It’s Begining to Look a Lot Like Chick Lit
an Anthology by:
S.E. Babin, Geralyn Corcillo, Amy Gettinger, Holly Tierney-Bedord, Jax Abbey, Susan Murphy, Tracy Krimmer, Kate O’Keefe, Monique McDonell, Laurie Baxter
Genre: Chick Lit
Tour Dates: December 18th – 24th, 2016
Eleven short and funny holiday stories of women going home for Christmas, stirring up old flames (& finding new ones), baking grandma’s cookies, planning revenge pranks on high school duds, opening Pandora’s Box, racing across the country for love, & kissing cute hunks under the mistletoe. Grab your copy while this limited time collection is still available!
Buy the Book:
About the Authors:
S.E. Babin is an award-winning author with a passion for writing books with a paranormal twist. Whether it’s romance or mystery, she loves taking the norm and turning it into the extraordinary. Her love of reading turned into a curious exploration to see whether or not she could write her own novel. Beginning with discarded pages of angsty novels and a slightly popular reimagining of Beowulf’s Grendel in her high school English class, Sheryl spent way too much time in the library, killing any chance of her becoming a cheerleader or anything even remotely cool.
First and foremost, Geralyn Corcillo loves reader reviews! In other news…When she was a kid growing up in Scranton, Pennsylvania, Geralyn Vivian Ruane Corcillo dreamed of one day becoming the superhero Dyna Girl. So, she did her best and grew up to constantly pick up litter and rescue animals. At home, she loves watching old movies, British mysteries, and the NY Giants. Corcillo lives in a drafty old house in Hollywood with her husband Ron, a guy who’s even cooler than Kip Dynamite.
Amy Gettinger lives in Orange County, California with her husband and her two piteous poodles under the shade of a very noisy old eucalyptus windrow full of crows and wild parrots. When she’s not writing novels, she’s creating Reader’s Theater plays and coaching a local senior group to perform them, complete with big bad wolves, feather boas and tiaras.
Holly Tierney-Bedord lives in Madison, Wisconsin. She is the author of several novels including Coached, Bellamy’s Redemption, and Surviving Valencia. Visit her website at http://www.hollytierneybedord.com where you can connect to her blogs and subscribe to her newsletter.
A Durham, North Carolina native and graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Jax Abbey bleeds Carolina blue. By day she molds the young, bright minds of the future, but at night you can find her furiously pounding the keyboard as she funnels the zany ideas and quirky characters from her brain to the computer. When Jax isn’t telling preschoolers to keep their hands to themselves or telling her characters to simmer down, she loves to spend time with her significant other, Tyler, and her TinyDog.
Tracy’s love of writing began at nine years old. She wrote stories about aliens at school, machines that did homework for you, and penguins. Now she pens books and short stories about romance. She loves to read a great book, whether it be romance or science fiction, or any genre in between, or pop popcorn and catch up on her favorite TV shows or movies. She’s been known to crush a candy or two as well. Her first romance novel, Pieces of it All, released in May 2014 followed in December with Caching In, a romance mixed with the hobby of geocaching. She also has written several short stories.
Kate O’Keefe – I write funny, sexy, feel-good romantic comedies.
I’ve loved rom coms, romance, and chick lit since I first encountered Bridget Jones as a young, impressionable writer. It really was a match made in chick lit heaven.
I’ve been a teacher and a sales executive, but am now content as a mother and writer, madly scribbling all the ideas I’ve accumulated during my time on this planet we call home.
I live and love in beautiful New Zealand–where my novels are all set–with my wonderful family and my two very scruffy, naughty dogs.
Monique McDonell – I am an Australian author who writes fun, flirty contemporary women’s fiction including chick lit and romance. After many attempts writing books that made me miserable I decided to write books with happy endings and have been loving the journey ever since.
I live on Sydney’s Northern Beaches with my husband and daughter which probably explains why the beach features in so many of my novels and why people describe them as excellent beach reads.
Laurie Baxter has degrees in both puppetry and screenwriting because let’s face it, majoring in English would have been no more useful and way less fun. She loves chocolate, ice cream, chocolate ice cream, dogs, New York City, old movies, modern architecture, all kinds of theater, and music from before she was born. Her eighth grade English teacher told her to become a writer, so she did.
Visit all the Stops on the Tour:
Excerpt from I’m Scheming of a White Christmas by Kate O’Keeffe
A bit of background: Tilly and her friend Lana have arrived at a Christmas party in New York City where they have a plan to avenge what happened to Tilly at the hands of the dreamy Brady McKinnon back in high school…
I turned to see Brady approaching us. As part of Point One (Look Devastatingly Hot), with a sigh of regret, I shrugged my warm winter coat off, shivered, and tried to look Super Model bored—as though the scene before me wasn’t my idea of Christmas perfection.
I flicked my hair the way Lana suggested, trying to look confident and sexy. Thanks to almost the entire contents of a bottle of hairspray, it barely budged.
Brady had a big grin on his impossibly handsome face and he was dressed in a pair of jeans and a bomber jacket, bundled up against the cold.
“Hi, Tilly! I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Hi, Brady. Nice…” my eyes drifted down to his flashing bowtie. “… tie.”
He fingered it self-consciously. “Got to get into the swing of things, right?” His eyes swept over me. “You look… wow.”
I glanced down at my short, red sequined dress with the plunging neckline. It showcased my usually meagre cleavage, which was hoisted up so high by Lana’s industrial strength padded bra that my chin could almost rest on it. I adjusted my Santa hat atop my lacquered hair.
There was an outside chance I may have been a little over dressed right now.
Brady reached across and, to my utter surprise, pulled me in for a hug. “Thanks so much for coming. Have you done something different tonight?”
I battered my false eyelashes at him, the way Lana taught me. No matter how good she said they made me look it felt like I had a couple of dead, fat caterpillars stuck to my upper eyelids. I don’t know how those Kardashians did it: it was not a good feeling.
“Why, thank you for noticing, Brady,” I responded, my voice low and husky as I channelled my inner sex goddess—who, incidentally, I’d never met before.
He gave me a sideways look. “Are you coming down with something? Maybe you should put your coat on. It’s cold out tonight.”
I cleared my throat, did my best to suppress a fresh shiver. “No, I’m just… no. Thanks.” I shot him an I’m-so-sexy-I-can-barely-function look, tossing my immobile big hair once more. Losing my balance I teetered on my heels, forced to steady myself with aeroplane arms.
Not quite the look I was going for.
Brady watched all this with a hesitant look on his face. “That’s… that’s just great.” He smiled at Lana beside me, who had been observing our exchange closely.
“Hi. I’m Brady.” He extended his hand.
She took it, shaking it with vigour. “Lana Schwartz. Nice place you’ve got here.”
“Oh, it’s not mine. It belongs to Tobey Thomas’s parents.” He turned to me, releasing Lana’s hand. “You remember Tobes, don’t you, Tilly?”
“Sure do!” I smiled as I imagined seeing Tobey Thomas thrown from the roof terrace to his certain death below. “It’ll be so great to see him again,” I lied through a fake smile. I was perkier than Polly Pert at a pep rally.
Brady sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling. “Do you smell that?”
I moved Chester’s output behind my back, hoping my body would somehow muffle the stench. “No. Nothing. What?”
“It smells a bit like… something died.”
“Really? Something died, you say?” I squeaked like a mouse. “Do you smell anything, Lana?”
“Just the scent of Christmas,” she responded smoothly.
“Okay.” Brady looked uncertain. “Why don’t you both come with me? I’ll get you a drink.”
“Here’s a present.” Lana thrust the bag of chocolate Santas at Brady.
He took the packet in his hands. “Thank you.”
Lana’s eyes were trained on him. “It’s chocolate. Homemade. Have one now.”
He let out a laugh. “I’m not sure chocolate will mix with beer, but I’ll keep them for later. Thanks.”
Lana nudged me. “Tell him why he has to eat one now, Tilly.”
I took the cue, searching my brain for a plausible reason. “Well, Brady… in New Zealand… we eat chocolate with our beer all the time.”
Yes. That’s good. Plausible. Reasonable. A total lie, of course.
He shot me a dubious look. “You do? Doesn’t that make the beer taste bad?”
“Not at all. In fact, we believe the sweetness of the chocolate enhances the hops in the beer.”
Where did that come from?
A smile spread across his face. “Is that so?”
“Yes, yes it is, Brady. And not only that, we New Zealanders take it as a personal affront if you don’t eat our chocolate at Christmas time.”
Wow, I was on a roll!
“Huh. I didn’t know that. I’ve never been to New—”
Brady stopped speaking abruptly as Lana snatched the bag of chocolates from his hand and unwrapped them with haste, dropping the mistletoe and ribbon carelessly to the floor. “Here.” She thrust the open packet at him. “Eat one, or you’ll offend Tilly.” She leant in closer to him. “And I know you don’t want to do that.”
He glanced at me. I smiled feebly back. Lana sure was a woman on a mission tonight.
Lana and I watched intently as he reached into the bag and pulled a chocolate Santa out. Without putting it in his mouth, he said, “Now, let’s get that drink.”
“But…” Lana began.
I elbowed her in the ribs. “Leave it,” I muttered through teeth clasped into a smile. “We don’t want to be too obvious.”