We're celebrating the release of TWO WEDDING CRASHERS by Meghan Quinn! One-click today!
TWO WEDDING CRASHERS (Dating by Numbers Book 2)
NA Romantic Comedy
Release: March 11, 2018
Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2FgXO0i
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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.
REVIEW
Loved it!!
Beck and Rylee are both in Key West to crash a wedding. Their first meeting is hilarious!! I laughed so hard and felt so embarrassed for Rylee! From the moment they meet sparks fly. Their chemistry is off the charts! They spend their time in Key West together getting to know each other. They know there’s something special happening between them but Rylee is hesitant to start anything with Beck because they live in opposite sides of the country. Can they make it work? You’ll have to read the book to find out ;)
Beck is my dream guy. He’s sexy, loyal, smart, sweet and has a great sense of humor. Seriously he’s so amazing I want to marry him. If you can’t tell by now he’s one of my favorite H’s of all time.
Rylee is a Romance author having a writers block. She hopes to find inspiration in Key West, but what she finds is gorgeous Beck. How I envy her! Their relationship is so amazing!
This book and series is one of my favorites by Meghan Quinn. She amazes me with each new book and I’ll read anything she writes. Another book by Meghan that goes straight to my favorites of 2018.
5/5
Excerpt
“What brings you to Key
West, Beck?”
I feel like that’s a
question I should have asked a while ago but with the whole naked hotel room
exposure—which I have yet to tell my friends about—and the sweatshirt burial,
we haven’t had a real chance to get to know each other. Not that I’m
complaining all too much. What I know about Beck so far is that he’s a
gentleman and likes to have a good time, even if that means torching a
sweatshirt and sending it on it’s way.
There aren’t many
people I know who would stand there, hand over heart, talking about the thread
count of a sweatshirt while fake crying.
The corner of my lips
pull up just from the image of Beck wiping “tears” from his eyes with the back
of his index finger.
“Do you want the truth,
or do you want a fabricated lie that will cause you to fall madly in love with
me?”
Chuckling, I answer,
“Both.”
“Fair enough.” Beck
pushes his foot against the sand below us, sending the hammock into a relaxing
swing. “Want the truth or the lie first?”
“Hmm, how about I guess
which is which.”
“Ah, things are about
to get exciting.” He chuckles and rubs his hands together. “Okay, reason number
one.” He clears his throat. “I’m attending a wedding this coming weekend, a
wedding I wasn’t invited to, but my friend begged me to attend because he
wanted to bone his wife without children around. It doesn’t make sense, but
hey, I’m a good friend so here I am.”
Errr, that’s eerily
familiar. I swallow a little harder than expected. There is no way he’s
crashing a wedding like me. That’s only something a desperate author does in
order to find signs of love again. “Okay, reason number two.”
“My sister is getting
married this weekend and I’m giving her away. Our dad passed away a few years
ago from a heart attack, and even though we’d been estranged for two years, she
asked if I would be a part of her wedding. So here I am.”
Silently he swings us,
my mind whirling with what the truth could be. Both stories were told so
effortlessly, so he’s either a really good liar, or some kind of con artist. I
should be scared. I should go to my hotel room right now, wishing Beck a good
night, but I don’t, because I’m intrigued by this man. Behind the good looks
and intelligence, there’s something beneath the surface, something dark that
makes understandable the age in his weathered eyes.
Because of that, I go
with option number two. It seems the most plausible, because who really crashes
weddings? Only crazed women with the tendency to sit in a bush with a notepad
and pen and take notes while staring at couples and listening in on their
conversations.
Research and all, it
comes at a high price, like spikey branches to the tush.
“Hmm, I’m going to go
with reason number two.”
He nods and says, “I
knew you were going to say that, but you’re pretty little self is wrong. I
don’t even have a sister.”
Stunned, I prop myself
up as best as I can on the loose woven thread of the hammock and stare him
down. “You’re here to crash someone’s wedding?”
He winces. “Uh, yeah,
kind of.”
“Unbelievable.” I shake
my head in disbelief and lie back down.
“Now before you judge
me and give me a lecture about RSVPing—”
“I’m not judging you.”
I turn toward Beck, the hammock making the shift slightly difficult. “I’m just
a little . . . surprised.”
“I don’t plan on eating
any food.” He bites his bottom lip. “That’s a lie. I plan on eating a lot, but
hey, I’ll bring the party to the dance floor. If anything, I’m bringing them
the gift of dance, so you can’t be mad at me for that.”
“I’m not mad.” I laugh,
still surprised. “I’m just trying to comprehend this.” Looking him square in
the eyes, I say, “I’m here crashing a wedding as well.”
This causes Beck to sit
up, his brawny chest straining the fabric of his shirt. He intently studies me,
his eyes flitting back and forth until he finally asks, “You’re serious? You’re
really crashing a wedding?”
I press my lips
together and nod.
A sharp laugh escapes
Beck as he lies down on the hammock and sends our swing into more of a frenzied
movement. “I’m just going to assume, given our luck of baby puke, naked
encounters—”
“I knew you saw boobs.”
“I didn’t see . . . ah
hell, what’s the point? I totally saw your tits and fuck, woman, they’re hot.”
I blush . . . horrendously, my face heating up along with every vein in my
body. “But like I was saying, with our luck, we’re going to the same wedding.”
Clearing my throat,
trying to move past the part where Beck just made my nipples harden and pop out
like turkey thermometers, I lamely say, “Yeah, that would be our luck.”
“Let me guess, wedding
is on Saturday at The Hemingway House.”
Cue another rush of heat
to eclipse my body. “The one and only.”
He nods and lies there
silently for a second before saying, “So what you’re telling me is that I have
a date for the wedding Saturday night.”
Not expecting him to
say that, I laugh out loud and for some reason say, “I’m wearing teal, in case
you want to match and take couple pictures. You know, might as well do the
whole couple thing up, right?”
This garners, a deep,
low, rumble of a laugh from Beck. “Thank God I packed grey pants with a white
button-down. There won’t be any kind of clashing in those couple photos.”
About the Author:
Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Will dance for laughs, won’t eat anything spicy because you asked, but will squeeze boobs in replace of a hug. Grew up in Southern California (Temecula, anyone? Anyone?) lived in New York (the armpit of NY, not the city) and now resides in Colorado with my wife, son, two dogs, three cats, and my multiple book boyfriends. Loves love, anything romantic, and will die if I ever meet Tom Hanks. Yay, books!
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