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Hero<\/b>: \u00a0Lincoln Moorehead<\/span><\/p>\n Need a refresher as to who the heck Lincoln\u00a0is inside The Shacking Up world<\/a>?<\/p>\n Lincoln is Armstrong Moorehead’s older brother. You don’t\u00a0 meet him directly in any of the previous books, but he’s mentioned in Hooking Up. He also happens to be besties with Griffin Mills, the oldest Mills brother. So there’s that to consider. And moving on . . .<\/p>\n You may remember Armstrong as the douchey ex-fianc\u00e9\/husband\u00a0of Amalie Whitfield\u00a0in Shacking Up<\/a>\u00a0and her very short term husband in Hooking Up<\/a>. Their marriage lasts all of 12 hours as a result of\u00a0Armstrong\u00a0 cheating on Amalie during their wedding reception, and the whole sordid thing is broadcast to the entire reception.<\/p>\n Yeah. Imagine having that douchenozzle as\u00a0your brother. Fun, right?<\/p>\n Find\u00a0Handle with Care<\/em> on GOODREADS<\/a>\u00a0and visit the WEBSITE LINK<\/a><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n What Have I Gotten Myself into?<\/strong><\/p>\n Wren<\/em><\/p>\n I slip onto the empty bar stool beside the lumberjack mountain man who looks like he tried to squeeze himself into a suit two sizes too small. He\u2019s intimidatingly broad and thick, with long dark hair that\u2019s been pulled up into a haphazard man bun thing. His beard is a hipster\u2019s wet dream. His scowl, however, makes him about as approachable as a rabid porcupine. And yet, here I am, sidling up next to him.<\/p>\n He glances at me, eyes bleary and not really tracking. He quickly focuses on his half-empty glass again. Based on the slump of his shoulders and the uncoordinated way he picks up his glass and tips it toward his mouth, I\u2019m guessing he\u2019s pretty hammered. I order a sparkling water with a dash of cranberry juice and a lime.<\/p>\n What I could really use is a cup of lavender-mint tea and my bed, but instead, I\u2019m sitting next to a drunk man in his thirties. My life is extra glamorous, obviously. And no, I\u2019m not an escort, but at the moment I feel like my morals are on the same kind of slippery slope.<\/p>\n \u201cRough day?\u201d I ask, nodding to the bottle that\u2019s missing more than half its contents. It was full when he sat down at the bar an hour ago. Yes, I\u2019ve been watching him the entire time, waiting for an opportunity to make my move. While he\u2019s been sitting here, he\u2019s turned down two women, one in a dress that could\u2019ve doubled as a disco ball and the other in a top so low-cut, I could almost see her navel.<\/p>\n \u201cYou could say that,\u201d he slurs. He props his cheek on his fist, eyes almost slits. I can still make out the vibrant blue hue despite them being nearly closed. They move over me, assessing. I\u2019m wearing a conservative black dress with a high neckline and a hem that falls below my knees. Definitely not nearly as provocative as Disco Ball or Navel Lady.<\/p>\n \u201cThat solving your problems?\u201d I give him a wry grin and tip my chin in the direction of his bottle of Johnnie.<\/p>\n His gaze swings slowly to the bottle. It gives me a chance to really look at him. Or what I can see of his face under his beard, anyway.<\/p>\n \u201cNah, but it helps quiet down all the noise up here.\u201d He taps his temple and blurts, \u201cMy dad died.\u201d<\/p>\n I put a hand on his forearm. It feels awkward, and creepy on my part since its half-genuine, half-contrived comfort. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n He glances at my hand, which I quickly remove, and refocuses on his drink. \u201cI should be sorry too, but I think he was mostly an asshole, so the world might be better off without him.\u201d He attempts to fill his glass again, but his aim is off, and he pours it on the bar instead. I rush to lift my purse and grab a handful of napkins to mop up the mess.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m drunk,\u201d he mumbles.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I\u2019m thinking that might\u2019ve been the plan, considering the way you\u2019re sucking that bottle back. I\u2019m actually surprised you didn\u2019t ask for a straw in the first place. Might be a good idea to throw a spacer\u00a0in there if you want tomorrow morning to suck less.\u201d I push my drink toward him, hoping he doesn\u2019t send me packing like he did the other women who approached him earlier.<\/p>\n He narrows his eyes at my glass, suspicious, maybe. \u201cWhat is that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCranberry and soda.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo booze?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo booze. Go ahead. You\u2019ll thank me in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n He picks up the glass and pauses when it\u2019s an inch from his mouth. His eyes crinkle, telling me he\u2019s smiling under that beard. \u201cDoes that mean I’mma wake up with you beside me?\u201d<\/p>\n I cock a brow. \u201cAre you propositioning me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShit, sorry.\u201d He chugs the contents of my glass. \u201cI was joking. Besides, I\u2019m so wasted, I can barely remember my name. Pretty sure I\u2019d be useless in bed tonight. I should stop talkin\u2019.\u201d He scrubs a hand over his face and then motions to me. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t proposition you.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019m not sure how to respond. I go with semi-affronted, since it seems like somewhat of an insult. \u201cGood to know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDammit. I mean, I think you might be hot. You look hot. I mean attractive. I think you\u2019re pretty.\u201d He tips his head to the side and blinks a few times. \u201cYou have nice eyes, all four of them are lovely.\u201d<\/p>\n This time I laugh\u2014for real\u2014and point to the bottle. \u201cI think you might want to tell your date you\u2019re done for the night.\u201d<\/p>\n He blows out a breath and nods. \u201cYou might be right.\u201d He makes an attempt to stand, but as soon as his feet hit the floor, he stumbles into me and grabs my shoulders to steady himself. \u201cWhoa. Sorry. Yup, I\u2019m definitely drunk.\u201d His face is inches from mine, breath smelling strongly of alcohol. Beyond that, I get a whiff of fresh soap and a hint of aftershave. He lets go of my shoulders and takes an unsteady step back. \u201cI don\u2019t usually do this.\u201d He motions sloppily to the bottle. \u201cMostly I\u2019m a three drink max guy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think losing your father makes this condonable.\u201d I slide off my stool. Despite being tall for a woman, and wearing heels, he still manages to be close to a head taller than me.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, maybe, but I still think I might regret it tomorrow.\u201d He\u2019s incredibly unsteady, swaying while standing in place. I take the opportunity for what it is and thread my arm through his, leading him away from the bar. \u201cCome on, let\u2019s get you to the elevator before you pass out right here.\u201d<\/p>\n He nods, then wobbles a bit, like moving his head has set him off balance. \u201cThat\u2019s probably a good idea.\u201d<\/p>\n He leans into me as we weave through the bar and stumbles on the two stairs leading to the foyer. There\u2019s no way I\u2019ll be able to stop him if he goes down, but I drape one of his huge arms over my shoulder anyway, and slip my own around his waist, guiding him in a mostly straight line to the elevators.<\/p>\n \u201cWhich floor are you on?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n \u201cPenthouse.\u201d He drops his arm from my shoulder and flings it out, pointing to the black doors at the end of the hall. \u201cJesus, I feel like I\u2019m on a boat.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s probably all the alcohol sloshing around in your brain.\u201d I take his elbow again, helping him stagger the last twenty feet to the dedicated penthouse elevator.<\/p>\n He stares at the keypad for a few seconds, brow pulling into a furrow. \u201cI can\u2019t remember the code. It\u2019s thumbprint activated though too.\u201d He stumbles forward and presses his forehead against the wall, then tries to line up his thumb with the sensor, but his aim is horrendous and he keeps missing.<\/p>\n I settle a hand on his very firm forearm. This man is built like a tank. Or a superhero. For a moment, I reconsider what I\u2019m about to do, but he seems pretty harmless and ridiculously hammered, so he shouldn\u2019t pose a threat. I\u2019m also trained in self-defense, which would fall under the by any means necessary umbrella. \u201cCan I help?\u201d<\/p>\n He rolls his head, eyes slits as they bounce around my face. \u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n I take his hand between mine. The first thing I notice is how clammy it is. But beyond that, his knuckles are rough, littered with tiny scars and a few scabs, and his nails are jagged.<\/p>\n \u201cYour hands are small,\u201d he observes as I line his thumb up with the sensor pad and press down.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe yours are abnormally big,\u201d I reply. They are rather large. Like basketball player hands.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know what they say about big hands.\u201d<\/p>\n I fight not to roll my eyes, but for a brief moment, I wonder if what\u2019s in his pants actually matches the rest of him. And if he\u2019s unkempt everywhere, not just on his face. I cut that visual quickly because it makes me want to gag. \u201cAnd what do they say?\u201d<\/p>\n His eyes crinkle again, and he slaps his own chest. \u201cSomething about a big hands, big heart.\u201d<\/p>\n I bite back my own smile. \u201cPretty sure you\u2019re mixing that up with cold hands, warm heart.\u201d<\/p>\n His brow furrows. \u201cThere\u2019s a good chance.\u201d<\/p>\n The elevator doors slide open. He pushes off the wall with some effort and practically tumbles inside. He catches himself on the rail and sags against the wall as I follow him in. I honestly can\u2019t believe I\u2019m doing this right now.<\/p>\n He doesn\u2019t have to press a button since the elevator only goes to the penthouse floor. As soon as we start moving, he groans and his shoulders curl in. \u201cI don\u2019t feel so good.\u201d<\/p>\n Please don\u2019t let him be sick in here. If there\u2019s one thing I can\u2019t deal with, it\u2019s vomit. \u201cYou should sit.\u201d<\/p>\n He slides down the wall, massive shoulders rolling forward as he rests his forehead on his knees. \u201cTomorrow is going to suck.\u201d<\/p>\n I stay on the other side of the elevator, in case he tosses his cookies. \u201cProbably.\u201d<\/p>\n It\u2019s the longest elevator ride in the history of the world. Or at least it feels that way, mostly because I\u2019m terrified he\u2019s going to yak. Thankfully, we make it to the penthouse floor incident-free. On the down side, now that he\u2019s in a sitting position, getting him to stand again is a challenge. I have to press the open door button three times before I can finally coax him to his feet.<\/p>\n In the time between leaving the bar and making it to the penthouse floor, the effects of the alcohol seems to have compounded. He\u2019s beyond sloppy, using the wall and me for support as we make our way to his door. There are two penthouse apartments up here. One on either side of the foyer.<\/p>\n He leans against the doorjamb, once again fighting to find the coordination to get his thumb to the sensor pad. I don\u2019t ask if he needs my assistance this time since it\u2019s quite clear he does. Once again I take his clammy hand in mine.<\/p>\n \u201cYour hands are really soft,\u201d he mumbles.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n The pad flashes green, and I turn the handle. \u201cOkay, here we go. Home sweet home.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis isn\u2019t my home,\u201d he slurs. \u201cMy cousin\u2019s family owns this building. I\u2019m crashing here until I can get the fuck out of New York.\u201d<\/p>\n I scan the penthouse. It an eclectic combination of odd art and modern furniture, like two different tastes crashed together and this is the result. Aside from that, it\u2019s clean to the point of looking almost like a show home.<\/p>\n The only sign that someone is staying here is the lone coffee cup on the table in the living room and the blanket lolling like a tongue over the edge of the couch. I\u2019m still standing in the doorway while he sways unsteadily.<\/p>\n He tries to shove his hand in his pants pocket, but all he succeeds in doing is setting himself off-balance. He nearly stumbles into the wall.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks for your help,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n He\u2019s back in his penthouse, which means my job is technically done. However, I\u2019m worried he\u2019s going to hurt himself, or worse, asphyxiate on his own vomit in the middle of the night, and I\u2019ll be the one catching heat if that happens. I\u2019ll also feel bad if something happens to him. I blow out a breath, annoyed that this is how my night is ending.<\/p>\n I heave his arm over my shoulder and slip mine around his waist again, leading him through the living room toward what seems to be the kitchen. There\u2019s a sheet of paper on the island, but otherwise it\u2019s spotless.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019re you doing?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n We pause when we reach the threshold. \u201cWhich way is your bedroom?\u201d<\/p>\n He looks slowly from right to left. \u201cNot that way.\u201d He points to the kitchen. It\u2019s very state of the art.<\/p>\n I guide him in the opposite direction down the hall, until he stumbles through a doorway, into a lavish but simply furnished bedroom. Once we reach the edge of the bed, he drops his arm, spins around\u2014it\u2019s drunkenly graceful\u2014and falls back on the bed, arms spread wide as if he\u2019s planning on making snow angels. \u201cThe room is spinning.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWould you like me to get you a glass of water and possibly a painkiller for the headache you\u2019ll likely have in the morning?\u201d I\u2019m already heading for the bathroom.<\/p>\n \u201cMight be a good idea,\u201d he mumbles.<\/p>\n I find a glass on the edge of bathroom vanity\u2014which is clean, apart from a brand new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. I run the tap, wishing I had a plastic tumbler, because I\u2019m not sure he\u2019s in any state to deal with breakable objects. I check the medicine cabinet, find the pills I need, shake out two tablets, and return to the bedroom.<\/p>\n He\u2019s right where I left him; sprawled out face up on a massive king-size bed, legs hanging off the end, one shoe on the floor beside him. I cross over and set the water and the pills on the nightstand.<\/p>\n I make a quick trip back to the bathroom and grab the empty wastebasket from beside the toilet in case his night is a lot rougher than he expects.<\/p>\n I tap his knee, crossing my fingers he\u2019ll be easy to rouse. \u201cHey, I have painkillers for you.\u201d<\/p>\n He makes a noise, but doesn\u2019t move otherwise.<\/p>\n I tap his knee again. \u201cLincoln, you need to wake up long enough to take these.\u201d I cringe. I called him by name, and he didn\u2019t offer it to me while we were down at the bar. Here\u2019s hoping he\u2019s too drunk to notice or remember. His name is Lincoln Moorehead, heir to the Moorehead Media fortune and all the crap that comes with it. And there\u2019s a lot of it.<\/p>\n One eye becomes a slit. \u201cEvery time I open my eyes, the room starts spinning again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you drink this and take these, it might help.\u201d I hold up the glass of water and the pills.<\/p>\n \u201c\u2019Kay.\u201d It takes three tries for him to sit up. He tries to pick the pills up out of my palm, but keeps missing my hand.<\/p>\n \u201cJust open your mouth.\u201d<\/p>\n He lifts his head. \u201cHow do I know you\u2019re not trying to roofie me?\u201d<\/p>\n I hold up the tablet in front of his face. \u201cThey don\u2019t say roofie, so you\u2019re safe.\u201d<\/p>\n He tries to focus on the pill and then my face. I have my doubts he\u2019s successful at either.<\/p>\n His tongue peeks out to drag across his bottom lip. \u201cThe cameras in the hall will catch you if you steal my wallet.\u201d<\/p>\n I laugh at that. \u201cI\u2019m not going to steal your wallet, I\u2019m going to put you to bed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHmm.\u201d He nods slowly and opens his mouth.<\/p>\n I drop the pills on his tongue and hand him the glass, which he drains in three long swallows. \u201cWould you like me to refill that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019d be nice.\u201d He holds out the glass, but when I try to pull away, he covers my hands with his. His shockingly blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment they\u2019re clear and compelling. Despite how out of it he is, and how much he resembles a mountain man, or maybe because of it, I have a hard time looking away. \u201cI really wish I wasn\u2019t this messed up. You smell nice. I bet your hair is pretty when it\u2019s not pulled up like that.\u201d He flops a hand toward my bun. \u201cNot that it\u2019s not pretty like that, but I bet if you took it down, it would be wavy and soft. The kind of hair you want to bury your face in and run your fingers through.\u201d He exhales a long breath. \u201cI haven\u2019t had sex in a really long time, but I feel like I would have zero finesse if I tried right now.\u201d<\/p>\n I smile and turn away. In the time it takes for me to refill his glass, he\u2019s managed to get one arm out of his suit jacket. He\u2019s made it most of the way onto the bed, feet still hanging off the end, but he\u2019s on his back, which is not ideal.<\/p>\n I set the glass on his nightstand, along with a second set of painkillers, which I\u2019m assuming he\u2019ll need in the morning, and give him another nudge. \u201cHey.\u201d<\/p>\n This time I get nothing in the way of a response. I poke him twice more, but still nothing. He can\u2019t sleep on his back with how drunk he is. He needs to be on his side or his stomach with a wastebasket close by.<\/p>\n I can\u2019t in good conscience leave him like this. My options are limited. I shake my head as I kick off my shoes and climb up onto the bed with him. This is not at all what I expected to be doing when I brought him back up here.<\/p>\n I stare down at his sleeping form. His lips are parted, they\u2019re nice lips, full and plump, even though they\u2019re mostly obscured by his overgrown beard. His hair has started to unravel from its man bun, wisps hanging in his face. He has long lashes, really long actually, and they\u2019re thick and dark, the kind women pay a lot of money for. His nose is straight and his cheekbones\u2014what I can see of them\u2014are high. With a haircut, a beard trim or complete shave, and a new suit that actually fits, I can imagine how refined he\u2019ll look. More like a Moorehead than a mountain man lumberjack. I shake my head. \u201cI need you to roll onto your side, please,\u201d I say loudly.<\/p>\n Nothing. Not even a grunt.<\/p>\n I pull on his shoulder, but he\u2019s dead weight. Leaning over him, I make a fist and give him a light jab approximately where his kidney is. \u201cLincoln, roll over.\u201d<\/p>\n And roll he does, knocking me down and turning over so he\u2019s right on top of me. We\u2019re face-to-face. Good God, he\u2019s heavy. His bones must be made of lead. He shifts, one leg coming over both of mine. I push at his knee, but his arm swings out and he wraps himself around me on a low groan, pinning my arm to my side. He\u2019s like a giant human blanket.<\/p>\n \u201cHow did this become my life?\u201d I say to the ceiling, because the man lying on top of me is apparently out cold.<\/p>\n I try to wriggle free, I even yell his name a bunch of time before I give up and wait for him to roll off me. And while I wait for that to happen, I replay the conversation with his mother, Gwendolyn Moorehead, that took place forty-eight hours ago and put me in this awkward position underneath her drunk son.<\/p>\n I\u2019d been standing in Fredrick\u2019s office, still digesting the fact that he was dead. It was shocking that a massive heart attack had taken him, since he was always so healthy and full of life.<\/p>\n Gwendolyn, his wife\u2014now a widow\u2014stood stoic behind his desk, papers stacked neatly in the center.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m so very for your loss, Gwendolyn. If there\u2019s anything I can do. Whatever you need.\u201d The words poured out, typical condolences, but sincerely meant because I couldn\u2019t imagine how my mother and I would feel if we lost my father.<\/p>\n Gwendolyn\u2019s fingers danced at her throat as she cleared it. \u201cThank you,\u201d she whispered brokenly and dabbed at her eyes. \u201cI appreciate your kindness, Wren.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet me know what you want me to handle, and I\u2019ll take care of it.\u201d<\/p>\n She took a deep breath, composing herself before she lifted her gaze to mine. \u201cI need your help.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course, what can I do?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy oldest son, Lincoln, will be returning to New York for the funeral, and he\u2019ll be staying to help run the company.\u201d<\/p>\n A hot feeling crept up my spine. I\u2019d heard very little about Lincoln. Everything from Armstrong\u2019s mouth was scathing, Fredrick\u2019s passing references had been with fondness, and my interactions with Gwendolyn had been minimal as it was Fredrick himself who hired me, so this was first I\u2019ve heard of Lincoln through her. \u201cI see. And how can I help with that?\u201d I could only imagine how difficult Armstrong would be if he had to share the attention with someone else, particularly his brother.<\/p>\n \u201cTransitioning Lincoln.\u201d Gwendolyn rounded her desk. \u201cYou\u2019ve managed to turn around Armstrong\u2019s reputation in the media during the time you\u2019ve been here. I know it hasn\u2019t been easy, and Armstrong can be difficult to manage.\u201d<\/p>\n Difficult to manage is the understatement of the entire century where Armstrong is concerned. He\u2019s a cocksucker of epic proportions. He\u2019s also a misogynistic, narcissistic bastard that I\u2019ve had to deal with for the past eight months on a nearly daily basis\u2014sometimes even on weekends.<\/p>\n My job as his \u201chandler\u201d has been to reshape his horrendous reputation after his involvement in several scandalous events became very public. It wasn\u2019t a job I necessarily wanted, and I was prepared to politely reject the offer, but my mother asked me to take the position as a favor to her since she\u2019s a friend of Gwendolyn.<\/p>\n Beyond that, my relationship with my mother has been strained for the past decade. When I was a teenager, I discovered information that changed our relationship forever. Taking the job at Moorehead was in part, my way of trying to help repair our fractured bond. The financial compensation, which was ridiculously high, also didn\u2019t hurt. Besides, Gwendolyn is on nearly every single charitable foundation committee in the city, and since that\u2019s where my interests lie, it seemed like a smart career move.<\/p>\n \u201cSince you\u2019re already working with Armstrong and things seem to be settled there for the most part, I felt it would make sense to keep you on here at Moorehead to work with Lincoln. He\u2019s been away from civilized society for several years. He\u2019s nothing like his brother, very altruistic and focused on his job, rather than recreational pursuits, so he should be easier to manage.\u201d<\/p>\n I fought a scoff at the last bit, since \u201crecreational pursuits\u201d was a reference to the fact that Armstrong couldn\u2019t seem to keep his pants zipped when it came to women.<\/p>\n Gwendolyn pushed a set of papers toward me. \u201cIt would only be for another six months. And of course, your salary would reflect the double work load, since you\u2019ll still have to maintain Armstrong in some capacity while you assist Lincoln in transitioning into his role here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, what\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n Gwendolyn pulled me into an awkward hug, holding onto my shoulders when she stepped back. Her eyes were glassy and red-rimmed. \u201cYou have no idea how much I appreciate your willingness to take this on. As soon as your contract is fulfilled, you have my word that I\u2019ll give you a glowing recommendation to whichever organization you\u2019d like. Your mother told me you\u2019re interested in starting your own foundation. I\u2019ll certainly help you in any way I\u2019m able if you\u2019ll stay on a little longer for me.\u201d She dabbed at her corner of her eyes and sniffed, then tapped the papers on the desk. \u201cI already have an agreement ready and an NDA, of course. Everything is tabbed for signing.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019m pulled back into the present when Lincoln shifts and one of his huge hands slides up my side and lands on my breast. At the same time, he pushes his nose against my neck, beard tickling my collarbone. He mutters something unintelligible against my skin.<\/p>\n I\u2019m momentarily frozen in shock. Under any other circumstances, I would knee him in the balls. However, he\u2019s not conscious or even semi-aware that he\u2019s fondling me. Thankfully, now that he\u2019s moved, I have some wiggle room.<\/p>\n I elbow him in the ribs, which probably hurts me more than it does him. At least it gets him to move away enough that I can slip out from under him. I roll off the bed and pop back up, smoothing out my now-wrinkled dress. My stupid nipples are perky, thanks to the attention the right one just got. Probably because it\u2019s the most action I\u2019ve seen since I started working for the Mooreheads eight months ago.<\/p>\n I hit the lights on the way out of the bedroom, pause in the kitchen to grab a glass of water and check out the sheet of paper on the counter. It\u2019s a list of important details regarding the penthouse, including the entry code. I nab my purse, snap a pic, and head for the elevators.<\/p>\n I have a feeling this is going to be a long six months.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Shacking Up (#1)\u00a0<\/strong>(Bane & Ruby) Hooking Up (#2)\u00a0<\/strong>(Lex & Amie) I Flipping Love You (#3)\u00a0<\/strong>(Pierce & Rian) Making Up (#4)\u00a0<\/strong>(Griffin & Cosy) Handle with Care<\/strong>\u00a0(#5)<\/strong> (Lincoln & Wren) <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Shacking Up Series Bundle <\/p>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n New York Times\u00a0<\/i>and\u00a0USA Today<\/i>\u00a0bestselling author of the\u00a0PUCKED<\/a>\u00a0series, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She\u2019s writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.<\/p>\n Never miss an update! Subscribe to Helena\u2019s\u00a0MAILING LIST<\/a>!<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" HANDLE WITH CARE (Shacking Up, #5) by Helena Hunting Releasing – 27\u00a0 August 2019 PRE-ORDER TODAY! EBOOK Amazon US \u00a0| \u00a0Amazon CA\u00a0 | \u00a0Amazon UK\u00a0 |\u00a0Amazon AU iBooks \u00a0| \u00a0B&N \u00a0| \u00a0Kobo\u00a0 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":43871,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","yasr_overall_rating":0,"yasr_post_is_review":"","yasr_auto_insert_disabled":"","yasr_review_type":"Product","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[290],"tags":[439,157,710],"class_list":["post-43868","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-book-news","tag-chapter-reveal","tag-helena-hunting","tag-shacking-up-world"],"yasr_visitor_votes":{"stars_attributes":{"read_only":false,"span_bottom":false},"number_of_votes":0,"sum_votes":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/06\/Handle-with-Care-cover.png?fit=200%2C300&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7gaNL-bpy","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/43868","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=43868"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/43868\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/43871"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=43868"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=43868"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=43868"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/01\/Handle-with-care-pre-order.jpg?resize=640%2C335&ssl=1\")
<\/p>\n
\nChapter One<\/strong><\/h4>\n
\nShacking Up World<\/strong><\/h4>\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/01\/Shacking-Up.jpg?resize=80%2C122&ssl=1\")
\u00a0\u00a0![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/Hooking-Up-2.jpg?resize=80%2C122&ssl=1\")
\u00a0![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/I-flipping-Love-you.jpg?resize=80%2C122&ssl=1\")
\u00a0 ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/04\/Making-Up_ebook-2.jpg?resize=80%2C122&ssl=1\")
\u00a0\u00a0![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/06\/Handle-with-Care-cover.png?resize=80%2C122&ssl=1\")
<\/p>\n
\nReview<\/a>
\nBuy:\u00a0Amazon<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0B&N<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0iBooks<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Kobo<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0GooglePlay<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Paperback<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Audio<\/a><\/p>\n
\nReview<\/a>
\nBuy:\u00a0Amazon US<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Amazon UK<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Amazon CA<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Amazon AU<\/a>
\niBooks<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0B&N<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Kobo<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0GooglePlay<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Paperback<\/a>\u00a0| Audio<\/a><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong>Review<\/a>
\nBuy:\u00a0Amazon<\/a> | B&N<\/a> | Books-A-Million<\/a> | IndieBound<\/a> | !ndigo<\/a>\u00a0| Paperback<\/a>\u00a0| Audio<\/a><\/p>\n
\nReview<\/a>
\nBuy: Amazon US<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Amazon Worldwide<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0B&N<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Kobo<\/a>\u00a0| Google Play<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0iBooks<\/a><\/p>\n
\nBuy: Amazon US<\/a> \u00a0| \u00a0Amazon CA<\/a>\u00a0 | \u00a0Amazon UK<\/a>\u00a0 | \u00a0iBooks<\/a> \u00a0| \u00a0B&N<\/a> \u00a0| \u00a0Kobo<\/a>
\nPaperback: Amazon PB<\/a> \u00a0| \u00a0B&N<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0| \u00a0Chapters<\/a> \u00a0| \u00a0Indie Bound<\/a>\u00a0\u00a0| \u00a0BAM\u00a0<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/Gettign-Down.jpg?resize=80%2C122&ssl=1\")
Getting Down: A Shacking Up World Novella<\/strong> – takes place before\u00a0Hooking Up<\/em><\/a>
\nReview<\/a>
\nBuy: Kindle Ebook<\/a>
\n*Originally part of Eye Candy: A\u00a0Halloween Anthology*<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/12\/shacking-up-series-44-1.jpg?resize=80%2C122&ssl=1\")
<\/p>\n
\n<\/strong>*Includes: Shacking Up, Hooking Up, and Making Up
\nBuy: Amazon US<\/a> \u00a0| \u00a0Amazon CA<\/a> \u00a0| \u00a0Amazon UK<\/a> \u00a0| \u00a0Amazon AU<\/a>
\niBooks<\/a> \u00a0| \u00a0B&N<\/a> \u00a0| \u00a0Kobo<\/a> \u00a0| \u00a0Google Play<\/a><\/p>\n
\nAbout the Author<\/strong><\/h4>\n
INSTAGRAM<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0TWITTER<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0FACEBOOK<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0FB FAN GROUP<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0WEBSITE<\/a>
\n<\/strong><\/h4>\nCheck out our AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT<\/a> for some more amazing reads!<\/strong><\/h4>\n