Friday, October 21, 2016

Excerpt Reveal: Tru Blue by Melissa Foster

Today we have a new book from Melissa Foster, Tru Blue!
Tru Blue comes out this November but is available for preorder now!
Check out this exclusive excerpt and preorder your copy today!


Title: Tru Blue
Author: Melissa Foster
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Day: November 9th

About Tru Blue

Imagine falling in love with a man, then finding out he was a killer…

TRU BLUE is a sexy, dark stand-alone novel written in the same loving, raw, and emotional voice romance readers have come to love, and the deeply emotional literary prose women’s fiction readers have come to expect, from New York Times & USA Today bestselling, award-winning author Melissa Foster.

RELEASING November 9, 2016

He wore the skin of a killer, and bore the heart of a lover…

There’s nothing Truman Gritt won’t do to protect his family–Including spending years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. When he’s finally released, the life he knew is turned upside down by his mother’s overdose, and Truman steps in to raise the children she’s left behind. Truman’s hard, he’s secretive, and he’s trying to save a brother who’s even more broken than he is. He’s never needed help in his life, and when beautiful Gemma Wright tries to step in, he’s less than accepting. But Gemma has a way of slithering into people’s lives and eventually she pierces through his ironclad heart. When Truman‘s dark past collides with his future, his loyalties will be tested, and he’ll be faced with his toughest decision yet.

Pre-order your copy today!


Exclusive Excerpt

TRUMAN GRITT LOCKED the door to Whiskey Automotive and stepped into the stormy September night. Sheets of rain blurred his vision, instantly drenching his jeans and T-shirt. A slow smile crept across his face as he tipped his chin up, soaking in the shower of freedom. He made his way around the dark building and climbed the wooden stairs to the deck outside his apartment. He could have used the interior door, but after being behind bars for six long years, Truman took advantage of the small pleasures he’d missed out on, like determining his own schedule, deciding when to eat and drink, and standing in the f**king rain if he wanted to. He leaned on the rough wooden railing, ignoring the splinters of wood piercing his tattooed forearms, squinted against the wetness, and scanned the cars in the junkyard they used for parts—and he used to rid himself of frustrations. He rested his leather boot on the metal box where he kept his painting supplies. Truman didn’t have much—his old extended-cab truck, which his friend Bear Whiskey had held on to for him while he was in prison, this apartment, and a solid job, both of which were compliments of the Whiskey family. The only family he had anymore.
Emotions he didn’t want to deal with burned in his gut, causing his chest to constrict. He turned to go inside, hoping to outrun thoughts of his own f**ked-up family, whom he’d tried—and failed—to save. His cell phone rang with his brother’s ringtone, “A Beautiful Lie” by 30 Seconds to Mars.
“F**k,” he muttered, debating letting the call go to voicemail, but six months of silence from his brother was a long time. Rain pelleted his back as he pressed his palm to the door to steady himself. The ringing stopped, and he blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d trapped inside. The phone rang again, and he froze.
He’d just freed himself from the dredges of hell that he’d been thrown into in an effort to save his brother. He didn’t need to get wrapped up in whatever mess the drug-addicted fool had gotten himself into. The call went to voicemail, and Truman eyed the metal box containing his painting supplies. Breathing like he’d been in a fight, he wished he could paint the frustration out of his head. When the phone rang for the third time in as many minutes, the third time since he was released from prison six months ago, he reluctantly answered.
“Quincy.” He hated the way his brother’s name came out sounding like the enemy. Quincy had been just a kid when Truman went to prison. Heavy breathing filled the airwaves. The hairs on Truman’s forearms and neck stood on end. He knew fear when he heard it. He could practically taste it as he ground his teeth together.
“I need you,” his brother’s tortured voice implored.
Need me? Truman had hunted down his brother after he was released from prison, and when he’d finally found him, Quincy was so high on crack he was nearly incoherent—but it didn’t take much for f**k off to come through loud and clear. What Quincy needed was rehab, but Truman knew from his tone that wasn’t the point of the call.

Before he could respond, his brother croaked out, “It’s Mom. She’s really bad.”



Melissa Foster Bio

Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes contemporary romance, new adult, contemporary women’s fiction, suspense, and historical fiction with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Her books have been recommended by USA Today’s book blog, Hagerstown Magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the World Literary CafĂ© and Fostering Success. When she’s not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success. Melissa has been published in Calgary’s Child Magazine, the Huffington Post, and Women Business Owners magazine.

Melissa hosts an Aspiring Authors contest for children and has painted and donated several murals to The Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC. Melissa lives in Maryland with her family.

Visit Melissa on social media. Melissa enjoys discussing her books with book clubs and reader groups, and welcomes an invitation to your event.

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Searching for Disaster by Jennifer Probst Blog Tour

Searching for Disaster 
by Jennifer Probst
Searching For series novella

The next highly anticipated novella in the Searching For series, a romantic spin-off of the Marriage to a Billionaire series from New York Times bestselling sensation Jennifer Probst.

When Isabella MacKenzie tries to move on from her disastrous past, Officer William Devine is determined to show her that love is the only way to heal. This sexy enovella, the final installment in Jennifer Probst’s heartwarming Searching For series, follows the high-powered women of the popular matchmaking agency Kinnections, located in the small, picturesque town of Verily, NY.

Purchase Now



HE REMINDED HER of every delicious, forbidden, dirty action that could be committed under a tangle of sheets. And tonight, he was going to be hers. Isabella MacKenzie barely kept from licking her lips in anticipation of a feast. His golden movie-star looks should have put her off. She wasnt into pretty boys. She liked her men dark, dangerous, and tatted up. This one had no mar on his dusky-brown skin, and his white-blond hair gleamed like a halo gifted by the angels. He leaned against the wall, drinking a beer, a serene expression on his features. The party was loud and wild, with hookups galore played out amidst the screaming of alternative music, but he seemed untouched by his surroundings. He barely even glanced at the lineup of girls looking to offer themselves up for a night of forgetfulness. Her gaze flicked over his outfit. She preferred leather and old, tight Levis. This one wore darkwashed designer jeans and a button-down ice-blue shirt with large cuffs pulled up to show a fancy design. His shoes were camel colored with ties and also looked expensive. Definitely a mystery. One she wouldnt mind figuring out. Because the demons had come for her again. Tickling her skin, whispering in her ear. That empty ache in her gut urged her forward, to do something to forget and take away the restlessness consistently taunting her. A night of forgetful, rowdy sex would help. And this time she wouldnt take the drugs. She didnt need them. Her best friend, Raven, was already suspicious, and she didnt want to lie. God knows shed been lying enough to her own family. It wasnt fair to put that on the last relationship she had left. Yes. This man would help her quiet the voices. She headed across the room, making sure her generous hips swayed with enticement. It had become so easy now to become someone else. The seductress was like second nature, especially since she enjoyed her body and the pleasures it brought. She bucked the ridiculousness of the terms slut and whore, refusing to let civilization or stupid male viewpoints take something precious from her. Izzy enjoyed sex and picked who she wanted, when she wanted. It never lasted long anyway, but that was her choice. Her terms. She wasnt like her siblings, who craved a permanent relationship and ideals of love that didnt exist. She lived for the now and the excitement of dawn, where new possibilities always existed.

She stopped in front of him, cocking her head. His gaze had lit with a touch of interest. Up close, his eyes were pale, pale blue and so clear they reminded her of a still, serene lake touched with ice. His hair fell in thick, burnished, messy waves streaked with a dozen colors of light. His features were as classic as his clothes. Square chin. High cheekbones. Arched brows. Long, elegant nose. His lips were full and lush and looked so soft, she imagined her thumb skating over the plump flesh. Up close, he was even more beautiful, and her breath caught just a bit in admiration, as it would in front of Michelangelos statue of David. Or Chris Hemsworth as Thor. You dont belong here. His gaze flicked over her, then swept back up again, lingering. What gave it away? She shrugged. You look bored. And youre too dressed up. He regarded her with an honest curiosity she savored. I think youre underdressed. Izzy grinned at his pointed stare, which was taking in her beaded black crop top and low-cut jeans showing off her belly ring. Shed worked on her uncontrolled curls with a ruthless precision until the pin-straight strands framed her face with a bit of an edge. She sported purple streaks today because it matched her nail polish. Usually that isnt considered a problem. His slight frown told her maybe it was. Interesting. You dont go to college here, do you? The SUNY upstate campus was rural, with a solid education and a huge reputation for epic parties. Raven had dragged her here for the weekend for some type of art-and-wine festival in town, and theyd ended up hooking up with a cool group who invited them to crash at the dorms. Tammy and Rick were the party couple in the crew, quickly offering up Tammys room to Izzy. Raven wanted to skip the college parties and head into town, so shed left Izzy on her own for tonight. No. I graduated, but my brother lives in the dorms, so he invited me. You? Nope. I just get invited to the parties. They stared at each other for a moment. Izzy noticed immediately the instant connection simmering underneath the dialogue. Yes, there was chemistry. And he was different from the others. How old are you? she blurted out. Twenty-three. He glanced at the red Solo cup she held. Tell me youre drinking age. Her lips curved in amusement. I am. Is that important to you? That youre able to drink? She stepped forward, testing. That we follow the rules. His eyes darkened. The sounds around her dimmed to a foggy slur. Nothing wrong with rules, he said softly. Nothing wrong with breaking them either. The simmer caught and flared. Her heart ramped up as sweet sexual arousal sung in her blood, loosening her limbs and quieting her mind. How she loved the beginning of the chase; the excitement of the unknown gave her the perfect edge. Whats your name? he asked. Izzy. Short for Isabella? She nodded. Yours? William. Do they call you Willy? She gave him credit. Those gorgeous lips twitched in a half smile. Not if they want to live. Friends call me Liam for short. Well, Liam. Im crashing at a friends place down the hall. Its quieter there. Want to go? Fascinated, she watched an array of emotions flicker across his face. Is it safe to invite strange men to your room? With another man, shed give in to the anger that he was judging her. But with him, she got the impression he really cared and didnt want her hurt. He seemed like the oldest twenty-three-year-old shed ever met. Are you safe? Yes. Then lets go. She didnt turn back to check if he was following. Threading through the crowds with expert ease, she exited and headed down the narrow hallway, where students spilled out, talking and laughing in a rowdy parody of American Pie. She paused at the door with the plastic rose wrapped around the handle and went inside. He followed her in.



Jennifer Probst
Jennifer Probst - Bio

Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years old. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. She took a short hiatus to get married, get pregnant, buy a house, get pregnant again, pursue a master’s in English Literature, and rescue two shelter dogs. Now she is writing again.

She makes her home in Upstate New York with the whole crew. Her sons keep her active, stressed, joyous, and sad her house will never be truly clean. She is the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of sexy and erotic contemporary romance. She was thrilled her book, The Marriage Bargain, was ranked #6 on Amazon's Best Books for 2012. She loves hearing from readers. Visit her website for updates on new releases and her street team at


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Book Tour: The Promise by Melody Grace



“Promise me one thing. Promise me you’ll live.”
Emotional.  Beautiful.  Love.
The Promise by Melody Grace is NOW AVAILABLE!!
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Claire Fortune arrives in Boston with an old notebook and her best friend’s dying wish – to finish the scribbled bucket list that Hope didn’t have time to complete. Moment by moment, Claire builds a life she never dreamed of – until Theo walks into the coffee-shop one crisp September afternoon, and her careful plans scatter on the winds.

Sometimes a chance meeting can change a life forever.
Sometimes fate knows exactly what we need.

Perfect for fans of ‘Me Before You’ and ‘The Fault in Our Stars’, ‘The Promise’ brings together two people searching for a love that can overcome tragedy. A heartbreakingly romantic novel that challenges us to live – and love - every day as if it were our last.

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Author Information

Hi! I’m Melody Grace, author of the bestselling Beachwood Bay series. Some things about me:

1 I’m a small-town girl turned California beach lover.

2 I spent my childhood with my nose in a book before deciding to try and write one myself. I love all kinds of genres – from thrillers to YA and mystery – but romance has always been a passion of mine.

3 I love pistachio ice-cream, vanilla lattes, bad action movies, and Grey’s Anatomy (yes, I’m still watching… I can’t quit!).

4 I have an uncanny sense of direction. I once drove halfway across Canada without GPS or a map!

5 I have two adorable rascal cats named Bucky and Steve, I rescued them as kittens, and yes, I spoil them rotten.

6 I’m allergic to chocolate 🙁

7 I love sexy, heart-felt reads with strong heroines and swoon-worthy men. Why don’t you check out a couple of my books and meet your new book boyfriends?


Thursday, October 20, 2016

Cover Reveal For Grand Slam By Heidi McLaughlin

We are so excited to share with you the cover for
Best Selling Author Heidi McLaughlin's upcoming novel GRAND SLAM, book 3 in the BOYS OF SUMMER SERIES.

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Grand Slam:  The Boys of Summer
by Heidi McLaughlin releases on May 23rd!

Pre-order Available NOW!

Coming... May, 2017

The third novel in New York Times bestselling author Heidi McLaughlin's Boys of Summer baseball series.

A beast at the plate, Travis Kidd is a superstar for the Boston Renegades. But when baseball isn't occupying his time, Travis - named Boston's Most Eligible Bachelor - is known as a ladies' man.

Saylor Blackwell knows sports. As a public relations specialists, her focus is on the athletes. The hours are long, the job stressful, and she's prohibited from dating any of the overly friendly athletes, but the result is what matters - she's financially able to care for her daughter.

When a drunken night spent with Travis threatens that, Saylor knows she's made a mistake. Unfortunately, when he's accused of a horrible crime, it causes a PR nightmare and forces Saylor to come to his rescue. But when Saylor's ex comes back demanding custody, it might up to Travis to save her right back...

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The Boys of Summer
© Heidi McLaughlin, 2016

Chapter 1 – Travis

The one I’m eyeing for the night bends at her waist and lines her pool stick up with the cue ball. She slowly pulls the wooden rod through her fingers, until the felt top finally connects. The hard white plastic ball rolls toward her target, hitting it perfectly and stalling as the blue-striped ball rolls into the pocket. I let out a massive sigh and lean on my stick, waiting my turn. I should’ve known better when she approached me, asking if I wanted to play a game or two of billiards with her. I know better than to let a good-looking woman hustle me out of money but I wasn’t thinking with my right head. I never am, and once again I’m getting my balls get busted, no pun intended, by a pool shark.
“Sweetheart, are you going to let me play? My balls are getting lonely.” If she thinks I’m crude, she doesn’t say anything. In fact, she looks at me from over her shoulder and winks before shimmying her ass toward my crotch. My internal groan is epic. I’ve been watching her bend, lick her lips, show me her ample cleavage, and shake her ass for almost an hour. Not to mention, she brushes against me each time she passes me. And the touching isn’t subtle. I can read her loud and clear, all the way from her tight as-sin jeans to her plunging neckline.
“I can’t help it if you suck.”
“Do you?” I ask, stepping in behind her. My crotch is lined up perfectly with her ass, earning me another hair-tossing look over her shoulder.
She stands and turns to face me, resting her ass on the edge of the table. “What do you have in mind?” Her finger trails down the front of my shirt until she reaches the buckle of my belt. The tug is slight, but definitely felt. Message received loud and clear.
“What’s your name?”
“Are names important?”
“Of course. When I demand that you come for me, I need to know what to call you.”
“Demand?” she questions.
“I’m greedy like that,” I tell her, placing my cue stick against the table as I step closer to her. I lean in and try to get a whiff of her perfume, but a mix between the stale air from the bar and the beer on her breath makes it hard to tell what she’s wearing. I do love a woman who takes the time to dabble the perfect scent on her skin though.  
“My balls aren’t blue, darling, and haven’t been in years.”
“No, my name is Blue.”
“That’s a very unique name,” I say as my hand rests on her hip.
“What can I say? I’m a unique woman, Travis.”
Ah, she knows my name. That’s usually how things go for me. Rarely am I given the opportunity to introduce myself. Everyone knows who I am, and while I enjoy the fruits of my labor, sometimes anonymity would be nice. One day, I’d like to talk to a woman who doesn’t know that I’m Travis Kidd, right fielder for the Boston Renegades and one of the town’s most eligible bachelors. “You know who I am?”
“Doesn’t everyone? I’m a Boston girl; I know my Renegades.”
I nod and reach for my beer. It’s the off-season, and technically I shouldn’t be here. I usually head south for the winter but opted to stay home this time. After a long season, one that saw my former managers die and one of my closest friends on the team become a dad to twins, I thought I’d stay around and see what the winter had to offer. Aside from the cold, I haven’t found much, except Bruins hockey and Celtics basketball. Those games have been the highlight of my time off.
The pickings for women have been slim. Without trying to bag on the female population, it’s evident that they’re seasonal as well. Right now, the puck bunnies, gridiron groupies, and court whores are in full effect, and the cleat chasers are resting like the rest of the baseball world. Maybe I should’ve been a dual-sport athlete. This way I would’ve had the best of both worlds.
“What?” I ask, mentally shaking the cobwebs out.
“Where’d you go? It’s your turn?” Blue nods toward the table, and I look over her shoulder to see the cue ball sitting there.
“Why don’t you help me?” I know how to play the game of pool, but since she seems to be a pro, why shouldn’t she show me? I would’ve happily slid up behind her and taught her how to handle her stick but she took the fun out of it.
Instead, she’s off to my side and leaning into me, giving me a perfect sideways glance down her shirt. I smirk, ignoring everything she tells me, and watch as her mounds of flesh move each time her hand does. They’re real, that’s for sure. None of that fake silicon shit on this chick.
“And that’s how it’s done,” she says, righting herself. She continues to slightly lean over the table though, jutting her chest out for me to ogle. I cock my head to the side and wink before taking aim at the cue on the table.
My first shot goes in, and the second quickly follows. I line up the third, and that is when I see a raven-haired beauty nursing a drink at the bar.
Saylor Blackwell is off limits to anyone her agency represents. That includes me. Although I wish it didn’t. Saylor is the one I would’ve switched agents for if she told me to, but I fucked that up much I like I screw everything up. When she needed me, I wasn’t there. And I haven’t spoken to her since.
It’s my dumb luck that she’s sitting at the bar with her long, slender legs crossed, and she’s dressed like she recently got off work. Her eyes are set on the television, ignoring the gaggle of men staring at her. I remember that she was a hard nut to crack back when I wanted to know her better. I can’t imagine what she’s like now that she’s more successful.
My last shot is sunk into the corner pocket. “Eight ball, right side,” I say, nodding in the same direction I plan to send the black ball in order to finish this game. I’m in a rush now, eager to speak with Saylor. I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself.
“Where ya going?” Blue calls out.
“To the bar. Rack ‘em,” I tell her. It’s not a lie. I am going to the bar but with the intention of speaking to another woman. I’m smooth though, and I can easily play it off while I order another round of drinks.
“Two please.” I put up two fingers as I motion toward the bartender. Leaning in, I know I’m blocking Saylor’s view of the television, which is all in my game plan.
“Hey Saylor.”
“Travis,” she says coldly. We have a history. A small one, but it’s there. I often remember the night we spent together and the regret that was on her face when we were done. I had never been kicked out of an apartment before that night. Usually, once I’m satisfied, I leave. With Saylor, everything was backwards. It’s like she used me to scratch an itch, and once I took care of that, she didn’t need me anymore. “What brings you in?”
She looks everywhere but at me. “I’m meeting a client.”
“And nursing your what?” I take her drink from her hand and sniff. “Scotch? When did you start drinking the hard shit?”
That gets her to look at me.  Her glare is deadly as her blue eyes penetrate into mine. “As if you know anything about me.”
“I know enough.”
“You don’t know shit, Travis Kidd. Go back to your booty call. She’s looking at me like she’s ready for a cat fight, and I assure you, you’re not worth fighting for.”
Saylor turns, giving me the cold shoulder. If I weren’t so stunned by her outburst, which I did not deserve, I’d tease her. But I have a feeling that there’s something bothering her, and I’m the last person she needs making shit worse.
With the bottles of beer between my fingers, I go back to the pool table where Blue is indeed throwing daggers at Saylor’s back.
“Down, kitty. She works for my agent.” I run my hand down her arm, trying to diffuse the situation. Jealous women usually turn me off, and this should be my sign to hit the road except I’m an idiot and want to stay mostly so I can watch Saylor.
Taking Blue by her hand, I lead us over to the stools, and I sit down, pulling her between my legs. My hand is planted firmly on her leg right under her butt check. It’s a risky move, especially with all the cameras around, but I don’t care right now. It’s the off-season. I’m allowed to have a little bit of fun.
“You have nothing to be jealous over,” I tell her. If anything, I’m trying to appease her.
“We good? Wanna go back to kicking my ass at pool?”
She looks over at the table and nods. “You rack, and I’ll break.” Blue saunters away, giving me space to watch Saylor, who turns and makes eye contact with me. I wish I could tell what she’s thinking. Is she second-guessing her harsh words? I am. I want to go back over and offer to pick her tab. Or ask how she’s getting home. It’s late, and the roads are shit. If she’s driving, she shouldn’t be drinking. She has a kid that depends on her.
“I’m ready,” Blue says, thrusting the stick in my face. Her words catch me off-guard. Is she ready to play another game or two of pool? I hope so because I have no intention of leaving as long as Saylor is at the bar. Or is she ready for me to fuck her and never ask for her number? Because that is bound to happen as well.
I break, sending the balls off in every direction. Four drop. Two of each giving me the choice of what I want to be. Blue is yammering in my ear about the set-up and which would be the best. Her angles only work for her though, and I see that I can run the table on her if I line up correctly.
“We should’ve bet,” I tell her as I walk around the table.
“I’d hate to hustle you out of your money, Travis.”
I laugh off her comment and proceed to clear the table. She huffs when the eight ball falls into the designated pocket.
“Well would you look at that,” I say, taking a bow. Blue pushes me lightly and falls into my arms. Her lips are on mine before I can push her away, and doing so now would be embarrassing for her so I kiss her back and find myself opening my eyes to watch Saylor watch me.
As soon as I pull away, Saylor is sliding off the bar stool and heading toward the door.
“Be right back. I need some fresh air.” A true gentleman would’ve invited his lady friend outside, but that is not who I am.
“Do you need a ride home?” I ask, as soon as I see Saylor standing near the curb. “And what happened to your client?”
“He canceled.”
It didn’t strike me as odd earlier when she said she was meeting a client, but it does now. I’ve never met anyone from the agency at a bar, let alone this late at night.
“How about that ride home?”
“Travis,” she draws out my name and then drops her head into her hands. Without thinking, I pull her into my side. “Come on, Saylor. It’s a ride. Nothing else.”
“What the hell is going on? I thought you were taking me home?” Blue speaks loud enough for everyone on the block to hear.
My arm drops, and Saylor steps away from me. I turn at the sound of Blue’s voice behind me.
“I’ll be in. Give me a minute.” I smile, hoping to placate Blue but it doesn’t work.
“I see some things never change,” Saylor says as she steps off the curb and waves at a cab only to be passed by.
Shaking my head, I push my hands into my pockets for a bit of warmth. If I knew Saylor would be out here when I returned, I’d run in and grab my jacket. “It’s not like that.”
“What, do you like her or something?” The sound of Blue’s voice grates on my nerves. Saylor looks over my shoulder and rolls her eyes.
“Or something,” I say, without taking my eyes off Saylor.
As soon as a taxi pulls up to the curb, Saylor is sliding in.
I make a split second decision to get in with her, but not before Blue yells at me. “Where the fuck are you going?”
I answer her by slamming the door shut. I have Blue on the outside screaming and Saylor looking at me like she’s going to kill me. She opens the door, and I hear, “Fuck you, Travis Kidd. You’ll pay for this.” And before I realize what’s happening, Saylor is out of the car and the cab is speeding down the road.

**Also Available on Heidi’s Website here:**

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About the Author


Heidi McLaughlin

NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author

Originally from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup and a Highland West/Mini Schnauzer, JiLL and her brother, Racicot.

When she isn't writing one of the many stories planned for release, you'll find her sitting court-side during either daughter's basketball games

Heidi's first novel, Forever My Girl, is currently in production to be a major motion picture.