Experience the heartbreakingly beautiful journey of Ollie & Reid in…Remember Me When, the emotional conclusion to The Unforgettable Duet, from Brooke Blaine is now LIVE
My worst nightmare and your greatest fear became a reality.
Remember Me When is the second and final book in The Unforgettable Duet and should only be read following Forget Me Not.
The Unforgettable Duet Excerpt
THE UNFORGETTABLE DUET © 2018, BROOKE BLAINE CHAPTER ONE
“IT’S MONDAY, AND you know what that means,” Mike said as he cut off Big Bertha’s engine and looked over at me expectantly. I patted my pants pocket to make sure I’d shoved my wallet inside before we’d headed out this morning, and when I felt the outline of the trifold, I nodded. “Yep. Extra-bold coffee comin’ up.” As I popped open the passenger-side door, Mike’s hand landed firmly on my arm, halting me before I could get out of the ambulance, and I looked back at him over my shoulder. “It means don’t be a chickenshit, Ollie, that’s what it means.” Lifting my eyebrows, I glanced around, searching for whoever it was Mike thought he was talking to, and when he read my quizzical expression, he snorted. “Yeah, that means you,” he said. “You callin’ me out?” “Damn right I am.” I shook my head. “I’m not a chickenshit, and you know it.” Mike shrugged and let go of my arm. “Fine. Prove it.” “I can’t do that.” “You can. You just won’t.” Yeah, whatever, he had me there. Something always held me back from saying much more than hello to the guy in the fitted chinos and starched collared shirt and tie that I saw most mornings in the coffee aisle at Joe’s Grab ’N Go, and Mike never could resist an opportunity to rib me for it. I never should’ve told him about my crush in the first damn place, but being my best friend as well as my work partner meant we tended to overshare in the time between calls. “He’s straight, Mike. Leave it alone, huh?” “You don’t know that for sure.” I picked up a container of mints and shook a couple into my mouth before tossing it back in the console. “Trust me. I know.” “You ask him since the last time I saw you?” Rolling my eyes, I ignored his question and pushed open my door. “You want that coffee or not?” “Mhmm. The date for you, too.” “Jesus,” I muttered, slamming the door before he could make any other requests. I could hear him chuckling behind me as he got out to pump the gas. And out of the corner of my eye, a flash of red pulling into a parking spot had my heart beating a bit faster. It was ridiculous that I’d even wonder for a second if I’d see him, since hardly a weekday had gone by in four months when I hadn’t. But that flutter of anticipation still sent a thrill through me, the handful of minutes seeing him every morning the highlight of my day. That’s it. I need to get my damn life back. Working all these overtime shifts to pick up some extra cash over the holidays—and giving the guys with families some time off—had sent my extracurricular activities into a tailspin. If I didn’t get laid soon, I’d crash and burn. Or, worse, hit on the straight guy. “Hey, Ollie,” Mike called out, and I paused with my hand on the door to the Grab ’N Go before moving aside to let the woman behind me pass through. When I turned around, a mischievous grin played on his lips as he inserted the gas pump into Big Bertha’s tank and began to hip-thrust. Oh for the love of— “And while you’re at it, maybe grab me one of those apple fritters, would ya? And a soda for later?” So much for New Year’s resolutions, I thought. That had lasted less than a week. Not that I could blame him when it came to the tempting basket of freshly baked goods that sat by Joe’s register every morning—even I had a hard time passing on those. Still, Mike had wanted to lose the twenty pounds that had crept up since Halloween and made me swear I’d keep him in check. “You sure you wanna do that?” I asked. Mike looked pointedly over at the red Mazda3 and his smile grew. “Life’s too short to pass on the good stuff, wouldn’t you say?” That fucker. I shook my head and shot a glare his way, and then I went inside, determined now to buy out the apple fritters and personally stuff ’em down his meddling throat. “Morning, Oliver,” Joe greeted me from behind the counter where he was ringing up a customer, and I smiled his way before grabbing a handheld basket and heading down the aisle for Mike’s Sprite. I took the third bottle from the front—yeah, I never took the first one of anything—and laid it in the basket as the freezer door slapped shut behind me. I kept a tight grip on the handle as I took my time walking toward the far aisle, the anticipation building in my gut. Finally, I rounded the corner, and just as he was every day, Bluebird stood in front of the coffee station, refillable mug in hand and somehow looking more gorgeous than I remembered. My memory never did him justice. I didn’t move as he placed his mug beneath the machine’s spout and hit a button, and I knew exactly what he’d get, the same as every morning: a latte with light foam and three sugars, two creamers. Today he was dressed in a pair of black slacks, with a white button-down shirt and a midnight-blue tie—always so well put together, from his stylishly tousled dark brown hair, so dark it was almost black, down to his black loafers. A couple of days of stubble covered his usual freshly shaven jaw, and I imagined how it’d feel under my hands as I took either side of his face and pulled him toward mine— “Dammit!” Bluebird’s curse shook me out of my stupor as my feet managed to move again, and as I got closer, I saw that the usual brown liquid coming out of the machine was a cloudy white instead. He let out a frustrated sigh. “Hey, Joe,” he called out to the owner. “Latte machine’s down.” “Again?” Joe scratched his jaw and then said, “Sorry about that, Reid. I’ll get someone out to fix it today.” “No problem,” Reid replied, dumping out the hot water from his mug into the tray, and hello, I finally had a name to go with the face: Reid. How was it I’d gone so long without knowing? I pulled out a couple of large disposable cups from the rack and reached for the coffee pot at the same time as Reid, our fingers brushing each other ever so slightly before we both jerked back. His touch shot through me like an electric jolt to my heart, and the surprise that lit his eyes told me I wasn’t the only one affected. “Sorry,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “Damn static.” That wasn’t static, I thought, but I wasn’t about to enlighten him, so instead I gestured to the almost empty coffee pot. “No problem. Go for it.” “Oh…uh…” He glanced at how little was left and shook his head. “That’s okay. You were first.” “Nah, go ahead. Something tells me you need it more than I do.” “You sure?” Reid asked, his forehead creased like he didn’t want to impose, but I wouldn’t have minded him taking the last of the coffee every day, so long as those dark chocolate eyes of his stayed on me. “I insist,” I said, and then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “Besides, I know where Joe keeps the spares. I’ll just make another pot.” A grateful smile lifted his lips. “Thanks.” Then he poured himself a full mug of coffee and scratched his jaw as he said, “Ever have one of those mornings?” “All the time.” Reid looked up at me, and then his eyes shifted down to my name and title patched in on my uniform. Oliver McFadden. Paramedic. “Yeah, of course you do. Paramedic, huh? I don’t know how you do it.” “Helps that we can filter caffeine through IVs for a quicker hit on bad days.” He laughed as he ripped open three sugar packets and dumped them into his drink. “I think I’m in the wrong field.” “What is it you do?” “I teach music education at Castle Hill.” “Middle schoolers?” I whistled. “I think I’ll stick with my job.” “I wouldn’t blame you some days. They’re mostly a good group, but man, there’s a few whose mission is to run off the new teachers.” “And you’re one of the new ones?” “Four months running.” He tossed the empty packets into the trash and then held his hand out to me. “I’m Reid, by the way.” I stared at his hand for a couple of heartbeats before taking it in mine. His long fingers were cool to the touch, unlike my perpetually hot ones. It could be negative fifty outside, and my hands would still be warm. “Ollie,” I said, and then shook my head slightly. “Well, Oliver, but everyone calls me Ollie.” “Ollie,” Reid repeated, still shaking my hand. “I’ve never met an Ollie before.” “Mom was a big fan of Laurel and Hardy. I’m just glad she didn’t go with Stan.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that was an unnecessary reference because he probably had no idea who the hell Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy were, but Reid surprised the hell out of me by laughing. “Your mom has good taste. I used to watch their stuff at my nan’s,” he said, and then let go of my hand. I missed the contact immediately. Before I could respond, Joe’s gnarled fingers clamped down on my arm as he hobbled in between us and hit the side of the latte machine with his cane. “I don’t think it’ll respond to a beat-down, Joe,” Reid said, as he stirred two creamers into his coffee. “Worked once before. By George, I’ll do it again.” As Joe whacked at the machine, Reid shook his head at the stubborn man. Then he capped his mug and smiled at me. “Thanks again, Ollie. I owe you one.” “Anytime,” I said, and meant it. “Hope your morning improves.” “I’m counting on it. Bye, Joe. I’ll leave the money on the counter.” Joe grumbled what sounded like a goodbye and kept fiddling with the latte machine as I rinsed out the coffee pot and started up a fresh brew. Two steaming mugs and a bag full of apple fritters later and I was climbing back into Big Bertha, still reeling from my run-in with Reid. It was so unlike me to moon over a guy, for fuck’s sake, but there was something about him that had caught my attention from day one and never let go. Today’s encounter had only served to pique my curiosity. I’d always thought him older, maybe mid- to late twenties, but he said he’d only been at Castle Hill for four months. Maybe that meant he was fresh out of college? Or could be he’d relocated from somewhere. Definitely somewhere still in the South, since he seemed to have the manner of someone who’d grown up with parents who drilled in the Yes, sirs and No, thank you, ma’ams so telling of this part of the country, though his accent didn’t betray much of a twang. “That has got to be the biggest, dumbest grin I’ve ever seen on your ugly mug,” Mike said, staring at me like I’d grown two heads. “Did you finally do it? Did you ask him out?” I tossed the bag of fritters and soda into Mike’s lap. “Feel free to choke on those.” “Ahh, I’m gonna take that as a yes, then. He shoot you down?” After setting the coffees in the console, I fastened my seatbelt and waited for Mike to get the hint we needed to get moving. “The hell, man?” he said. “You gonna leave me hangin’?” I arched my brow in his direction, and when I didn’t say anything, he gave a grunt and started up the rig. “One of these days, Ollie,” he grumbled, pulling out of the gas station. “You know all my personal shit. See if I spill my guts anymore.” “You wouldn’t know what to do if you couldn’t talk about Deb twenty-four seven.” “Hey, it’s not my fault I scored a good one. Just letting everyone know what they’re missing out on.” As Mike slowed down behind traffic, he glanced over at me and waggled his black eyebrows. “Make sure to do us a favor and hand out barf bags the next time you get started.” I nodded at the bag of pastries in his lap. “And don’t tell Deb I’m doin’ a horrible job of keeping you accountable.” “Nah, she likes my love handles.” “Bullshit.” He laughed and tore into the bag of fritters with one hand, while keeping his other on the wheel. When he’d made me swear last week that I’d keep him on track while he “cut the crap,” I’d thought he was nuts. Even with an extra twenty pounds on his strong six-foot build, Mike was as attractive as ever. Black, close-cropped curls, a permanent tan, and dimples that only seemed to have deepened the past few months. The hot ones are always straight. At least they are in Floyd Hills, Georgia, I thought, my mind drifting back to the man I always made sure to run into during the workweek. And yeah, I got that straight vibe from Reid too, though even he couldn’t deny the spark that had ignited when our hands had brushed against each other. That wasn’t enough to hang any hope on, though, much as I wanted to. “His name’s Reid,” I said, breaking up the quiet in the cab, and when Mike’s head jerked in my direction, a fritter half shoved in his mouth, I was unable to keep the smirk off my face anymore. “Teaches music at the middle school.” As I casually sipped my coffee, Mike’s jaw practically hit the ground. “No shit.” A horn sounded from behind us, and Mike stepped on the gas, shaking his head. “About damn time. What else did you talk about?” “Nothing. Joe came over to give the coffee machine a concussion, and that was the end of that.” “Dammit, Joe. Way to cock-block.” “Nah, he didn’t know.” “Well, you have an opening now,” Mike said, winking at me. “And that was only a pun if you want it to be.” “Oh, Jesus. I’ve done it now.” “What?” “Created a monster who uses puns against me.” Mike laughed as I flipped on the radio to drown out any other comments his sugar high wanted to lob out, but when Bing Crosby began to croon about a winter wonderland, Mike groaned and jabbed at the buttons to change the channel. “I can’t believe they’re still blasting Christmas music in January. Didn’t they get the memo that Santa Claus already came to town, and all he brought me was a damn snow blower? When the hell am I gonna use a snow blower around here? I think my in-laws called in a favor.” Chuckling, I brought my coffee up to my lips and blew softly, while Mike continued to flip through the stations until a country song began to play. He started to sing along, something about naming babies and dogs, which would normally have me eye-rolling him to death. But since his mouth was now otherwise occupied and he wasn’t digging for more information out of me, I didn’t bother putting up a fight to change the channel. Let him belt out “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” for all I cared. Until a call came in, my mind would be preoccupied by…other things. A quick tone alert came through the radio, and I punched the music off as a call came through from dispatch. “Unit 110, please respond Code 3 to the intersection of Mercer and Thomas on a multi-vehicle accident with injuries. Fire responding for possible extrication.” I picked up the receiver. “Ten-four, Unit 110 en route. ETA less than two minutes,” I said, as Mike dropped the plastic bag on the ground at my feet and flipped on the lights and siren. “Not how I’d want my day starting out,” he said, cutting through an intersection to make a left on Mercer. “Saddle up,” I said. “I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long one.” Traffic going east was already beginning to back up, the roads congested at the height of morning rush hour. Now with the accident up ahead and the cars unable to move to the side, Mike had to pull us into the suicide lane to get by. From the opposite direction, a backup unit, along with two police cars and a fire truck, veered toward the intersection, though it looked like we’d get there first. I could see the smoke rising up ahead, and as we got closer, it seemed to be coming from beneath the hood of a black four-by-four truck that had smashed into a— “Oh shit… Ollie…” Mike’s voice trailed off as we both caught sight of the crushed passenger side of the car that had been T-boned. The crumpled car had been no match for the bigger vehicle; it looked like they’d skidded into the middle of the intersection during impact. The car’s hood punched up at an awkward angle with the truck half inside, and broken glass littered the road. I’d seen the sight so many times before, but never had the breath left my lungs in a rush, never had a faint ringing sound filled my ears, and never had a wild sense of panic seized my chest like it did right then. Because the mangled car, the one I was responding to, was none other than Reid’s bright red Mazda3.Author’s Note: The Unforgettable Duet must be read in order, beginning with Forget Me Not. Ollie & Reid’s journey continues in book two, Remember Me When.
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Brooke Blaine is a USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary romance that ranges from comedy to suspense to erotic. The latter has scarred her conservative Southern family for life, bless their hearts.
If you’d like to get in touch with her, she’s easy to find - just keep an ear out for the Rick Astley ringtone that’s dominated her cell phone for years. Or you can reach her atwww.BrookeBlaine.com.
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Remember Me When by Brooke Blaine
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
The conclusion is here! When Forget Me Not ended I was heartbroken.... absolutely heartbroken. I’ve fallen in love with these men and my heart ached for both of them. Forget Me When picks up and I’m still heartbroken. These men... these beautiful men have me crying for them. One is forced to watch his live from afar and the other struggling to find himself. This is a totally beautiful duet that you just have to read. If you like m/m books this is definitely for you.
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✽Blog Tour The Happy Endings Collection by L. Wilder ✽ Michelle's review of His Promise ✽
Collection Title: The Happy Endings Collection
Titles: My Temptation ~ Bring The Heat ~ His Promise
Author: L. Wilder
After one too many disappointments in and out of the bedroom, I’d all but given up on men. While I was doubtful that therapy would change anything, I had to try something.
As soon as I walked into Dr. Seth Michaels’ office, temptation set in. With his piercing green eyes and devilish smile, the handsome doctor was every woman’s fantasy, including mine.
He tempted me in ways that I never dreamed possible, but some lines just can’t be crossed. With a newfound libido, I left his office thinking I would never see him again, but fate and a meddling mother had other plans.
Tucker Michaels could bring the heat, striking out anyone who stepped up to the plate, and he was burning up the big leagues.
At least, that’s what I was told.
I had no idea who Tucker Michaels was, and I honestly didn’t care. From the moment I met him, I thought he was an arrogant, smart-mouthed jerk.
I’ll admit he was hot—if you’re into those gorgeous, athletic types, but there was no mistaking the way he looked at me, like I was about to be his next grand slam.
Unfortunately for him, he was about to be the one to strike out. I had no interest in playing games, especially when he was helping my little brother’s baseball team.
… But after a week from hell and one too many drinks, I was starting to see another side of the sexy, charismatic player.
After the devastating loss of my wife and daughter, I did everything in my power to guard my heart, making everyone, including myself, believe I no longer had one. I focused on my work and kept everyone at a distance. It was the only way I could face the day.
I had no time for distractions, but the day Langley, my legal assistant, asked for help with her custody battle there was no way I could refuse. When I was at my worst, she was there to pick up the pieces, making sure I didn’t lose the only thing I had left—my career.
Now, it was my turn to ensure she didn’t lose the one thing she cared about most—her children.
I promised to help, but I had no way of knowing that one promise would turn my entire world upside down. With the help of her two kids, she chiseled away at the walls I’d worked so hard to build, and I found myself wanting the one thing I thought was out of my reach—another chance at love.
EXCERPT FROM HIS PROMISE
I sat in my car and took several deep breaths, trying to collect myself before I headed inside. When I finally walked into the house, I found Beatrice sitting at the kitchen counter. She was still in her little, red flannel pajamas, and her curly hair was down around her face. She had a crayon in one hand and an oatmeal cookie in the other, and as soon as she saw me heading in her direction, she sat up in her chair and smiled. "Hi, Mr. Colton. I'm making you a picture for your refrigerator."
And just like that, my bad mood started to falter. I walked over to the counter, and when I looked over her shoulder, I saw that she was drawing a picture of man wearing a suit. When I noticed the dark hair, I realized it was a picture of me.
"Looking good, kid." "It's you."
"I see that, but you're missing my beard."
"That's because I don't like your beard," she replied innocently.
She shook her head as she bit her bottom lip. "It makes you look a little scary. I like you better without it."
"Scary?" I ran my hand over my chin, tugging at the bristles of my beard. "You really think so?"
"Umm-hmmm. And it makes you look kind of old."
"Old? Really?" I asked with surprise.
"Yes, sir, but just a little. Not like Santa Claus kind of old."
Damn. The kid knew how to hit a guy where it hurts. She looked up at me with those dark eyes of hers, and I couldn't help but smile. "Gee … thanks, kid."
She studied me for a moment before she asked, "I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?"
"No, Beatrice," I told her as I opened the refrigerator. "You can't hurt my feelings, because I don't have any feelings to hurt."
Just as I reached for the jug of tea, she laughed. "That's funny."
"Everybody has feelings, Mr. Colton." She stood up and handed me the picture she'd been working on. "Even you."
I glanced down at the picture and was surprised to see that she'd added my beard. When I looked back over to her, she was walking towards the stairs. "Thanks for the picture, Beatrice."
She turned back just long enough to say, "Don't forget to put it on the fridge, so everyone can see it."
"You got it."
I walked over to the refrigerator door and as I reached for a magnet, I took a moment to look at my portrait. There was something familiar about the man in the drawing, something that gave me a strange feeling when I looked at it. As I stood there staring at it, I suddenly felt overcome with emotion. After several moments, I realized that the man with big, dark eyes, a thick, bushy beard, and a goofy grin used to be me. It had been so long since I'd seen that side of me that I'd almost forgotten he even existed. I missed it. I missed having a reason to smile, a reason to be truly happy, and I wondered if I would ever have it again. I was lost in my thoughts, when Langley walked up behind me. "It turned out pretty good, don't you think?"
Trying to collect myself, I cleared my throat before I replied, "The kid's got talent. She made me look good, and that's saying something."
"I think she did a great job with your beard." She snickered.
"What is it with you two and my beard?"
"I like your beard. It makes you look … distinguished."
"Um-hmm," I scoffed.
"Seriously. I like the beard." As I watched the corners of her mouth curl into a smile, I found myself thinking of the kiss we'd shared the night before. There was this moment, just before our lips touched, where I felt the world stop spinning, and for an ever-so-brief moment, anticipation hung in the air. It was just a moment, a mere blink, but it was so intense I could feel it pulling me towards her. When our lips finally touched, that feeling didn't dissipate. Instead, it grew stronger as I felt her warm, soft mouth pressed against mine, and when I finally released her from our embrace, I had to fight the urge to reach for her and kiss her all over again. I felt an unexpected connection between us, and I couldn't help but wonder if she'd felt it, too.
Leslie Wilder grew up in a small town in West Tennessee. A country girl at heart, she’s always thought that life is too short, but she had no idea how short it really was until her brother passed away in 2014. She’s always been an avid reader, loving the escape only a great book can give, and wondered if she had what it took to write one of the wild romances she’d come to adore. With the support of her family and friends, she published Inferno: A Devil Chaser’s MC, one year after her brother’s death. With him in mind, she fulfilled her lifetime dream of writing. Since then, she’s completed the Devil Chaser’s Series and continued on with the Satan’s Fury MC Series. She has so many stories in her head, and can’t wait to share each and every one.
His Promise by L. Wilder
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Sweet fast pace read.
What a great little read. I loved the story line, it was sweet but emotional. I liked that it was original and the characters Langley and Colton belong together. Their relationship may not have started put very traditional but these two are amazing together. And to me when a book has kids in it, it’s a definite winner. I really enjoyed it.
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One Last Time by Corinne Michaels Release Date: February 26th, 2018 Genre: Contemporary Romance
From New York Times bestselling author, Corinne Michaels, comes a new heartwarming standalone romance.
I’m getting really good at cutting my losses.
First, the husband. Divorcing him was the best decision I ever made. But between single-parenting and job-hunting, I can’t catch my breath. When a celebrity blogging position falls into my lap, I’m determined to succeed.
That is, until I get my first assignment and actually see Noah Frazier for the first time . . . practically naked and dripping wet. My heart races and I forget how to form complete sentences. His chiseled abs, irresistible smirk, and crystal blue eyes are too perfect to be real. So, what do I do? Get drunk and humiliate myself, of course.
I’m ready to forget the awkward night, yet Noah has no intention of allowing me to move on. Instead, he arranges for me to write a feature on him, ensuring a lot more time together. One embarrassing moment after another, one kiss after another, and before I can stop myself, I realize—I’m falling in love with him.
But when the unthinkable happens, can I even blame him for cutting his losses?
What I wouldn’t give for just one last time . . .
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Before I can make a move either way, the glass door slides open and Noah walks through the threshold.
My legs start to quiver as his eyes meet mine. All I can think about is how I’d like to climb him like a tree and shake his coconuts. I thought he was hot in the photo, then he was better through the window, but up close, he’s otherworldly.
“Hi.” Noah’s throaty voice floats around me. “You must be Kristin.”
Instead of speaking, I stand here with my mouth hanging open. Some small sounds that could be words escape, but they aren’t coherent.
Kill me now.
“Noah, this is my best friend, Kristin. Who we told you about.” Heather elbows me.
“Yes. Me. Hi. Kristin. I. You. Hi.”
Smooth. Someone should video this because I’m sure it’s highly entertaining.
“Right.” Noah flashes a blinding smile. “I hear you’re a reporter?”
Okay, Kristin, you have to speak in more than one-word increments or grunting noises.
I grab Heather’s glass she just poured and hope it’ll act as a talisman. “Yes, for a small blog, but I’m that. A reporter. For a blog. I write.”
And a bumbling idiot.
Noah’s green eyes are filled with humor. He moves a little closer and places his hand on top of mine. “Eli filled me in a little. I’m happy I came.”
I’m pretty sure I just came. At least we’re all coming.
His lips turn up as his eyes rake my body. “See you out there.” He winks and walks back out.
My ovaries have officially disintegrated.
I turn back to Heather, who bursts out into a fit of laughter. “Oh, that was epic. You all said I was starstruck when I met Eli? You should’ve seen that!” Heather continues to laugh at my expense. “Yes. Me. Um. Blog. Er—” She mocks.
“Shut up.” I laugh—because, really, what else can I do—and bump her hip before moving around the bar and grabbing a glass. “Now, pour me a shot before I drink straight from the bottle.”
There’s only one way to get through tonight.
Lots of Alcohol.
New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Corinne Michaels is the author of nine romance novels. She’s an emotional, witty, sarcastic, and fun loving mom of two beautiful children. Corinne is happily married to the man of her dreams and is a former Navy wife.
After spending months away from her husband while he was deployed, reading and writing was her escape from the loneliness. She enjoys putting her characters through intense heartbreak and finding a way to heal them through their struggles. Her stories are chock full of emotion, humor, and unrelenting love.
Connect with Corinne:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CorinneMichaels Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCMichaels Instagram: http://instagram.com/corinnemichaels Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7753662 Amazon: http://amzn.to/1NVZmhv Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/corinnemichaels/ Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/corinne-michaels