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I don’t know
what love is anymore.
Well, that’s
not entirely true, but I’m going to tell you a little secret: I’ve lost the
spark.
You know the
kind of spark I’m talking about?
Where
butterflies take flight in your stomach from two hands innocently colliding. Or
catching your breath when you first meet someone attractive. Yeah, that spark.
Except I
haven't felt that feeling in forever; there is nothing left inside of me.
Normally,
this wouldn’t be a problem--but I’m a writer on a serious deadline, and my
editor is breathing down my neck for a romantic, Nicholas Sparks type love
story. No pressure, right?
That's how I
find myself flying across the country to crash a wedding in the name of
research, dress and heels stuffed into my small suitcase.
It should be
the easiest book research ever. Drinking some free champagne, basking in the
love of two strangers, and tapping into my romantic side. That will be a
breeze. I'm a pro. I can handle this.
Until I
mistakenly end up in the wrong hotel room, naked as the day I was born, with
the sexiest human I have ever met staring me down, wondering what I'm doing
taking a shower in his bathroom. I don't think calling it research will get me
out of this pickle.
This is the second book in the Dating By Numbers
series. I highly suggest you read Three
Blind Dates first. We do get Beck in
that story and he talks a little about his time with Noely in this book as
well.
I will admit, the first chapter of Rylee’s was slow for
me. It wasn’t because of Rylee. It was all Victoria. Don’t worry, Victoria Grew on me.
I absolutely love Rylee.
She’s quirky. She’s gone through
a lot in the past year. Don’t worry, you
do find out what happened later in the book.
Her friends want her to get her spark for life back. And what better way to do that than to go to
Key West and crash a wedding!
Beck, I loved him in Three Blind Dates. I knew there was something heavy that he was
dealing with. I will admit if I had
known what that was from the beginning of the story, I may not have given him a
chance.
But, we got to know him first. You can tell he has changed, for the better.
He is a great guy.
He also go dragged along to Key West to crash a wedding.
The first meeting was great.
It was hilarious.
The time together in Key West, amazing.
Crashing the wedding…funny as hell. The stories they told will have you laughing
so hard.
I want be Rylee’s best friend!
This is a fantastic rom-com that you don’t want to miss out
on!
Excerpt
Chills scream their way
down my arms and legs, my nipples pucker, and just like that, with one word,
all humor vanishes from our little conversation and awareness of this
all-consuming man wrapped around me hits me hard.
Gathering myself, I
say, “Tell me something Chris and Justine know about you.”
“Hmm.” His thumbs hook
under the waistband of my shorts, playing with the lower part of my hipbones.
His touch spurs on my pelvis, needing to rock, begging for him to go lower. My
toes curl in my sandals and my back slightly arches, reaching for more.
“Something they know about me.”
His mouth doesn’t stray
from its position against my ear, and his hips start to slowly move underneath
me, his legs tangling with mine. Involuntarily, one of my hands hooks the back
of his neck as I hold on tightly to him, feeling like I need support from the
onslaught of sensation I’m feeling.
I hear him say
something, but it doesn’t register in my brain, which has turned to mush as his
thumbs stray from my hipbones to right above my pubic bone.
There is no denying how
turned on I am, how wet I am from his mere touch, how much—despite my
reservations—I want this man.
With each stroke, my
head turns farther and farther to the side until our noses are touching, Beck’s
head bends forward to meet me halfway. My eyes flutter shut for a brief moment
before I open them and am captured by those flecks of green and gold.
The air stills around
us, our breath mixing, swirling between us, our lips so close.
One swipe of this
thumb.
Another one.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t focus.
Another swipe, my head
leans even closer, my tongue wetting my lips.
One more swipe . . .
My heart hammers in my
chest, my skin prickling with awareness.
Beck brings his mouth
even closer, only a whisper away now, and he waits.
Holding still.
His breathing feeling
erratic beneath me.
One.
More.
Swipe.
And I’m gone.
I bring my mouth to
his, slowly parting my lips ever so slightly, just enough to maneuver my mouth
across his.
A low, provocative moan
escapes Beck as one of his hands snags the back of my head and holds me in
place, almost as if he lets go, I’ll disappear.
Needing more, I shift
on his lap so I’m straddling him once again, my hands on his bare chest,
feeling the powerful sinew that holds him together.
Our lips press and
mold, mingling, taking, begging . . .
Desperate.
Beck’s tongue runs against my bottom lip,
eliciting a moan from deep within me, lighting a fire so hot, so wild, my hands
start to travel up his neck to his cheeks where I grip him, positioning his
head so when I open my mouth, I can expertly dive my tongue onto his.
He groans, his lap
shifting against mine now, his hard-on pressing against my wet and throbbing
center. I match his rocking, using my position on his lap to take advantage of
his length I can feel through his board shorts.
This is exactly what I
didn’t want to happen, but God, am I happy it has. Maybe I really should live
in the moment, maybe I should take advantage of the opportunity, maybe I
should…
Born in New York and raised in Southern California,
Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing,
animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men”
starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her,
protect your legs because they may be humped.
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty
minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play
in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of
conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist
about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them
down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her
first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the
border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her
life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind
shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will
bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!
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