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Royal(92)

By´╝ÜWinter Renshaw



I can’t decide who she looks like yet. Sometimes she looks like me, sometimes like Royal. And at the same time, she looks nothing like her brother. Genetics are funny that way.

Campbell is already fast asleep again. I adjust her swaddling and place her back in the bassinette, and I just watch.

I could watch her for hours.

All day, every day.

She’s the sweetest.

And me? I’m the luckiest.

Life may not always be a fairytale, but it doesn’t mean we can’t make our own happily-ever-after.

THE END



Page ahead for a preview of Delilah’s book – BACHELOR – Coming late March 2016!





ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS




Thank you, thank you to everyone who made this book possible! To my readers, bloggers, ARC reviewers, and constant supporters – I can never thank you enough. I write for you!

Thank you to Valorie Clifton, editor, and proofreaders Janice Owen and Carey Sullivan, for the impeccable edits! Your willingness to flex to my schedule and fit me in at the last minute is immensely appreciated!

Thank you to Louisa Maggio of LM Creations, for whipping up one of the most beautiful covers I’ve ever laid eyes on (if I do say so myself)! The cover couldn’t be more perfect for this story and captured the essence of everything I wanted this story to represent. Working with you is always an absolute joy!

To Morgan Terry and Ashley Cestra – thank you for beta’ing Royal for me!! Your notes were tremendously helpful. If it weren’t for Morgan, Beckett would’ve been named Brookson. WHOOPS.

To my author friends – Sosie, Cora, Vanessa, DG, and so many others – thank you for the camaraderie and procrastinating FB chats. ;-)

Last, but not least, thank you to my husband, who assisted in my research and never once complained when I asked him the same questions over and over. You’re the best parole officer (and most patient husband) this side of the Pacific! Love.





ABOUT THE AUTHOR




Winter Renshaw recently celebrated her third 29th birthday. By day, she wrangles kids and dogs, and by night, she wrangles words. She loves peonies, lipstick, and balmy summer days. Chips and salsa are her jam, and so is cruising down the highway with the windows down and the air blasting while 80s rock blares from the speakers of her Mom-UV.

She would describe her writing style as sexy, conflicted, and laced with heart. Her heroes are always alpha and her heroines are always smart and independent. HEA guaranteed.

Want to stay in the loop?

You can like Winter on Facebook here: www.facebook.com/authorwinterrenshaw

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BACHELOR (Rixton Falls #2)

Coming late March 2016!

*unedited and subject to change





Sawyer



I watch her watch him.

We’re trapped on a neon party bus scented with a potpourri of stale cigarette smoke, spilled drinks, and dried vomit, and we’re the only two pathetic saps clearly not having a good time.

She’s all dark hair and bored sighs and quick sips of Heineken, and I’m all people-watching and fake-smiling and running an experiment to see if drinking to the point of getting drunk will, in fact, make me lose my concept of time.

This night needs to hurry up.

Scratch that.

This weekend needs to hurry up.

Who the hell does joint bachelor/bachelorette parties anyway? Are the bride and groom that insecure that they can’t spend one last night away from each other? God forbid a stripper with daddy issues gives Duke a lap dance. And God forbid the women go to one of those Magic Mike revues where most of the dancers have a preference for cock anyway.

“Hey, what’s your name?” A girl the size of a pixie with short lavender hair, a cluster of star tattoos at the base of her neck, and a diamond stud nose ring takes the seat beside me.

First and foremost, I didn’t come here to get laid. I’m here because my cousin made me groomsman number eight.

And secondly, I’m not interested in Princess Purple Hair. Everything about her is a desperate scream for attention, a plea for someone to find her interesting or special, and to be honest, it bores the ever-loving fuck out of me.

Lastly, I can’t stop watching the cocoa-haired, tragically attractive Goddess of Boredom at the front of the bus.

She intrigues me.

Every time she takes a swig of her beer, her eyes find their way to the couple sitting across from her. In between those moments, she checks her phone, pressing the home button and slipping it back into her pocket when she sees nothing has changed since thirty seconds ago.

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