Kit Winterlyn writes the Christmas romance books she wishes existed: festive, filthy, and unapologetically fun.
She's the person who starts playing Mariah Carey in November, owns seven different Christmas mugs, and gets genuinely excited about advent calendars. Yes, even the chocolate ones with the waxy candy. Yes, she knows it's basic. No, she doesn't care. She also thinks those pre-packaged cookie gift boxes are delightful, Bath & Body Works candles belong under every tree, and receiving warm fuzzy socks is actually a gift, not a cop-out.
But here's the thing: Kit also thinks Hallmark movies are adorable but need about 47% more sexual tension and at least one scene that would earn an R-rating. Her characters don't just hold hands and almost-kiss for 90 minutes. They make snow angels naked, crash fancy parties, and do things with eggnog that definitely aren't in your grandmother's recipe book.
She lives for the chaos of the holiday season—the tangled lights, the wrapping paper explosion, the cookies that burned because she was too busy writing a spicy scene. Christmas, in Kit's world, should sparkle, smell like cinnamon, and occasionally make you blush.
