BLOG TOUR & 5 STAR REVIEW: Two Wedding Crashers (Dating by Numbers #2) by Meghan Quinn

We're celebrating the release of TWO WEDDING CRASHERS by Meghan Quinn! One-click today!

TWO WEDDING CRASHERS (Dating by Numbers Book 2)

NA Romantic Comedy

Release: March 11, 2018

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2FgXO0i

PURCHASE HERE--> hyperurl.co/gk18jz

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.

My Review

I received an advanced copy of this book with the promise of an honest review. 

Gah! Beck. BECK! As much as I loved him in Three Blind Dates, I knew he wasn’t going to get his happily ever in that book, even though I REALLY wanted him too. So I couldn't want to dive into this one. 

Rylee is a romance writer with writer’s block. She needs a change of scenery and her friend convinces her to go to Key West to crash the wedding she is attending and hopefully get her writing groove back. Beck is in a rut and in desperate need of some fun. When his friend suggests he crash a wedding he is attending (sound familiar?), Beck agrees. 

First of all, Beck and Rylee's first meeting was hilarious. In true Meghan fashion, she brings the funny right from the start. Thankfully they are both pretty laid back people so they are able to let the awkwardness go. The two start hanging out and OH MY GOD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. Beck is just the sweetest and Rylee was awesome. Put the two of them together and the few days they spend with each other are some of the best of their lives. There is also a slow burn that keeps you on the edge of your seat with the whole "will they/wont they", but it also makes the pay off amazing. 

While this book is funny and super sweet, both Beck and Rylee are dealing with some personal issues that brings a little bit of angst into the story.  The angst is put to good use though and it allows Brody to show just how amazing he is and my love for him only grew as the book went on. 

Now bring on the third book! Let's see how Hayden, aka The Jock, comes about his happily ever after. He was such a sweetheart in the first book and I can't wait to read about him again. 

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…

Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Will dance for laughs, won’t eat anything spicy because you asked, but will squeeze boobs in replace of a hug. Grew up in Southern California (Temecula, anyone? Anyone?) lived in New York (the armpit of NY, not the city) and now resides in Colorado with my wife, son, two dogs, three cats, and my multiple book boyfriends. Loves love, anything romantic, and will die if I ever meet Tom Hanks. Yay, books!

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Find me on Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/

RELEASE DAY BLAST: Two Wedding Crashers (Dating by Numbers #2) by Meghan Quinn

We're celebrating the release of TWO WEDDING CRASHERS by Meghan Quinn! One-click today!

TWO WEDDING CRASHERS (Dating by Numbers Book 2)

NA Romantic Comedy

Release: March 11, 2018

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2FgXO0i

PURCHASE HERE--> hyperurl.co/gk18jz

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.

EXCERPT

Crystal-blue ocean shines below me, and if I wasn’t so scared of Zoey and her repercussions for being late, I would take the time to appreciate Mother Nature. Instead I hurry into my room, flop my suitcase on my bed, unzip it, and grab my toiletries. 

Not taking a second longer, I strip down, leaving my gross airplane clothes on the floor, and practically skip to the shower where I stop mid stride.

In the shower stall is a black razor, with accompanying shaving cream. That’s odd. Is that courtesy of the hotel? This place is fancy, but not that fancy. Spinning on my heel, I turn toward the sink behind me and spot a white and green toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, and men’s cologne. Shit, turning toward the room, my eyes frantically roam the space, spotting a black suitcase in the corner. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

Naked, I cover my breasts with my arm and open the closet door only to come face to face with a few hung-up shirts. 

Yup . . . I’m in someone else’s fucking room. 

And whoever this room belongs to is the neatest person ever because who honestly lines up there toothbrush and toothpaste tube perfectly on the counter?

Reaching for the phone, I call down to the front desk. 

“Mr. Wilder, how can we assist you?” Oh yeah, totally not in the correct room. 

“Uh, yeah, hi, this is Rylee Ryan. I just checked in. I was given the key to room 625 and it seems to be occupied.”

“Oh dear, let me check.” There is a pause on the phone and then the lady comes on the line again. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss. Ryan. We have you in room 626. Would you like to come down here and grab a new key?”

Is she kidding? The trek it took to get over here ate up enough of my time. I can’t possibly take a shower if I have to run back to the lobby, grab a key, and run all the way back here. 

“Would you mind bringing it to room 625? I have dinner plans and have to get changed.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll send someone up with a key right away.”

“Thank you.” 

I hop around naked, eyeing my pukey clothes on the floor and the shower in the other room. Twisting my lip to the side, I try to decide what to do. I can be super quick, like really fucking quick. I just need to scrub the puke and throw on a dress, simple. Two minutes tops. The water doesn’t even have to be warm. I’ll write a polite note to Mr. Wilder—whoever that is—leave him five dollars as a kind gesture and quietly leave. No problem with that. Right?

Right.

Turning on the shower, I hop in before the water can warm up and hiss from the frosty temperature. I douse soap all over my hands and scrub my neck and body vigorously first, which normally I would wash my hair first but . . . puke. Once I’m satisfied with the amount of scrubbing, I wash my hair, condition it in a minute, do one more soap scrubbing all over my body before rinsing and turning the shower off. Two minutes. 

Just in case Mr. Wilder is sitting outside the bathroom, I peek my head out the door, towel wrapped around my body, and call out, “Hello?”

When there is no response, I check that the coast is clear then strut to my suitcase and find a simple black sundress. Not bothering to look for underwear or a bra—I really don’t need one with my perky B-cups—I lay out my dress and dry off. 

Hopefully Mr. Wilder doesn’t mind me using one of his towels or his room for that matter. He’s probably some old dude away on his golfing vacation. I hope I don’t give him a heart attack. 

I drape my towel over the bed and run my hands through my naturally wavy, black hair. This will have to do. Picking up my towel one more time, I scrunch my hair, trying to soak up all the water just as the hotel door swings open, light blaring through, a tall, dark silhouette shadowed in the doorframe.

I still, frozen from the tips of my toes to the hand scrunching a towel in my hair. 

Toned calves and legs are covered by black board shorts, slick to his thighs, a bulge prominent. Narrow waist where his board shorts ride low on his hips, a black shirt dancing across his broad chest, cinching sleeves cuffed over his biceps, and a V-neck providing a glimpse of how far his tan extends. Head cast down, eyes transfixed on his phone in front of him, he doesn’t notice the naked girl standing in the middle of his hotel room. He stuffs his keycard in his back pocket and looks up, startled. 

I scream. 

He grumbles something unintelligible as I point out the obvious. “Ahhh, my boobs are naked!” It might be a little concerning that I consider my boobs to be the only things naked at this point.

As quickly as I can, I cover my body, towel making a poor attempt to hide my girly bits. 

The man turns away, covering his eyes with his arm while muttering, “Oh shit.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask, struggling with my towel. I know damn well the man in front of me must be Mr. Wilder, and this is in fact his room, and I’m the one intruding, but I still feel the need to place the blame on him for walking in on me naked.

“Grabbing my sunglasses,” he says, his voice terrified but also deep and rumbly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Still trying to cover myself, I scramble to grab my dress and back up to the bathroom. “Washing my neck,” I answer, nervously, boobs swaying with my erratic movements. 

Eyes still covered, he keeps his back toward me but straightens up. “Washing your neck? Is that code for some kind of weird Key West thing?”

I back into the bathroom and make quick attempt of putting my dress over my head and righting it so everything is covered up. Hair still damp as well as my body, I step out into the room and clear my throat, dress sticking to my damp skin. “No, it’s not code for anything. I really had to wash my neck.”

“And you chose my room to do that in, because . . .”

Bending down, I shove my dirty clothes in my bag and zip up, giving Mr. Wilder the heads-up that I’m dressed. At least he’s a gentleman . . . 

When he turns around, he eyes me up and down, his gaze curious and heated when he sees just how hard my nipples are from the cold shower . . . and the unexpected peep show.

“I didn’t choose your room to take a shower in.” I move my suitcase to the floor and pull up the handle. “The hotel gave me the key to this room by mistake, and since I had puke on my neck from the airplane—long story—I decided to take a quick shower while I waited for my room. I apologize for taking up your space, but I think we’re skipping an important detail here.” I cock my hand on my hip. “You saw me naked.”

“No, I didn’t,” he retorts rather quickly, despite the slow grin that spreads across his face. 

I’m calling bullshit. “You totally saw my boobs.”

“I really didn’t. Your scream scared the shit out of me. I didn’t have enough time to see anything before you covered up.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, I ask, “You promise you didn’t see anything?”

“Promise.”

Hmm. “Okay, because being hotel neighbors and all, that would be extremely awkward if you saw me naked.”

“Good thing I didn’t then.” He rocks back on his heels, hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do. Finally he reaches out to the desk next to him and holds up his black Ray Bans. “Just needed my sunglasses.”

Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Will dance for laughs, won’t eat anything spicy because you asked, but will squeeze boobs in replace of a hug. Grew up in Southern California (Temecula, anyone? Anyone?) lived in New York (the armpit of NY, not the city) and now resides in Colorado with my wife, son, two dogs, three cats, and my multiple book boyfriends. Loves love, anything romantic, and will die if I ever meet Tom Hanks. Yay, books!

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Find me on Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/

COVER REVEAL: Two Wedding Crashers (Dating By Numbers) by Meghan Quinn

Check out this amazing cover for TWO WEDDING CRASHERS by Meghan Quinn! Add it to your TBR today!

TWO WEDDING CRASHERS (Dating by Numbers Book 2)

NA Romantic Comedy

Release: March 11, 2018

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2FgXO0i

BLURB:

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.

Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Will dance for laughs, won’t eat anything spicy because you asked, but will squeeze boobs in replace of a hug. Grew up in Southern California (Temecula, anyone? Anyone?) lived in New York (the armpit of NY, not the city) and now resides in Colorado with my wife, son, two dogs, three cats, and my multiple book boyfriends. Loves love, anything romantic, and will die if I ever meet Tom Hanks. Yay, books!

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Find me on Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/

WAITING ON WEDNESDAY: Two Wedding Crashers (Dating By Numbers #2) by Meghan Quinn

Check out this amazing teaser for TWO WEDDING CRASHERS by Meghan Quinn! Add it to your TBR today!

TWO WEDDING CRASHERS 

(Dating by Numbers Book 2)

NA Romantic Comedy

Release: March 11, 2018

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2FgXO0i

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.

But it will make for one hell of a story....

Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Will dance for laughs, won’t eat anything spicy because you asked, but will squeeze boobs in replace of a hug. Grew up in Southern California (Temecula, anyone? Anyone?) lived in New York (the armpit of NY, not the city) and now resides in Colorado with my wife, son, two dogs, three cats, and my multiple book boyfriends. Loves love, anything romantic, and will die if I ever meet Tom Hanks. Yay, books!

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Find me on Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/

WAITING ON WEDNESDAY: Two Wedding Crashers (Dating by Number #2) by Meghan Quinn

Check out this amazing teaser for TWO WEDDING CRASHERS by Meghan Quinn! Add it to your TBR today!

TWO WEDDING CRASHERS (Dating by Numbers Book 2)

NA Romantic Comedy

Release: March 11, 2018

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2FgXO0i

BLURB:

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.

But it will make for one hell of a story....

Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Will dance for laughs, won’t eat anything spicy because you asked, but will squeeze boobs in replace of a hug. Grew up in Southern California (Temecula, anyone? Anyone?) lived in New York (the armpit of NY, not the city) and now resides in Colorado with my wife, son, two dogs, three cats, and my multiple book boyfriends. Loves love, anything romantic, and will die if I ever meet Tom Hanks. Yay, books!

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Find me on Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/

REVIEW TOUR & 5 STAR REVIEW: Three Blind Dates (Dating by Numbers #1) by Meghan Quinn

We're celebrating the release of THREE BLIND DATES by Meghan Quinn! ONE-CLICK your copy TODAY!

PURCHASE HERE-->

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2ClqVle

Print: http://amzn.to/2zMGs8c

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2lhZQFS

Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/2zOLFMY

Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2zMHf9l

Add it to your TBR--> http://bit.ly/2zY0Zuf

"Good Morning Malibu, it’s another beautiful day on the west coast! I'm Noely Clark, your host: and I'm in the market for love…”

When the publicity team of the new local restaurant, Going in Blind, began their search for a hot, local celebrity to promote the wildly popular eatery, they couldn’t have found a better person than me.

Outgoing? Check.
Single? Check.
Open to finding love? Check.

I signed up immediately.

A hopeless romantic with an exceedingly demanding schedule, I've found it impossible to find the man of my dreams—so Going in Blind seems too good to be true! That’s until they start setting me up on dates—three very different, very attractive, very distinct blind dates—and only one thing is for certain . . .

I’m in big trouble.

Good Morning Malibu,

I'm Noely Clark, and I have a choice to make.

The question is who will I choose; the suit, the rebel, or the jock.

EXCERPT

NOELY

“Just state my name?”

“Yeah. Gives us a quick rundown on who you are, what you do, your interests, and what you’re looking for in a man.”

I nod and clear my throat. Sitting tall, my hands resting in my lap, I speak directly into the camera . . .

“Hi, I’m Noely Clark, and I’m one of your Good Morning, Malibu hosts. As you know, I’m single and in the market for love. As a twenty-seven-year-old woman who has had her fair share of rotten relationships, hookups, and dates, I want to try something new. I want to be thrust into a program where my celebrity status isn’t the first thing someone knows about me, where I can be known for who I am as a person rather than how I’m represented on TV.”

“And who is the person you want to be known for?”

Tilting my head to the side, I purse my lips, thinking of my answer. “Just a regular girl who loves Tom Hanks, would do just about anything adventurous, and would rather be seen eating nachos at a hockey game than enjoying a chardonnay during a classic night at the opera.”

“And what are you looking for in a man?”

Taking a deep breath, I look straight into the camera. “Someone who will cuddle on my couch and watch a classic romcom with me. Someone who will challenge me. Someone who is respectful and courteous to others but also has no qualms about shouting at an official while pounding on the glass at a hockey game. We don’t have to be a perfect match, because when is that really the case? But I want our match to be close with a little bit of wiggle room for some give and take, because what’s love without a little bit of compromise, without being able to adapt to your partner and love what they love? It’s the people in our life who mold us, and I’m far from being molded completely.”

My Review

I received an advanced copy of this book with the promise of an honest review. 

Noely wants to find love, but doing it the traditional way is not working. When a new spin on the whole dating app trend comes up, she takes a chance on it. The result is three blind dates with men who couldn't be more different from each other. Three men who find their way into her heart in their own special way. 

I loved how Meghan used "You Got Mail" in this story. Noely loves everything Tom Hanks and her favorite movie is not only mentioned numerous times throughout the book, but it is also used against her in way that just delighted me. It was such a fun way to draw me into the story and keep me on my toes. 

As a romance reader, when I see things like "The Suit", "The Rebel", and "The Jock", I start to form characters in my head. I've read enough books that a certain type of guy comes to mind for each one. So I went in thinking that I was going to get a certain story and that wasn't the case. Don't let those titles fool you. Each of the guys is way more than that. I loved them all and I want one of each for myself. No really. I laughed. I cried. I swooned. I wanted more. I look forward to reading the subsequent books. 

Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Will dance for laughs, won’t eat anything spicy because you asked, but will squeeze boobs in replace of a hug. Grew up in Southern California (Temecula, anyone? Anyone?) lived in New York (the armpit of NY, not the city) and now resides in Colorado with my wife, son, two dogs, three cats, and my multiple book boyfriends. Loves love, anything romantic, and will die if I ever meet Tom Hanks. Yay, books!

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Find me on Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/