Category Archives: Excerpt
RELEASE BLITZ – Buried Roots by Terra Weiss
I might have found my own grave. Or not, but I don’t have time to figure it out because my sexy neighbor, Owen, is helping me restore an inherited historic estate. But the more we dig, the more my disturbing buried roots surface. I have to confront that grave… and my bombshell family secret.
Readers who love Catherine Cowles, Colleen Hoover, and Nora Roberts will fall head-over-heels for Buried Roots by Terra Weiss, a steamy, small town, heroine in danger, cinnamon roll hero, forced proximity romantic comedy mystery.
Blurb
I might’ve found my own grave.
Or not, but I don’t have time to figure it out. A perfect stranger willed me his neglected fifty-acre farm, and now, this New Yorker has two weeks to get it sell-ready. With a business to run, I can’t stay in this boondock town a second longer.
But I’ve got it handled—even after a series of suspicious property mishaps. Even after the threatening notes.
My veterinarian neighbor Owen Brooks shows up with a sledgehammer, a wicked sexy smile, and Demon, his appropriately named foster bulldog. But after losing my family, I only rely on myself.
That doesn’t stop Owen and the town of Violet Moon from showing up for me. Maybe family isn’t just blood.
Owen and I can’t deny our magnetic connection as we restore the historic estate. But the more we dig, the more my disturbing buried roots surface. I have to confront that grave… and my bombshell family secret.
Buy Now or Read for FREE with KindleUnlimited!
Amazon → https://amzn.to/42IIQdI
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Excerpt
Copyright 2023 Terra Weiss
When the driver steps out, I grip the pepper spray on my key ring. So what if he’s tall with a shock of black hair and atrociously handsome? Who cares if he’s wearing a faded t-shirt and rugged jeans, like some Hallmark movie hottie? I know better than to be fooled by looks.
I check the highway, scanning for other cars. Of course, this country road is empty. When he gets closer, I see the oily black streaks on his face, the filth on his hands, and the dirt on his clothes. And he’s wearing mismatched neon socks. That has to be ironic, no? But his smile is wicked sexy when he says, “Can I help you, ma’am?”
Ma’am? Is he for real? I force a smile and a wave when I say, “No, thank you. I’ve got it.” Translation: don’t come an inch closer.
“You’ve got it?” His voice is incredulous.
“Yup. All good.”
His eyes bulge as he stops and glances at my stuck tire. “All good? Looks like you’re in a bit of a pickle.”
On closer inspection, he has muscles everywhere, and the light scruff on his carved jawbone is annoyingly sexy. Which again, will not stop me from pepper spraying his fine ass. Hello, stranger danger—in the middle of nowhere. “Pickle? Nah.”
He rakes a hand through his wavy dark hair. “Look, this isn’t a sexist thing. I have a mother and three sisters who could kick everyone’s ass. But this road doesn’t see much action, and I can’t leave someone out here.”
“I appreciate that, I really do. But I won’t be stuck long. I’m handy.” That’s a stretch. I restore homes, so I am handy, but not with cars.
He raises a brow as he studies my face. “Handy or not, getting a car out of a ditch is a two-person job. At least.” He cocks his head and hitches up his voice a notch when he adds, “Out here, there’s no Triple A.”
“I don’t need Triple A. But thank you.”
His lips tick as they appear to search for a response. “Once I leave, you might not see another car for hours.”
“I’ll figure it out. I’m a New Yorker.”
“Ah. That explains it.”
My hand lands on my hip. “Explains what, exactly?”
“Nothing.” His mouth curves in a patronizing grin.
His amusement pisses me off. It’s really hard not to sound condescending when I say, “I’m sure you’ve got places to be.”
He hesitates before he hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “Okay, then. I’m leaving.”
Our gazes lock, like we’re in a game of eye-chicken. That’s fine, bring it—I don’t mind studying his. They’re part ocean, part storm cloud—sparkle tinged with despair. Like mine. I don’t look away, don’t blink when I say, “I see that, and good for you. Enjoy your day.”
He steps away in defeat. “I’m really leaving this time. You’ll be out here in the backwoods. All by yourself.” Another step back. “When you could have a mechanically inclined, super handy guy give you a hand.”
I put my palms up. “Again—mechanically inclined, super handy hands right here.” I wiggle my fingers and paint on a smile. “Sir.”
“All righty, then. Good luck.” That grin is back. “Ma’am.”
About Terra Weiss
Terra Weiss is a romcom author with a knack for witty banter and gift for capturing authentic family dynamics. Readers love how her stories steer away from typical romcom cookie-cutter formulas and show how real-life people find real-life love.
When Terra’s not spilling the tea on what happens in the big and small towns that live in her heart, you’ll find her with her spunky daughter, mad scientist husband, wacky and wonderful mother, and the two six-pound dogs that run her house. She enjoys jogging at a snail’s pace, reading from her iPhone, and piling bright orange mountains of squeezy cheese on her crackers.
Author Links
Website → https://www.terraweiss.com/
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RELEASE BLITZ – Beards & Babies by Heather Lauren
I haven’t seen Soren Mathews in ten years, but he draws me right back under his spell. We spend one stormy night together living out our teenage fantasies and in the morning, he’s gone again, leaving me to think about him and the secret I’m keeping.
Readers who enjoy romance with childhood crushes and one night stands will love Beards & Babies by Heather Lauren, a steamy, small town, brother’s best friend, beach romance.
Buy Now or Read FREE with KindleUnlimited!
Amazon → https://amzn.to/3rLE56i
Blurb
The bare naked buns of my brother’s best friend greet me in Florida.
I haven’t seen Soren Mathews since the most embarrassing night of my life. Now ten years older, he’s all grizzly man. With a sexy beard and new scars, he draws me right back under his spell.
For one night the storm keeps us under the same roof and we finally live out all our teenage fantasies and secret desires. But the sea calls him the next morning and he’s gone.
I try to move forward with a new life in Candy Cane Key, but I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t seem to eat and all I want to do is sleep. I’m restless and lost until he comes back and by then we’ve both got secrets we’ve been keeping.
Add to Goodreads Here!
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Excerpt
Copyright 2023 Heather Lauren
The place is quiet and never fails to bring a strong since of comfort every time I walk through the doors. I kick out of my shoes and wet sweater and make my way for the master shower. The house is huge and technically has four master bedrooms and three smaller bedrooms. My family bought it back in the nineties with their best friends and our two families have been vacationing here ever since.
Bonnie and Carl Mathews and of course, Soren.
A man who haunts my wet dreams to this very fucking day but couldn’t be more off limits. After a terribly embarrassing incident when I was eighteen, I’ve avoided my childhood crush completely.
Until right this second.
I think a squeak comes out of my mouth or maybe its a moan. Either way my feet are firmly fused to the floor as I stare shocked and honestly in awe of the gorgeous man in front of me.
“Robin!” He shouts in obvious surprise.
Suddenly I regret avoiding this moment for so long. Seeing him. Not just his amazing body. Holy hell the man was chiseled. No, seeing him instantly feels like a balm to my ever spiraling anxiety. After a fast sweep down where my eyeballs absolutely do not belong, I lock eyes with his deep brown ones.
“Hey.” I say like an idiot. It’s just so good to see him.
I nervous laugh but turn around quickly, closing the door behind me.
Oh holy hell Bateman.
That man is cut. Muscles on every inch of him. Decorated in black ink and he has the sexy v thing I thought only existed in magazines.
And that cock! Is it normal to swoon over a man’s cock. No, but I’m the weird girl I don’t really do normal. I melt against the back of the bathroom door sighing with a heavy breath at the thought of that monster. Its thick and long and it looks so soft and inviting. His body has changed so much since I last saw him, and I imagine what the black details look like on his hips. Does the tribal ink span his thighs? His ass?
As I’m daydreaming against the door, soaked to the bone and starting to feel the chill, I’m startled by the water turning off. It hasn’t been more than a minute…right?
I push off the door and hurry down the hall to my room. The lights are all on and I’m surprised to find a bag already on the bed. Walking in I see the Star Wars pins I got him the Christmas before we stopped talking. The sight makes me smile and I wonder again why his bags in here. This is my room. It’s always my room.
“Hey sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“You don’t need to be. I’m sorry for barging in, I couldn’t hear the shower over the pelting rain.” I say pointing up at the ceiling trying my best to look at his face as he stands in the doorway, a crisp white towel hanging lose on his hips. Tattoo covered hips.
“I’ll just grab my bag.”
“Ok.” I say, but the question burns and after fifteen years why hold back anything.
“Did you want to sleep in here?”
Buy Now or Read FREE with KindleUnlimited!
Amazon → https://amzn.to/3rLE56i
About Heather Lauren
Heather is a Polly Pocket-size mom of three with a burly hubby and hairy husky. They live in sunny Arizona where she writes steamy contemporary romance and romantic comedies. Her books feature beefy cinnamon roll heroes (often bearded), dirty talking alphas, and adorkable, strong heroines full of sass. Each one guarantees, good laughs and epic Happily Ever Afters.
Links
Website → https://www.heatherlaurenbooks.com
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RELEASE BLITZ – Protecting Everleigh (GHOST Legacy Book 4) by PJ Fiala
PJ Fiala’s new release, Protecting Everleigh, is a gorgeous new small town romance out now!
Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today!
Title: Protecting Everleigh
Series: GHOST Legacy Book 4
Author: PJ Fiala
Genre: Small Town Romance
About Protecting Everleigh:
USAT author PJ Fiala, brings you the next generation of GHOST operatives set in the small-town of Glen Hollow, Kentucky, where a long-standing rivalry is brewing into an all out war, and love comes calling even in the worst of times.
When the job can only be handled by a team that doesn’t exist, you call GHOST.
He was raised to be a GHOST operative.
She’s an Army-trained, skilled negotiator.
Together they play a game of push and pull—until she finds herself in need of his protection.
Henry Delany inherited his father’s muscular frame and his mother’s penchant for the law. Working for GHOST gives him the opportunity to use both while doing what he loves—protecting the lives of others. Determined to bring tranquility and harmony to Glen Hollow, the small-town he now calls home, he has agreed to work with a closed-off, government liaison in an effort to broker a peace deal .But Protecting Everleigh just might be Henry’s most challenging mission to date .
Everleigh Hayes was raised to be a negotiator, and Glen Hollow, Kentucky is a small town in need of a truce. She is just the woman to make that happen. Like her previous assignments, she approaches this one with her finely-tuned grace and finesse. But when Everleigh comes face to face with the undercurrent of darkness permeating this little town, she finds herself ensnared by more danger than she’s ever faced. Needing Henry and falling in love with him is a development she’s never negotiated before.
Catching Up with the Series:
About the Author:
USA Today Best Selling Author, PJ Fiala, has independently published multiple romance novels over the years. Focusing primarily on romantic suspense, she weaves a little bit of reality with a little bit of make-believe to create stories with heat, heart and all the feels. PJ lives in the Green Bay, Wisconsin area but travels to destinations unknown via motorcycle. Spending time with her grandmother Ruth, in Kentucky has helped to mold PJ into a person who enjoys life on the farm as well as life in the burbs. But it was romance novels that took her to places she’d only dreamed of and solidified her love of all things romance and swoony. Her family keeps her feet on the ground when her mind travels too far from home, delivering both a reality check and a nudge to keep it real.
Connect with the Author:
Website | Facebook | Pinterest | Tiktok | Youtube | Goodreads | Bookbub | Amazon
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EXCERPT REVEAL – Ablaze (Elements of Rapture Series #3) by Swati MH
Title: Ablaze
Series: Elements of Rapture Series #3
Author: Swati MH
Release Date: August 31, 2023
Genre/Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend, Friends to Lovers, One Bed/One Night, Firefighter, Age Gap
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/194025630-ablaze
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/ablaze-elements-of-rapture-book-3-by-swati-mh
Cover Design: Cover Me Darling
NOTE: The discreet cover will only be available on paperback, the hot man cover will be for both ebook and special edition paperback.
Blurb:
Nine years . . . That’s how long I’ve secretly loved my brother’s best friend. A man who fights fires for a living but sets me ablaze with nothing but a cocky grin.
Dean Meyer has made it clear that we’re just friends–best friends. So when we get stranded in an epic snowstorm, sharing one bed in a roadside motel, what could go wrong?
Everything.
We may have blurred the lines over the past nine years, but we’d never crossed them. Not the way we did that night.
He promised nothing would change. That he’d forget every kiss and every touch, every whimper and every moan. He promised we’d walk out the door and go back to the way things were.
He promised . . . but he lied.
And now, a year of missed calls and unanswered texts later, we find ourselves forced back together again.
Will the fire still burn between us, or did that one night’s blaze leave us with nothing but ashes?
PreOrder Links:
Universal: https://mybook.to/Ablaze_SwatiMH
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BXVQYKLH
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0BXVQYKLH
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0BXVQYKLH
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B0BXVQYKLH
Excerpt :
Prologue: Dean – Present Day
Embers dart up into the breeze as the fire crackles like an old staticky radio. The scent of burning logs entangles with the familiar perfume of towering pines and moss tickles my senses. It’s a scent that should relax me. A scent I’ve known for so long, I’d sometimes pretend I could smell it, only to be able to drift off to sleep.
Today, though, it seems foreign, completely wrong and unwelcomed. A scent that’s captured me in a chokehold so I can neither inhale it nor heave it out.
It’s just stuck.
Taking another sip of my beer and placing the bottle in the sand, I strum her favorite melody on my guitar, Storms by Fleetwood Mac. The melody she taught me to play at ten when she gifted me my first guitar.
It’s still hard to believe she’s gone, the earth settling her in, wrapping her in its embrace for eternity. It’s hard to believe I won’t be exchanging new recipes and old songs, new expressions and old memories with her ever again. The woman I gave my heart to only minutes out of the womb almost forty years ago–the one who raised me right along with my mother. The grandmother who was so much more than her title.
My brother, Darian, throws a small stick into the fire before leaning back on his Adirondack chair and entangling his hand with his wife, Rani’s. He might only be mine and Garrett’s half-brother, but I’d caution anyone who said we didn’t have the same blood running through our veins. He may not have been Grams’ grandson, but she treated him just the same. “I still remember when I spent part of a summer here when I was eight or nine. Every single night, your grandparents would watch WWE religiously.”
Garrett chuckles but my chest tightens with memories of Grams and Grandpa exchanging their picks for who’d win the match. No one loved wrestling more than Grams, and no one could convince her it wasn’t real.
I still remember how she’d have dinner prepared extra early on nights when her favorite wrestlers were going to be on. Garrett and I spent so many of our childhood summers at this lake house, sitting knees-crossed on the couch, snuggled on either side of her. We’d cheer and boo right along with Grams, even though we knew the whole match was rigged.
“She was a kooky little thing.” I try to chuckle, but it comes out all wrong with a choked inhale. I’m just about to take another swig of my beer to soothe the sand inside my throat when her soft hand grasps mine.
Her. The fucking enigma I’ve spent nine years of my life trying to crack.
The woman who packed up her things and got ready to leave without so much as a discussion with me–the man she claims to be her best friend. The woman who set my heart ablaze the same day she quelled the pyre. The woman who changed me day-by-fucking-day, just to unravel me in one fucking night.
A night she told me to forget, to chalk it up as a blip in our history, a moment–or rather, six fucking hours–of lowered inhibitions and bad decisions. A night that’s replaced the scent of burning logs and pine that used to help me drift off to sleep. Because if I can’t have the source, then the memories will have to suffice.
I pull my hand from her grasp, blinking back tears.
Loss. The fucking loss of it all.
My two best friends. A woman I just buried, and a woman whose touch I can’t bury, no matter how hard I try.
We’ve shared a room together for the past four days we’ve been at Grams’s lake house, and even though I knew we should talk–something that used to be as natural as blinking or breathing–I shut her down each time.
Because she tried. She tried to talk to me, to tell me whatever her fucked-up reasoning was for not being back home–with me–but I couldn’t listen to the same bullshit again. So, aside from the times she held me in her arms, letting me mourn my grandmother while soothing me with her soft whispers well into the morning, we haven’t spoken a single word.
Because, really, there’s nothing to say, is there?
How could there be when she said it all so clearly that day?
Rani yawns before telling us she’ll see us in the morning when we’re all ready to head back home, and Darian follows after her like the lovesick puppy he is. Meanwhile, Garrett and Bella whisper God knows what to each other across from me on the other side of the fire. My twin brother might have married the woman sitting in his lap on a drunken whim, but the only thing I’ve seen him drunk on over the past four years is her.
Mala shifts in her chair before standing, her bare legs covered with goosebumps. No matter what the weather is, the woman has always had a vendetta against pants. She pulls the sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt over her hands and wraps her arms around her chest. “I think I’m going to take a little stroll around the beach.”
I watch her leave as the breeze picks up her shiny black hair–hair that looks and feels like spun silk. Her sneakered feet make small indentations in the sand as her hips sway with a lilt of their own.
Garrett and I exchange a glance, a silent message spoken and heard only by us. One that urges me to stop being the idiot he thinks I’m being.
But he has no clue. No one does.
It’s not that I can’t tell him–hell, he and Darian would be the first ones I’d tell if I committed murder and hid the body–but some fears can’t be voiced. Some fears are for you to grapple with all on your own.
I pluck the guitar strings a few more times before the weight of the breeze threatens to snuff the oxygen inside my lungs. Placing my guitar on the sand, I lean it against my chair and give my brother a nod before running after her.
The stars twinkle like a dusting of diamonds in the moonlit sky, the ripples in the lake overpowering the crackles of the fire behind me.
It doesn’t take long to find her, sitting on the beach with her bare knees drawn close to her chest, wrapped inside her covered arms like a blanket. I know she’s cold, but for as long as I’ve known her, she’s preferred it that way, claiming heat has always felt too suffocating to her.
I suppose I can’t blame her, especially not when you’ve lived through the horror she’s experienced.
As if she can feel me, she turns to watch me walk toward her before a wisp of hair gets caught between her lips and she pulls it off to tuck it behind her ear, darting her gaze away from mine.
“You promised you wouldn’t run away,” I start. “You promised to–”
“No, Dean.” She shuffles to her feet quicker than I would have thought possible given how cold she looked. “You fucking promised. You promised nothing would change. You promised that night wouldn’t affect us. Remember that? But it did, didn’t it? It changed everything! And all the years prior to that, when you told me you couldn’t, wouldn’t mess up what we have . . . or should I say, what we had?” She points between us. “What happened to that promise, huh?” She looks over at the lake with rage in her eyes. “I waited for you. Eight fucking years I stood on the sidelines, waiting for you . . .”
“Yeah?” I yell. “As if I fucking didn’t? You think you’re the only one who had front-row seats to watch a show you never wanted to see?”
She takes a step closer, her nostrils flaring. “So why didn’t you say anything when you had the chance? Why wait until I was finally moving on?”
“Moving on? Is that what you call it, sprinkles?” I chuckle mirthlessly. “Because the way I see it, you weren’t moving on; you were running.”
Her eyes sharpen on me. “Yeah, okay, I was running. But have you taken even one moment to consider why? Or is that too hard for you to do, given your brick of a brain?” She seethes. “I was running because I was fucking tired. Tired of waiting, tired of wanting and wishing–”
I heave in a shaky breath, letting the cold air compress my lungs as I hang on her words for dear life. Words she’s cut off, like if she says them, they’ll float away with the wind. “Wishing for what?”
She shakes her head, wiping her cheek with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, but the moment she does, another tear falls to replace it. “It doesn’t matter.” She chuckles hoarsely. “Why would it matter? I’m not the one who can make it matter. I never have been.”
I close the distance between us, rounding my palms over her biceps and making her look up at me. “Wishing for what, Mala? Say it.”
She sniffles, her tear-stained cheeks shining under the silvery effulgence of the night. Her frown intensifies as she whispers, “For it to be me.”
Author Bio:
Swati MH is a Texas raised contemporary romance author living in the Bay Area with her very own book husband and two beautiful daughters. When she’s not writing stories full of humor, heart, and heartbreak, she’s likely thinking about doing so . . . preferably while holding a glass of wine.
Social Media Links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B08KHZ1YR4
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/swati.mh
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/authorswatimh
Readers Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/971970126616695
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/swatimh
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/swati-m-h
Tiktok: @authorswatimh
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RELEASE BLITZ – Son of a Peach by Claire Hastings
Son of a Peach by Claire Hastings
Peaches, Beaches, and a whole lot of misunderstanding…this hero has his work cut out for him!
The local chocolatier is his exact opposite and someone he should stay away from, but he can’t. There’s no harm in a little fling, right?
Readers who enjoy instalove and fun in the sun romance will love Son of a Peach by Claire Hastings, a steamy, small town, oppositesattract, grumpy/sunshine romance.
Buy Now or Read FREE with KindleUnlimited!
Amazon → https://geni.us/SonofaPeach
Blurb:
Peaches are my life.
I’m talking about the sweet, fuzzy fruit that represents my home state of Georgia—not the emoji that most people use for a different peach. If you know what I mean…
When there’s the chance to show off my peaches at a Christmas-themed island for the Peach on the Beach festival, it’s a no-brainer.
Then I arrive in Candy Cane Key.
Turns out, they aren’t celebrating my favorite fruit. Nope. This event is about that other type of peach.
To make matters worse, I can’t stop thinking about the event organizer, the local chocolatier—Tizzy. And that’s exactly what she’s worked my insides into.
The strawberry blonde wild child is my exact opposite in every way. Someone I know I should stay away from. Yet, I can’t.
There’s no harm in a little fling, right?
Son of a Peach is an opposites attract, insta-love, fun in the sun novella about an uptight horticulturist and a happy-go-lucky chocolatier with a guaranteed HEA.
Add to Goodreads – https://bit.ly/3JNEOKt
Excerpt
Copyright 2023 Claire Hastings
“See, not so hard.”
Maybe this isn’t, but my dick…
“It’s not dirt,” I say, repeating the motions, “but I can see how this would be fun.”
“Dirt is not more fun than chocolate.”
I stop dead, chocolate fork held in midair, Oreo precariously perched on it. She cannot be serious. Then again, of course this free spirit of a woman would think that.
“Dirt is basis for all life. From dirt you came and to dirt you shall return,” I paraphrase. I can practically hear the preacher back home from Hickory Hills Baptist rolling his eyes for getting that piece of scripture wrong. The meaning is still there though.
“Maybe, but…chocolate gives life meaning,” she counters.
“Does it though?”
Dipping her finger into the bowl, she scoops out some of the melted goodness before running her finger along her lips, then sucks all the chocolate off. My dick surges and I swallow hard, wishing that were me she was licking.
Fuck, I need to get it together…
“It does. Besides, doing this with dirt is less fun.”
I don’t have time to ask, “doing what.” Tizzy’s too quick with the spatula, flicking it at me, sending chocolate flying. It’s warm as it hits my skin, catching me off guard. I scoff, unable to believe she just did that. Well, two can play this game.
Grabbing the fork, I mimic her movements, splattering chocolate across her face. Tizzy gasps, her smile wide. She clearly was not expecting me to retaliate. I laugh, enjoying her reaction and the playful fight that ensues. Back and forth we go, each one flinging bits of chocolate at each other. I can’t remember the last time I did anything like this. Certainly not with food. Mud, maybe. Mud fights were plentiful as children. Anton and I never passed up a chance to enjoy a good puddle. But it’s been years since we did that. Since I really let loose and played. And then I met Tizzy.
It’s time to up the ante though, the little splatter from the kitchen instruments no longer having the same effect. So I do what any man would do. I go big.
I dip my whole hand into the chocolate bowl, scooping up as much as I can. I hear Tizzy’s breath hitch, like she knows what’s coming. She doesn’t move though, the impish look on her face turning even more devilish the closer I get to her. I’ve wanted to lick this chocolate off her since the moment she spread it on her lips. Time to create my chance.
Only, physics has a different idea.
Stepping forward to close the distance between us, I slip. My legs wobble underneath me and I lunge forward, trying to keep my balance, and fall into Tizzy. The momentum sends us backward into the counter, which thankfully stops us from hitting the ground.
A second later, both of us trying to catch our breath, I pull back slightly, noticing the placement of my chocolate-covered hand.
Smack-dab on Tizzy’s boob.
About Claire Hastings
Claire Hastings is a walking, talking awkward moment. She loves Diet Coke, gummi bears, the beach, and books (obvs). When not reading she can usually be found hanging with friends at a soccer match or grabbing food (although she probably still has a book in her purse). She and her husband live in Atlanta.
Author Links:
Website → https://www.clairehastingsauthor.com
Facebook → https://geni.us/ClaireHastingsFB
Reader Group → https://geni.us/ClaireHastingsHideaway
Romance Group → https://geni.us/SteamRoom
Instagram → https://geni.us/ClaireHastingsIG
Goodreads → https://geni.us/CHGoodReads
Bookbub → https://geni.us/ClaireHastingsBookBub
Amazon → https://geni.us/ClaireHastingsAmazon
Newsletter → https://geni.us/ClaireHastingsNL
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