Real Fake Love by Pippa Grant- Excerpt!

BLURB 

If people have polar opposites, Luca Rossi is mine.

His butt is in the baseball hall of fame. Mine’s comfortably seated in the hall of lame.

When he’s not snagging fly balls out in center field, he’s modeling in shampoo commercials. I once jammed my own finger while stirring cookie dough, and sometimes I forget shampoo is a thing.

He’s a total cynic when it comes to love.

I make a living writing love stories.

But after my latest broken engagement (no, I don’t want to talk about how many times that’s happened), it’s clear he’s exactly the man I need.

If anyone can teach me to be the opposite of me, it’s him.

The first thing I want him to teach me?

How to not fall in love.

And as luck would have it, he’s in desperate need of a fake girlfriend to get a meddling grandmother off his back.

We couldn’t be more perfect together, because the last thing Luca Rossi will ever be is the next man to leave me at the altar.

Or will he?

Real Fake Love is a line drive straight to the heart featuring a grumpy athlete, a jilted bride, a fake relationship, and the world’s laziest cat. It stands alone and comes complete with sibling rivalry, the world’s most awkward shower scene, and a sweetly satisfying happily ever after.

GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/52714963-real-fake-love 

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EXCERPT

Henri, in the middle of Chapter Four…

It’s probably weird to be sitting on the doorstep of the man I cyberstalked after his whole love sucks speech after my failed wedding. But I won’t apologize for waiting for Luca here at what I think is his house, because you don’t get what you need in life if you don’t go for it.

Still, maybe Dogzilla and I should be waiting in my car instead? At least that way, I could turn on the radio while we wait. And the air conditioning.

I’m about to move to the car when a clunker chugs around the corner, one headlight out, and turns into the driveway.

This is definitely the wrong house.

I’m sitting on the porch of a stranger’s house, hoping that’s a woman driving, because if it’s a woman, at least I know I won’t be in danger.

Of falling in love with her at first sight, I mean.

The engine shuts off, and while I don’t often trespass at midnight, I have this feeling that jumping up with Dogzilla and making a run for it right now is exactly the wrong move. A well-timed, “Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else,” will give us all a laugh, I’ll take my cat and leave, and then two complete strangers will have a weird story to tell their friends over margaritas—or an iced tea, in my case—and huh.

This would make an excellent meet-cute for my friend Dorothea’s next steamy romance novel. I’ll have to drop her a note too.

The occupant of the car is still sitting in it, and the figure illuminated by the street light looks too big to be a woman.

Dang it.

He also seems to be—

Is he hitting his head against the steering wheel?

Uh-oh.

If I picked the house of a nutjob, all bets are off.

“Be ready to run, Dogzilla,” I whisper.

My lazy cat doesn’t move, and instead snores in my lap.

Easier this way anyway, since it’s not like I can count on her to follow alone when I take off running at full-steam.

Which doesn’t happen all that often, if we’re being honest here. I’m a writer, not a runner.

But—wait.

The way his hair is moving—

That is Luca Rossi.

I rise, cradling Dogzilla, and when Luca looks my way, I give him a finger wave and a smile.

The light isn’t bright enough for me to see what he’s saying, but his lips are definitely moving, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s wearing the same long-suffering expression my father usually has when I tell him I’m engaged.

Again.

It might also be remarkably similar to the expression Luca was wearing when he recognized me at Duggan Field earlier today too.

Not my intention to ambush him at work, I swear. I was curious about the ballpark—I’m curious about a lot of things—so when I caught wind on social media of a writer organization that was touring the park, it was easy enough to get here in time today to join the group.

And it was fascinating to see where the players work out, to smell the chairs the announcers sit in, what it feels like to stand in the dugout, and hear how many light bulbs have to be replaced every day.

There’s a pop and a creak as the car door swings open, and I suddenly desperately need to know why Luca Rossi, millionaire sports star, lives on a grocery store clerk’s salary.

For research.

I swear.

I like to do research.

It’s one of the things my ex-fiancé Kyle liked about me.

“Henri,” Luca says.

My brain hears what the hell are you doing here, and why are you between me and my bed, and I’m not asking out loud because I don’t honestly want to know.

I either have a lot of experience understanding people because I write good characters, or I have a lot of experience with frustrating men after five failed engagements.

Plus my lifelong relationship with my father.

“Hi, Luca! Great game tonight. That catch you made in center field was like—”

“The one where I didn’t move, the one where I stepped three feet to my left, or the one where I had to take two steps back?”

Okay, yeah, he had an easy game. “How did you know where the ball was going to be? That’s like—it’s like you’re psychic.”

“It’s called being a professional.” He squeezes his eyes shut briefly, opens them, eyeballs Dogzilla in my arms, and then sighs again. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?”

Wow. He’s cranky.

Not gonna lie.

I know it’s probably me.

But that’s no excuse for not forging ahead. I didn’t come all this way to chicken out. “You remember the last time we saw each other?”

“This afternoon in the clubhouse?”

“I liked your hat, but I meant the time…before that.”

He closes the distance between us with three casual steps. “Nope.”

And I go momentarily speechless as a waft of something delicious teases my nose.

But only momentarily. A quick recovery is a gift. Or possibly a defense mechanism. “The time we were together…in that town…with that big monument…and the event thing…”

No answer.

“The event thing that didn’t—”

“I’m trying to block it from my memory.”

“Oh. Oh! Thank you. That’s very kind of you. Sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“That I wouldn’t want to remember your ruined wedding, that you like to redecorate people with dessert, and that your ex-fiancé is the first man that my mother’s dated in three years and I might have to start calling him Stepdad?”

I wince.

My heart also weeps because yeah, still not over seeing Jerry lock lips with a woman who could’ve been my mother, and hearing that it might actually be going somewhere is salt in the wound.

“So, no, Henri, I don’t remember the last time we were together. At least, I won’t, once I get inside and pour myself a large enough vodka tonic. Care for one?”

Once again, I’m momentarily speechless. “Um, I’m kinda allergic—”

I cut myself off when one of his brows rises infinitesimally, and then I gasp. Of course he knows I’m allergic. We had an entire conversation about it. “Are you trying to send me to the hospital?”

“No, but I am trying to get into my house. Alone. Preferably without the sad panda thoughts I’d finally managed to shake before you showed up today.”

“Oh. That was a hint.”

“It was.”

“I’m bad with the subtle.”

He swipes a hand over his mouth and looks up at the sky, and I’m certain he’s not stifling a smile.

Probably the exact opposite.

Time to forge ahead. “I’m here because I need your help.”

“And now I pay the price for my sins,” he mutters.

I’d ask what his sins are, but my google searches were very thorough.

Normally, he really would be the last person on earth I’d turn to for help.

“I don’t want money or anything like that. And I’d rather no one know I’m here, so I’m not after your fame either, though I wouldn’t mind some tips on how to get my hair as good as yours always is. I’ve tried Kangapoo before, and—wait. Sorry. Off-topic. I need you to teach me how to not fall in love.” 

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AUTHOR BIO 

Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.

AUTHOR LINKS

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

Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ThePipsquad 

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ReadPippa 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/pippagrant 

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pippa-grant 

Website: http://www.pippagrant.com 

Instagram: https://instagram.com/pippa.grant  

Real Fake Love by Pippa Grant- Now Live!

My Take:

(ARC REVIEW) Real Fake Love is another laugh out loud, swoon worthy sports romance from Pippa Grant. This was possibly the silliest one yet but that’s not a bad thing. I genuinely wonder how the author’s brain works. I’ve heard all the words in the book before but not always in that order!

Henri is a lovable weirdo and Luca is a grumpy but solid and a family oriented stud. I loved watching their fake relationship turn into a real one as the tension built between them.


BLURB 

If people have polar opposites, Luca Rossi is mine.

His butt is in the baseball hall of fame. Mine’s comfortably seated in the hall of lame.

When he’s not snagging fly balls out in center field, he’s modeling in shampoo commercials. I once jammed my own finger while stirring cookie dough, and sometimes I forget shampoo is a thing.

He’s a total cynic when it comes to love.

I make a living writing love stories.

But after my latest broken engagement (no, I don’t want to talk about how many times that’s happened), it’s clear he’s exactly the man I need.

If anyone can teach me to be the opposite of me, it’s him.

The first thing I want him to teach me?

How to not fall in love.

And as luck would have it, he’s in desperate need of a fake girlfriend to get a meddling grandmother off his back.

We couldn’t be more perfect together, because the last thing Luca Rossi will ever be is the next man to leave me at the altar.

Or will he?

Real Fake Love is a line drive straight to the heart featuring a grumpy athlete, a jilted bride, a fake relationship, and the world’s laziest cat. It stands alone and comes complete with sibling rivalry, the world’s most awkward shower scene, and a sweetly satisfying happily ever after.

GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/52714963-real-fake-love 

PURCHASE LINKS 

US: https://amzn.to/34IbeSI
UK: https://amzn.to/2YI3pbM
CA: https://amzn.to/2QLF3tH
AU: https://amzn.to/3gC9FZ4 

Free in Kindle Unlimited

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EXCERPT

Henri, in the middle of Chapter Four…

It’s probably weird to be sitting on the doorstep of the man I cyberstalked after his whole love sucks speech after my failed wedding. But I won’t apologize for waiting for Luca here at what I think is his house, because you don’t get what you need in life if you don’t go for it.

Still, maybe Dogzilla and I should be waiting in my car instead? At least that way, I could turn on the radio while we wait. And the air conditioning.

I’m about to move to the car when a clunker chugs around the corner, one headlight out, and turns into the driveway.

This is definitely the wrong house.

I’m sitting on the porch of a stranger’s house, hoping that’s a woman driving, because if it’s a woman, at least I know I won’t be in danger.

Of falling in love with her at first sight, I mean.

The engine shuts off, and while I don’t often trespass at midnight, I have this feeling that jumping up with Dogzilla and making a run for it right now is exactly the wrong move. A well-timed, “Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else,” will give us all a laugh, I’ll take my cat and leave, and then two complete strangers will have a weird story to tell their friends over margaritas—or an iced tea, in my case—and huh.

This would make an excellent meet-cute for my friend Dorothea’s next steamy romance novel. I’ll have to drop her a note too.

The occupant of the car is still sitting in it, and the figure illuminated by the street light looks too big to be a woman.

Dang it.

He also seems to be—

Is he hitting his head against the steering wheel?

Uh-oh.

If I picked the house of a nutjob, all bets are off.

“Be ready to run, Dogzilla,” I whisper.

My lazy cat doesn’t move, and instead snores in my lap.

Easier this way anyway, since it’s not like I can count on her to follow alone when I take off running at full-steam.

Which doesn’t happen all that often, if we’re being honest here. I’m a writer, not a runner.

But—wait.

The way his hair is moving—

That is Luca Rossi.

I rise, cradling Dogzilla, and when Luca looks my way, I give him a finger wave and a smile.

The light isn’t bright enough for me to see what he’s saying, but his lips are definitely moving, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s wearing the same long-suffering expression my father usually has when I tell him I’m engaged.

Again.

It might also be remarkably similar to the expression Luca was wearing when he recognized me at Duggan Field earlier today too.

Not my intention to ambush him at work, I swear. I was curious about the ballpark—I’m curious about a lot of things—so when I caught wind on social media of a writer organization that was touring the park, it was easy enough to get here in time today to join the group.

And it was fascinating to see where the players work out, to smell the chairs the announcers sit in, what it feels like to stand in the dugout, and hear how many light bulbs have to be replaced every day.

There’s a pop and a creak as the car door swings open, and I suddenly desperately need to know why Luca Rossi, millionaire sports star, lives on a grocery store clerk’s salary.

For research.

I swear.

I like to do research.

It’s one of the things my ex-fiancé Kyle liked about me.

“Henri,” Luca says.

My brain hears what the hell are you doing here, and why are you between me and my bed, and I’m not asking out loud because I don’t honestly want to know.

I either have a lot of experience understanding people because I write good characters, or I have a lot of experience with frustrating men after five failed engagements.

Plus my lifelong relationship with my father.

“Hi, Luca! Great game tonight. That catch you made in center field was like—”

“The one where I didn’t move, the one where I stepped three feet to my left, or the one where I had to take two steps back?”

Okay, yeah, he had an easy game. “How did you know where the ball was going to be? That’s like—it’s like you’re psychic.”

“It’s called being a professional.” He squeezes his eyes shut briefly, opens them, eyeballs Dogzilla in my arms, and then sighs again. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?”

Wow. He’s cranky.

Not gonna lie.

I know it’s probably me.

But that’s no excuse for not forging ahead. I didn’t come all this way to chicken out. “You remember the last time we saw each other?”

“This afternoon in the clubhouse?”

“I liked your hat, but I meant the time…before that.”

He closes the distance between us with three casual steps. “Nope.”

And I go momentarily speechless as a waft of something delicious teases my nose.

But only momentarily. A quick recovery is a gift. Or possibly a defense mechanism. “The time we were together…in that town…with that big monument…and the event thing…”

No answer.

“The event thing that didn’t—”

“I’m trying to block it from my memory.”

“Oh. Oh! Thank you. That’s very kind of you. Sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“That I wouldn’t want to remember your ruined wedding, that you like to redecorate people with dessert, and that your ex-fiancé is the first man that my mother’s dated in three years and I might have to start calling him Stepdad?”

I wince.

My heart also weeps because yeah, still not over seeing Jerry lock lips with a woman who could’ve been my mother, and hearing that it might actually be going somewhere is salt in the wound.

“So, no, Henri, I don’t remember the last time we were together. At least, I won’t, once I get inside and pour myself a large enough vodka tonic. Care for one?”

Once again, I’m momentarily speechless. “Um, I’m kinda allergic—”

I cut myself off when one of his brows rises infinitesimally, and then I gasp. Of course he knows I’m allergic. We had an entire conversation about it. “Are you trying to send me to the hospital?”

“No, but I am trying to get into my house. Alone. Preferably without the sad panda thoughts I’d finally managed to shake before you showed up today.”

“Oh. That was a hint.”

“It was.”

“I’m bad with the subtle.”

He swipes a hand over his mouth and looks up at the sky, and I’m certain he’s not stifling a smile.

Probably the exact opposite.

Time to forge ahead. “I’m here because I need your help.”

“And now I pay the price for my sins,” he mutters.

I’d ask what his sins are, but my google searches were very thorough.

Normally, he really would be the last person on earth I’d turn to for help.

“I don’t want money or anything like that. And I’d rather no one know I’m here, so I’m not after your fame either, though I wouldn’t mind some tips on how to get my hair as good as yours always is. I’ve tried Kangapoo before, and—wait. Sorry. Off-topic. I need you to teach me how to not fall in love.” 

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AUTHOR BIO 

Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.

AUTHOR LINKS

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

Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ThePipsquad 

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ReadPippa 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/pippagrant 

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pippa-grant 

Website: http://www.pippagrant.com 

Instagram: https://instagram.com/pippa.grant  

Jock Blocked by Pippa Grant- Now Live!

My take:

Finally we get Brooks’ story! I’ve been waiting to read the virgin baseball player’s story for a long time now. It gave me all the laughs, heart, heart, swooniness, and silliness I’ve come to expect from a Pippa Grant novel. It’s a great story of two people with deep seated reasons for why they shouldn’t be together work to overcome their superstitions and expectations.

Though this is a continuation of Liar Liar Hearts on Fire, I think it could probably stand alone, but you’d probably be missing out on a lot of the jokes and cameos. 4 stars

BLURB 

She can’t let him score…

Call it superstition, but when a guy bats as hot as Brooks Elliott, you don’t mess with what’s working. And what’s working is him keeping his pants zipped and doing all of his scoring on the field.

So when I hear he’s planning to ditch his V-card now that he’s been traded to baseball’s lovable losers—aka my home team and my reason for living every March through October—I do what any rational, dedicated, obsessed fan would do.

I make a plan to stop him.

But the thing about stopping him is that it requires spending time with him.

Lots. And lots. And lots of time.

And the more time I spend with him, the more I like him. Not as the guy who’s going to help save my favorite team and finally bring home a championship ring, but as the guy who’s helping me in my quest to bring back the team’s old mascot. Who also loves making pancake and bacon sandwiches. And who would do almost anything for his love of the game.

But after all this time of jock-blocking him…do I even have a chance?

And if I do, are we both destined to a life of celibacy in the name of winning?

Jock Blocked is a home run of a romantic comedy featuring the world’s most superstitious sports fan, baseball’s oldest virgin hero, a rogue meatball, an adorable puppy with a cussing problem, and the best lovable losers. It stands alone and comes with a happily ever after more satisfying than a game-winning grand slam.

GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/50252898-jock-blocked 

Watch fan videos and vote for your favorite Copper Valley Fireballs mascot here: https://pippagrant.com/mascots 

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EXCERPT

Mackenzie Montana, aka a woman on a mission

I never meant to become a criminal. But in the grand scheme of life, I don’t think I’m technically engaging in criminal behavior.

At least, if it is, you could call it a crime of passion.

And I am very passionate in my belief that while the Fireballs need to make changes to halt their record-breaking streak of being the worst losing team ever to play professional baseball, they don’t need to do it with a new mascot. Which is why I decided to take two weeks off work and fly to Florida for spring training, where I’m not saying that I’ve snuck into my home team’s ballpark after hours to steal the worst proposed mascot costume, but I’m not saying I haven’t either.

Meatballs?

They actually let a meatball make the final cut.

I needed at least another full season to get over the fact that the new Fireballs ownership killed the last mascot, and here they are, letting fans vote on replacing Fiery the Dragon with flaming meatballs.

I snort to myself while I creep through the darkened concrete hallways with a flaming meatball swallowing half of my body.

If you’re going to steal a giant meatball costume, it’s best to act like you know what you’re doing. And striding out of here with zero shame means two things—one, no one’s going to stop me, and two, even if they do, I’m incognito.

It’s the perfect crime to counter the crime of killing Fiery.

I’m one turn away from the door that I left propped open for myself after hiding out in the family bathroom after today’s game when voices drift toward me.

One male.

One female.

Neither is familiar, but as I get closer to my final turn, I realize the voices are between me and my exit.

No biggie.

I got this.

I can stroll on by, flash a thumbs-up, pretend like I’m heading out to prank the Fireballs at the team compound they’re all staying at, or to make a fast-food run for publicity.

Acting like I know what I’m doing inside this mascot costume is as easy as breathing. When you’ve seen thousands of baseball games in your lifetime, it’s not hard.

So I turn the corner.

And then I suck in a surprised breath, because that’s Brooks Elliott.

Oh. My. God.

Brooks Elliott.

The Fireballs’ newest acquisition. Like, so new he arrived yesterday. A mid-spring training acquisition, which is practically unheard of.

He plays third base, and he hits the ball like it’s evil incarnate and he’s an avenging angel and it’s his job to send that evil into another dimension.

He could be the reason we legitimately have a shot at making it to the post-season.

And I am not going to hyperventilate like I did the last time I was face-to-face with a baseball player.

Pretending to be a mascot?

I got this.

Talking to the players?

It’s like talking to the gods.

ALSO AVAILABLE BY PIPPA GRANT

Liar, Liar, Hearts on Fire – An interconnected standalone

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Also available in audio & paperback

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AUTHOR BIO 

Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.

AUTHOR LINKS

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

Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ThePipsquad 

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ReadPippa 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/pippagrant 

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pippa-grant 

Website: http://www.pippagrant.com 

Instagram: https://instagram.com/pippa.grant

Liar Liar Hearts On Fire by Pippa Grant- Boost!

BLURB 

Never borrow pants from your brother. Especially if he’s a size smaller than you are, because all that pressure in the junk will short-circuit your brain.

And you’ll lie to a woman in a club about your real name.

Leave her unsatisfied after making out in a bathroom.

Then find out that she’s the one thing standing in the way of your dreams. And she very much doesn’t like being lied to.

Now I have to convince Lila Valentine—the woman I can’t stop thinking about, my biggest regret, and my new boss—that I’m what’s best for the baseball team she’s inherited.

If we can’t work together to save the Fireballs, the commissioner’s forcing a sale and moving them across the country.

I’ll do anything to save my home team.

But the one thing I can’t do?

Keep my hands to myself. 

Which would be fine, if she hadn’t been telling me lies this whole time too.

Liar, Liar, Hearts on Fire is a rocking fun romance between a single dad obsessed with baseball, an heiress with secrets, baseball pants, a rundown team, and rabid ducks. It stands alone and comes with a guaranteed happily-ever-after.

GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48659250-liar-liar-hearts-on-fire 

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EXCERPT

The squawking erupts again nearby and saves me. There are no visible chickens on the field, and it gets louder as we approach the dugout on the first base side.

Louder and more intense.

Very intense.

Like, are there chicken police? Because we might need the chicken police.

I drift directly behind Tripp while we approach the noise, shameless in using him as a human shield if this is a chicken uprising. What’s that movie? The one with the apes that rebel and take over the world? That’s what this sounds like, except with feathers and clucks instead of chest-pounding and grunts.

“Should we call security?” My self-defense classes didn’t cover protecting yourself from rabid chickens.

“That’d be a foul,” he murmurs. And then chuckles to himself, and oh my god.

“Foul—fowl? Like a bird-fowl? Did you just make a dad joke at a time like this?”

“A time like this? You mean a random Tuesday night at a deserted ball field?”

“At a time when the chickens are gathering for a ritualistic sacrifice of one of their own.”

His shoulders shake, and he seems to be struggling to cough.

“Oh, god, did you inhale a feather? Is that how this starts? They shed their feathers to choke us to death?”

“Please don’t talk about chickens and choking in the same sentence.”

“That was not a dad joke.”

“No, it was—oh. Duck.”

I squat low, spinning to see what I’m ducking from.

Tripp flips his flashlight on me. I squint and cover my head. “Stop! I can’t see! What’s coming?”

“Lila. Ducks. Ducks. Not chickens. It’s mating ducks.”

He swings the flashlight to the dugout, and—oh.

Oh.

“Is it…supposed to be that violent?”

There are two ducks under the bench in the dugout, one flapping its wings and chasing the other, who’s squawking so loudly she could wake the dead.

And— “Ohmygod, I did not need to see that!”

Duck penis.

Duck penis.

Oh my god. Duck penis. Duck penis should not look like that.

Tripp’s bent double laughing.

“Where’s security?” I demand. “Hello? Security? Security? I’ll give whoever removes this duck a ten-thousand-dollar bonus. Right now.”

No one comes running for ten grand, because no one can hear me.

The squawking. It’s a cry for help.

“It’s nature,” Tripp says. He’s wiping his eyes now, he’s laughing so hard. “Give ’em a few. They’ll finish up.”

The girl duck is racing back and forth under the bench.

The boy duck is chasing her with that thing.

And I am not having it. “Shoo. Shoo!

“Lila!” Tripp calls, but I’m already gone.

Flapping my arms. Yelling. Charging the dugout and the ducks.

Why are they even here? There’s no pond here. Winter’s coming. They should be flying to the Caribbean for Mai Tais and sunshine.

And instead, they’re ruining the sanctity of my ballpark.

“Shoo!” I yell again.

I hit the stairs down to the long covered bench, and the boy duck suddenly seems to realize I’m coming at him.

He turns, pointing that thing at me, flaps his wings, and gets this evil glint in his eyes that means I really should’ve thought about what I was doing before I came in here.

“Woo her nicely,” I snap.

He squawks—no, quacks at me.

Crap.

I need to go back to kindergarten to learn my animal sounds again. I’m a city girl. We don’t do farm animals.

“And put that thing away!

“Lila.” Tripp’s laughing so hard he’s wheezing. He grabs my elbow and tugs. “Let the ducks be.”

“I’d let it be if he wasn’t attacking her.”

“Maybe that’s how ducks have sex.”

Then maybe ducks shouldn’t exist.”

QQQUUUUAAAACCCCCKKKKK!” the boy duck yells.

It’s like a Braveheart yell, and I realize I’m asking the wrong question.

I shouldn’t be asking why is the duck assaulting the other duck in a dugout?

I should be asking what have humans previously done to this duck because he’s going to kill me?

It charges, wings flapping.

I scream and take off running. Tripp mutters a well-timed, oh, fuck and runs with me. “The other dugout,” he shouts, pointing to the dugout on the third base side.

Another light flashes up in the stands.

“Security!” I yell. “Arrest the duck! Arrest the duck!

It’s gaining on us. Quacking louder. And it can fly. It can fly.

It’s going to swoop over us, poop on our heads, and whack us with that—that—that mutant penis and then scoop us up in its talons, and—”Aaah! It got me. It got me!

It bit me on the butt.

“Don’t fuck with nature,” Tripp grunts.

ALSO AVAILABLE IN THE BRO CODE SERIES

#1 Flirting with the Frenemy

US: https://amzn.to/2H2PkO8
UK: https://amzn.to/2BSzeTT
CA: https://amzn.to/2E9WKw5
AU: https://amzn.to/2SqmrNV
 
Free in Kindle Unlimited

Also available in audio & paperback

Audible: https://adbl.co/3b3ZtWI 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2WnFUoj 

Apple Books: https://apple.co/3d7i461 

Paperback: https://amzn.to/2Qr9bL8 

#2 America’s Geekheart

US: https://amzn.to/2uFoTGY
UK: https://amzn.to/2YHFIz2
CA: https://amzn.to/2WEku2X
AU: https://amzn.to/2FIOc08
 
Free in Kindle Unlimited

Also available in audio & paperback

Audible: https://adbl.co/2IYPhCO 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2WpYdcy 

Apple Books: https://apple.co/39WodA5 

Paperback: https://amzn.to/33qUVqK 

AUTHOR BIO 

Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.

AUTHOR LINKS

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

Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ThePipsquad 

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ReadPippa 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/pippagrant 

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pippa-grant 

Website: http://www.pippagrant.com Instagram: https://instagram.com/pippa.grant

Liar Liar Hearts on Fire- Now Live!

My Take: This was so fun, hilarious, romantic, and full of heart- every thing I’ve come to expect in a Pippa Grant book. There was minimal angst but enough drama to keep it interesting. There were plenty of cameos from people we’ve met throughout Pippa’s worlds but it’s still totally a stand-alone. Just what we need when the world feels like it’s falling apart!


BLURB 

Never borrow pants from your brother. Especially if he’s a size smaller than you are, because all that pressure in the junk will short-circuit your brain.

And you’ll lie to a woman in a club about your real name.

Leave her unsatisfied after making out in a bathroom.

Then find out that she’s the one thing standing in the way of your dreams. And she very much doesn’t like being lied to.

Now I have to convince Lila Valentine—the woman I can’t stop thinking about, my biggest regret, and my new boss—that I’m what’s best for the baseball team she’s inherited.

If we can’t work together to save the Fireballs, the commissioner’s forcing a sale and moving them across the country.

I’ll do anything to save my home team.

But the one thing I can’t do?

Keep my hands to myself. 

Which would be fine, if she hadn’t been telling me lies this whole time too.

Liar, Liar, Hearts on Fire is a rocking fun romance between a single dad obsessed with baseball, an heiress with secrets, baseball pants, a rundown team, and rabid ducks. It stands alone and comes with a guaranteed happily-ever-after.

GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48659250-liar-liar-hearts-on-fire 

PURCHASE LINKS 

US: https://amzn.to/2Qlsqph
UK: https://amzn.to/2QqhMxg
CA: https://amzn.to/3b90Ovg
AU: https://amzn.to/2Qqvqk1 

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Also available in paperback: https://amzn.to/2whwVKD 

EXCERPT

The squawking erupts again nearby and saves me. There are no visible chickens on the field, and it gets louder as we approach the dugout on the first base side.

Louder and more intense.

Very intense.

Like, are there chicken police? Because we might need the chicken police.

I drift directly behind Tripp while we approach the noise, shameless in using him as a human shield if this is a chicken uprising. What’s that movie? The one with the apes that rebel and take over the world? That’s what this sounds like, except with feathers and clucks instead of chest-pounding and grunts.

“Should we call security?” My self-defense classes didn’t cover protecting yourself from rabid chickens.

“That’d be a foul,” he murmurs. And then chuckles to himself, and oh my god.

“Foul—fowl? Like a bird-fowl? Did you just make a dad joke at a time like this?”

“A time like this? You mean a random Tuesday night at a deserted ball field?”

“At a time when the chickens are gathering for a ritualistic sacrifice of one of their own.”

His shoulders shake, and he seems to be struggling to cough.

“Oh, god, did you inhale a feather? Is that how this starts? They shed their feathers to choke us to death?”

“Please don’t talk about chickens and choking in the same sentence.”

“That was not a dad joke.”

“No, it was—oh. Duck.”

I squat low, spinning to see what I’m ducking from.

Tripp flips his flashlight on me. I squint and cover my head. “Stop! I can’t see! What’s coming?”

“Lila. Ducks. Ducks. Not chickens. It’s mating ducks.”

He swings the flashlight to the dugout, and—oh.

Oh.

“Is it…supposed to be that violent?”

There are two ducks under the bench in the dugout, one flapping its wings and chasing the other, who’s squawking so loudly she could wake the dead.

And— “Ohmygod, I did not need to see that!”

Duck penis.

Duck penis.

Oh my god. Duck penis. Duck penis should not look like that.

Tripp’s bent double laughing.

“Where’s security?” I demand. “Hello? Security? Security? I’ll give whoever removes this duck a ten-thousand-dollar bonus. Right now.”

No one comes running for ten grand, because no one can hear me.

The squawking. It’s a cry for help.

“It’s nature,” Tripp says. He’s wiping his eyes now, he’s laughing so hard. “Give ’em a few. They’ll finish up.”

The girl duck is racing back and forth under the bench.

The boy duck is chasing her with that thing.

And I am not having it. “Shoo. Shoo!

“Lila!” Tripp calls, but I’m already gone.

Flapping my arms. Yelling. Charging the dugout and the ducks.

Why are they even here? There’s no pond here. Winter’s coming. They should be flying to the Caribbean for Mai Tais and sunshine.

And instead, they’re ruining the sanctity of my ballpark.

“Shoo!” I yell again.

I hit the stairs down to the long covered bench, and the boy duck suddenly seems to realize I’m coming at him.

He turns, pointing that thing at me, flaps his wings, and gets this evil glint in his eyes that means I really should’ve thought about what I was doing before I came in here.

“Woo her nicely,” I snap.

He squawks—no, quacks at me.

Crap.

I need to go back to kindergarten to learn my animal sounds again. I’m a city girl. We don’t do farm animals.

“And put that thing away!

“Lila.” Tripp’s laughing so hard he’s wheezing. He grabs my elbow and tugs. “Let the ducks be.”

“I’d let it be if he wasn’t attacking her.”

“Maybe that’s how ducks have sex.”

Then maybe ducks shouldn’t exist.”

QQQUUUUAAAACCCCCKKKKK!” the boy duck yells.

It’s like a Braveheart yell, and I realize I’m asking the wrong question.

I shouldn’t be asking why is the duck assaulting the other duck in a dugout?

I should be asking what have humans previously done to this duck because he’s going to kill me?

It charges, wings flapping.

I scream and take off running. Tripp mutters a well-timed, oh, fuck and runs with me. “The other dugout,” he shouts, pointing to the dugout on the third base side.

Another light flashes up in the stands.

“Security!” I yell. “Arrest the duck! Arrest the duck!

It’s gaining on us. Quacking louder. And it can fly. It can fly.

It’s going to swoop over us, poop on our heads, and whack us with that—that—that mutant penis and then scoop us up in its talons, and—”Aaah! It got me. It got me!

It bit me on the butt.

“Don’t fuck with nature,” Tripp grunts.

ALSO AVAILABLE IN THE BRO CODE SERIES

#1 Flirting with the Frenemy

US: https://amzn.to/2H2PkO8
UK: https://amzn.to/2BSzeTT
CA: https://amzn.to/2E9WKw5
AU: https://amzn.to/2SqmrNV
 
Free in Kindle Unlimited

Also available in audio & paperback

Audible: https://adbl.co/3b3ZtWI 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2WnFUoj 

Apple Books: https://apple.co/3d7i461 

Paperback: https://amzn.to/2Qr9bL8 

#2 America’s Geekheart

US: https://amzn.to/2uFoTGY
UK: https://amzn.to/2YHFIz2
CA: https://amzn.to/2WEku2X
AU: https://amzn.to/2FIOc08
 
Free in Kindle Unlimited

Also available in audio & paperback

Audible: https://adbl.co/2IYPhCO 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2WpYdcy 

Apple Books: https://apple.co/39WodA5 

Paperback: https://amzn.to/33qUVqK 

AUTHOR BIO 

Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.

AUTHOR LINKS

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

Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ThePipsquad 

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ReadPippa 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/pippagrant 

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pippa-grant 

Website: http://www.pippagrant.com Instagram: https://instagram.com/pippa.grant

Crazy For Loving You

Have you checked out the complete Bluewater Billionaire’s series? What are you waiting for??

BLURB

Is there anything hotter than a growly, overprotective Marine cradling a baby? My melted ovaries don’t think so. 

When you work hard and have the bank account to prove it, you’re entitled to play hard. I’ve seen some crazy things. I’ve caused some crazy scenes. And there’s no shame in my game.

But I’m still knocked off my stilettos when an insane chain of events leads to me inheriting a baby. The craziest part? The baby comes with a by-the-books, no-nonsense retired Marine who’s so regimented that I wouldn’t be surprised if he irons his boxer shorts. 

Parenting? Bring it on. I don’t need sleep—I once started my day with business meetings in Cairo and ended it three days later at a club in Melbourne. Changing diapers? Please. It can’t be any more challenging than changing out of Spanx on the back of a moving motorcycle. Training the little guy to run the family’s real estate empire? He’ll be all our bosses by the time he’s four.

But living with my new co-guardian? The gruff, muscled, tattooed former military man who manages to check all my boxes while trying to sneak under my skin?

He needs to go.

Because the longer he stays, the more layers he’s peeling off my heart.

But love isn’t something that’s ever diluted my gene pool, and I like my life just fine without it. I have awesome friends, this adorable baby and an obscene amount of money. Who needs love? 

Turns out…maybe me.

Crazy for Loving You is a larger-than life ride through accidental parenthood featuring a fun-loving billionaire playgirl, a crusty Marine with a gooey center, a horny dolphin, the world’s most obscene pool, and all the fun you’d expect from a world built by Lucy Score, Claire Kingsley, Kathryn Nolan, and Pippa Grant.


GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/45149049-crazy-for-loving-you


PURCHASE LINKS

US: https://amzn.to/2C64Sx2
UK: https://amzn.to/2qd5jTz
CA: https://amzn.to/32hiErv
AU: https://amzn.to/36zFXjF

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Also available in print + audio (narrated by Teddy Hamilton & Virginia Rose)

Paperback: https://amzn.to/36xaUEM
Audible: https://adbl.co/2NOGrd9
Amazon: https://amzn.to/33cYIHr
Apple Books: https://apple.co/33cB25L


ALSO AVAILABLE IN THE BLUEWATER BILLIONAIRES SERIES

The Price of Scandal by Lucy Scorehttps://amzn.to/36vg8kv
The Mogul and the Muscle by Claire Kingsley:https://amzn.to/2NatTxu
Wild Open Hearts by Kathryn Nolan:https://amzn.to/32eV1Q2


AUTHOR BIO

Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.


AUTHOR LINKS

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pippagrantromance
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ThePipsquad
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ReadPippa
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/pippagrant
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pippa-grant
Website: http://www.pippagrant.com
Instagram: https://instagram.com/pippa.grant

Crazy For Loving You- Pippa Grant

My take:

Oh, Daisy. I’m not sure I’ve ever been as mad at a character as I was towards the end of this book, but that had everything to do with Pippa Grant’s masterful character building. Daisy starts off the bubbly, irresponsible, fun loving vagillionaire we’ve grown to know in the other three books but you soon get to know the real Daisy under the party girl shell. After learning her self-centered cousin named her as co-guardian to her newborn, Daisy has to learn to put aside her hard partying ways and learn to live with (and fall in love with) the quiet, responsible ex-marine named as co-guardian.

Tons of humor, sparks, cute baby, our other friendly billionaires + lovers, and fun. 5/5 star


BLURB

Is there anything hotter than a growly, overprotective Marine cradling a baby? My melted ovaries don’t think so. 

When you work hard and have the bank account to prove it, you’re entitled to play hard. I’ve seen some crazy things. I’ve caused some crazy scenes. And there’s no shame in my game.

But I’m still knocked off my stilettos when an insane chain of events leads to me inheriting a baby. The craziest part? The baby comes with a by-the-books, no-nonsense retired Marine who’s so regimented that I wouldn’t be surprised if he irons his boxer shorts. 

Parenting? Bring it on. I don’t need sleep—I once started my day with business meetings in Cairo and ended it three days later at a club in Melbourne. Changing diapers? Please. It can’t be any more challenging than changing out of Spanx on the back of a moving motorcycle. Training the little guy to run the family’s real estate empire? He’ll be all our bosses by the time he’s four.

But living with my new co-guardian? The gruff, muscled, tattooed former military man who manages to check all my boxes while trying to sneak under my skin?

He needs to go.

Because the longer he stays, the more layers he’s peeling off my heart.

But love isn’t something that’s ever diluted my gene pool, and I like my life just fine without it. I have awesome friends, this adorable baby and an obscene amount of money. Who needs love? 

Turns out…maybe me.

Crazy for Loving You is a larger-than life ride through accidental parenthood featuring a fun-loving billionaire playgirl, a crusty Marine with a gooey center, a horny dolphin, the world’s most obscene pool, and all the fun you’d expect from a world built by Lucy Score, Claire Kingsley, Kathryn Nolan, and Pippa Grant.


GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/45149049-crazy-for-loving-you


PURCHASE LINKS

US: https://amzn.to/2C64Sx2
UK: https://amzn.to/2qd5jTz
CA: https://amzn.to/32hiErv
AU: https://amzn.to/36zFXjF

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Also available in print + audio (narrated by Teddy Hamilton & Virginia Rose)

Paperback: https://amzn.to/36xaUEM
Audible: https://adbl.co/2NOGrd9
Amazon: https://amzn.to/33cYIHr
Apple Books: https://apple.co/33cB25L


ALSO AVAILABLE IN THE BLUEWATER BILLIONAIRES SERIES

The Price of Scandal by Lucy Scorehttps://amzn.to/36vg8kv
The Mogul and the Muscle by Claire Kingsley:https://amzn.to/2NatTxu
Wild Open Hearts by Kathryn Nolan:https://amzn.to/32eV1Q2

AUTHOR BIO

Pippa Grant is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romantic comedies that will make tears run down your leg. When she’s not reading, writing or sleeping, she’s being crowned employee of the month as a stay-at-home mom and housewife trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, all the while fantasizing about long walks on the beach with hot chocolate chip cookies.


AUTHOR LINKS

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pippagrantromance
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ThePipsquad
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ReadPippa
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/pippagrant
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pippa-grant
Website: http://www.pippagrant.com
Instagram: https://instagram.com/pippa.grant