We're celebrating the release of TWISTED TWOSOME by Meghan
Quinn!
TWISTED TWOSOME
NA Romantic Comedy
Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2uarCWF
Racer McKay is a broody bastard.
From the moment I met him,
he’s been rude, irritable, and unbearable.
A contractor working to
remodel my parents pool house for extra cash, he stomps around in those clunky
construction boots with his tool belt wrapped around his narrow waist, and a
chip on his shoulder.
Racer McKay is also
infuriatingly . . . sexy as hell. I want to take that pencil tucked behind his
ear, and draw lazy lines slowly up and down his body all the while wanting to
strangle him at the same time.
We try to stay out of each
other’s way . . . that is until I have no other option but to ask for his help.
But what I don’t realize is
he needs me just as much as I need him. I have money he’s desperate for, and he
holds the key to making my dreams come true.
Our pranks turn from
sarcastic banter, to sexual tension and lust-filled glances. Bickering matches
quickly morph into slow burn moments. We’re hot, we’re cold. We push and pull.
I need him, I don’t want him. We’re on the verge of combusting with an
agreement dangling dangerously between us. Neither one of us can afford to lose
one another and yet, we’re finding it quite hard to decipher the line that
rests between love and hate.
*Twisted Twosome is a stand alone romantic comedy.
Excerpt:
“Thanks for lunch, I haven’t had a fine peanut butter and jelly
sandwich in quite some time.” Racer takes a giant bite from one of three
sandwiches I made him. The man can eat; I just want to know where he puts it
all. “What is this, crunchy peanut butter?” He looks over the sandwich,
studying it intently.
“Yes, it’s crunchy with mixed berry jam.”
He nods and takes another bite. He talks with his mouth full,
which for some weird reason makes him oddly adorable. “Nice touch, George. The
peanuts add a nice texture.”
“Are you going all food critic on my PB and J skills right now?”
Lifting his shirt, he dabs away some of the sweat that’s
collecting on his forehead, beneath his backward hat. His abs flex with the
movement, drawing my attention. Each divot calling out to me to touch, to
examine . . . to lick.
“I think every human should be judged on their PB and J skills.”
I pull my eyes away from his stomach just in time not to get
caught staring. “Why do you think that?”
“Because,” he takes another bite, “I think building a peanut
butter and jelly sandwich is in everyone’s repertoire, but only the truly
skilled know how to make a proper one. And I want to be friends with the truly
skilled.”
“Is that so?” I take a drink of my green tea and study him for a
second, watching the way the muscles in his jaw move with each bite and
swallow. It’s sexy.
His neck is sexy? Is that
possible?
“So where do I land on your scale of sandwich artists?”
He smiles from my term, and I realize how much I adore his boyish
charm. Pulling his eyes away from me, he examines one of the sandwiches I made
him and starts assessing it. “Good ratio of peanut butter to jelly. Nice choice
in bread. The crunch you added has been a pleasant surprise, and the mixed
berry jam is fucking delightful.” I giggle from his girly term. “But . .
.”
I perk up; there’s a but? “But what?”
He quirks his mouth to the side, almost to say, “Sorry,
but you’re not quite perfect.” “The bread, it should have been
toasted. Toasting it would have taken you to boss level when it comes to the PB
and J.”
“Toasting it?”
He nods and takes another bite. “When you don’t toast a peanut
butter and jelly sandwich, the peanut butter and bread form a paste on the roof
of your mouth. Even though it tastes good, it can get quite irritating.”
“But I didn’t have a toaster.”
“Rookie mistake.”
“Well, If I knew I was going to be critiqued, I would have sprung
for bacon.”
He pauses mid bite and stares at me over his sandwich. “You’re a
beast for bringing up the option.”
I polish off the rest of my sandwich and wipe my fingers. “Well,
maybe next time you’ll communicate expectations better. I’m not a mind reader,
Racer. Frankly, the fact I didn’t make boss level is on you, not me.”
I stand and gather my trash as he stares me down. “Don’t you turn
this on me. You didn’t have a toaster. The toaster is what’s key. This is on
you, Georgie. This is on you!” he calls out as I make my way to the back,
laughing to myself the entire time.
My Review:
Meghan has a way of making you love her characters, root for the good and their happily ever after (and the downfall of those that are evil), and leave you wanting more. I felt like I wanted more after her prior releases Co-Wrecker and My Best Friend's Ex. Racer was Tucker's goofy co-worker, always cracking jokes and eating all the Little Debbie's cakes. You knew there was more to him, something deep behind the humor. There is. Megan has given you the "more" that you wanted, along with realistic, relatable characters that you can't help falling in love with. Georgiana (George, Georgie) appears to be a spoiled princess (his words, not mine) but you find that there's more to her as well. Racer has the best pranks, one-liners, and is is probably one of my favs from all her novels.
Pick this one up. Hell, pick up the series starting with Co-Wrecker. Not needed to read this one, but you'll be missing out on some great reads.
About the Author:
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment