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About the author:
Holly Cortelyou pens sweet and spicy small town, contemporary romances that just may have a kiss of magic or a twist mystery.
On any given day, she’s likely sipping coffee and procrastinating on Facebook or organizing a closet. Holly’s living her own Happily Ever After with an uber-handy, broad-shouldered and delicious husband, a sweet silver lab and a fluffball kitty in sun-kissed Southern Oregon.
She has hazel eyes, a goofy sense of humor and all the rest is subject to change without notice.
Here is a short sample from the book:
CARA WOKE. HER tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. If she'd been chewing on year-old dust bunnies, she wasn't sure it could taste more vile. She opened her eyes, and a soft, grayish light filtered through the windows. She squinted, and her eyes ached.
She rolled to her side, and there was a man in bed with her. She squeaked and bit her lip. The man's eyelashes fluttered for a moment, and then she was staring into deep, dark brown eyes…that were laughing at her, if she wasn't mistaken. Oh crap. What had she done last night? Why was Jake the bartender in bed with her?
"Is it?" Her voice held about one point two million questions.
Jake propped himself up on his elbow and gazed at her with a wolfish grin. "How are you feeling? Head swimming?"
Cara ran a quickie self-diagnostic. Yes, she was somewhat queasy. She was definitely not in her own bed. No, she wasn't between the sheets. She had on all of her clothes. Omigod, thank you. She was definitely above the covers with a comforter tossed over her. "I'm okay-ish. What happened last night?" Cara couldn't help but clutch the dark blue comforter up to her chin.
Jake rolled out of bed. His pajama bottoms clung to his perfectly curved, rock-hard buns, but he was shirtless, and the muscles of his back and shoulders rippled as he stretched and yawned. Cara stared. She had died and gone to heaven.