Two Wedding Crashers (Dating By Numbers #2)by Meghan Quinn
Published on March 11th, 2018
Genres: Romance, Contemporary
ADD TO GOODREADS
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.
I received a review copy courtesy of the author/publisher. This does not affect my opinion or views regarding the book whatsoever.
Two Wedding Crashers features the 'holiday fling' trope, which of course isn't new, but Quinn's take on it is incredibly entertaining, making this book very unputdownable. I devoured this book in one sitting and I nearly cracked a rib from laughing too much.
Rylee is in a romance author with a deadline and is in desperate need of a story. Funnily enough, she takes up her best friend's suggestion to crash a wedding at Key West in an attempt to gather inspiration. One plane ride later, followed a hotel room mix-up, she meets Beck, another 'wedding crasher'. Their meet-cute is definitely an unforgettable experience. Sparks fly but their fling is obviously short-lived because once the wedding's over, they're back to their separate lives... or so they think.
While Quinn's humour isn't for everyone, it does all wonders for me and her characters never cease to entertain. Rylee is a total hoot and a character I can relate to on a spiritual level. She's witty and slightly crass with an incredible sense of humour, and she matches Beck so well. Upon meeting Beck in Three Blind Dates, I knew I'd love his character right off the bat. Described as 'The Rebel', he definitely completes the whole alpha male hero checklist: rides a motorcycle? Check. Long hair, slicked back, white t-shirt? Check (Got that reference right there? Hah!). But there's so much more to his character than the bad boy persona and Quinn surely gives us more insight into his story.
Quinn's romantic comedies are without a doubt the best I've ever read. While it's so hard to pick a favourite, Two Wedding Crashers would have to be it. It's got everything I look for in a romance: heart-warming characters, intense sexual chemistry, hilarious and witty banter, and the right amount of angst. Let's not forget the side characters that nearly got me falling off my chair from too much laughing. Yep, the only downside to reading Quinn's books is that you could be prone to injury... No joke.
If you're a fan of giggle-snort romantic comedies, Two Wedding Crashers is for you. This romantic and swoon-worthy novel will surely leave you wanting more! It can also be read as a standalone! And while you're at it, make sure you read the rest of her books. You won't regret it!
Buy Links: Amazon US / Amazon UK / Amazon CA / Amazon AU
Read my review of Three Blind Dates.
READ AN 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…
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…
ABOUT MEGHAN QUINN
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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