their developing feelings. Will they risk their hearts and let themselves fall in love?
Fans of Kennedy Fox and Christina Lauren will love 5 ROUNDS by Nikki Castle, an enemies to lovers, forced proximity, sports romance.
Blurb
She’s a feisty workaholic that hates his guts.
He’s an arrogant MMA fighter that can’t afford any distractions.
This isn’t the kind of fight they’re used to…
When Remy is suddenly evicted from her apartment, her best friend offers to let her crash at his house while he’s traveling for work. The only problem is, she can’t stand his roommate, Tristan. Now, they’re stuck living together for 10 days. But after the tension breaks with one very steamy night, and then again, and again… they’re forced to reexamine their long-standing enemy relationship.
While Remy struggles with her developing feelings for a notorious womanizer, Tristan has to decide if his feelings for Remy are worth it, or if they’ll distract him from his longtime goal of becoming a world champion. To make matters worse, their deadline is looming because Remy is moving out soon.
Will they risk their hearts and let themselves fall in love? Or will they go back to hating each other before they’ve even had a chance to be together?
Add to Goodreads Here!
Goodreads → https://bit.ly/3vf8ZQv
Buy Now or Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon → https://amzn.to/2SoF4Yy
Excerpt
Copyright 2021 @Nikki Castle
Without thinking about what I’m doing, I step closer to him and run my fingers through his hair, trying to understand the sudden shift in his mood. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he stands still and lets me play with strands of his hair. Without the tequila coursing through my veins, I never would have let myself touch him like this. But right now, I can’t find it in me to care.
“It must be exhausting being so mean all the time,” I observe thoughtfully. Something flashes in his eyes, but I can’t put a name to it, and then it’s gone just as quickly.
I turn away from him, completely oblivious to how much I just overstepped our normal boundaries. “Not to mention you would be so much hotter with just a little less snark,” I call over my shoulder. I’m too busy drunkenly fumbling with my keys in the lock to notice his eyes widen at my honest comment.
“Ha!” I exclaim triumphantly, pushing the door open and stepping inside. But before I can take more than two steps in, I feel myself being pushed to the wall, Tristan’s body pressing tightly against mine. “Hey!” I cry. His moody expression is gone, replaced with the smug face that I know so well.
“You would hate me if I was a nice guy,” he drawls.
I roll my eyes at him, trying to push him off me. “Guess we’ll never know, because you being a nice guy is as likely as me using the word ‘literally’ wrong.” He grins, knowing how much I hate when girls use the word to describe something that is very clearly not literal.
“Admit it,” he says softly, pushing me harder into the wall with his body. My breath catches as his face nears mine. “You like me the way I am.”
“I—I don’t—” my brain no longer seems to be able to form a coherent sentence. All I can do is stare into his hungry gaze and try not to picture what it would feel like if he fucked me against this wall right now.
His lips brush against my cheek, at the same time that he kneads my hips with his fingers. Every touch, every whisper of his breath, is further uncoiling the heat that’s growing between my legs.
“You don’t want someone to pull your chair out for you, or ask you what you want to eat,” he continues. “You want someone that doesn’t need your permission. Someone that will call you on your shit.” He tangles his fingers in my hair and, without warning, yanks my head back. I gasp in surprise. “You want someone that will spank you when you’re acting stupid.”
I can’t escape the whimper that slips from my lips. I squeeze my legs together, trying desperately to think of a response. But when he pulls back to wait for my reply, I know that no words could answer his unspoken question.
There are so many things that I hate about this man—he’s arrogant, and selfish, and rude. He’s a player that uses women for sex, and the only thing he actually gives a shit about is fighting. He’s the definition of self-absorbed. I should be shoving him away from me, telling him to fuck off and to stay on his side of the house for the rest of the week. I shouldn’t be thinking about what he tastes like, or how his cock might feel inside of me. I shouldn’t be wondering how hard he could make me come.
But his words remind me that the same alpha qualities that make me hate him… are also the ones that are making my knees weak.
Buy Now or Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!
About Nikki Castle
Nikki Castle is a 29 year old wife and bulldog mom who writes steamy love stories about alpha MMA fighters and the women that melt their badass, playboy hearts. She spends her days working for a technology company and her evenings running a Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) gym with her husband, who is also a retired fighter.
Nikki has been writing in one way or another since she was a teenager. She pursued an English and Philosophy degree in college, and finally decided to sit down and fulfill her longtime dream of writing an entire novel when quarantine began in 2020.
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BLOG TOUR – The Bet by Max Monroe
When it comes to life’s fun and games, always know:
The rules.
What’s at stake.
When to quit.
The Bet, an all new hilarious opposites attract standalone rom com from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is available now!
Wise words from…well…my fortune cookie. But wise words, nonetheless.
I just wish the Fortune Cookie People had considered how hard the whole “knowing when to quit” would be to carry out when a woman like me is gambling with her feelings.
Heart-palpitating, vageen-tingling, butterflies-in-my-belly feelings for a noncommittal, hot-as-sin player by the name of Jude Winslow.
After a crazy night where we were both pretending to be someone else, I’ve found myself immersed in the fun of the fling.
The thrill.
The irresistible charm.
The pleasure of being with a man like him.
Problem is, I’m positive he’s the exact opposite of husband material, and that is a serious issue for someone who is fixated on finding her happily ever after.
I know the rules and I know the stakes, oh wise Fortune Cookie.
Now I’d just like to know how close to self-destruction I have to get before I find the will to quit Jude Winslow.
Goodness knows, when your heart is on the line, you can’t ante up your bet with an IOU.
Grab yours today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3jQR9kN
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TheBetMaxM
Add The Bet to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3wN7Xw8
Excerpt
Tell me…is it ever possible to recover from the shame of having orgasmed in public—discreetly, I think—all because of the stupid exotic dancer I hired for my sister?
Because, if not, I won’t bother sharing this with my therapist when we have our next session.
“Oh my God!” Belle yells from the stall, her feet teetering on my heels as she tries to squat and hover over the toilet. I swear, if she pees on my one and only pair of Jimmy Choos, I will hex her so hard. “Did you freaking see that guy? He bent you over backward and planted a baby in your womb through your dress, I swear to Jesus.”
“Uh, yeah. I saw,” I comment on the absurdly obvious. But truthfully, I didn’t just see anything. I felt his heat and his heart thrumming in his chest and smelled the undeniably intoxicating subtlety of his cologne. I felt the stretch in my muscles as he manipulated my body left and right and sideways and upside down, all while somehow managing to make the ridiculousness of a male stripper seem sexy.
The only time I could truly say I saw, I suppose, was during the out-of-body experience I had while he straddled my body in the sixty-nine position and straight up sent me into purgatory. There I was, just hovering by the ceiling of the room like Mary fucking Poppins and the kids when they go to have tea with the loopy guy, wondering if that was really my face under his superior crotch or if it was all just a mirage.
And then I had to go and fucking orgasm, like a teenage boy in the middle of a wet dream.
I shake my head to clear it again, thanking my lucky stars that, in this situation, I was at least afforded the luxury of being a woman. No boner. No jizz-filled underwear. Just a hard twist of arousal and a pair of damp panties.
“I swear he tossed you around like a rag doll!”
“Yes, Sophie,” I say, emphasizing my name instead of hers just in case any other drunken members of our group found their way in here and into another stall while I was busy with my emotional breakdown. “I’m well aware of everything Jude, the Magic Dancer was, thank you very much.”
She flushes the toilet and swings the stall door back toward herself, stumbling out into the open area and laughing hysterically at my revamp of Puff, the Magic Dragon, one of our favorite songs as kids before cynics ruined it.
I’m glad she’s having a good time, but holy hell. I’m still shaking. And once I’m certain none of the gals from our group are in the bathroom with us, I give her the cold, hard reality.
“You owe me so freaking much, it’s ridiculous.” Pretending to be the bride at my sister’s bachelorette party when I’m not even dating anyone would surely be something Dr. Winters would see as a “setback.”
“I know I owe you, I really do, but I would have died, okay? You know I would have died. And that would really complicate your use of my Costco membership, wouldn’t it?”
I snort. “Fine. But can we switch back now? Don’t you want to enjoy the rest of the evening as the bride-to-be?”
Belle shakes her head almost violently and stands at the sink to wash her hands. She waves them obnoxiously in front of the automatic sensor several times but still never manages to turn the faucet on. I lean forward and wave my hand in front of hers, bringing it to life.
For some reason, she always struggles with that.
“No way. I’ve had a great time the whole night tonight, but I didn’t realize how much better it is when no one is paying attention to me! Maid of honor is where it’s at, and I can’t go back now that I know how good it is here.”
“Are you serious?” I snap.
“Please,” she begs, pretending to pout. “I know it’s not ideal for you, but pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top, do this for me? I’ll bake you however many cookies and cupcakes and cakes you want for the next six months.”
My sister is the baked goods goddess, and she knows I can’t resist that kind of offer.
“Fine,” I grind out. “But if I were you, I’d invest in stock for flour and butter and sugar and shit because I’m going to run your ass like a factory worker.”
“Whatever you want. John’s really good with investments, so I’ll make him figure it out.”
I laugh at her drunken seriousness—it’s too hard not to—and finally pull her into a hug so I can whisper directly into her ear. “I love you, Bells. But I also fucking hate you.”
She nods. “It’s the Sage sister way.”
“Well, two out of three,” I correct, knowing that Katelynn is the least drama-associated sister of the three of us. At five years our senior, she was always more of a “Disciplinary Board” than a defendant when it came to Sage sister arguments.
“That’s true,” Belle agrees. “I’m seriously surprised at how drunk Kate’s gotten tonight. It’s a real mom’s-night-out kind of vibe.”
I roll my eyes. “Like you should talk. You’re drunker than she is.”
“Yeah, but it’s my bachelorette,” she asserts.
Immediately, I shake my head with a fake smile. “Uh-uh. Not anymore, it’s not. Thanks to you, the glory of tonight seems to be mine.”
About Max Monroe
A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.
Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
Connect with Max Monroe
BookBub: http://bit.ly/3bJFJJh
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ReoxkK
Facebook: http://bit.ly/31XxggS
Instagram: http://bit.ly/39wuCkW
Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: http://bit.ly/2HzGmau
Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/
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When it comes to life’s fun and games, always know:
The rules.
What’s at stake.
When to quit.
The Bet, an all new laugh out loud rom com from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is available now!
Wise words from…well…my fortune cookie. But wise words, nonetheless.
I just wish the Fortune Cookie People had considered how hard the whole “knowing when to quit” would be to carry out when a woman like me is gambling with her feelings.
Heart-palpitating, vageen-tingling, butterflies-in-my-belly feelings for a noncommittal, hot-as-sin player by the name of Jude Winslow.
After a crazy night where we were both pretending to be someone else, I’ve found myself immersed in the fun of the fling.
The thrill.
The irresistible charm.
The pleasure of being with a man like him.
Problem is, I’m positive he’s the exact opposite of husband material, and that is a serious issue for someone who is fixated on finding her happily ever after.
I know the rules and I know the stakes, oh wise Fortune Cookie.
Now I’d just like to know how close to self-destruction I have to get before I find the will to quit Jude Winslow.
Goodness knows, when your heart is on the line, you can’t ante up your bet with an IOU.
Grab yours today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3jQR9kN
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TheBetMaxM
Add The Bet to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3wN7Xw8
About Max Monroe
A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.
Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
Connect with Max Monroe
BookBub: http://bit.ly/3bJFJJh
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ReoxkK
Facebook: http://bit.ly/31XxggS
Instagram: http://bit.ly/39wuCkW
Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: http://bit.ly/2HzGmau
Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/
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RELEASE BLITZ – 5 ROUNDS by Nikki Castle
When Remy suddenly finds herself apartmentless, she’s offered a temporary place to stay, but her new roommate, Tristan, a notorious womanizer, and MMA fighter, has never been her favorite person. After one steamy encounter, the two are forced to deal with their developing feelings. Will they risk their hearts and let themselves fall in love?
Fans of Kennedy Fox and Christina Lauren will love 5 ROUNDS by Nikki Castle, an enemies to lovers, forced proximity, sports romance.
Blurb
She’s a feisty workaholic that hates his guts.
He’s an arrogant MMA fighter that can’t afford any distractions.
This isn’t the kind of fight they’re used to…
When Remy is suddenly evicted from her apartment, her best friend offers to let her crash at his house while he’s traveling for work. The only problem is, she can’t stand his roommate, Tristan. Now, they’re stuck living together for 10 days. But after the tension breaks with one very steamy night, and then again, and again… they’re forced to reexamine their long-standing enemy relationship.
While Remy struggles with her developing feelings for a notorious womanizer, Tristan has to decide if his feelings for Remy are worth it, or if they’ll distract him from his longtime goal of becoming a world champion. To make matters worse, their deadline is looming because Remy is moving out soon.
Will they risk their hearts and let themselves fall in love? Or will they go back to hating each other before they’ve even had a chance to be together?
Add to Goodreads Here!
Goodreads → https://bit.ly/3vf8ZQv
Buy Now or Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon → https://amzn.to/2SoF4Yy
Excerpt
Copyright 2021 @Nikki Castle
I have a lot of thoughts about Tristan, but the one thing I can’t deny is that he’s gorgeous. He’s over six feet tall and a solid 200 pounds of muscle. I know him from the MMA gym I joined because of Jax in college—and it’s an understatement to say they both look the part of a fighter. Tristan is the pretty boy of the two, with just-woke-up tousled, dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes that always feel like they’re staring straight into the secrets of your soul. His jawline is defined and he’s got just enough stubble on his face to give him a rugged look, but not enough that it comes off as a scruffy beard. His skin has a warm tan, most likely from all the shirtless runs he does around the city for his cardio workouts.
I also know from my time at the gym that he’s completely shredded from his training. Every pound of him has a purpose, his body built to be an efficient fighting machine with a low body fat percentage and muscles defined not by lifting weights, but by training with a real purpose and a fuck-ton of hard work. His dedication to the sport is unrivaled and it definitely shows in his appearance. I’ve never met a man as comfortable in his body as Tristan, and that fact coupled with the physical result of his workouts gives him an air of confidence and raw masculinity.
Basically, an effortless Adonis.
He’s also a total ladies’ man and a shameless pig. Or maybe that’s just to me, since I assume there has to be a reason why women all fall into bed with him. Either way, he and I have been at each other’s throats since the first day I stepped in the gym and he gave me directions to the ballet studio down the street.
“Of all the women I know, you’re easily the least ladylike,” he drawls.
I glare at him and push past, heading for the bathroom. “I guess that’s really saying something, huh? God knows you’ve been with half the women in this city,” I throw over my shoulder.
By the time I come out of the bathroom, he’s sprawled on the couch and back to watching whatever MMA fight he was analyzing before I pounded on his door.
“Where’s Jax?” I ask as I plop onto the loveseat next to the TV.
“Still out at happy hour,” Tristan responds without even looking at me. I notice he’s watching a UFC title fight, most likely analyzing the champ’s fighting style for his own arsenal of skills.
I glance at my phone. “Jesus, still? It’s 9pm. How much do those corporate assholes drink?” I throw my head back with a groan.
“Look, Remy—” I immediately growl at the condescending tone, knowing I’m not going to like what’s about to come out of his mouth. “I don’t mind if you hang out until Jax comes back, but could you be a doll and shut the fuck up? I’m trying to work.” He smiles sweetly. “Actually, I take that back, I do mind. Can you just wait for him in the kitchen like a good woman? Maybe make me dinner while you’re in there.”
I glare and launch a pillow directly at his head—which he deflects easily.
“I can’t believe chauvinists like you still exist in this day and age. Hasn’t the women’s movement stomped you out yet?” I snarl. Then I pause, thinking of something. “Actually, what surprises me the most is that you still find women to sleep with you. Although I doubt the women you fuck even know the definition of chauvinist, so maybe that’s my answer.”
He chuckles and gives me an exaggerated once-over. “Everybody knows your hatred for me is just a cover for how badly you want to be under me,” he says with a smirk.
Buy Now or Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!
About Nikki Castle
Nikki Castle is a 29 year old wife and bulldog mom who writes steamy love stories about alpha MMA fighters and the women that melt their badass, playboy hearts. She spends her days working for a technology company and her evenings running a Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) gym with her husband, who is also a retired fighter.
Nikki has been writing in one way or another since she was a teenager. She pursued an English and Philosophy degree in college, and finally decided to sit down and fulfill her longtime dream of writing an entire novel when quarantine began in 2020.
Follow: Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon
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BLOG TOUR – Pause (The Larsen Brothers) by Kylie Scott
Pause, an all new emotional friends-to-lovers romance from New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott is available now!
An unpauseable new romance from New York Times bestselling, Audie Award winning author Kylie Scott!
When Anna wakes up from a coma after a car crash, she discovers life has gone on without her. Her husband has been unfaithful—with her best friend—and she’s been long since replaced at work. While her old life is a distant memory, her new life feels like an empty shell. Then she meets the stranger who saved her life during the crash, and he changes everything.
Leif Larsen—tattooist, joker, and player—has his own scars thanks to the crash that put Anna in a coma. Helping her move on from her failed marriage, and create a new life, sounds like a perfect distraction. So when he needs a new roommate, he invites Anna to begin her new life with him.
Although their lives may have been put on pause, together they just might find a way to heal.
Grab yours today!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3yrNPkj
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/PauseBook
Apple Books: https://apple.co/3wbMWe0
Nook: https://bit.ly/3yomvn2
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3qQ77wX
Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/3qIG2vK
Add Pause to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3ACawEn
Excerpt
Leif Larsen lives in a big old brown brick building with a sprawling dogwood out front in a cool urban neighborhood. No one answers when I press the buzzer. But according to the details on the scrap of paper the nurse gave me, I’ve got the right place.
What to do?
The rational response would be to give up and go home. Because hiding out in my childhood bedroom has worked out great so far (and this would be sarcasm). It’s been months since I left the house for anything other than a medical appointment. Weeks since I’ve heard from any friends. Right on cue, my cell buzzes inside my tan Coach purse. I don’t bother to look. Mom requests proof of life every hour on the hour. Not even dinner at the country club can distract her, apparently. Her parental concern for me is well past claustrophobic.
My hand clenches the iron railing against a gust of unseasonably warm evening wind. It’s been a while since I stopped using a mobility aid, but things can still feel tricky. The whole damn world does, if I’m being honest. So many things I took for granted have now been turned upside down.
This is the problem with living the supposed dream. With having an airtight plan for your life. Meet Prince Charming and marry him. Find the perfect job. Only problem is, if something goes wrong, when reality smacks you upside the head and sends you reeling, then there’s no system for putting the pieces back together. There’s no Plan B because it never occurred to you that you’d need one. A lack of imagination on my part, perhaps.
A motorcycle pulls up to the curb and it’s like everything happens in slow motion. Something about this long, lean man just makes time want to stand still. A denim-clad leg is swung over the back of the iron beast. A helmet is removed and shoulder-length hair tumbles free. High cheekbones and perfect lips are framed by stubble and all I can do is stare.
I don’t know if I’m intimidated or turned on or what.
“Can I help y . . .” he begins. There’s the faintest spark of recognition in his eyes.
I continue to stand there frozen.
“Fuck me,” he mutters, stalking closer. His gaze slides over me from top to toe, lingering on the small scars on my left cheek from the glass. There’s no attempt made to hide his curiosity. “It’s really you.”
Nichelle the nurse described him as being a nice young man. Nothing more. Certainly nothing that would prepare me for this. And I dispute “nice.” Ripped denim, battered leather, and a Harley-Davidson motorbike are not nice.
“Never seen you conscious before,” he says, getting even closer.
I just blink.
From beneath the collar and cuffs of his leather jacket emerge colorful tattoos. Lots of them. Blue waves and black letters. Red flames and white flowers. The man is a walking, talking piece of art. My parents would be horrified. Ryan too, for that matter. Not that any of their opinions matter. I need to forge my own path. Go my own way.
“How did you find me?” he asks with a faint frown.
“Oh. Ah.” I smooth down the front of my pale blue midi-length linen summer dress. My dark hair is slicked back in a low ponytail and my makeup is simple but perfect. It’s nice having some things I can control. “One of the nurses from the ICU told me about you and I wanted to come say thank you. But maybe an apology would be more in order?”
For a moment he pauses, then he asks, “Do you want to come in?”
Good question. The fact is, I don’t know. Nor do I know how to do this. Something made obvious when my mouth opens, but nothing comes out. So much nothing for such a length of time that it’s beyond embarrassing. Dammit. Whatever it is I came here looking for, it wasn’t this. Him. Whatever.
“We’ve never properly met, have we?” He holds out his big hand. “Hi, I’m Leif.”
“Anna.”
While I’m tentative, he shows no such reserve. Strong, warm fingers enfold my own stiff and cold ones. There’s no attempt at a dominating handshake or groping. He gives my hand a squeeze, just the one gentle squeeze, before setting me free.
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but that would be weird.” He grins conspiratorially and oh my God. Everything low in my stomach wakes up and takes notice. Shame on my lady parts, but the chemical pull of the man is ridiculous. It takes me a minute to remember that I’m a married woman. Mostly. Well, somewhat anyway. I certainly have no business smiling at him like I am. My life is messed up enough without adding a crush. Perhaps it’s in reaction to me, I don’t know, but the mirth disappears and his gaze becomes serious. A little bleak even. “I still have nightmares about that day, you know?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have come.”
“Don’t, Anna. Don’t look like that. I didn’t tell you to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. I was just . . . sharing.” His expression changes again, a more subdued smile taking the place of the brief hint of trauma. Then he suddenly winks at me all flirty like. I don’t know how to react. I can barely keep up. The man is a whirlwind. “Want to come in and have a beer with me?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I just . . . I don’t want to remind you of things you’d rather—”
“I want you to come inside. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”
A drink with a pretty wild man that I have a strange sort of history with or a swift return to safety and boredom? I don’t overthink it. I don’t even hesitate. “Then yes, Leif. I’d love to.”
About Kylie Scott
Kylie is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author. She was voted Australian Romance Writer of the year, 2013, 2014 & 2018, by the Australian Romance Writer’s Association and her books have been translated into eleven different languages. She is a long time fan of romance, rock music, and B-grade horror films. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet.
Connect with Kylie
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2XujcZh
Bookbub: http://bit.ly/2GngiQq
Facebook: http://bit.ly/2OiXx3I
Twitter: http://bit.ly/391pjJM
Instagram: http://bit.ly/2EUrx11
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2Imusk3
Pinterest: http://bit.ly/2S7cc32
Book+Main Bites: http://bit.ly/2ETz5RQ
Stay up to date with Kylie by joining her mailing list:
http://bit.ly/2TOOivT
Website: https://kyliescott.com/
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