Spotlight: Royally Drained by Fritzi Cox

(V.I.L.F., #1)
Publication date: March 23rd 2021
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

From jilted princess bride to a revenge plot fit for a king, this charming couple is royally screwed …

As I lived my best royal life, my only job as a princess was to find and marry a handsome prince. Too bad Prince Theo turned out to be more of a toad.

After I began losing my powers, he lost interest in our upcoming wedding. Not only did Theo leave me at the altar, but he also banished me and my merry band of misfits from the Kingdom of Poppycock forever.

Talk about a walk of shame!

From enchanted castle to crumbling cottage, I’m now stuck in Morningwood, struggling to plot my next move.

This strange little town, full of mischief and magic, is the perfect place to hide while I practice my spells and hopefully regain my powers.

What could possibly go wrong?

Other than accidentally summoning a mysterious male vampire who throws me off my quest and gets my blood boiling in all the right places.

And my blood is exactly what Vail and his brotherhood need for their top-secret laboratory.

Who would have thought my charming royal genes could help their dangerous mission?

As long as Vail keeps his fangs to himself, we won’t have a problem.

His hands though?

That’s another story entirely.

My taste for revenge is strong, but his taste for me is stronger.

Could this be my fairy-tale ending? Or am I destined to live a nightmare?

Author’s note:
Royally Drained is a paranormal romcom with a few dark themes. This is book 1 in the VILF series and ends with a cliff-hanger.

Excerpt

I had a suspicion that my magic faded with age, like estrogen, draining youth and power from my body, turning me into an old crone soaked in wine, and leaving me with an excessive amount of bitter baggage. At least, that was how I felt at thirty-one, past my prime. I’d stupidly wasted my youth on a man who put off marrying me for so long, only to dump me at the altar and banish me from his life and his kingdom, all in a matter of minutes.

I groaned, settling down onto a tree stump caked with a questionable fungus. The drizzle of rain dissolved into a mist, wrapping around me in a blanket of wet gloom and matching my mood. Anger bubbled inside me like a cauldron of witch’s brew, ready to explode and destroy its next victim.

Could this be early menopause? I thought with a sudden pang of panic.

“Ahem,” I cleared my throat and shook the thought from my head, determined to focus on something I’d not tried yet—the darker creatures of the forest. 

My spells usually involved singing birds, cuddly bunnies, and doe-eyed deer. But there was one time, a while back, I’d accidentally summoned a rabid alligator. Of course, I’d hidden up in a tree until he left, but I always wondered if my charms could be used for more than sweet, princessy qualities, as my ex used to put it. You know, those things I’d lost when I became a worthless humanish bag of bones. 

“Fa-la-la-la, rawr, la-la-la,” I tried, bellowing out the lowest spooky tone I could. 

But nothing happened. 

“I said, fa-la-la-la, rawr, la-la-la!” I screamed into the clearing, but only the windswept leaves echoed back. 

I scuffed my boot into the dirt, kicking a pebble across the way before taking a deep breath and trying again.

“La-la-la, rawr, la-la-la.” My voice rang out as it had years ago when my magic was strong and powerful enough to command an army of squirrels, nibbling the ankles of all my enemies.

A blanket of clouds thickened overhead, forming a sinister chill in the air. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I had a feeling I wasn’t alone anymore. 

“La-la-la, rawr, la-la-la,” I sang again, louder. 

Footsteps, much heavier than a bunny’s, pattered behind me. I stood up and threw my hands in the air, still singing and ignoring the feeling of someone watching me. I twirled, singing in harmony with the wind in the trees, the drizzle of rain, and the low hum of the clouds growing overhead. My senses awakened to the natural life around me, and for the first time in a year, I felt whole again.

I spun around the clearing, singing my heart out and skipping through the mud until—as my luck would have it—a man, not a beastly creature under my command, walked into my life. 

“You rang,” said a deep voice behind me. 

I turned to see a tall, dark figure stepping out of the shadows. His mouth curled, as if on the edge of laughter, displaying a glimpse of two deadly sharp fangs.

“Holy shit. I summoned a vampire.” I stood frozen, unable to look away. 

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About the Author

Fritzi Cox is a dark soul with a wicked sense of humor. She regularly bathes in the blood of her enemies while sipping champagne and hashtagging her vibes. She's fond of plotting mayhem, writing spellbinding twists, and tickling her readers with an over-the-top sense of humor. Rumor has it, her alter ego, Kat Addams, is her spirit animal. Or is it the other way around? Either way, expect Fritzi to keep you on your toes!

Connect:

http://www.fritzicox.com/

https://www.instagram.com/authorfritzicox/

https://www.facebook.com/Fritzi-Cox-103497148071534

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20723385.Fritzi_Cox

Spotlight: Be True to Yourself by Amanda Ford

A Be Yourself Guide for Teen Girls

#1 New Release in Teen & Young Adult Maturing, School & Education, Bullying Issues, Dating & Intimacy

In this book of short daily meditations and essays, Amanda Ford, a young adult herself, offers stories, information, and advice on all the important issues facing young women today: boys, dating, drinking, self-respect, self-love, fights with friends, dealing with parents, and more.

Support for young women as they navigate one of the most confusing and challenging times of their lives. When Amanda Ford emerged from her tumultuous teenage years, she saw the need for a guide to help girls learn to listen to their inner voices and think for themselves. Be True To Yourself is the big sister Amanda never had―and always wanted to be. It provides the encouragement and guidance she wished, as a teenage girl, that an older sister had given her, as well as stories and advice that she would have loved to share with a younger sister during her own teen years.

Your daughter, granddaughter, niece, or young friend will learn to listen to her heart with this coming-of-age guide. Girls will find comfort, encouragement, and insight in these pages, along with suggestions for articulating and confiding their feelings, fears, and frustrations. They will learn more about so many important topics introduced during adolescence, such as:

How to love yourself, boost your self-confidence, and receive compliments well

How to determine your own values, be true to yourself, and follow through on your promises

How to cherish your friends and family―even when they’re getting on your last nerve

If you appreciated self-development books for teens like The Ultimate Self-Esteem Workbook for Teens, Just As You Are, You Don't Have to Learn Everything the Hard Way, or Embracing the Awkward, then you’ll love Be True to Yourself.

Excerpt

DAY 75: PURPOSE

The purpose of life is not to become rich and famous.

The purpose of life is to stay connected to your heart. When you

stay connected to your heart, you can express your unique gifts to

help leave the world better than you found it.

Below are some writing prompts to help you figure out what it

means for you to stay connected to your heart. You don’t have to

write essays or even complete sentences. Just let your thoughts flow

and write whatever comes to mind even if it doesn’t make sense.

When I am connected to my heart, I feel...

When I am not connected to my heart, I feel...

If I stayed connected to my heart all the time, my life would be

different because I would...

The things that disconnect me from my heart are...

The things that help me stay connected to my heart are...

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About the Author

Amanda Ford is a writer, teacher, movement instructor, and overall motivator. She has written a handful of inspiring and uplifting books on anything from affirmations to retail therapy. Recently, Amanda was called upon to rewrite her acclaimed novel, Be True to Yourself and she documented the entire experience on her “movement.muse” Instagram account.

Originally published in 2000, Be True to Yourself was written as a guide for teenage girls to gain confidence and a sense of self through Amanda’s beautifully written essays and mediation guides. Now, over 20 years later, Amanda is back with more advice and an even better understanding of what it means to truly be yourself.

Amanda graduated with a BA in English Literature from The University of Washington. Her work has been featured in publications such as Real Simple, Glamour, The Chicago Tribune, and The Seattle Times, and she is a regular contributor to the popular travel website Girl’s Guide to City Life.

Spotlight: Tiger Stripes by Hannah Renae

Genre: Memoir, Nonfiction, Mental Health 

Four psychiatric wards
Three rehabs
Two jail cells
And a suicide attempt…

Hannah was told she would not make it to 25 with the way she was living. She had struggled with mental illness her entire life, but at 22 her demons came to a head at the grips of severe substance abuse, life-changing trauma, and two major deaths in her life.

Hannah’s struggles land her places no one ever hopes to grace; jail and psych wards lead her to the brink of death. Running out of options she’s left with two choices: live or die. This heart-wrenching memoir combines recovery with bittersweet romance told in a raw presentation that immerses the reader into the author’s dark state-of-mind in every page.

Tiger Stripes is going to add a valuable voice to the conversation about women’s mental health issues. 

Excerpt

The Letter H

October 7, 2019

“HENRY! HENRY! HENNN-RYYYY!!!!” 

I am screaming at the top of my lungs and can feel my throat tearing, becoming raw. I don’t know how many times I have said his name now, but it is all I know how to do because nothing is making any sense. 

I am in a locked room and flashes of images are going through my head, but there is only one thing, one thought that I can focus on, that is pounding through my brain throughout this confusion and that is pouring out of my lungs to the point that my chest feels like it is going to rip.

“HENRY!” I choke on his name and a sob. 

He cannot hear me, and he is not coming. He doesn’t know where I am and I don’t know where I am, but I know I am not supposed to be here—and I have to get out.

I beat at the metal door that barricades me from something unknown and choke on words that begin with H.

“HENRY!” “

“HELP!”

“HENRY!”

“HELP!” 

I repeat these words for what feels like a lifetime, until I forget how to speak and my begging turns to carnal screaming—shrieking. 

No one comes. No one answers. I wait for footsteps, for the sound of the door unlocking, but all I can hear is the sound of my frantic breaths and the echoes of a lamentation that is anything but human. 

I look down at my body. My feet are bare against the concrete floor; I cannot feel them. The jean shorts I am wearing show off my slender, scratched legs and remind me that I am small and feeble at this moment, but in an act of desperation, I put all of my faith in the power of momentum and I run. I fucking run as fast as I can from the three paces it takes to get from the wall to the ominous looming, locked door and attack it with my entire being, letting out my most vicious battle cry as I fumble towards it. 

The door wins. 

I try again.

And again.

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

I am degraded to a crumbling, bruised ball of flesh. 

I can barely speak, my throat reduced to sandpaper. 

Everything hurts and I can taste the bitterness of blood in my mouth. The floor is like ice against my bare legs. Through the tears in my eyes I see the moon shining through a window at the top of the room. It is full and brilliant and illuminates the white of the brick walls that surround me. I realize that there is writing on them. People have been here before me. People will be here after me. Why am I here though? I should not be. 

I should be home, where I belong. In bed, with him. Safe. I feel anything but that word in this moment, as terror sweeps through every single one of my nerves.  

I whisper in one last futile attempt:

“Henry?” 

But there is silence. Horrible, deafening, fatal silence. 

And it seems to last forever, until I hear it, or think I do. A click, the door unlocking, and the small room is suddenly filled with light. Fluorescence suffocates me. 

When I dare to open my eyes, they do not find Henry. Instead I find a police officer looking back at me. He wears broad, black framed glasses that are too big for his face and he looks eerily familiar. A sudden memory of lying in a hospital bed comes to me but does not fully resonate. His face is forlorn and almost disappointed, as if he expected more out of me. 

“I thought you were going to hurt yourself,” he tells me. “Promise you’ll stay calm and you can come out for a bit. We’ve got to get you fingerprinted.”

It’s then that I have the shattering realization that I am drunk and in a holding cell at a police station. The reason why escapes me though, as I try to grab onto flashes of sober memories but drown in my current state-of-mind. 

I try to breathe with intent as I remember every single arrest-cliché in the book, and I cling to the fact that I am going to get my phone call. They will probably let me go—they have to. If anything, they will make me stay the night at the most. 

I remember the silent promise I had once made myself—that the moment I got a DUI that I would put down the bottle for good. Jail was the worst it could get. It had been my crowning achievement at my last three rehabs that I had never graced the inside of a jail cell and I never planned to. 

“Continue down the path you have been,” one of the staff members at my second treatment center had told me after sharing her own story about prison, “and jail is a guarantee.” 

And here I am. Her words have come to pass, as promised. 

I then remember what else she told me as we talked over a pack of Marlboro Reds on a warm Orange County night. 

“Finish the 90 days,” she had said, “Or you will not make it and there will come a day where you will no longer be able to cry out ‘I’m a good person!’. You will lie. You will steal. You will become someone and something else. You will hurt everyone you love. You will lose everything, and just when you think you have lost it all, you will lose something else.” 

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About the Author 

If there is anything Hannah believes in, it’s hope, but that wasn’t always the case. For a long time, chaos was comfortable for Hannah, but at just 22 she would have to make her hardest decision yet: was life really worth living? Since picking up a pen Hannah has had a love for writing, and as an adult it would become her greatest tool in healing from an almost decade-long battle with severe mental illness and substance abuse. Her first book, Tiger Stripes, is a harrowing, raw telling of her year in and out of hospitals, treatment centers, and jail that finally led her on the road to recovery and freedom.

Hannah was born in Orange County, CA but has lived in the Los Angeles area for several years. She now lives in West L.A. with her boyfriend. When she is not writing she can be found reading, running, cooking, or finding the best vegan eats in L.A.!

Website * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads 

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Spotlight: The Setup by Carol Ericson

With a serial killer on the loose…

Secrets get you killed.

Detective Jake McAllister isn’t aware Kyra Chase is connected to a twenty-year-old unsolved murder. He sees his new case partner only as an unwelcome distraction. But with the body count rising, they’ll need to trust each other to help them catch a killer who seems to know more about Kyra than Jake does.

From Harlequin Intrigue: Seek thrills. Solve crimes. Justice served.

For more action-packed stories, check out the other books in the A Kyra and Jake Investigation series by Carol Ericson:
Book 1: The Setup

Heartfelt or thrilling, passionate or uplifting—our romances have it all. Visit TryHarlequin.com to sample FREE books from among 12 different series. It’s just a taste of the new books published each month—every story a journey guaranteed to leave you with That Harlequin Feeling.

Excerpt

“Good thing she was already dead when he took her finger.” Detective Jake McAllister lifted the victim’s wrist and grimaced. He called over his shoulder, “Tire tracks at the trailhead? We know this isn’t the kill site.” 

“Too many to identify just one.” His partner, Billy Crouch, impressive in a dark gray tailored suit, purple pocket square and wing tips, strode down the trail to join Jake where he crouched beside the body. “No tire tracks, no cameras. I had one of the officers check with the park rangers.” 

“No cameras at the other dump site, either. He’s being careful.” Jake rose to his feet, inhaling the scent of pine from the trees and locking eyes with an ambitious squirrel who’d been busy scurrying up and down the large oak that provided a canopy over the body. 

Griffith Park was an oasis of rugged, untamed land in the middle of the urban sprawl of LA. It housed the zoo, the observatory, a concert venue, a carousel, pony rides and acres of wilderness crisscrossed with hiking trails. It had also hosted several dead bodies in its day, including the Hillside Strangler’s first victim. 

Jake pointed at the card inserted between the victim’s lips. “Queen of hearts, missing finger—looks like we have a pattern here.” 

Billy whistled as he pushed his sunglasses to the end of his nose. “It’s The Player all over again.” 

“Copycat.” Jake raised his hand to the crime scene investigators who had just arrived at the park and waved. “The Player was working twenty years ago and abruptly stopped. He’s gotta be dead or in prison.” 

“Maybe he just got paroled.” Billy picked an imaginary speck of lint from the arm of his jacket. “He could’ve been twenty when he was operating before, spent twenty years behind bars for armed robbery, as- sault, rape. Now he’s forty, tanned, ready and rested.” 

“Could be. They never got his DNA back then. Never left any—just like these two murders.” 

Billy whipped the handkerchief, which Jake had believed was just for show, out of his front pocket and dashed it across the shiny tip of one of his shoes. “Damn, it’s dirty out here.” 

Jake rolled his eyes. “It’s the great outdoors. Most people don’t take hikes in Italian suits and shoes.” 

Shaking his head, Billy clicked his tongue. “Only the shoes are Italian, man. The suit’s from England.” 

“Excuse me, Cool Breeze.” Jake bowed to his partner. He’d given Billy the nickname Cool Breeze, and it had stuck. The man knew his fashion, his fine wines and his women. 

Jake had warned him about the women because Billy already had a fine woman, Simone, at home. They needed only one divorce in the partnership, and Jake had that covered—not that he had run around on his wife, unless you counted the job as the other woman...and a lot of cops’ wives did. 

Someone cleared his throat behind him. “Finger- prints?” 

Jake jerked his head toward Clive Stewart, their fingerprint guy in Forensics, his shaved head already sporting a sheen. “Yeah, you can check, Clive. He didn’t leave the knife or box cutter behind that he used to slice off the finger. You might try the playing card, her neck. You know your job, man. I’ll let you and the others do it.” 

As CSI got to work, Jake shuffled away from the body on the ground and eyed the crunch of people beyond the yellow crime scene tape. Although still morning, the air possessed that quiet, suffocating feel that heralded a heat wave, and the tape hung limply, already conceding defeat. 

Jake pulled out his phone. Holding it up, he snapped some pictures of the looky-loos leaning in, hoping to catch a glimpse of...what? What did they hope to see? Did they want to ogle the lifeless body of this poor woman dumped on the ground? 

Maybe one of them was already familiar with the position of the victim. Killers had been known to re- turn to the scene of the crime and relive the thrill. 

He swung his phone to the right to take a few more pictures from the other side of the trail. As he tipped up his sunglasses and peered into the viewfinder to zero in on his subjects, he swore under his breath. 

What the hell was she doing here? 

Billy stepped into his line of fire. “He wanted some- one to discover her quickly. She’s not that far off the trail, but no purse or ID, so he doesn’t want us to identify her right away.” 

“You’re blocking my view.” Jake nudged Billy’s shoulder and framed the crowd at the edge of the tape again...but she was gone. 

***

Heartfelt or thrilling, passionate or uplifting—our romances have it all. Visit TryHarlequin.com to sample FREE books from among 12 different series. It’s just a taste of the new books published each month—every story a journey guaranteed to leave you with That Harlequin Feeling.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Paperback

About the Author

Carol Ericson lives in southern California, home of state-of–the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women clamor for release from Carol’s head until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol and her current books, please visit her website at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

Connect:

Website: https://www.carolericson.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1001588.Carol_Ericson

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorCarolEricson/

Spotlight: Fiery Girls by Heather Wardell

Genre: Historical Fiction

Two young immigrant women. One historic strike. And the fire that changed America.

In 1909, shy sixteen-year-old Rosie Lehrer is sent to New York City to earn money for her family’s emigration from Russia. She will, but she also longs to make her mark on the world before her parents arrive and marry her to a suitable Jewish man. Could she somehow become one of the passionate and articulate “fiery girls” of her garment workers’ union?

Maria Cirrito, spoiled and confident, lands at Ellis Island a few weeks later. She’s supposed to spend four years earning American wages then return home to Italy with her new-found wealth to make her family’s lives better. But the boy she loves has promised, with only a little coaxing, to follow her to America and marry her. So she plans to stay forever. With him.

Rosie and Maria meet and become friends during the “Uprising of the 20,000” garment workers’ strike, and they’re working together at the Triangle Waist Company on March 25, 1911 when a discarded cigarette sets the factory ablaze. 146 people die that day, and even those who survive will be changed forever.

Carefully researched and full of historic detail, “Fiery Girls” is a novel of hope: for a better life, for turning tragedy into progress, and for becoming who you’re meant to be.

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About the Author

 Heather is a natural 1200 wpm speed reader and the author of twenty-one self-published novels. She came to writing after careers as a software developer and elementary school computer teacher and can’t imagine ever leaving it. In her spare time, she reads, swims, walks, lifts weights, crochets, changes her hair colour, and plays drums and clarinet. Generally not all at once.

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Fiery Girls

Spotlight: Temptation by Marla Holt

(Lightning Crashes #1)
Publication date: March 23rd 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Broke and widowed, Rachel Ferrer has already lost so much that when her tarot reading roommate pulls The Tower card, Rachel isn’t phased. What are upheaval and chaos when the worst had already happened? When Rachel’s late husband’s childhood best friend, Nicolas, reappears in her life and brings a handsome friend along with him, Rachel forgets the cards. She takes a chance on Blake even though she can’t stop thinking about Nicolas. It isn’t settling if the person you want is married, right?

Nicolas Rivera has always been a man of faith. His marriage and his job at the church have been his pillars, but when the foundations of both begin to crumble, doubt and a forbidden attraction tempt him to seek comfort in the one woman he shouldn’t go anywhere near.

Nicolas and Rachel have been on the periphery of each other’s lives for years, but as circumstances push them together, lightning crackles between them. Will they be able to resist the electricity or will they get burned by Temptation?

Temptation is the first volume of The Lightning Crashes Duet. Volume one is a slow-burn forbidden romance that ends on a cliffhanger. Volume 2, Absolution, will be available April 20th, 2021, complete with all the happily ever afters.

Excerpt

“Gabe hated smoking.”

The voice came from her left, encroaching on the tiniest little bit of peace Rachel had had in days. She knew who she would find when she opened her eyes. He was the other reason she was outside. He and his friends had been in the restaurant, in their usual front-side booth for almost two hours, and the entire time she’d felt watched. She hadn’t been able to decide whether it was Nicolas or Blake who was staring at her. Maybe it was both of them. Shiny Guy had found every excuse he could to approach the bar, even asking her if she happened to be in charge of reservations. She’d barely kept from laughing in his face. The idea of managing the busy restaurant’s events on top of everything else nearly made her head explode.

Rachel opened her eyes and raised her head without adjusting her posture and took another drag from her cigarette blowing the smoke in his direction before she said, “Oh, so we’re talking about how you knew my husband now?”

He ducked his head and sat down on the nearest bench, about ten feet away. Good. He should keep his distance. “I never wanted to put you on the spot. I’m sure it can be a difficult subject.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes at him. “Or you didn’t want to be held accountable for not being there when he was sick. Or after.”

Nicolas sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his palms open. “We went down two different paths. I stayed here. Stayed with the church. Gabe . . .” Nicolas trailed off as if he expected Rachel to fill in the blanks as to what it was that Gabe had done. What he’d studied, the profession he’d chosen, the beliefs he’d adopted after he’d left evangelicalism behind. Rachel didn’t give him anything, and eventually Nicolas said, “Well, he moved on.”

Rachel snorted. “And left us all behind.”

“Is that how you see it?” Nicolas asked.

“It’s not really any of your business, actually.” She ducked down and grabbed her tomato juice before her stomach caved in on itself. “Was there something you needed?”

Nicolas cocked his head to the side and clasped his fingers. “I’m not a threat, Rachel.”

She knew her skepticism shone across her face, as bright as a lighthouse beacon warning sailors of cliffs, but she couldn’t help it. Everything about this man spelled trouble. Maybe he wasn’t aware of it. He definitely didn’t understand how broken she was. Or of the way she longed to use him and discard him. It was dark and lurid, the pull she felt toward him, and something Rachel would never give in to. There was no pretending her husband was back, not even for a second, even if the temptation had kept her awake more than one night this week.

“Our children are friends. You’re volunteering at the church. I’m a regular customer of yours. We could be friends.”

“I’m thankful that Oscar has a friend like Asher,” she said, watching as triumph lit his eyes. She allowed herself a twitch of a smile before she slammed the door on that. “But I don’t have time to indulge your guilt for not being a better friend to Gabe while he was here. If you’ll excuse me.”

Rachel snubbed the cigarette out on the ground and stood to flee. Only Nicolas was by her side before she could take her second step, his fingers closing on her elbow—not with any force, but enough of a touch to stop her in her tracks. Enough for her to feel the heat of him. Enough for the potential energy to crackle between them like lightning. 

Time stood still even as Rachel could feel the Earth rotate around them. Rachel could predict the ecstasy of his hands on her body, the taste of sweat on his skin as she licked up his neck. The tangy flavor of herself on his lips as he kissed her. The press of his fingertips into her hips as he positioned her in his lap and the delicious completion as his cock slid inside her. 

The heat of it could burn her alive if the guilt didn’t get to her first.

When she could move again, Rachel met Nicolas’s eyes and recognized the yearning. The desire. And the guilt. All there, a reflection of everything she’d just imagined, sparking in the way he was looking at her. 

“Rachel, I—”

But Rachel couldn’t stay to hear anymore. She shook off his hold and stepped out of his reach. “I can’t,” she said and fled back inside before she could do something stupid like beg a married man to kiss her.

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About the Author

Marla Holt believes in second chances, romance, and the radical notion that everyone deserves a happily every after. She's living her own fairy tale, writing contemporary romance novels in her Kansas farmhouse with her husband, three boys, three cats, and flock of imaginary sheep. Follow her at marlaholt.com or on Instagram as @marlaholtauthor

Connect:

http://tinydinostudios.com/

https://mailchi.mp/7437ec8fab21/ethan-and-juliet

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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17171605.Marla_Holt