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RELEASE BOOST – The Grumpy Player Next Door (Copper Valley Fireballs #3) by Pippa Grant


Title: The Grumpy Player Next Door
Series: Copper Valley Fireballs #3
Author: Pippa Grant

Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: July 8, 2021

BLURB

An enemies-to-lovers / sports / grumpy-sunshine / neighbor romance

I, Tillie Jean Rock, am not in love with my brother’s teammate. Sure, he might have those biceps and that “I am the grouchiest of grouchy bears” smolder, and he might shovel snow off his driveway next door wearing nothing but boxer shorts and rubber boots, and he might be running a side business feeding all the stray goats in town, but studliness is only skin-deep.

And I might flirt with him every chance I get, but I swear it’s only to annoy my brother.

And him.

Because Max Cole?

Under all of those glorious muscles and chiseled cheekbones and searing glares beats the heart of a heartless devil.

I could no sooner fall in love with a guy who treats me like a kid, and judges me at every opportunity, and sets an army of garden gnomes loose on my yard, than I could fall in love with my grandfather’s pet parrot.

But I can definitely annoy him. I can one hundred percent get on board with annoying him.

That’s what you do when you don’t like your neighbor, right?

But you know what they say about love and hate…

It’s a very thin line.

Especially when the real reason I’m not in love with Max Cole—that he’s incapable of love—might not be true at all.

The Grumpy Player Next door is a fun-filled enemies-to-lovers romcom featuring a ray of sunshine on a mission, an athlete who’s only grouchy around her, and an epic prank gone wrong. It stands alone and comes complete with small-town shenanigans, a goat who’s not nearly as wise as his name suggests, and proof that sometimes, love is the best kind of vengeance.


GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57489596-the-grumpy-player-next-door

PURCHASE LINKS

US: https://amzn.to/3dD40TR
UK: https://amzn.to/3xnvpRG
CA: https://amzn.to/3yoRpvA
AU: https://amzn.to/3heqNaE
Universal: https://bit.ly/3qV4B8H

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Also available in paperback: https://amzn.to/3dL77sW

EXCERPT

There’s a fine art to revenge, and today, I am arting the hell out of it. I’m talking cackles of glee, evil cartoon overlord-style, rubbing my hands together while bouncing on my toes. Reminding myself to shut up because my brother will be home from his morning workout any minute now, and I don’t want to tip my hand when he doesn’t know I’m waiting for him here in his house up on the mountainside.
You would think he would’ve learned to engage his security system more often by now.
But he hasn’t, which means I’m here, armed and dangerous and ready, and I’m cackling with glee all over again.
I know, I know. Is this really how you want to pay him back for having a box labeled “dildos” delivered to you at your parents’ house in the midst of all the pre-wedding activities for your other brother last week?
Yes, actually.
Yes, it is.
It’s payback time.
Also?
I have zero doubt Cooper will have mad respect that I’m doing this.
Sort of like while I was pissed when he replaced my coffee beans with roasted goat poop before he left for spring training nine months ago, I very much respected that he pulled it off, even if I wasn’t pleased at having to admit that that was the prank that took him over the top to win in our annual off-season prank war.
But this winter?
This winter, my brother Cooper “Stinky Booty” Rock is going down.
The universe told me so. Why else would it have hand-delivered that video into my social media stream to inspire me right after I finished figuring out where to donate an unopened box of dildos?
I cackle again.
And then I slap my hand over my mouth.
He’s home.
There’s his dark head, bent toward the knob, beyond the tempered glass panel beside his front door. He’s dressed in Fireballs red, which is more orange than it is red, and he’s probably worn out from lifting at the gym.
Yesterday was cardio day.
I know, because he ran past Crusty Nut, our dad’s restaurant where I’m the manager five days a week, at least two dozen times without stopping in once to say hi.
I haven’t seen him since the wedding several days ago, which either means he’s avoiding me and the revenge he knows I owe him, or he has a stick up his butt and has forgotten the little people.
Or, possibly, he’s distracted, in which case, he needs this.
I squat into position at the top of the stairs, as hidden as I can be while still seeing my target, Nerf blaster locked and loaded, waiting while he fumbles with his keys.
For the record?
It’s not easy to hide at the top of a curved staircase. I’m on my belly now, half-angled behind the wall of the hallway to his guest bedrooms, peering between the slats of the banister, hoping all my target practice pays off.
Steady, TJ. This is what you trained for.
The lock clicks.
I flatten myself lower and take aim.
The door swings open.
Dark hair in the foyer. Go go go.
I squeeze the trigger, sending a rapid blast of modified foam darts at the six balloons floating in the space above the door.
The needle sticking out barely an eighth of an inch in the tip of the first dart connects. One helium balloon pops. Then two more, followed by the fourth and fifth. The sixth shifts after getting hit, like it’s a tough guy balloon. It’s the ninja of balloons, and it doesn’t want to participate in my dastardly plans today, but that’s okay. The other balloons are bursting in a sparkly, shiny, beautiful pink glitter spray that’s splattering on the walls, exploding from its nylon shell and raining down like a spring shower, coating the walls, making the air sparkle, and dusting all that dark hair as Cooper’s lifting his head. “What the—”
And in the span of a heartbeat, before he can finish that sentence, I realize my mistake.
My terrible, horrible, very bad miscalculation.
If I were a superhero, I’d be sucking all that glitter into my lungs and redirecting it into my brother’s bedroom, which is likely what I should’ve done in the first place—hindsight, right?—but I didn’t. This was so much more dramatic and didn’t risk me having to find out which local he’s screwing around with in his spare time, as she’d be coated in glitter too after rolling around in his sheets, except my prank has failed.
It has failed spectacularly.
Oh my god,” I gasp.
That’s not Cooper.
That is so not Cooper.

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#2 Real Fake Love

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AUDIO & PRINT

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Amazon: https://amzn.to/31E5NT8
Apple Books: https://apple.co/36cgRIt
Paperback: https://amzn.to/3hJl4Ys


AUTHOR BIO

Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.


AUTHOR LINKS

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pippagrantromance
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ThePipsquad
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ReadPippa
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/pippagrant
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pippa-grant
Website: http://www.pippagrant.com
Instagram: https://instagram.com/pippa.grant


GIVEAWAY

There is a giveaway for Grumpy Player Next Door Book Box full of goodies plus bonus signed paperbacks (1 winner, open internationally – please note international winners may be responsible for their own VAT should it apply)

Direct Link:

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ce38fedf39

RELEASE BLITZ – The Grumpy Player Next Door (Copper Valley Fireballs #3) by Pippa Grant

RELEASE BLITZ

Title: The Grumpy Player Next Door
Series: Copper Valley Fireballs #3
Author: Pippa Grant

Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: July 8, 2021

BLURB

An enemies-to-lovers / sports / grumpy-sunshine / neighbor romance

I, Tillie Jean Rock, am not in love with my brother’s teammate. Sure, he might have those biceps and that “I am the grouchiest of grouchy bears” smolder, and he might shovel snow off his driveway next door wearing nothing but boxer shorts and rubber boots, and he might be running a side business feeding all the stray goats in town, but studliness is only skin-deep.

And I might flirt with him every chance I get, but I swear it’s only to annoy my brother.

And him.

Because Max Cole?

Under all of those glorious muscles and chiseled cheekbones and searing glares beats the heart of a heartless devil.

I could no sooner fall in love with a guy who treats me like a kid, and judges me at every opportunity, and sets an army of garden gnomes loose on my yard, than I could fall in love with my grandfather’s pet parrot.

But I can definitely annoy him. I can one hundred percent get on board with annoying him.

That’s what you do when you don’t like your neighbor, right?

But you know what they say about love and hate…

It’s a very thin line.

Especially when the real reason I’m not in love with Max Cole—that he’s incapable of love—might not be true at all.

The Grumpy Player Next door is a fun-filled enemies-to-lovers romcom featuring a ray of sunshine on a mission, an athlete who’s only grouchy around her, and an epic prank gone wrong. It stands alone and comes complete with small-town shenanigans, a goat who’s not nearly as wise as his name suggests, and proof that sometimes, love is the best kind of vengeance.


GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57489596-the-grumpy-player-next-door

PURCHASE LINKS

US: https://amzn.to/3dD40TR
UK: https://amzn.to/3xnvpRG
CA: https://amzn.to/3yoRpvA
AU: https://amzn.to/3heqNaE
Universal: https://bit.ly/3qV4B8H

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Also available in paperback: https://amzn.to/3dL77sW


EXCERPT

There’s a fine art to revenge, and today, I am arting the hell out of it. I’m talking cackles of glee, evil cartoon overlord-style, rubbing my hands together while bouncing on my toes. Reminding myself to shut up because my brother will be home from his morning workout any minute now, and I don’t want to tip my hand when he doesn’t know I’m waiting for him here in his house up on the mountainside.
You would think he would’ve learned to engage his security system more often by now.
But he hasn’t, which means I’m here, armed and dangerous and ready, and I’m cackling with glee all over again.
I know, I know. Is this really how you want to pay him back for having a box labeled “dildos” delivered to you at your parents’ house in the midst of all the pre-wedding activities for your other brother last week?
Yes, actually.
Yes, it is.
It’s payback time.
Also?
I have zero doubt Cooper will have mad respect that I’m doing this.
Sort of like while I was pissed when he replaced my coffee beans with roasted goat poop before he left for spring training nine months ago, I very much respected that he pulled it off, even if I wasn’t pleased at having to admit that that was the prank that took him over the top to win in our annual off-season prank war.
But this winter?
This winter, my brother Cooper “Stinky Booty” Rock is going down.
The universe told me so. Why else would it have hand-delivered that video into my social media stream to inspire me right after I finished figuring out where to donate an unopened box of dildos?
I cackle again.
And then I slap my hand over my mouth.
He’s home.
There’s his dark head, bent toward the knob, beyond the tempered glass panel beside his front door. He’s dressed in Fireballs red, which is more orange than it is red, and he’s probably worn out from lifting at the gym.
Yesterday was cardio day.
I know, because he ran past Crusty Nut, our dad’s restaurant where I’m the manager five days a week, at least two dozen times without stopping in once to say hi.
I haven’t seen him since the wedding several days ago, which either means he’s avoiding me and the revenge he knows I owe him, or he has a stick up his butt and has forgotten the little people.
Or, possibly, he’s distracted, in which case, he needs this.
I squat into position at the top of the stairs, as hidden as I can be while still seeing my target, Nerf blaster locked and loaded, waiting while he fumbles with his keys.
For the record?
It’s not easy to hide at the top of a curved staircase. I’m on my belly now, half-angled behind the wall of the hallway to his guest bedrooms, peering between the slats of the banister, hoping all my target practice pays off.
Steady, TJ. This is what you trained for.
The lock clicks.
I flatten myself lower and take aim.
The door swings open.
Dark hair in the foyer. Go go go.
I squeeze the trigger, sending a rapid blast of modified foam darts at the six balloons floating in the space above the door.
The needle sticking out barely an eighth of an inch in the tip of the first dart connects. One helium balloon pops. Then two more, followed by the fourth and fifth. The sixth shifts after getting hit, like it’s a tough guy balloon. It’s the ninja of balloons, and it doesn’t want to participate in my dastardly plans today, but that’s okay. The other balloons are bursting in a sparkly, shiny, beautiful pink glitter spray that’s splattering on the walls, exploding from its nylon shell and raining down like a spring shower, coating the walls, making the air sparkle, and dusting all that dark hair as Cooper’s lifting his head. “What the—”
And in the span of a heartbeat, before he can finish that sentence, I realize my mistake.
My terrible, horrible, very bad miscalculation.
If I were a superhero, I’d be sucking all that glitter into my lungs and redirecting it into my brother’s bedroom, which is likely what I should’ve done in the first place—hindsight, right?—but I didn’t. This was so much more dramatic and didn’t risk me having to find out which local he’s screwing around with in his spare time, as she’d be coated in glitter too after rolling around in his sheets, except my prank has failed.
It has failed spectacularly.
Oh my god,” I gasp.
That’s not Cooper.
That is so not Cooper.

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CA: https://amzn.to/2LsahmP
AU: https://amzn.to/2yYsu8N

Free in Kindle Unlimited

AUDIO & PRINT

Audible: https://adbl.co/2ENkZEs
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3jms9OO
Apple Books: https://apple.co/3hdmNHx
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#2 Real Fake Love

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UK: https://amzn.to/2YI3pbM
CA: https://amzn.to/2QLF3tH
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Free in Kindle Unlimited

AUDIO & PRINT

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Amazon: https://amzn.to/31E5NT8
Apple Books: https://apple.co/36cgRIt
Paperback: https://amzn.to/3hJl4Ys


AUTHOR BIO

Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.


AUTHOR LINKS

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pippagrantromance
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ThePipsquad
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ReadPippa
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/pippagrant
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pippa-grant
Website: http://www.pippagrant.com
Instagram: https://instagram.com/pippa.grant

COVER RE-REVEAL ~ Hot Heir by Pippa Grant

Title: Hot Heir
Author: Pippa Grant
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Cover Design: Lori Jackson
Photo: Wander Aguiar
Release Date: August 31, 2018
BLURB
If I’d known he had dimples, I never would’ve agreed to marry him.
Some people are born for parenthood.
Not me.
But I’m about to get it anyway, since there’s no one else who can take care of my wild child baby sister. I’m supposed to be spending my days running a flight adventure company with my best friend, but instead, I’m inadvertently getting myself into trouble, just trying to do the right thing and keep her out of trouble, to the point that it’s clear I cannot do this on my own.
But who else would want to help us?
Turns out, my biggest enemy.
Mr. Tall, Dark, and Cranky just inherited a country, but in order for Amoria to crown him as King—you know, that job they give to people with no more demanding qualifications than flared nostrils, proper manners, and a taste for crumpets—he needs a wife. Now. Obviously the only person he would ask is as irresistible (and desperate) as me.
And I see no better way to prove I’m ready to take care of my sister than to wear the crown of a queen. No one’s ever found fault with royalty, and hey, the job comes with round-the-clock security.
Except in return for helping save my sister, Mr. I’m-Not-Sure-You’re-Even-A-Real-Prince Viktor tells me he needs the teeniest, tiniest favor. You see, he doesn’t just need help saving his crown. He needs help saving his country.
Remember when I said no one ever found fault with royalty? Try asking that question after you see your frazzled face under the front-page headline of a small country’s leading gossip mag…

Hot Heir is a romping fun marriage of convenience romance between a surprise heir and a southern hot mess, complete with the bedroom to end all bedrooms, a run-down alpaca, and that thing with the hot air balloon. This romantic comedy stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers and ends with a royally awesome happily ever after.
ALSO AVAILABLE


EXCERPT
Taking a bullet or a knife, I can do.
But soothing a terrified, sobbing, otherwise competent woman is not something I’ve often—ever—accomplished successfully, nor have I ever found myself in many situations in which it was necessary.
I stroke her back, and gradually, they both cry themselves out.
Which is good, because seeing a chink in Peach’s armor is bloody terrifying.
“Papaya,” she says, her voice thick and wobbly, “you’re on kitchen duty for the next four weeks.”
“What?”
“And if you get fired by the chef, you’ll be on maid duty. And if you get fired by the maids, you’ll be shoveling shit in the stables. And you don’t get to see Fred until your chores are done.”
I suck in a surprised breath.
Papaya gasps. “You can’t do that.”
“And if you don’t show up for kitchen duty, you won’t be going to Joey’s wedding next weekend.” She swipes at her eyes, which silences any objections I might have to keeping track of Papaya whilst Peach is away for a week. “You scared the ever-loving patootles out of me. I thought you were kidnapped. And instead, you’re here, spooking the daylights out of these poor guards who were trained on an invalid king who couldn’t even get out of his own bed to pee.”
Ah. I’m beginning to see from whom Papaya gets her creativity.
And it hasn’t escaped my notice that Peach is still leaning on me.
My knees are going quite numb from squatting, but I could crouch here for hours if that was what was required to make her feel better.
“You have two choices.” Her voice is growing steadier, more Peach-like. “You do your punishment, and we’ll find you a better outlet for all your creative energy, or we’re going to have one hell of a rough year.”
Papaya scowls. Her tears have also left her. “I don’t like those choices.”
“They’re what you’ve got.”
“I want to go home and live with my daddy.”
Peach’s entire body goes so rigid, I have to stop myself from grabbing Papaya and dangling her by the ankle for being such an ungrateful arse.
“He lost the privilege to keep you.” Peach’s voice wobbles again. “Meemaw and me and Viktor and Alexander and Samuel are what you’ve got.”
An emotion I cannot name blooms in my chest, swells into my throat, and renders me momentarily tongue-tied.
She’s just claimed us all as family.
“Get up. I want that armor shined and sparkling before it goes back where it belongs in the tower study, and don’t you dare give me any lip, or you’ll be shining and sparkling every single suit of armor in this whole entire castle if you so much as think at me wrong.”
I swallow hard, wishing my own voice were not so much more husky than I intend it to be. It seems emotions are going around. “I believe there are fifty more stored in the dungeons, my lady.”
My shirt is damp and cold where the tears from Peach’s cheek have soaked through, I’ve nearly watched a teenage girl outwit and terrify an entire team of guards who were quite ready to maim, if not outright kill her, and I’m playing parent for the first time in my life.
Being a team.
With Peach.
It’s disconcerting at best.
Irresistibly attractive at worst.
I’ve a kingdom to run. There’s no time to fall for my wife.
But I fear it might be too late.


AUTHOR BIO
Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.


RELEASE BOOST – I Pucking Love You (Copper Valley Thrusters #5) by Pippa Grant

Title: I Pucking Love You
Series: Copper Valley Thrusters #5
Author: Pippa Grant
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: April 8, 2021
BLURB
You know those stories where an adorably misunderstood clumsy girl needs a fake date to a wedding so she asks her brother’s best friend and they accidentally fall in love?
I wish that was the kind of life I lead, but it’s not.
I don’t need a date to a wedding. I need a date to a funeral.
Clumsy sometimes fits, but then, that’s true for all of us, right? But adorable? No. Misunderstood? Nope again. I’m just your average girl, standing in front of a funeral invitation, asking it to be a winning lottery ticket instead.
And I don’t have a brother, or a best friend with a brother available, which means I’m stuck with Tyler Jaeger.
Sure, he’s a professional hockey player who also knows advanced calculus, but let’s say we’re not compatible and leave it at that. I should know. I am a matchmaker.
Not a very good one, but that’s beside the point.
I know a mismatch when I see one.
Still, Tyler’s what I’ve got, and I am not going to this funeral solo, so he’s what I’ll take.
After all—what could go wrong at a funeral?

I Pucking Love You is a hilariously wrong romantic comedy about the world’s worst matchmaker, a hockey player with a problem he doesn’t want to talk about, and an awkward date-of-convenience that everyone would prefer to forget. It comes complete with a cat working his way through his nine lives, all the sexy times, fish and chips, and a swoony happily-ever-after.
PURCHASE LINKS
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited


EXCERPT
Tyler
We all have to be at practice tomorrow morning—check that, this morning, as it’s shortly after midnight—but I don’t want to go home.
I don’t want to drink. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to screw.
I want—
Dammit.
I want a bucket of greasy fried fish and chips, because it’s what my big brother used to take me to get every time he came home on leave from the Marines and got annoyed at being hen-pecked by the four sisters between us.
My car’s cold, thanks to the early November weather, and no, I’m not telling you what kind of car I drive, because yes, it very much feels like compensation tonight.
It gets me where I want to go.
That’s all that matters.
That, and getting my ass to Cod Pieces before they close for the night.
Could I stay at the bunny bar and get fried fish and chips?
Yes.
Will I?
No fucking way.
I’m still stewing in my own misery when the bright neon sign with the armored cod and the storefront that looks like a medieval castle comes into view at the edge of a strip mall four miles the wrong direction from my downtown condo. I roll the window down, letting in a blast of chilly air and the scent of fries.
Just in time.
I holler my order over the sound of my engine, then pull around to the window to get my fish.
Debate calling my brother in Miami.
It’s one AM. He and his wife recently celebrated their kid’s first birthday, and I think they’re working on baby number two.
If I call him in the middle of the night to bitch about how I can’t get it up, he’ll probably hang up on me, then tell our sisters.
And Mom.
She’s a professional comedienne with her own popular Netflix special. There’s no damn way I’m bothering West in the middle of the night for this.
I’ll talk to the fried fish and call it even.
Has as much personality as West had before he married Daisy.
The window swings open. “That’ll be fourteen seventy-three, please.”
My car lurches forward before I remember to put it in park, and I gape up at the woman staring down at me. “Muffy?
My brain is playing tricks on me.
It has to be.
Because there’s no way the curvy, clumsy, smart-mouthed goddess who’s haunting my dick is standing there wearing a Cod Pieces polo and hat.
But she is.
And I swear to god, her long brown braids are recoiling in horror as her whole face twists, her lip curling, her left eye squeezing shut, before she snaps herself together. “For the hundredth time today, I have no idea who this Muffy person is. My name is Octavia Louisa Beaverhousen.”
Fuck me.
There are two of them? She looks exactly like Muffy. I’m not seeing things, and I’m not projecting just because I want my dick to work again and the bunnies made me think about screwing Muffy in the walk-in fridge at the bunny bar.
“Fourteen seventy-three, please.” She turns away as she holds out a hand, twitching her fingers like she’s waiting for cash or a card.
And that’s when I see the tattoo.
Rufus.
Her cat’s name. It’s on her wrist.
Octavia Louisa Beaverhousen, my ass. This is Muffy.


ALSO AVAILABLE
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited
ALSO AVAILABLE
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited
ALSO AVAILABLE
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited
ALSO AVAILABLE
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited
ALSO AVAILABLE


AUTHOR BIO
Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.


RELEASE BLITZ – : I Pucking Love You (Copper Valley Thrusters #5) by Pippa Grant

Title: I Pucking Love You
Series: Copper Valley Thrusters #5
Author: Pippa Grant
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: April 8, 2021
BLURB
You know those stories where an adorably misunderstood clumsy girl needs a fake date to a wedding so she asks her brother’s best friend and they accidentally fall in love?
I wish that was the kind of life I lead, but it’s not.
I don’t need a date to a wedding. I need a date to a funeral.
Clumsy sometimes fits, but then, that’s true for all of us, right? But adorable? No. Misunderstood? Nope again. I’m just your average girl, standing in front of a funeral invitation, asking it to be a winning lottery ticket instead.
And I don’t have a brother, or a best friend with a brother available, which means I’m stuck with Tyler Jaeger.
Sure, he’s a professional hockey player who also knows advanced calculus, but let’s say we’re not compatible and leave it at that. I should know. I am a matchmaker.
Not a very good one, but that’s beside the point.
I know a mismatch when I see one.
Still, Tyler’s what I’ve got, and I am not going to this funeral solo, so he’s what I’ll take.
After all—what could go wrong at a funeral?
I Pucking Love You is a hilariously wrong romantic comedy about the world’s worst matchmaker, a hockey player with a problem he doesn’t want to talk about, and an awkward date-of-convenience that everyone would prefer to forget. It comes complete with a cat working his way through his nine lives, all the sexy times, fish and chips, and a swoony happily-ever-after.
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EXCERPT
Tyler
We all have to be at practice tomorrow morning—check that, this morning, as it’s shortly after midnight—but I don’t want to go home.
I don’t want to drink. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to screw.
I want—
Dammit.
I want a bucket of greasy fried fish and chips, because it’s what my big brother used to take me to get every time he came home on leave from the Marines and got annoyed at being hen-pecked by the four sisters between us.
My car’s cold, thanks to the early November weather, and no, I’m not telling you what kind of car I drive, because yes, it very much feels like compensation tonight.
It gets me where I want to go.
That’s all that matters.
That, and getting my ass to Cod Pieces before they close for the night.
Could I stay at the bunny bar and get fried fish and chips?
Yes.
Will I?
No fucking way.
I’m still stewing in my own misery when the bright neon sign with the armored cod and the storefront that looks like a medieval castle comes into view at the edge of a strip mall four miles the wrong direction from my downtown condo. I roll the window down, letting in a blast of chilly air and the scent of fries.
Just in time.
I holler my order over the sound of my engine, then pull around to the window to get my fish.
Debate calling my brother in Miami.
It’s one AM. He and his wife recently celebrated their kid’s first birthday, and I think they’re working on baby number two.
If I call him in the middle of the night to bitch about how I can’t get it up, he’ll probably hang up on me, then tell our sisters.
And Mom.
She’s a professional comedienne with her own popular Netflix special. There’s no damn way I’m bothering West in the middle of the night for this.
I’ll talk to the fried fish and call it even.
Has as much personality as West had before he married Daisy.
The window swings open. “That’ll be fourteen seventy-three, please.”
My car lurches forward before I remember to put it in park, and I gape up at the woman staring down at me. “Muffy?
My brain is playing tricks on me.
It has to be.
Because there’s no way the curvy, clumsy, smart-mouthed goddess who’s haunting my dick is standing there wearing a Cod Pieces polo and hat.
But she is.
And I swear to god, her long brown braids are recoiling in horror as her whole face twists, her lip curling, her left eye squeezing shut, before she snaps herself together. “For the hundredth time today, I have no idea who this Muffy person is. My name is Octavia Louisa Beaverhousen.”
Fuck me.
There are two of them? She looks exactly like Muffy. I’m not seeing things, and I’m not projecting just because I want my dick to work again and the bunnies made me think about screwing Muffy in the walk-in fridge at the bunny bar.
“Fourteen seventy-three, please.” She turns away as she holds out a hand, twitching her fingers like she’s waiting for cash or a card.
And that’s when I see the tattoo.
Rufus.
Her cat’s name. It’s on her wrist.
Octavia Louisa Beaverhousen, my ass. This is Muffy.


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AUTHOR BIO
Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.


COVER REVEAL – The Girl Band Series by Pippa Grant

Series: The Girl Band Series
Author: Pippa Grant
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Cover Design: Najla Qamber
MISTER MCHOTTIE
Photo: Wander Aguiar
The best enemies make the best lovers…
There are three things I hate:
Bratwurst in any form, my neighbors boinking like farm animals at 3 AM, and Chase Jett.
Mostly I hate Chase Jett. It’s been ten years since he took my virginity—I’d make a bratwurst joke, but the unfortunate truth is that it would have to be a brat-best joke, and yes, it kills me to admit that—and now he’s not only a billionaire, he’s also my new boss.
Turns out our hate is mutual. And this kind of hate is horrifically twisted, filthy, and banging hot.
I just might have to hate him forever.
Mister McHottie is the hilariously sexy romantic comedy that your mother warned you about, complete with an organic happy-ever-after (or seven), a Bratwurst Wagon, ill-advised office pranks, and no cheating or cliffhangers.
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STUD IN THE STACKS
Photo: Rafa Catala
He’s a librarian by day and the ideal fake boyfriend by night.
When it comes to women, I know what they want. And all day long, I give it to them. Dark, broody, and sexy? You got it. Need to laugh? I’m your guy. Desperate for something to put you in the mood? You’ve come to the right place, kitten.
Every morning when my library opens, there’s a line around the block, the ladies flocking to me in need of their next book boyfriend. I’m that dude. The one who knows his way around the romance section.
And after years of study, my skills don’t stop at the day job. Need a fake boyfriend, fiancé, or friend-with-benefits? I know that plot. I also know to keep my heart off the table, because love is only real between the pages of a book.
So when Parker Elliott needs a temporary fake boyfriend for a reunion, of course I step in. She rocks a mean guitar, she has no idea how sexy she is, and we have something of a history.
Easy, right?
Yep. Piece of cake.
Except this time, I’m actually in danger of falling in love.
Stud in the Stacks is 55,000 sexy, hilarious, sometimes embarrassing words, complete with tacos, romance novel love, unicorn parties, and no cheating or cliffhangers.
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ROCKAWAY BRIDE
Photo: Furious Fotog
A Rock Star Kidnaps a Runaway Bride…Kidnapping the bride seemed like a good idea at the time.
Her fiancé stole my fortune, so I stole his woman.
Tit for tat. Or tat for tit. However you want to look at it.
The one thing I didn’t expect?
Willow Honeycutt, preschool teacher, boy band super fan, is completely crazy.
And somehow she’s turned the tables on me.
Now, she’s holding me hostage, and she won’t let me go until we hit every item on her sparkly new, completely insane bucket list.
And that last item?
That last item might cost me more than any fortune.
It very well might cost me my heart.
Rockaway Bride is a romping fun romance between a down-on-his-luck rock star and a boy band-loving preschool teacher, complete with a road trip, handcuffs, and fun with nuns. This romantic comedy stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers and ends with a rockin’ awesome happily ever after.
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THE HERO AND THE HACTIVIST
Photo: Wander Aguiar
For anyone who’s ever been on the receiving end of an unsolicited dick pic…
He has the muscles of Adonis, an ego bigger than the sun, and a very clear desire to get back in my pants. Which would be fantastic if he weren’t a SEAL and I wasn’t a criminal.
Although, I prefer the term avenger.
I’m a hacktivist, cleaning up the cesspool of cyberspace one scam artist and troll at a time, and I sometimes bend a few rules to get justice done.
He’s a military man with abs of glory, sworn to uphold the letter of the law no matter its shortcomings. And if he’d known who—or what—I was, I doubt he would’ve banged me at my best friend’s wedding reception.
Or come back for more.
Which is why he’s now the only thing standing between me and one very pissed off internet troll who’s figured out where I live.
I’m pretty sure he’ll get me out of this alive—and quite satisfied, thank you very much—but I’m also pretty sure this mission will end with me in handcuffs.
And not the good kind of handcuffs.
The Hero and the Hacktivist is a romping fun SEAL / Best Friend’s Brother / Robin Hood in Cyberspace romance between a meathead and an heiress, complete with epic klutziness, terrible leg warmers, and an even worse phone virus gone wrong. This romantic comedy stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers and ends with a fabulously fun happily ever after.
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AUTHOR BIO
Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.
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RELEASE BOOST – The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob (Bro Code #4) by Pippa Grant

Title: The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob
Series: Bro Code #4
Author: Pippa Grant
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: January 7, 2021
BLURB
You don’t know me, but you do know me. I’m your neighborhood hot mess single mom, doing my best to keep my head above water while running my little slice of heaven and keeping my youngest from shoving marbles up his nose, which is exactly what he’s doing the first time Levi Wilson, pop star god, world’s sexiest man, and my all-time number one celebrity obsession, walks into my bookstore. 
Related: I’m writing this from beyond the grave, because I’ve died of mortification and am now residing in an alternate universe. 
I have to be. 
Because Levi Wilson came back. 
And we had a moment. 
Like, a moment moment. The kind that makes me remember that adult pleasure isn’t all about hoping the lock holds in the bathroom so your kids don’t interrupt on the rare occasion you feel like taking an extra-long mommy-time shower. 
So when he proposes a no-strings fling? 
Count. Me. In. 
Thrill of a lifetime, right? 
Surely, nothing will go wrong… 
The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob is a rockin’ fun, sexy romantic comedy featuring a celebrity panty-melter who doesn’t know what he’s been missing, a sassy single mom hanging on by a string, three adorable children who would never burst in on a woman when she’s on a toilet (ha!), and shameless ovary-busting moments between a guy who never thought he’d be a dad and a family who thought they got along just fine without him. It stands alone and comes complete with a happily-ever-after (though you’d never go wrong to read the other Bro Code series books first).
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EXCERPT
One day. I would like to go one single day without someone in my orbit making a poor life decision. 
“Stop squirming,” I order my four-year-old son, who should be at preschool, but who’s been banished for the week because of lice. 
Yep. 
Lice. 
Heaven forbid we have one issue at a time. 
Adding to my list of issues? Being that mom who can’t get her shit together while Levi Flipping Wilson is watching. And not only watching, but actively engaging in trying to help. “Hey, bud, I bet I can hold still longer than you can. Wanna see?” 
I know my agenda on any given day will include interruption for something my children do that I never would’ve expected in a million years, but that’s a lot easier to deal with when I don’t have an audience. 
Especially an audience made up of one famous man whose songs get me through the day—and night—when I don’t have enough free focus to read or listen to an audiobook, and who keeps stealing glances at me like he’s trying to figure out what kind of rabid creature I am. Normally, customers aren’t allowed back in the stockroom with me, which is where I dragged Hudson when I realized what he’d done to his nose, but leaving Levi out there with the customers who’d figured out who he was seemed like a bad idea. 
Especially when his date skewered me with a look that clearly said get him out of here or I’ll burn this place down. 
It’s a bookstore. 
Highly flammable. 
Not taking chances. 
Especially if there was a reason they were looking at maternity and early childhood development books. His date doesn’t look pregnant, but god knows that’s when pregnancy is hardest. 
Hudson finally stills, and I manage to smear a little more Vaseline gently around his nostril. “How did you get a marble in your nose?” 
“I pushed hard.” He beams. “I gots stars in there too.” 
I squeeze my eyes shut and count to two, because I know if I get as high as three, he’ll find a way to suck the marbles deeper into his sinus cavities, and I don’t know how a doctor will get that out without having to cut his nose open, and oh my god, he’s four and he’s about to be disfigured for life because I thought he’d actually sit still and listen to Yasmin reading books for neighborhood storytime while I re-stocked a few shelves. 
“How many stars?” I inquire through clenched teeth. 
“Four. Or maybe seven. Or maybe one. I forgets.” 
“You are so lucky you’re cute.” 
“Do you have a vacuum?” Levi asks. 
I twist my head to gape at him. 
He shoots a help? look at his date, then shrugs at me. “If he won’t blow it out, maybe you can suck it out. Like with one of those sucky tools the dentist uses.” 
“That’s…possibly not a terrible idea.” 
“Happens on occasion.” He grins, which makes my heart basically stop because he’s stupidly gorgeous. 
I could stare at him all day, but I have a preschooler with marbles up his nose to attend to. 
“Mama,” Hudson says, “look.” 
He scrunches his nose, which makes his nostrils swell, closes his mouth, and blows, and one shoots out and lands on Levi’s shoe. 
My son has just snotted my favorite musician’s Italian leather loafers. 
“I win! I holded still!” He breaks into his preschool dance routine, but the poor kid got his moves from me, which means to a casual observer, he probably looks like he’s having a seizure while choking on a piece of gum and tripping over barbed wire. 
Levi Wilson, however, is not fazed. He squats down to Hudson’s level. “Rematch.”


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AUTHOR BIO
Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.

RELEASE BLITZ – The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob (Bro Code #4) by Pippa Grant

Title: The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob
Series: Bro Code #4
Author: Pippa Grant
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: January 7, 2021
BLURB
You don’t know me, but you do know me. I’m your neighborhood hot mess single mom, doing my best to keep my head above water while running my little slice of heaven and keeping my youngest from shoving marbles up his nose, which is exactly what he’s doing the first time Levi Wilson, pop star god, world’s sexiest man, and my all-time number one celebrity obsession, walks into my bookstore. 
Related: I’m writing this from beyond the grave, because I’ve died of mortification and am now residing in an alternate universe. 
I have to be. 
Because Levi Wilson came back. 
And we had a moment. 
Like, a moment moment. The kind that makes me remember that adult pleasure isn’t all about hoping the lock holds in the bathroom so your kids don’t interrupt on the rare occasion you feel like taking an extra-long mommy-time shower. 
So when he proposes a no-strings fling? 
Count. Me. In. 
Thrill of a lifetime, right? 
Surely, nothing will go wrong… 
The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob is a rockin’ fun, sexy romantic comedy featuring a celebrity panty-melter who doesn’t know what he’s been missing, a sassy single mom hanging on by a string, three adorable children who would never burst in on a woman when she’s on a toilet (ha!), and shameless ovary-busting moments between a guy who never thought he’d be a dad and a family who thought they got along just fine without him. It stands alone and comes complete with a happily-ever-after (though you’d never go wrong to read the other Bro Code series books first).




I love Pippa Grant’s books. They are fun, fill the heart and honestly make me smile and laugh out loud.

The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob is the fourth in the BroCode series and I think it’s my favourite.

We’ve always known that Levi Wilson wasn’t gonna be an atypical celeb. Surrounded by the friends and family we’ve already met in Pippa’s books, it was pretty much a certainty he was gonna be a good guy, but I wasn’t expecting just how good he was gonna be!!!

Ingrid Scott was awesome. Hard working, own boss, mum to three kids who each have a busy schedule (gods, I could barely cope with the after school and social schedule of one kid, just can’t imagine dealing with more!!). I loved how down to earth Ingrid was. How she saw through the name to the real man behind – that she saw how down to earth, how kind and honest he was. She was tireless in her caring abs thoughts for her kids, continually overlooking her own wants and needs. Thank the gods Levi didn’t give up on her!!!

This was a kinda slow burn with our MCs but there was more at stake than two adult heart here and that was more important that loads of ‘grown up time’ happening on the page (though PG certainly knows how to write those scenes when they do happen!!)

They were both exactly what the other needed. I loved that they both had to get to grips with the fact that they were taking on more than just each other!

The addition of kids, family, friends, furries and associated others rounded out what for me was a great read!

I cannot wait up find out what’s going on with Davis and to read more about Cash!!

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

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AUTHOR BIO
Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.


RELEASE BLITZ – Real Fake Love (Copper Valley Fireballs #2) by Pippa Grant

Title: Real Fake Love
Series: Copper Valley Fireballs #2
Author: Pippa Grant
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: September 3, 2020
Blurb
If people have polar opposites, Luca Rossi is mine.
His butt is in the baseball hall of fame. Mine’s comfortably seated in the hall of lame.
When he’s not snagging fly balls out in center field, he’s modeling in shampoo commercials. I once jammed my own finger while stirring
cookie dough, and sometimes I forget shampoo is a thing.
He’s a total cynic when it comes to love.
I make a living writing love stories.
But after my latest broken engagement (no, I don’t want to talk about how many times that’s happened), it’s clear he’s exactly the man I need.
If anyone can teach me to be the opposite of me, it’s him.
The first thing I want him to teach me?
How to not fall in love.
And as luck would have it, he’s in desperate need of a fake girlfriend to get a meddling grandmother off his back.
We couldn’t be more perfect together, because the last thing Luca Rossi will ever be is the next man to leave me at the altar.
Or will he?
Real Fake Love is a line drive straight to the heart featuring a grumpy athlete, a jilted bride, a fake relationship, and the world’s laziest cat. It stands alone and comes complete with sibling rivalry, the world’s most awkward shower scene, and a sweetly satisfying happily ever after.



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Excerpt
Henri, in the middle of Chapter Four…
It’s probably weird to be sitting on the doorstep of the man I cyberstalked after his whole love sucks speech after my failed
wedding. But I won’t apologize for waiting for Luca here at what I think is his house, because you don’t get what you need in life if you don’t go for it.
Still, maybe Dogzilla and I should be waiting in my car instead? At least that way, I could
turn on the radio while we wait. And the air conditioning.
I’m about to move to the car when a clunker chugs around the corner, one headlight out, and turns into the driveway.
This is definitely the wrong house.
I’m sitting on the porch of a stranger’s house, hoping that’s a woman driving, because if it’s
a woman, at least I know I won’t be in danger.
Of falling in love with her at first sight, I mean.
The engine shuts off, and while I don’t often trespass at midnight, I have this feeling that
jumping up with Dogzilla and making a run for it right now is exactly the wrong move. A well-timed, “Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else,” will give us all a laugh, I’ll take my cat and leave, and then two complete
strangers will have a weird story to tell their friends over margaritas—or an iced tea, in my case—and huh.
This would make an excellent meet-cute for my friend Dorothea’s next steamy romance novel. I’ll have to drop her a note too.
The occupant of the car is still sitting in it, and the figure illuminated by the street light looks too big to be a woman.
Dang it.
He also seems to be—
Is he hitting his head against the steering wheel?
Uh-oh.
If I picked the house of a nutjob, all bets are off.
“Be ready to run, Dogzilla,” I whisper.
My lazy cat doesn’t move, and instead snores in my lap.
Easier this way anyway, since it’s not like I can count on her to follow alone when I take off
running at full-steam.
Which doesn’t happen all that often, if we’re being honest here. I’m a writer, not a runner.
But—wait.
The way his hair is moving—
That is Luca Rossi.
I rise, cradling Dogzilla, and when Luca looks my way, I give him a finger wave and a smile.
The light isn’t bright enough for me to see what he’s saying, but his lips are definitely
moving, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s wearing the same long-suffering expression my father usually has when I tell him I’m engaged.
Again.
It might also be remarkably similar to the expression Luca was wearing when he recognized me at Duggan Field earlier today too.
Not my intention to ambush him at work, I swear. I was curious about the ballpark—I’m curious about a lot of things—so when I caught wind on social media of a writer
organization that was touring the park, it was easy enough to get here in time today to join the group.
And it was fascinating to see where the players work out, to smell the chairs the
announcers sit in, what it feels like to stand in the dugout, and hear how many light bulbs have to be replaced every day.
There’s a pop and a creak as the car door swings open, and I suddenly desperately need to know why Luca Rossi, millionaire sports star, lives on a grocery store clerk’s salary.
For research.
I swear.
I like to do research.
It’s one of the things my ex-fiancé Kyle liked about me.
“Henri,” Luca says.
My brain hears what the hell are you doing here, and why are you between me and my bed, and I’m not asking out loud because I don’t honestly want to know.
I either have a lot of experience understanding people because I write good characters, or I have a lot of experience with frustrating men after five failed engagements.
Plus my lifelong relationship with my father.
“Hi, Luca! Great game tonight. That catch you made in center field was like—”
“The one where I didn’t move, the one where I stepped three feet to my left, or the one where I had to take two steps back?”
Okay, yeah, he had an easy game. “How did you know where the ball was going to be? That’s like—it’s like you’re psychic.”
“It’s called being a professional.” He squeezes his eyes shut briefly, opens them, eyeballs Dogzilla in my arms, and then sighs again. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?”
Wow. He’s cranky.
Not gonna lie.
I know it’s probably me.
But that’s no excuse for not forging ahead. I didn’t come all this way to chicken out. “You remember the last time we saw each other?”
“This afternoon in the clubhouse?”
“I liked your hat, but I meant the time…before that.”
He closes the distance between us with three casual steps. “Nope.”
And I go momentarily speechless as a waft of something delicious teases my nose.
But only momentarily. A quick recovery is a gift. Or possibly a defense mechanism.
“The time we were together…in that town…with that big monument…and the event thing…”
No answer.
“The event thing that didn’t—”
“I’m trying to block it from my memory.”
“Oh. Oh! Thank you. That’s very kind of you. Sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“That I wouldn’t want to remember your ruined wedding, that you like to redecorate
people with dessert, and that your ex-fiancé is the first man that my mother’s dated in three years and I might have to start calling him
Stepdad?”
I wince.
My heart also weeps because yeah, still not over seeing Jerry lock lips with a woman who could’ve been my mother, and hearing that it might actually be going somewhere is salt in the wound.
“So, no, Henri, I don’t remember the last time we were together. At least, I won’t, once I get inside and pour myself a large enough vodka tonic. Care for one?”
Once again, I’m momentarily speechless. “Um, I’m kinda allergic—”
I cut myself off when one of his brows rises infinitesimally, and then I gasp. Of course he
knows I’m allergic. We had an entire conversation about it. “Are you
trying to send me to the hospital?”
“No, but I am trying to get into my house. Alone. Preferably without the sad panda thoughts I’d finally managed to shake before
you showed up today.”
“Oh. That was a hint.”
“It was.”
“I’m bad with the subtle.”
He swipes a hand over his mouth and looks up at the sky, and I’m certain he’s not stifling a
smile.
Probably the exact opposite.
Time to forge ahead. “I’m here because I need your help.”
“And now I pay the price for my sins,” he mutters.
I’d ask what his sins are, but my google searches were very thorough.
Normally, he really would be the last person on earth I’d turn to for help.
“I don’t want money or anything like that. And I’d rather no one know I’m here, so I’m not after your fame either, though I wouldn’t mind some tips on how to get my hair as good as yours always is. I’ve tried Kangapoo before, and—wait. Sorry. Off-topic. I need you to teach me how to not fall in love.”



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Author Bio
Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.
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RELEASE BOOST – Jock Blocked (Copper Valley Fireballs #1) by Pippa Grant


Title: Jock Blocked

Series: Copper Valley Fireballs #1
Author: Pippa Grant

Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: May 19, 2020

BLURB:

She can’t let him score…

Call it superstition, but when a guy bats as hot as Brooks Elliott, you don’t mess with what’s working. And what’s working is him keeping his pants zipped and doing all of his scoring on the field.
So when I hear he’s planning to ditch his V-card now that he’s been traded to baseball’s lovable losers—aka my home team and my reason for living every March through October—I do what any rational, dedicated, obsessed fan would do.
I make a plan to stop him.
But the thing about stopping him is that it requires spending time with him.
Lots. And lots. And lots of time.
And the more time I spend with him, the more I like him. Not as the guy who’s going to help save my favorite team and finally bring home a championship ring, but as the guy who’s helping me in my quest to bring back the team’s old mascot. Who also loves making pancake and bacon sandwiches. And who would do almost anything for his love of the game.
But after all this time of jock-blocking him…do I even have a chance?
And if I do, are we both destined to a life of celibacy in the name of winning?

Jock Blocked is a home run of a romantic comedy featuring the world’s most superstitious sports fan, baseball’s oldest virgin hero, a rogue meatball, an adorable puppy with a cussing problem, and the best lovable losers. It stands alone and comes with a happily ever after more satisfying than a game-winning grand slam.

Watch fan videos and vote for your favorite Copper Valley Fireballs mascot here: https://pippagrant.com/mascots




PURCHASE LINKS 
 
US:
 https://amzn.to/2Z14j4b
UK: https://amzn.to/2T1R2o7
CA: https://amzn.to/2LsahmP
AU: https://amzn.to/2yYsu8N
 
Free in Kindle Unlimited
 
Also available in paperback:
 https://amzn.to/3cA79kA



EXCERPT:

Mackenzie Montana, aka a woman on a mission
I never meant to become a criminal. But in the grand scheme of life, I don’t think I’m
technically engaging in criminal behavior.
At least, if it is, you could call it a crime of passion.
And I am very passionate in my belief that while the Fireballs need to make changes to halt their record-breaking streak of being the worst losing team ever to play professional baseball, they don’t need to do it with a new mascot. Which is why I decided to take two weeks off work and fly to Florida for spring training, where I’m not saying that I’ve snuck into my home team’s ballpark after hour to steal the worst proposed mascot costume, but I’m not saying I haven’t either.
Meatballs?
They actually let a meatball make the final cut.
I needed at least another full season to get over the fact that the new Fireballs ownership killed the last mascot, and here they are, letting fans vote on replacing
Fiery the Dragon with
flaming meatballs.
I snort to myself while I creep through the darkened concrete hallways with a flaming
meatball swallowing half of my body.
If you’re going to steal a giant meatball costume, it’s best to act like you know what
you’re doing. And striding out of here with zero shame means two things—one, no one’s going to stop me, and two, even if they do, I’
m incognito.
It’s the perfect crime to counter the crime of killing Fiery.
I’m one turn away from the door that I left propped open for myself after hiding out in
the family bathroom after today’s game when voices drift toward me.
One male.
One female.
Neither is familiar, but as I get closer to my final turn, I realize the voices are
between me and my exit.
No biggie.
I got this.
I can stroll on by, flash a thumbs-up, pretend like I’m heading out to prank the
Fireballs at the team compound they’re all staying at, or to make a fast-food run for publicity.
Acting like I know what I’m doing inside this mascot costume is as easy as breathing. When you’ve seen thousands of baseball games in your lifetime, it’s not hard.
So I turn the corner.
And then I suck in a surprised breath, because that’s Brooks Elliott.
Oh. My. God.
Brooks Elliott.
The Fireballs’ newest acquisition. Like, so new he arrived yesterday. A mid-spring training acquisition, which is practically unheard of.
He plays third base, and he hits the ball like it’s evil incarnate and he’s an avenging
angel and it’s his job to send that evil into another dimension.
He could be the reason we legitimately have a shot at making it to the post-season.
And I am not going to hyperventilate like I did the last time I was face-to-face with a
baseball player.
Pretending to be a mascot?
I got this.
Talking to the players?

It’s like talking to the gods.



ALSO AVAILABLE:

Liar, Liar, Hearts on Fire – An interconnected standalone
 
US:
 https://amzn.to/2Qlsqph
UK: https://amzn.to/2QqhMxg
CA: https://amzn.to/3b90Ovg
AU: https://amzn.to/2Qqvqk1
 
Free in Kindle Unlimited
 
Also available in audio & paperback
 
Audible:
 https://adbl.co/3bw9rA3
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2LpxSo8
Paperback: https://amzn.to/2whwVKD



AUTHOR BIO:

Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while
fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.

AUTHOR LINKS:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pippagrantromance
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ThePipsquad
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ReadPippa
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/pippagrant
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pippa-grant
Website: http://www.pippagrant.com
Instagram: https://instagram.com/pippa.grant






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