Friday, May 24, 2019

Blog Tour Excerpt with Giveaway: The Brilliance of Fireflies by Leslie Hauser

Book info:
Author: Leslie Hauser
Pub. Date: May 21, 2019
Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 310

Emma Loukas had a typical teenage life. Until she didn’t. After choosing to stay home instead of accompanying her family to a minor league baseball game, Emma is not present when a suicide bomber detonates an explosive device at the entrance to the stadium just as her family arrives. In the months that follow, grief therapy and the gloomy looks from friends and her extended family do nothing but drag Emma further down into the rubble left behind by that deadly April afternoon.

To escape the sad reality of her new life, Emma heads out to California to spend her senior year with her grandmother. Getting away from her former life is the only way to survive. It doesn’t take long, though, for Emma to experience Grandma Connie’s dementia, and it’s more than a seventeen-year-old is capable of handling on her own. Now Emma fears she has just made her bad situation worse, and she begins to wonder if it’s even worth trying to survive.

But when the family mementos on the dresser catch her eye, Emma feels a bit of light turn on inside her. Maybe the way to make sense of her new life is to live the lives her mom, dad, and brother no longer can. So she sets out to achieve each of their dreams. It won’t be easy, but it’s all Emma has left, and in the process, she just may find out who she’s supposed to be.


There are exactly thirty-seven wisps on this half-blown dandelion twirling back and forth between my fingers. I’ve counted several times because I need to know exactly how many chances I’ll have.

When I was little, my teacher told me that, when you blow them into the air, dandelion seeds carry thoughts and dreams to loved ones. So, that summer when my friend Callie and I were ten, we hunted every dandelion in our neighborhood and sent a barrage of fluff into the blue Ohio sky. I aimed my hopes at Billy Martin, but now I wish I hadn’t wasted them on some boy I forgot about three months later. I wish I’d sent more thoughts and dreams to my family. I’d like to do that now, but how do you send a lifetime of thoughts in a single breath?

I stare at the bald side of this dandelion head and wonder where the other wisps have traveled and if they’ve made any dreams come true. Does it still work if half the wisps have already been spent? I work this question like a math problem as I wait for my aunt or uncle to pick me up from therapy. They’re usually late; with six kids, the to-do list never ends. I feel bad that I’m one more responsibility for them. It’s one of the many unfair things about this situation.

My phone buzzes in my back jeans pocket. Maybe they’re on the way. I tap the screen, and Callie’s name appears instead. How are u doing? Theres always a sad face these days. I havent seen an LOL or a laughing emoji in over two months.

I text back, Okay 😊 waiting for my ride. Call u when I get home. I’m not lying when I say I’m okay. My aunt and uncle insisted I enroll in this teen therapy group. They said it would help me “process my grief and move forward.” I don’t know that I need help moving forward; time doesn’t allow for anything else. But I guess it’s helped to share a few things. They say I have something called “survivor’s guilt.” Maybe that’s true. It seems more like logic to me. I’m not the victim. I’m still alive.

“Hey,” a timid voice says from behind me.

I turn and see one of the girls from the group. She’s a sophomore at my high school. She lost her dad and little sister in a house fire.

 “Hey,” I reply. “What are you still doing here?” Session ended forty-five minutes ago.

“My mom said she’d be late, so I stayed to help clean up. What about you?”

“Same. My aunt and uncle are pretty busy. Sometimes they forget me.”

She stares down at her purple Converse that match the new purple streaks in her hair. A few crickets chirp in the late afternoon air, and I continue methodically twirling the dandelion puff in my hand.

“I felt bad for Jason in there,” she says in a near whisper as her eyes focus on the movement of my hands.

“I know. He told me a couple of weeks ago that soccer was the only thing getting him through all of this.” Jason’s mom died of cancer a few months ago, and he tore his ACL last week. The moment he opened his mouth to share, a dam burst and unleashed a sadness he couldn’t seem to control.

“Sometimes it just makes me sadder when I come here.” She stares off at the cluster of trees to our right.

“Me too.”

Her phone beeps. She checks it then puts it back in the tiny pink purse she always carries with her. I think it was her sister’s. “What’s with the dandelion?” She angles her head at my hand.

I stop the twirling. “I don’t know. I saw it in the grass while I was waiting. One time someone told me that if you blow dandelion seeds into the air, they carry your thoughts to people you love.”

“Really?” Her eyes widen then shift to the ground, scanning the grass around her. I bet there’s so much she wants to send to her dad and sister. And I know she worries about her mom now, too.

I hold out the dandelion puff. “Here. You can have this one.”

She looks up. “Don’t you want it?”

I, too, have a ton to say to my mom and my dad and my brother Connor, but there’s such sadness in her eyes—not just now but always. It’s a haze, almost as if her brown eyes are covered in all that ash that stole her happy life.

I take a step forward. “It’s okay. I’ll find another one.”

She takes it from my outstretched hand. She inhales as much air as she can and closes her eyes. When she opens them, she blows with all her might. Her breath has so much force behind it, the seeds shoot off into the air, scattering like shrapnel.


An image of my dad and Connor flashes in my mind. Every hair on my arms bristles and my muscles clench. The whole world seems to freeze, and I can’t breathe.

A moment later, a pair of headlights frees me of my paralysis. My uncle’s black minivan stops in front of us. “That’s my ride. Are you sure your mom’s coming? We could give you a ride home.”

“No, thanks. My mom is having one of her days, but she said she’d be here in twenty minutes. I figure it won’t be more than an hour.” She bites her lip and shrugs.

“Okay. See you Friday.” I wave and walk to the car.

As soon as I slide open the door, shouts and squeals bombard me. “Gimme it!” my four-year-old cousin Christian yells at his twin sister Chelsea. She sits in a car seat next to his, holding a tan stuffed dog and wearing a devilish grin.

“No! You keep throwing it at me!”

“IT’S MINE!” Christian screeches as his tiny hands form fists and his chubby legs shoot straight out in front of him.

“Kids! Enough!” my uncle Jim yells over his shoulder. “Chelsea, it’s his toy. Give him the dog.”

 “But Daaaad! He keeps throwing it at me!”

“Chelsea.” Uncle Jim aims his scary parental tone directly at her.

“Fine,” she grumbles. She throws the stuffed dog at Christian and whips her head toward the window so fast her two blond braids smack her in the face.

I start to slip into the way back when Uncle Jim says, “Emma, could you sit between those two, please? They’ve been at it all afternoon.”

“Sure.” I squeeze myself between the two car seats. “Hey guys.” I smile at them while I dig around for the seat belt, but neither pays me any attention. Christian sings and trots his stuffed dog up and down his legs, and Chelsea has moved on to a book.

Up front, my fourteen-year-old cousin Joey complains, “Dad, I was supposed to be at practice ten minutes ago. You made me join this stupid summer camp here, and now you can’t even get me there on time.”

Uncle Jim glances backward, then in a hushed voice, but one that I can still hear over the talk radio, says, “Look, Joey, you know why we had to spend the summer in Ohio. So it was either play soccer here or not at all.”

 “Well, fine, then you could at least get me there on time. I’m already an outsider, and this only makes it worse.”

“I’m sorry. Your mother forgot about Emma’s therapy, and Aunt Jules has the other car, so we had to pick up Emma.”

I shrink in my seat, and my chin falls to my chest. Chelsea leans over and hands me one of her fruit snacks. I know they love me and want to help.

And that just makes it all worse.

About Leslie:
I am a YA writer and middle school teacher. I have a B.A. in English from UCLA and a Master’s degree in Educational Administration. I was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, and currently reside in Los Angeles, California, with my dog Mr. Darcy.

When I’m not living in fictional worlds inside my head, I run all sorts of distances, torture my body at CrossFit, and DVR entirely too many television shows. I dream of one day returning to the Midwest to live on a farm. Or perhaps owning a cookie delivery service.


  • 3 Winners will receive a finished copy of THE BRILLIANCE OF FIREFLIES, US Only.

  a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tour Schedule:
Week One:
5/13/2019- Wonder StruckReview
5/14/2019- Lifestyle of MeReview
5/15/2019- Struck by StoriesReview
5/16/2019- Lone Tree ReviewsReview
5/17/2019- Starlight ReadsReview
Week Two:
5/20/2019- PopTheButterfly ReadsReview
5/21/2019- Pacific Northwest BookwormReview
5/22/2019- thesuburbanlifestyleReview
5/23/2019- BookHoundsExcerpt
5/24/2019- JB's Bookworms with Brandy MulderReview


Release Blitz with Giveaway: The Missing Season by Gillian French

I am so excited that THE MISSING SEASON by Gillian French is available now and that I get to share the news!
If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book by Author Gillian French, be sure to check out all the details below.
This blitz also includes a giveaway for FOUR signed copies of the book, Us Only, courtesy of Gillian and Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, enter in the Rafflecopter at the bottom of this post.
About the Book:
Author: Gillian French
Pub. Date: May 21, 2019
Publisher: HarperTeen
Formats: Hardcover, eBook
Pages: 304

From the author of Edgar Award finalist Grit and The Lies They Tell comes a tense, atmospheric novel for fans of E. Lockhart and Marieke Nijkamp, about friendship, truth, and the creeping fears that can't be outrun. 

Whenever another kid goes missing in October, the kids in the old factory town of Pender know what is really behind it: a monster out in the marshes that they call the Mumbler.

That's what Clara's new crew tells her when she moves to town. Bree and Sage, who take her under their wing. Spirited Trace, who has taken the lead on this year's Halloween prank war. And magnetic Kincaid, whose devil-may-care attitude and air of mystery are impossible for Clara to resist.

Clara doesn't actually believe in the Mumbler--not like Kinkaid does. But as Halloween gets closer and tensions build in the town, it's hard to shake the feeling that there really is something dark and dangerous in Pender. Lurking in the shadows. Waiting to bring the 
stories to life.

Find it: GoodreadsAmazonKindleBarnes and NobleiBooksKoboTBD

“It’s sad, you coming here.” Kincaid takes me in, his smile fading. “Now you’ve got no chance.”

No chance. Like he read it in my tea leaves or the lines of my palm. “Why?”

“Because he only takes Pender kids. Likes our taste, I guess.” Kincaid drops his board, glides backward on one foot, never breaking eye contact. “Like . . . hopelessness.”

“And Steak-umms from the caf,” somebody says, making people snicker.

“Liver.” Trace shows his teeth. “God, I love that shit.”

“What about Gavin Cotswold?” Sage says. “Have they figured out how he died yet?”

“Mumbler got him.” Trace.

“He OD’d.” Bree gives Trace a withering look. “He went out in the woods, got fucked up, and died. His own mom thinks so.”

“I heard the animals didn’t leave enough of him behind to be sure.” Trace says. Then, to Kincaid, “Tell her about the first boy. Ricky Whoever.”

“Sartain. Ricky Sartain.” Behind Kincaid, most of the activity has stopped, everybody pulling up some concrete to listen. He’s holding court, a storyteller who knows his audience. “It all started, like, twenty years ago. Kid went missing two days before they found him on the banks of the marsh, way out by the railroad bridge.” Kincaid nods slowly, easing into it. “Somebody put their hands all over him.”

More covert laughter, Trace’s whisper: “Loved to death.”

Kincaid entwines his fingers, working his palms together in sinuous rhythm. “Squeezed him, crushed him. Mashed his spine, smashed his belly.”

A voice speaks up: “My mom said that kid got hit by the train.”

“Of course she did.” Kincaid doesn’t turn. “She also told you that Santa Claus is real and honesty is the best policy and if you’re good, you’ll get into heaven, right?”

Snorts. Somebody mimics, “But my mommy said,” whacking the boy who interrupted with a baseball cap.

“He was folded in half.” Sage grips Trace’s forearm. “That’s what I heard.”

“No.” Kincaid’s hands are tai chi slow. “Lengthwise.”

“Stop.” Bree says it under her breath; I’m the only one who hears.

“Ricky disappeared right around Halloween. That’s the pattern.” Kincaid skates a circuit around us, dismounts, and slaps the tail of the board so it pops into his hand again, all one smooth movement that I wish I could watch again frame by frame. “Truth. After, Ricky’s friends told everybody how they’d all gone out to the railroad bridge to smash pumpkins one night, and there was somebody hiding under there. Too dark to see, but they heard him, mumbling and yammering away.”

Yip, yip, yip! I look up to see audience participation, lumbering shapes aping around the others, sounding like a zoo after hours—Ahhh-ah-ah-ah! Mwaaa-hoohoo!

“Next time anybody saw Ricky, he was red guacamole.” Kincaid pauses, smiling faintly, but he’s not really seeing me now. “Ever since, Mumbler’s been around. Takes a bad kid every few years, always in October. Grown-ups have some bullshit excuse for what happened to them, but we know.”

Nods pass around the circle. I watch for inside looks—they’ll drop the act when they see I’m not taken in—but the quiet drags on. “What’s the Mumbler look like?” I hold
Kincaid’s gaze, willing him to let me in on this, let me prove I don’t scare easy. “So I’ll know him if I see him.”

Kincaid looks to Trace, again with the smile that creases his eyes into merry slits, a kid showing his little sister where Mom hides the Christmas presents. “We can take you to him.”

About Gillian:

I’m a ridiculous, sometimes cranky, often hungry, frequently writing flibbertigibbet who really hopes she can keep doing this for a living.

My debut novel, GRIT (HarperTeen), was an Indie Next List pick, a Junior Library Guild Selection, received starred reviews from Kirkus Reviews and ALA Booklist, was an Edgar Award Finalist, a South Carolina Young Adult Book Award Finalist, and received both a 2018 Lupine Award from the Maine Library Association and a 2018 Maine Literary Award from the Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance.

My other novels include THE DOOR TO JANUARY (Islandport Press; Bram Stoker Award Finalist), THE LIES THEY TELL (HarperTeen; 2019 International Thriller Award Finalist, 2019 Maine Literary Award Finalist, 2018 Junior Library Guild Selection), and THE MISSING SEASON (HarperTeen, coming 5/21/2019; preorder giveaway happening now). My short fiction has placed in Writer’s Digest and Zoetrope: All Story contests, as well as appearing in such publications as Weirdbook and Creepy Campfire Stories for Grownups.

I hold a BA in English from the University of Maine, and I’m a member of the Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance, Mystery Writers of America, and the Society of Children’s Writers and Illustrators. Currently, I still live in my native state of Maine–shocker, I know–with my husband and sons, where I’m perpetually agonizing over my next novel (in the best possible way, of course!)

Giveaway Details:

4 winners will win a signed finished copy of THE MISSING SEASON, US Only.

Thursday, May 23, 2019

Blog Tour Author Interview with Giveaway: Hold My Hand by Michael Barakiva

Book info:
TitleHold My Hand
Author:  Michael Barakiva
Published by: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)
Publication date: May 21st, 2019
Genres: Romance, Young Adult
Alek Khederian thinks about his life B.E. and A.E.: Before Ethan and After Ethan. Before Ethan, Alek was just an average Armenian-American kid with a mess of curly dark hair, grades not nearly good enough for his parents, and no idea of who he was or what he wanted. After he got together with Ethan, Alek was a new man. Stylish. Confident. (And even if he wasn’t quite marching in LGBTQ parades), Gay and Out and Proud.
With their six-month anniversary coming up, Alek and Ethan want to do something special to celebrate. Like, really special. Like, the most special thing two people in love can do with one another. But Alek’s not sure he’s ready for that. And then he learns something about Ethan that may not just change their relationship, but end it.
Alek can’t bear the thought of finding out who he’d be P.E.: Post-Ethan. But he also can’t forgive or forget what Ethan did. Luckily, his best friend Becky and madcap Armenain family are there to help him figure out whether it’s time to just let Ethan go, or reach out and hold his hand.
Hold My Hand is a funny, smart, relatable take on the joy and challenges of teenage love, the boundaries of forgiveness, and what it really means to be honest.

Author Interview:

1.  What does your writing process look like? Do you know the whole story when you start?  Or do you just start writing and go with it (seat of the pants writing)?  If you plan it out, how do you do that?  Outline, notecards, post-it-notes, etc.?  

There is a process of for writing musicals that I have hijacked for novel-writing purposes.  It starts with the writing of many many index cards – just a few words on each.  They can each stand for a character, theme, line of dialogue, plot moment, whatever.  All ideas are good ideas in this part.  This will also lead me to some research, and I’ll fall through a few of those wormholes.

After some time doing this, I can usually figure out if the story has stuff.  If it doesn’t, I bind all the cards up and put them in a drawer, to revisit at a later time, if/when I’ve had an epiphany about how to make it work.  If the story is making sense, I can usually tell at this point: If the cards are coming out aplenty, if they’re making sense, if they’re interesting and exciting, if they communicate with each other.  Then I start sifting through them – removing the ones that don’t fit in anymore, rewriting some, consolidating others.  Once I have a stack (let’s say, 100 at this point) I’ll put them up on my wall, using scotch tape (really, I should be using painter’s tape, but do I? no I do not, because adulting is hard). 

Here is a picture of what  an early non-color coordinated attempt might look like.  Please note the adorability of the index cards I have cut into triangles, which indicate time stamps.

At this point, the cards resemble something of an outline, and I’ll usually start writing there.  Because I rarely have the luxury of putting full days aside for writing in this moment of my life (my day job is running the Hangar Theatre in Ithaca, NY), when I do write, I look at the outline for the chapter I want to write the night before I go to sleep, and then wake up early and write write write.  First drafts must be written in the morning, early, when I’m barely awake, so that I don’t have the ability to filter myself.  On days that I can devote entirely to writing, I’ll then go to the gym or make some breakfast, do some other stuff, take a nap, and then read the morning pages.  Often, I have no memory of having written them and that allows me to look at them somewhat objectively, ruthlessly, the way a writer must. 

2. Do you edit as you go, or wait till you're finished before you edit?  How many times would you say you go over it yourself before having another set of eyes look it over? 

I’ll probably try to get 50 good pages before I send them to my editor (Joy Peskin, amazing, goddess, amazing).  This will take three or four or five drafts.  With One Man Guy, they were the first fifty pages.  With Hold My Hand, I tried something different based on this article by Joss Whedon – he said something about not bothering to write in chronological order – that instead, you should write the scenes you see most vividly first.  So I did that, writing what we determined was “the heart” of the book.  I didn’t even know where it would end up, but now it’s the end of Act I and I’m not going to say anything but I think it’s my favorite scene I’ve ever written.

I probably work in 50 page chunks – writing, re-writing, re-re-writing, re-re-re-writing, before sending them to my editor for feedback, direction and spiritual sustenance.
After every 50 pages or so, I’ll also re-index card – take all the old ones down, see what I’m actually writing and how the pages have taken shape, and write the index cards in dialogue with the pages themselves.  At this point, I usually start color coding the cards, which also helps because if I’m like “Why does this section suck” or “I don’t know what should happen next,” seeing visually that the B plot has been ignored for three chapters or something helps.

3.  Are you part of a writers group that gets together and helps each other with their writing?

I only recently learned that this is a thing, and it sounds great.  But having never taken a class in writing, never thinking I’d be a writer, and not knowing how things were done, I hadn’t ever really thought about joining one.  But it sounds awesome. 

4.  What tips do you have for aspiring writers?

Look at the world, look at what is happening in the world, look at what is happening in the world that no one is writing about, and write about that. 

5.   What are your favorite:
The Inheritance Trilogy by N. K. Jemisin is just about as good as writing can get.  It is my everything. 
The Calculating Stars by Mary Robinette Kowal – OMG these two books were amazing

On a trip to Ecaudor I got A Little Life on my Kindle because it sounded like a fun little book and although it was a book, it was certainly not fun or little – totally, truly devastating. 

And I just finished the Earthsea Cycle by Ursula Le Guin.  The writing is so good, so clear, so simple, so moving.  What a master.

Movies/TV Shows

Last night, Avengers: Endgame P2 premiered and now that I’ve seen it I feel like a major chapter of my life is over.

I’ve been junking out on Netflix like it’s going out of fashion.  Which, apparently, it’s not.  Favorites there are:

The Magicians (thinking about getting some hedge witch tattoos on my forearm),
The OA (WTF with Season 2 finale!)
Crazy Ex-Girlfriend
all the cooking shows (especially Salt Acid Fat Heat, or whatever the correct order is)
The Good Place (Will Jackson Harper forever)
Agents of SHIELD
Dear White People (Justin Simien, will you be my friend)
Sex Education
Stranger Things (natch)
Russian Doll
The 3%
Cable Girls
And Dead To Me, which is BRILLIANT and weird and whacky and dark and funny and wonderful.


Kyle Callicott and Andrew Goldberg are my music gurus – I direct all music questions to them

Food/Writing snack

Sliced apple with sunflower seed butter.  It’s healthy AND caloric!

Author Bio:
Michael Barakiva, author of One Man Guy, is a theater director and writer of Armenian/Israeli descent who lives in Manhattan with his husband, Rafael. He is a graduate of Vassar College and the Juilliard School, an avid cook and board-game player, and a soccer player with the New York Ramblers.



Release Blast Review: Baby Yours (Hunter and Lennon #2) by Kennedy Fox

Book info:
TitleBaby Yours
Author:  Kennedy Fox
SeriesHunter and Lennon #2, Roommate Duet #2
Genre:  Adult contemporary romance
Release Date:  May 23rd, 2019
Source:  E-galley from Wildfire Marketing Solutions which did not influence my opinion
My rating:  5 stars

The worst day of my life happened when Brandon died. 
We had our entire future mapped out. 
Careers, marriage, kids—in that order. 
Then the universe threw a curveball and ended it all. 

As I come to terms with everything, I learn I’m carrying his baby. Now I’m living with his roommate, the guy who’s made my life a living hell the past two years. Hunter’s now the one to hold me up when all I want to do is fall. 

Knowing my religious parents will never accept the pregnancy out of wedlock, Hunter offers to be my fake husband. While I think he’s gone crazy, it’s the only plan that’ll keep them in my life. So I do whatever it takes to make our relationship believable—kissing, touching, even letting him hold me when we sleep. The lines are so blurred neither of us want to admit we’re no longer pretending. 

The guilt of what we’re doing eats me alive as I struggle to deal with my emotions. I push him away, but he pulls me closer, showing me how he’s always felt.  

Just as I begin to follow my heart, I learn Hunter’s been keeping secrets.
And I’m left to make the hardest decision of my life…

**This is book 2 in the Hunter and Lennon duet and must be read after Baby Mine. Recommended for ages 18+**

My Review:
If you remember my review of the first book, Baby Mine, you'll know how far out on the edge of my seat I was waiting for this sequel to pick up from that cliffhanger.   It's hard to write this review without any spoilers. But, just know that all the emotion from the first book is there.  Hunter is still trying to prove to Lennon that he really is there for her, and really cares for her. But the guilt of Lennon being his best friend's girl, and the baby his best friend's, still is there, a ghost between the two of them, even when really they both do want the other one.  And then there is the wrench from Hunter's past which was our big cliffhanger from book 1.  That one keeps popping up, even when Hunter assures Lennon it isn't really an issue, can't be.  We do get more time with Hayden, Hunter's brother who we met in the newsletter novella, Forever Mine, and also get to know a lot more about Lennon's sisters, who we will get to follow in future books in this series.  This book kept me in tears, smiling with the happy times though, and loving the banter between the characters when things were good. And then the baby, loved all of that!  I'm in love with this couple, these characters, and can't wait for the next duet in the series.  I mean, once again, the authors did leave us with a bit of a cliffhanger!

Book info:
TitleBaby Mine
Author:  Kennedy Fox
SeriesHunter and Lennon #1, Roommate Duet #1
Genre:  Adult contemporary romance
Release Date:  April 23rd, 2019

I saw her first.
Blonde. Gorgeous. Feisty.
I was smitten. 

But it didn’t matter because she chose him and he was my best friend and roommate. I’d never be able to compete with that, so I pushed her away instead. It was easy when she lived hours away, and I didn’t have to see her every day, but then she moved in with us. 
Now, I’m screwed.

To her singing in the shower every morning, dancing in the kitchen while she makes coffee, and doing yoga in our living room, I can’t stop thinking about her in all the wrong ways. She’s not mine and never will be, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to push her against a wall and claim her mouth.

She’s constantly on me for making messes, bringing chicks home every weekend, and being a smartass when their PDA gets on my nerves. Considering neither of them know how I feel, it’s not fair for the way I act toward them. I should move out so I can get over her for good; however, the selfish part of me can’t let go. 

But then the unthinkable happens... 
When my best friend dies in a motorcycle accident, the two of us are left to grieve our loss together. Instead of pushing her away, I pull her closer. 

Just as we come to terms with our new reality, she finds out she’s pregnant with his baby. 
And I’m left to make the hardest decision of my life... 

About the Authors:

Brooke Cumberland and Lyra Parish are a duo of romance authors who teamed up to write under the USA Today Bestselling pseudonym, Kennedy Fox. They share a love of You've Got Mail and The Holiday. When they aren't bonding over romantic comedies, they like to brainstorm new book ideas. One day, they decided to collaborate and have some fun creating new characters that'll make you blush and your heart melt. If you enjoy romance stories with sexy, tattooed alpha males and smart, independent women, then a Kennedy Fox book is for you! 

Keep up with all their social media platforms for updates and info!