Out Now—Shopping for A Billionaire’s Baby (Book 13 in the Shopping series) by Julia Kent @jkentauthor #MFRWAuthor
Genre: Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance
You know what’s even better than marrying a billionaire? Having his baby.
We’re ready. We’ve studied and planned, read all the birth and labor books, researched parenting classes, consulted our schedules, and it’s time.
And by we I mean me.
Declan’s just ready for the “have lots of sex” part. More than ready.
But there’s just one problem: my husband and his brother have this little obsession with competition.
And by little, I mean stupid.
We’re not just about to try to bring a new human being into the world.
We have to do it better, Faster, Stronger.
McCormick men don’t just have babies.
They engage in competitive billionaire Babythons.
I thought the hardest part about getting pregnant would be dealing with my grandchild-crazed mother, who will go nuts shopping for a billionaire’s baby.
Between conception issues, my mother’s desire to talk to the baby through a hoo-haw cam, a childbirth class led by a drill sergeant and a father-in-law determined to sign the kid up for prep school before Declan even pulls out, my pregnancy has turned out to be one ordeal after the other.
But it’s nothing — nothing — compared to the actual birth.
Shopping for a Billionaire’s Baby is the newest book in Julia Kent’s New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series and is a 400+ page full-length novel.
“This conception stuff has you thinking. Philosophically, I mean,” Andrew notes, suddenly paying close attention to me.
“Of course. It’s powerful.”
“How? It’s just sex.”
I snort. “I thought so, too. Until I had sex where I tried to get her pregnant on purpose.”
Vince, Gerald, and Andrew all take a step closer to me.
“Bareback,” Vince whispers, like the word itself is holy.
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New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.
Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors, where writers share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of their writing on Sunday. Be sure to visit other participants at http://www.wewriwa.com/ and read and comment on their #8sunday posts.
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Welcome to the world of horse racing! For the next few weeks we’ll be featuring excerpts from Detour Ahead, Book Four in our Rider’s Up Series. Each book can be read as a stand-alone, and all four books are always available FREE at KU.
We’re still careening down the twisty detour with Traci Steele, from Detour Ahead. Will the sunshine bring her some relief?
Brilliant sunshine suddenly broke through the clouds. “Yes,” she cried—how quickly things changed here! On a rare straightaway, she scrunched her shoulders forward and rotated her head, trying to ease tension and strain in her neck muscles.
She glanced quickly up the hillside and saw countless boulders dotting the landscape, making it look like nature’s private graveyard.
Her spirits sagged. It was no use. Even here she was never far from that gaping hole. Her father’s gravestone was already up—it had been there beside her mother’s, waiting to receive him since before she could remember. That had always bothered her. She remembered the first time she’d been old enough to read the words, her tiny hand held securely in his. She’d looked from his name on the stone, up into his face, and back at the stone again. Had he known, even then, he would never remarry?
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Hot-shot Chicago prosecuting attorney Traci Steele works tirelessly keeping rapists off the street to prevent other women from suffering the hell she’s endured, so she resists her friends’ insistence that she take a two month R&R in their California Live Oak condo—until they persuade her to help their rancher friend as a private investigator.
Though he runs the stables at Live Oak, well-muscled mustached wrangler Scott McCord much prefers working with the race horses he trains at his ranch, and he can’t believe his old friends have sent a greenhorn female to help him with horse troubles.
The improbable dance between this mismatched pair barely fits in around the escalating suspense of whoever’s after Scott’s horses. Traci is as tenacious in her sleuthing as she is terrified about her inability to ever love a man. Can Scott succeed in gentling her – like he does his horses – before she flees in panic?
Night Owl Reviews Top Pick This is a story about letting go of your past so you can move on to your future…Add into this touching story of recovery a mystery that will keep you guessing to the very end, and you’ve got a story you won’t be able to put down. Angi
You Gotta Read Reviews Rich in romance and suspense, this book had me mesmerized from the first page…a sensational job of combining just the right amount of suspense with a sauciness that leaves you longing for more. Val
Amazon Riveting mystery and love story in one great book Donna H. A Great story that shows that love can heal anything!” Amy B.
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Be sure to stop by the rest of the Weekend Writing Warriors for some great excerpts!
Sheagan O’Hare got more than she bargained for when her newly inherited detective agency lands its first case; a missing person, embezzlement, and murder. Sheagan’s out to prove she can hang with the pro’s, despite the constant reminder of her amateur status from an annoyingly attractive FBI agent, Colin ‘Mac’ MacEvine, who’s forced himself into her life.
How does she feel when an old high school friend hopes to ignite a new romance?
Will she be able to discover if detective work and love can mingle before someone gets hurt?
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2I9M30G
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2Kxo5um
Sheagan blinked back the sting in her eyes as sweat drizzled from her forehead. Her shoulders and forearms cried out as determination inched her body forward through the tin walls that framed her slender figure. The narrow shaft rendered her legs useless as they dragged behind her like dead weight. She made a vow to start working out as she approached her destination, the metal grate that looked down into the sweetheart suite of the Eliot Hotel.
She shimmied her binoculars out of her bag and clutched them in her sweaty palms as she readied herself to delve into the world of private investigating. The friction of her movements caused her mahogany mane to cling to all the surfaces of her temporary confinement. Perched behind the filigree frame, peering like a caged animal, she was a mere 20 feet from her target. Her target? The Rat Bastard, who up until this very moment she’d called boyfriend.
She wasn’t there to kill him, even though the thought had crossed her mind; no, she was there to catch him in the act. She suspected he had been cheating on her for some time, so proof would end her suspicion or the relationship. Spying on her significant other through an air-vent of a swanky hotel room was hardly a promising start to her so-called glamorous career as a private detective. But it snapped her back into the reality that her new chosen profession would often be messy and difficult.
She peered through the grate and envied the spacious room below, but her viewing angle was no good for the task at hand. She could feel the heat in her cheeks rise along with her anger as she scanned the room and soaked in the extravagance–the hardwood tables, the Italian marble fireplace, the opulent sheen of the fabric on the overstuffed furniture that glimmered in the soft candlelight. The Rat Bastard was not known to overindulge on frivolous expenses, unless it was on her dime. Thoughts of killing him resurfaced.
What is wrong with me? Why did I wait so long?
She immediately regretted the fleeting question. She knew why. The answer brought back the pain and significance of her father’s sudden death. He had been the only family she had left, and he was gone. All that was left behind was his detective agency. She had thought about giving it up, but she couldn’t; it was her only connection to him, to her family.
She closed her eyes briefly, realizing that now she was facing more loss–even if he was a lying, cheating Rat Bastard.
No! It’s better this way, stay focused.
She choked in a breath and turned her attention back to the room. His secret love nest was finished with soothing tones on the walls and thick, plush carpeting.
What is that on the end table?
Her gaze was drawn to the bottle label as it bobbed upside down in the melting ice. She sharpened the focus of her binoculars, and her eyes widened in recognition.
Her cheeks flushed. Cristal, she scoffed. Who is this Bimbo, anyway?
As if she had room to criticize this girl’s intelligence, when Sheagan was the one sweating her makeup off in a four-by-four-foot air-duct.
Yeah, who’s the stupid one?
She heard passionate sounds coming from the right of the room and recognized his tone. Leaning sideways, Sheagan pressed her face to the grate, but her limited view revealed only a portion of the bed and unable to make out major details, like faces.
Crap, I can’t see anything. Damn! She needed to get a better look
As she shifted her weight, the metal walls started to reverberate and Sheagan stifled a gasp, willing the rumbling to cease. Her breathing became labored as the musty air stole the aroma of the sweet perfume wafting up waft from the suite below. She stilled her movements and did the only thing she could think of… nothing. Nothing but stare at the heap of blankets and wait.
Come on, bimbo, come up for air. I know he doesn’t last that long.
Her discomfort increased as the noise from their passion became more intense. Ugh, that’s it, I’ve had it!
She mashed her cheek and upper body against the grate.
I just need a peek to confirm.
She pressed harder, ogling the bed. Finally, she caught a tiny glimpse.
Just a little further.
She pushed and heard a chirring sound, then a scraping. She froze in place, but the grate gave way with a creaking groan and crashed to the ground. Time stood still as Sheagan realized there was nothing between her and the floor except air.
Andi Ramos is a debut author from central Massachusetts where she lives with her family, goat, and Boston Terriers. Her love for reading grew into a passion for writing. She dabbled with pen and paper for a long time and eventually stopped pushing her amusements aside and started developing those stories into novels. One of her favorite things to do is to hop into her motorhome with her family and write while traveling down the road as they journey to various destinations.
Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.