Secret Santas Holiday Collection
Includes: Calista Fox, Erin Quinn, Mary Leo
Publication date: November 2014
Genres: Adult, Romance
Synopsis:
Includes: Calista Fox, Erin Quinn, Mary Leo
Publication date: November 2014
Genres: Adult, Romance
Synopsis:
In the spirit of giving and paying it forward, all of the author’s proceeds for Kissing Kris Kringle will be donated to The Animal Welfare League, an amazing organization dedicated to saving animals lives and working to improve the way they are treated and regarded by society.
Kris Kringle is just an average guy living in the tiny town of North Pole, Maine where Christmas isn’t just a holiday—it’s a way of life. But not for Kris. He might be named after the big guy in red, but Kris is more Scrooge than Santa.
Until he wakes up from a night of partying with his friends to find himself in possession of a Santa suit, a toy bag and a puppy. Kris soon discovers that he’s been relegated to Santa’s naughty list and there’s only one way to get his name removed….put on the suit and spread some cheer.
Lucky for Kris every cloud has a silver snowflake and his quest to get off that list lands him in the arms of the woman he’s been lusting after for years.
It takes a little magic, but Kris is about to get everything he didn’t even know he wanted for Christmas.
Naughty St. Nick
‘Tis the season for Christmas miracles…
Having landed himself on Santa’s Naughty List, Nick Santos is given a chance at redemption. Granted, he’s tasked with some daunting challenges—pimping Santa’s ride and fixing the town’s holiday bling in the once year-round Christmas Capital of the World, North Pole, Maine. But playing Secret Santa comes with some unexpected perks, like finally catching the eye of the woman who sparks his deepest desires, Vixen White.
Vixen has no idea what’s come over Nick this holiday season, but his good deeds around town help her to remember the magic of Christmas, long forgotten. And his sexy grin and a searing, stolen kiss under mistletoe have her wishing her dream of being Naughty St. Nick’s one and only will finally come true.
All she has to do…is believe.
Rudy Raindear thought he’d left North Pole, Main in his rear-view mirror. Now, after several years, he’s returned to convince his beloved grandfather to retire and sell his struggling bakery, Sugar Plums – the linchpin in a potentially lucrative real estate deal – great for Rudy, devastating for the town.
But all is not what it seems in this magical Christmas town, especially after Rudy lands on Santa’s Naughty List. Suddenly Rudy’s nose is turning red for the tiniest of white lies and the one girl he wanted to impress, Jenny Bells, is on his case for trying to close Santa’s favorite bakery.
What’s a guy to do?
Start baking and just maybe Rudy can save the bakery, and convince Jenny that sometimes, being a little naughty, is oh-so nice.
Excerpts:
Excerpt #1
Kris woke up spread eagle on his kitchen
floor feeling like he’d been hit by a runaway sleigh attached to twelve rabid
reindeer. He remembered going to Yule Tide’s with Nick and Rudy—two school
buddies he hadn’t seen in ages. Rudy, because he’d moved away from the tiny
town of North Pole, Maine years ago and now lived in New York City. Nick,
because even in a town with the population of twelve hundred and two, life got
in the way. Plus, with everything going to shit between the economy, lagging tourism
and finally, the last insult, no snow…well, it made a person want to hole up
and be alone.
Kris had been doing a lot of that lately.
But Rudy was in town for a short trip and
he’d been buying. They’d drank beer, then tequila, then something pink and
sweet with the word fuzzy in it, then more beer, then…well, who the hell knew
what then?Certainly not Kris.
He sat, holding his pounding head with one
hand to make sure it didn't roll off. The other hand clutched a black velvet
bag. Kris stared at it for a moment.
WTF was that?
He had no idea where it had come from or how
it had come to be in his possession, but he had such a tight grip on the thing
that his hand hurt. The bag was huge and at the bottom was a bulge that
indicated it wasn’t empty.
Jesus, had he robbed somebody?
He discarded the horrified idea at once. No
way. He hadn’t been that drunk.
Had he?
Cautiously, he loosened his grip and peered
inside. He caught a glimpse of something red, something white and something
kind of creamy yellow. Frowning, he reached inside and one of those
somethings moved.
With a shout he released the bag and hit his
feet. WTF?
As he stared at the bag, the bulge at the
bottom separated, became two bumps—one stationary and the other squirming like
a whole nest of snakes. Except it wasn’t making snake noises. As Kris
watched, the wiggling bump moved to the lip of the bag and out popped…
A puppy.
A
puppy?
Where the hell had he gotten a puppy? And why
had he stuffed it in a bag?
He opened his bag of muffins and pulled the
second one out, snagging doggy bagel number two for the puppy as well and
tossing it down. Holly watched him suspiciously as he took a big bite. With a
grin, he offered it to her.
“Want some?”
She almost smiled. “I mean it,” she warned.
“If I hear any complaints, I’m going to….”
She trailed off and he sat calmly, eating his
muffin and drinking his coffee.
Finally he prompted, “What? What are you
going to do to me, Holly?”
He hadn’t meant it to sound so
suggestive—okay, maybe he had—but he and Holly had been circling each other
since junior high. Somehow they’d always managed to avoid connecting. He’d gone
away to school and by the time he’d come back, she’d gone and gotten married
for about a week and a half to some dick she’d met at Boston University. He’d
met the guy when she’d brought him home. Kris hadn’t liked him on sight.
But as she stood there now in her boxy red
sweater that tried to hide all her lush curves, her straight skirt that covered
most of her shapely legs and those sensible heels, Kris wanted nothing more
than to change the status quo between them. Except he was stuck in this damned
Santa suit and who could take a man dressed like Santa Claus seriously?
Especially when said man had been cursed with a name like Kris Kringle in real
life?
As if she’d heard his thoughts, she shifted
and a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “This is a bad idea,” she said. “I think
you should take your muffins and your puppy and go home, Kris.”
“I’d really like to do that Holly,” he said.
“But I can’t.”
She narrowed her eyes and leaned toward him.
He got a whiff of perfume that smelled so good he wanted to wrap an arm around
her and pull her closer. Hell, he wanted to wrap both arms around her and pull
her right onto his jolly, old lap.
She frowned. “Are you drunk?”
“Nope.” Not anymore. He was stone cold sober
now, like it or not.
His disclaimer seemed to do little to lighten
her mood. She said, “You’re not on our payroll. You’re not covered by our
insurance. If something happened… If
someone tripped on the way up to see you. If you fell out of your chair—”
Kris choked on his coffee. “If I fell out of
my chair?” he repeated.
“It could happen.”
He laughed and dammed if that ho, ho, ho didn’t boom out like fireworks
on the Fourth of July. All around them people who’d been bustling by, wrapped
in their own thoughts, faces strained with the burden of a holiday season
without any cheer—all of them stopped and stared.
“Jeez,” Holly said. “That was impressive. But
it doesn’t change a thing.”
Actually, it did. Because in that instant,
Kris once again had a glimmering memory from the night before.A voice, deep and
merry, telling him he’d been a very naughty boy and that it was time to make
amends. Disturbed and unsure now if it had been real or an alcoholic brain
burp, Kris tried to follow the echo of the voice to its source but came up
blank. In a town like this where holiday cheer lurked in every corner, everyone
had a story about seeing Santa Claus. Some years the jolly fat guy was spotted
daily, others only a time or two. But Kris could name at least a dozen people
off the top of his head who claimed to have had conversations with Santa.
That didn’t mean he believed a damn one of
them, though. Only kids and dotty old women believed in that crap.
That’s when it came to him. “Jenny
Bells! You’re Jenny Bells from Donner Street. You were my very first kiss.”
“Good grief, how bad off are you?”
He chuckled, careful of any actual
movement. “Apparently, pretty bad.” Then he stared at her for a moment as last
night began to come into focus. “You were there, along with Kris and Nick, and
some guy who looked a lot like the real Santa or was that a dream?”
“I don’t remember the Santa guy, but
your buddies Kris and Nick were absolutely there. I came in
at midnight with a plate of your grandfather’s cookies which you all
devoured. Carol told me you kept buying rounds, and everybody kept drinking.
I’m sure the guys are feeling just as bad as you do this morning.”
“Why aren’t you dying like the rest
of us?”
“Somebody had to be the adult. After
just one of those Christmas Bombs, I knew you three would never make it home if
I didn’t drive. Besides, I’ve been living here in this attic ever since my
apartment building went into foreclosure, so any way I can help out your
grandfather, or his grandson, seemed like the right thing to do.”
“You live here?” He looked around at
the long, narrow room and could tell she had transformed half of it into a
livable, feminine space, but still . . . “Why the hell would you live here?”
She shrugged. “Your grandfather
needed some help both in the bakery and around the house after your gram
passed. I needed a place to live. It just made sense. He won’t let me pay rent,
so I try to do the things he can’t.”
“I’m sure Gramps loves having you
around, but doesn’t your day job get in the way?”
“Helping your grandfather is my day
job. He’s teaching me how to bake Santa’s favorite cookie, or at least that’s
the plan. We haven’t exactly gotten around to it yet. Gramps can’t remember the
recipe, nor can he find your grandmother’s recipe book, but we’ve got ten days
to go before Christmas. I’m sure we’ll figure something out by then.”
Rudy hoped to have the Smart-Mart
deal locked-up by then.
He sneezed.
“Bless you,” she said.
“Thanks. Don’t you miss your own
place? I mean if this is your room, it’s not very private for overnight
guests.”
Rudy felt a mild pang of guilt for
taking her bed, but on the other hand, he was over six feet tall and that sofa
would never have been long enough.
“It’s a small town, remember? Not
much guest action going on. Besides, I thought you’d have a room at the Inn,
and when you didn’t, I had no choice but to bring you home.”
“You could have slept in bed with me.
I wouldn’t have attacked you,” he lied. If he had awoken and been at all
coherent, he probably would have tried it. Of course, he wasn’t about to tell
her that.
His nose suddenly itched. He tried to
ignore it, but it tickled like a son of a bitch.
She threw him a little grin that told
him there was no way in hell she would have climbed into bed with him. He had
the distinct feeling she knew his game.
“It was tricky enough just sleeping
on the couch. You kept telling me how much you still loved me. You must have
tried to get me into bed ten times before you finally gave up and fell asleep.”
“Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Accepted. I really loved my old
apartment. I would have lived there forever if I could have. I heard someone
bought the building, but they haven’t done any work on it yet. Shame, it’s such
a cute place. With the right TLC it could be beautiful again. I’ve been hoping
to move back in, but so far, I haven’t heard who bought it or when the
renovations are going to start.”
Rudy didn’t want to tell her he was
the owner and when his deal went through with Smart-Mart the apartment
building, along with this building and several others on Prancer Street, would
be demolished to make way for the mega-store.
“I’m sure the new owner is just
waiting until after the holidays to begin the repairs.” As he spoke his nose
itched again, and he could feel a sneeze coming on. “Excuse me,” he said, as he
grabbed another tissue and sneezed five times in a row.
When he finished, he gazed over at
her. She had a curious look on her face as she tried to stifle the grin
spreading across her sweet lips.
“What’s so funny?” Rudy asked. His
headache had begun to retreat, and his stomach had calmed down to manageable
ache.
“Nothing, at least I don’t think it’s
anything. It’s just that as you were talking, your nose seemed to get a bit
pinker. Even bordering on red.”
“I’m probably getting a cold.”
She giggled. “Does your nose usually
turn this red when you get a cold?”
Concerned, Rudy said, “Define ‘this
red.’”
“Stay right there. Let me get you a
mirror.”
Jenny slid out of bed, and walked to
the back of the attic. While she was digging around through the trunks, Rudy
grabbed a sugar coated cookie off the tray and ate it in two bites. It tasted
all sugary and yummy, but as he swirled the sweet-goodness around in his mouth,
he could tell it lacked the proper amount of cinnamon, and it needed an extra
pinch of vanilla.
He had grown up baking alongside his
grandparents, something his parents had discouraged, and developed a
distinctive pallet for every cookie in the bakery, so he knew when his
grandfather was on target. This cookie, although good, was not perfect.
Gramps was slipping.
“Found it,” Jenny said as she held up
an ornate hand mirror that undoubtedly had belonged to his late grandmother.
She handed it to him and he gazed
into the mirror at bloodshot eyes, bed hair, rosy cheeks and an unnaturally
deep red nose.
“What the hell?”
It was at that moment when Rudy
remembered exactly what that Santa guy with the white beard and heavy black
boots had said to him, or rather, sang to him as they stood outside in some
cold place that looked an awful lot like the real North Pole, complete with
miles of packed icy snow, and several reindeer grazing alongside a huge log
cabin. There may have even been an elf or two visible through a snowy window.
You better look out. You better not
lie. You better not doubt, I’m telling you why. Santa Claus is coming to town.
He sees you when you’re sleeping, and knows when you’re a fake. Your nose will
shine when you really lie, so be good for goodness sake.
Then another vivid memory gave Rudy a
momentary full body shudder.
Santa had placed him on his Naughty
List
Rudy put the mirror down, and leapt
out of bed.
“I am so screwed!” he mumbled.
NAUGHTY ST.
NICK—EXCERPT #1
Nick sauntered
into the bakery the next evening while Vixen tried, yet again, to conjure a bit
of creativity with a draft synopsis.
He looked
disheveled, sexily unkempt. More so than usual. His sandy-brown hair stuck out
all over his head, as though he’d raked his hands through it numerous times. He
wore a black v-necked T-shirt with Yeah,
I Can Fix It scrawled across his rigid pectoral ledge. The material
conformed to his hard muscles, the short sleeves straining against rock-hard
biceps, the hem only halfway, haphazardly tucked into Levi’s that sported
grease stains and sawdust.
Christ, the man
could roll out of bed from a wild weekend and still look sinfully delicious.
Of course, Vixen
wouldn’t know this first hand. But given how incredibly gorgeous Naughty Nick
was, she considered it an easy call to make.
He was a
six-foot-two-inch hunk of a man with chiseled features, mischievous hazel eyes and
a strong jawline covered by two days’ worth of stubble that gave him a sexy
edge. Raw intensity mixed with irresistible charm and oozed from his every
pore. A lethal combination.
He chatted with
Jenny for a few minutes as she manned the counter. Then Nick slid his gaze
toward the small dining room and jerked his chin in Vixen’s direction, a casual
greeting.
She averted her
gaze.
For one thing,
Nick was a thousand times out of her league. He had a reputation for knowing things... Things women like
Vixen White didn’t speculate or fantasize about. She’d heard enough dreamy,
lustful sighs over Nick to not only last a lifetime, but to convince her he’d
be sadly disappointed if he ever got his hands on her.
Not that he ever
would.
Where had that
thought come from, anyway?
Darn that Jenny
Bells for planting seeds in her head, telling her Nick had rambled on about her
in his drunken state.
Honestly, Vixen
had walked away from more than her fair share of water-cooler gossip about
Nick—his talented hands and tongue...his scintillating bedroom talk...the
wicked ways he could so easily bring a woman to orgasm—to know she shouldn’t
let him occupy a second of her thoughts. The two of them were not simpatico. Never had been, never
would be.
She kept all those
voices, thoughts and the clawing curiosity from her mind. She didn’t need to
waste her time thinking about Nick. In fact, she figured it was best to pretend
he didn’t even exist.
Impossible.
He constantly
crept into her brain. She constantly dealt with the tug-o-war that was her
sensible side and the burning desire she had to throw caution to the wind.
Such a dangerous
game to play, even if it only a mental one.
Or one now
grounded in reality—because Nick strolled toward her.
She caught the
glimpse of him in her peripheral vision and her pulse kicked up several
notches. He was at her elbow before she could close the lid on her laptop and
escape out the side door.
“Hey, Vix.” His
deep, sensual voice rolled slowly down her spine like warm honey. Making her
squirm in a suddenly hot and bothered way.
He reached for the
chair next to her, jerked it around and straddled the seat.
Peering
suspiciously at him from under sooty lashes, she simply said, “Nick.”
Simply? Yeah, right.
Her tone was low
and sultry. Belying the tingles that ran rampant through her body. The way they
always did when Nick was near.
“Haven’t seen you
in a while,” he commented as he unabashedly took her in, from her plump, dark
curls that she’d pulled up on the sides, leaving soft tendrils around her
temple, to her blue eyes she always accented with smoky shadow and glam-black
mascara, to her glossy lips. His gaze lingered there a moment, making her
breath catch, before dropping to her chest, which suddenly rose and fell with
her now-shallow breathing.
He seemed
reluctant to drag his attention from her breasts, capturing her gaze again, an
unapologetic grin on his face and fire in his eyes.
Vixen felt the
effects of that scorching look to the depths of her soul. She crossed her legs
and pressed her thighs together as a tickle between them ratcheted her pulse
even higher. Heat burst on her cheeks and she had to tilt her head away, in
hopes of hiding her instant, innate response to Nick.
“You know, you get
prettier every day,” he said in is warm, intimate timbre.
Vixen knew better
than to let him bait her with flattery. Even if it was incredibly sweet and so
sincere-sounding that she truly wanted to believe he wasn’t just mindlessly
flirting.
She knew better.
Forcing herself to
ignore his compliment entirely, she said, “You haven’t seen me around because
I’ve been busy.” Avoiding you. She
bit back a sigh. It was pretty much a fulltime job. “I’ve been spending time in
Bangor. My aunt has a bookstore there, remember? I’ve been filling in for her
staff when they go on vacation or have family emergencies. Or when she’s just
plain shorthanded.”
Her most recent
stint had lasted an entire month. She’d missed North Pole the whole time. And
despite knowing that keeping Nick out of her immediate line of vision was for
the best—until she someday broke free
of this ridiculous attraction she felt toward him—she’d yearned for those
moments when she’d catch sight of him as much as she’d longed to return to
their quirky little town.
But her Aunt
Noelle was the only family Vixen had left. She’d lived in North Pole up until
Vixen’s mother had passed when Vixen was just sixteen. Noelle had married and
now she and her husband were happily settled in Bangor.
“Well, it’s nice
to have you back,” Nick said in a quiet, arousing tone. His bedroom voice, she
suspected. Definitely one that would make a woman roll over and spread her
legs.
Vixen mentally
shook the thought from her head and held her moan in check. Nick did things to
her—without doing anything at all.
How cruel was the
universe, really?
With the to-go cup
of coffee in his hand, he gestured toward her computer. “New book?”
“Not exactly. I
mean, yes. It’s supposed to be. But so far...” She shrugged a shoulder. “The
ideas aren’t exactly flowing.”
He regarded her a
few moments, then said, “We’re all lacking the Christmas spirit around here.”
“Kind of unfortunate.”
A heavy weight filled her heart at the thought. “Really, that doesn’t even
begin to cover it. I feel like...we’ve all just given up.” With a
self-deprecating laugh, she added, “Not exactly a surprise. How long could
holiday magic last in a town like this, when we were all hit hard with the
recession? Lots of people lost hope...faith....”
“Including you?”
he asked with a raised brow.
“I don’t know,”
she said, honestly. “Not quite sure what I’m feeling. Just that it hasn’t been
the same around here these past few years, and maybe that’s why I can’t come up
with anything to write about. For most authors, fiction is fantasy. Make
believe. For me, it was typical North Pole stuff that was the norm for all of
us in town, and delighted those kids who could only imagine and dream of living
in a year-round winter wonderland.”
“Some wonderland,”
he said with a snort. “And our winter is one endless heat wave.”
“Yeah, I even had
to order more short-sleeved shirts because the warm temps are relentless, when
we should be wearing sweaters and scarves.”
Nick’s jaw
tightened, a hint of disgruntlement crossing his sculpted features. Not a
normal expression for the hot-to-trot bad boy.
“Something wrong?”
she asked, though she knew to tread lightly. No need to get too involved with Nick. “Other than the
fact that it feels like we’re in Florida in the middle of December, not Maine?”
“Just have some
things on my mind.” He seemed purposely to loosen his jaw. Then he gave her a
half-assed grin. The really sexy kind that only lifted one corner of his mouth
and left her insides blazing. “I’ll see you around, okay?”
“Sure. Right.” Her
pulse continued to race for no good reason. “Okay.”
Urgh! What was with the Marilyn Monroe
voice?
Get a grip, Vix!
NAUGHTY ST.
NICK—EXCERPT #2
Vixen couldn’t
remember the last time she’d smiled so much that her cheeks actually hurt. Yet,
she couldn’t contain the grin, no matter what. That kiss Nick had given her was
more potent than moonshine, intoxicating her and making her so warm and fuzzy
inside that she’d had to change into a tank top and shorts when she’d returned
home. Despite the slight chill in the air, she’d been burning up most of the
night.
She’d left Nick
with a smile on his face, too. And the promise of something electric and unexpected
surrounding them both.
He hadn’t pushed
her further, and she was grateful, needing a little time to process the change
in the air, the shock of what had transpired between them. And the heat from
that kiss—good Lord!
She was still
giddy the next day as she wandered along Blitzen Street, noting that the storefront
windows were all alight and filled with holiday displays. That was new.
Whoever had taken
over as Santa was perched in the big, elaborate chair, listening to more wishes
from the kids. And if Vixen weren’t mistaken, those children didn’t appear to
be locals. In fact, the entire square was abuzz with activity and there were
many faces she didn’t recognize.
The tourists had
returned.
Her heart swelled.
Tears prickled her eyes. Even the weather had turned frigid—she’d had to put on
her jacket before leaving the house this morning. And the unbelievably
delicious scent wafting from Sugar Plums was magic unto itself.
Vixen stood in the
center of the square and absorbed the sights and sounds—including the perfectly
timed It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like
Christmas from the wandering group of carolers, all decked out in festive
garb.
Indeed, it truly
was looking a lot like Christmas. And Nick and his co-conspirators, whoever
they were, deserved the full credit.
“This is so
wonderful, isn’t it?”
Vixen turned at
Jenny’s voice and smiled. Around a lump of emotion, she said, “I’d actually
forgotten how sensational all of this was. Like I put it out of my mind as soon
as my grandfather died and everyone stopped celebrating.”
“I know,” Jenny
said, clearly feeling some strained emotions as well. “It’s been pretty painful
for all of us. Traditions die hard, you know? We cling to them, especially when
they’ve been such a huge part of our lives. Every day. With Mr. White and the
endless holiday spirit, it was all we knew. So when it went away... It really went away.”
Vixen glanced
around the square, then said, “What’s interesting, though, is that there are
still some similarities—the tree, for example. Although, the lights have never
blazed so bright. It’s stunning. And the new setup—putting Santa and his
village in the square instead of keeping it all contained to the department
store... I mean, he’s what this town is all about and for it to be showcased right
here... That’s incredible. It’s impossible not to be sucked into Christmas all
over again.”
“Yes,” Jenny said
with a knowing smile that made Vixen wonder what she knew about the Secret
Santas in town. “It’s sort of a new generation of North Pole, don’t you think?”
“That’s exactly
what I think. And it’s gorgeous.”
“And still so
perfect.” Jenny admired the festivities a moment longer, then said, “Oh! I
almost forgot.” She handed over a small gift bag. “This is for you.”
Vixen eyed her
curiously. “Our tradition is to exchange gifts with friends on Christmas Eve,
family on Christmas Day.”
“Well, this isn’t
from me, per se. And I think we’re seeing that traditions are meant to be
broken. Or, at least, brought along with the changing times.”
Vixen couldn’t dispute
that. She opened the bag and pulled out the box inside. Jenny took the bag to
hold for her so Vixen could lift the lid. She peeled back delicate, silvery
tissue paper and gasped.
“Those look
divine,” she said with a dreamy sigh.
“There’s a card.”
It was tucked into
the lid. Vixen extracted it.
For your sweet tooth. All you have to do is
believe, Vix.
Nick
Vixen’s heart
fluttered.
Calling all you candycane sweethearts! We have a
wonderful way to share the holiday cheer with all your fellow romantics. Share
with us your warmest Christmas memory and it could be featured on the
#SexySecretSantas Holiday Collection authors' social media! - Erin Quinn,
Calista Fox, and Mary Leo!
To have
your memory featured, just write a review for "Kissing Kris Kringle",
"Naughty St. Nick", OR "Romancing Rudy Raindear", and send
the link to your review to pubcraftteam@gmail.com with your favourite
holiday memory! Include a pic if you like! Mary Leo, Erin Quinn and Calista Fox
will select a story to be shared on the their author pages each day!
You can
learn more about the Secret Santas Holiday Collection on Erin Quinn’s blog
here: http://bit.ly/1wxRA3J
Kissing
Kris Kringle: http://amzn.to/1s0ycWV
Naughty
St. Nick: http://amzn.to/1AcS9nf
****************
Purchase:
Kissing Kris Kringle
Naughty St. Nick
Romancing Rudy Raindear
AUTHOR BIOS:
Erin Quinn is an award winning author who writes haunting romance for the thinking reader. Her books have been called “riveting,” “brilliantly plotted” and “beautifully written” and have won, placed or showed in in number awards. Look for THE THREE FATES OF RYAN LOVE, coming in January from Pocket Books. Go to www.erinquinnbooks.com for more information.
http://www.erinquinnbooks.com
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https://twitter.com/
Calista Fox is a former PR professional, now writing fast-paced, steamy books to set your pulse racing--including the BURNED DEEP trilogy, coming in 2015 from St. Martin's Press! She is an Amazon bestseller and has won Reviewer’s and Reader’s Choice Awards, as well as a Best Book Award, and competitions with publication as the prize.
USA Today bestselling author Mary Leo writes contemporary romance, paranormal romance, romantic suspense, and mystery. She loves to travel for research while she’s writing a book, or for that matter, even when she’s not writing a book . . . which always leads to yet another book.
GIVEAWAY:
Blitz-wide giveaway (INTL)
- Grand prize: $50.00 Amazon gift card
- Second prize: $25.00 gift card
- Third prize: Any two of Mary Leo's ebooks
This is exciting read specially this coming holidays! Thanks for sharing :)
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