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Two Wedding Crashers (Dating by Numbers #2) by Meghan Quinn

Two Wedding Crashers Book Cover Two Wedding Crashers
Dating by Numbers Series #2
Meghan Quinn
Fiction, Contemporary Romance
March 11st 2018

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.

Jenny’s Review

I think I fell in love with Meghan Quinn’s writing a little bit more after reading this book. I love a book that I can throughly enjoy on so many levels.

We were introduced to Beck (the Rebel) in Three Blind Dates. And first and foremost, our dear Beck, he is nothing that I thought he was going to be. He’s fascinating, he’s fricken sexy as hell, he is kind, lovable, and someone that definitely is so entertaining. He’s gentle, he’s everything. So when he decides to take a trip with his best friends to a wedding that he wasn’t invited to, he’s excited to be a Wedding Crasher for a weekend.

Who would have thought Beck would find a gorgeous naked woman in his room, that, yes, is there to crash a wedding too…..

Rylee is on a trip with her friends, tagging along to try and get inspiration to write her smutty novels again after dealing with some personal issues over the last year. She’s adventurous, funny, beautiful, and she is looking to live her life and to have fun, leave the past in the past. She wants to live freely especially for just a weekend, and cut loose, have fun and laugh again.

Beck and Rylee have an amazing weekend, they take chances with each other and their red hot romance sizzles off the pages of this book. They captured my attention and didn’t lose it until the last page. They were phenomenal together, I loved them as a couple and their story was so riveting to read.

I hated seeing their wedding crashing weekend end. I wasn’t sure what would happen in their relationship next, heck they both didn’t want anything more than a weekend fling and the fact that they live on opposite sides of the country :-(( But this book was like getting a few stories rolled into one. Two Wedding Crashers is a must read. It’s sweet, sexy, emotional, and a highly entertaining fun read you don’t want to miss.


Book Excerpt:


“Dude, you have to come. It’s going to be the party of the century.” Chris takes a sip from his beer and watches the dance floor, his elbows leaning on the bar behind him.

I bring my water to my lips before I say, “That’s great and all, but I wasn’t invited.”

“You don’t need an invitation.”

“Chris.” I give him a pointed look. “It’s a wedding. It’s not like a birthday or company party that I can get away with going to, but a wedding has seat arrangements and actual invitations.”

“Semantics. Just hang out at the bar the whole time and pick off people’s plates when they’re not looking. Hell, I think it’s a buffet, so you can grab a plate and eat in the bathroom.”

“As much as scarfing down a wedding meal next to a urinal is appealing, I think I’ll pass.”

The music switches from a fast-paced salsa, to a slow, seductive melody. Couples on the dance floor immediately fall in step with the song, their moves unhurried and fluid. Hell, what I wouldn’t give to be on that dance floor. As a guy, dancing alone to a sexy song reads a little strange, so I keep myself firmly planted next to my good friend, Chris, who works behind the scenes at Going in Blind. He was the one who set up my profile six months ago, the one who keeps egging me on to try it again. But after the night I ran into Noely at the restaurant, right before she chased after someone else, it’s been downhill from there. The girl I went on a date with that night was . . . blah. Zero personality. She tried to impress me with her cleavage-showing ways, which granted, I enjoyed because I am a man.

But there was nothing there—no spark, no urge to take her on my bike—so I said good night and went on my way. I wasn’t ready. Noely had been right. I still had things to sort through. Noely was so goddamn gorgeous, so my physical attraction to her made complete sense. She’d been warm and funny, and I wish I’d been ready in some respects. But I get it now. I understand what she meant about emotional connection. She certainly set the benchmark though. Physically, of course. But she’d become my friend, and I knew that ultimately I really wanted that.

Since then, I’ve spent time learning about being single, and even though it’s been good for me, to focus on the things that matter the most, supporting and building my charities, I’ve felt like I’ve been missing something.

And I think I know what it is.

Can you guess?


Fuck, I miss sex. The last time I had anything remotely close to sex was with Noely. I’m pretty sure my balls have turned to dust by now; one wrong move and they’re going to evaporate into the air for good.

Why haven’t I been fucking my way through Malibu you ask? Because no one has snagged my attention. There has been no interest on my end, which is insane since I’m so fucking hard up. I feel like my penis is going to fall off.

“Just think about it, man. You need a vacation. The wedding is in Florida Keys at this fancy-ass resort that overlooks the ocean. You can crash the wedding, eat with your urinal, get your dance on, and have some crazy, no-strings-attached sex with one of the bridesmaids. There are at least three that are single.”

No strings-attached sex, huh . . .

“Crash someone’s wedding? You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” He takes another sip of his drink. “Justine and I booked two rooms in case we decided to take the kids, but if you go, we’ll make it a parents-only weekend and leave the kids at my mom’s.” Turning toward me, looking sadly desperate, he says, “Please, dude. Please crash this wedding. Please take that extra room so I can have wild island sex with my wife. Do me this favor and grant me this one wish.”

“Can’t you find someone else to take the room?”

“Nope, I tried. And you know Justine. She’s not going to eat the money on the room. So right now, we’re taking the kids.”

I run my hand over my hair, unsure. This is crazy. I’m not Vince Vaughn or Owen Wilson, primed and ready with a fucking bro code on how to crash a wedding. But, a mini vacation does sound good. And honestly, Chris has been there for me through the hard times. He and Justine do actually deserve this time away too.


“Dude!” Chris pulls me into a hug and then holds my shoulders as he stares at me. “I can’t even tell you how excited I am.”

“I need the details first.”

With a knowing smile, says, “Oh, you’re fucking coming. It’s a done deal.”

Unfortunately, I think it is. I think the final lure was hearing two words—fucking and coming. Yeah, I got it bad.

Look out, unsuspecting couple. I’m about to crash your wedding.

About the Author


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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