Author: Meghan Quinn
Series: Dating by Numbers #2
Release Date: March 11, 2018
Genres: Contemporary Romance, Romantic Comedy
Purchase: Amazon US | B&N | Amazon CA | Amazon AU
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.
Title: Two Wedding Crashes
Series: Dating by Numbers #2
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Comedy
Author: Meghan Quinn
Release Date: March 13, 2018
“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.”
“Nope, not even in the slightest.”
What Readers Are Saying…
“One of the best things about Meghan Quinn’s books is that she makes her characters relatable. Anyone can write a character but making them feel real and lifelike is a skill- and Meghan Quinn has that.”
– Pretty Little Books
“Hands down Meghan Quinn is the queen of romantic comedy. This one is just that – fun, sexy and a whole lot of heart.”
– AC Book Blog
“Meghan has written another amazing story with great characters that you will find yourself loving from the second you meet them. I almost feel like I know these characters personally and want all the best for them. Bravo Meghan!”
-Read Love Blog
A modern day take on You’ve Got Mail with a twist. This laugh out loud and heartwarming romantic comedy from bestselling author Meghan Quinn will keep you on the edge of your feet as you fall in love with each and every blind date.
“Good Morning Malibu, it’s another beautiful day on the west coast! I’m Noely Clark, your host: and I’m in the market for love…”
When the publicity team of the new local restaurant, Going in Blind, began their search for a hot, local celebrity to promote the wildly popular eatery, they couldn’t have found a better person than me.
Open to finding love? Check.
I signed up immediately.
A hopeless romantic with an exceedingly demanding schedule, I’ve found it impossible to find the man of my dreams—so Going in Blind seems too good to be true! That’s until they start setting me up on dates—three very different, very attractive, very distinct blind dates—and only one thing is for certain . . .
I’m in big trouble.
“Good Morning Malibu,
I’m Noely Clark, and I have a choice to make.
The question is who will I choose; the suit, the rebel, or the jock.”