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.
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.
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.
His breathing feeling erratic beneath me.
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 . . .
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…
5 ++ STARS
~5 ++ STARS~
Meghan Quinn is quickly becoming one of my favorite writers, and Two Wedding Crashers is exactly why!
Beck is going through a dry spell in the romance and sex department. He needed it. He made some very unwise decisions that had long-lasting consequences. It has allowed him to be single and focus on himself and more important things like his supporting and expanding his charities. He feels like it’s time for the drought to end, but he hasn’t felt one iota of a sexual spark with anyone. His best friend, Chris, has the perfect solution. He needs to join him and his wife in the Florida Keys for a wedding they have been invited to. Yes…he’s asked him to come without an invitation. At first, he balks at that, but the more Chris dangles the opportunity for food, drinks, and sex, Beck decides to go.
Victoria is a romance writer with the worst problem she could have…writer’s block. Her friends, Rylee and Zoey, who are writers themselves, try everything…food and drinks. Nothing helps. Zoey has the perfect solution…come with her and Art to a wedding in the Florida Keys without an invitation. Like Beck, she at first refuses. Zoey brings out the big guns, sun, Key Lime Pie, and it’s at the Hemingway House. It doesn’t take her long to agree…maybe being around love and Hemingway’s house will help her. She quickly makes a bargain with Victoria to go too. Yes, the wheels of fate are turning their wheels….get ready for a fun and emotional romance!!!!
Beck was one heck of a guy. I wasn’t sure why he had taken time for himself, but Quinn quickly let me in on his secret. WOW! He pulled himself out of a very bad situation and has tried for years to be a better person, not just for others but especially for himself.
Rylee is HILARIOUS, but she has also gone through a rough period in her life. Actually, I loved Victoria and Zoey as well. They are incredibly supportive of one another. They were each writers of different genres. Victoria writes historical non-fiction memoirs. Her personality and name suit what she writes. Zoey is a children’s author and illustrator. Her personality also suits her genre. Each of them bring something different to their friendship, and they balance each other out!!!!
I knew Rylee and Beck and their romance would be special!!! He was entranced from the first time he saw her on the plane. OMG…hilarious scene. From that point on, I was totally with them on their emotional, funny, and sometimes bumpy road to HEA. Beck made her realize she was missing her own HEA because she was so involved with her own characters’ HEAs. His love for her made her see she deserved her own love! Beck loves her completely, and as you read the book, you will see the lengths he will go to prove his love for her.
Not only did I love the romance, but I enjoyed the friendships of the characters. As always, Meghan’s hilarious sense of humor comes through but so do the heavier issues in the book. She is a genius at balancing the humor and emotion. One of my favorite things was how she broke the books up in parts with titles that gave me clues of what was going to happen.
The epilogue has to be one of my favorites. It is the perfect ending for them…It illustrated just how far they had come.
This book had it all for me. It was well-written and an important part of the book happened to take place in one of my favorite places in the world. She captured the essence of the Florida Keys! The characters were flawed, real, and funny which made me fall head over heels in love with them. It’s all these ingredients that always has me coming back to Meghan Quinn!!! Until the next book….
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!