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  • Two Wedding Crashers

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    Who needs a little fun in the sun this spring? TWO WEDDING CRASHERS will be here on March 11th!!!! In addition to the cover reveal, I have a newsletter exclusive peek for you today. I hope you enjoy it, pretties!
    Add it to your TBR here!

    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.
    “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.

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