BLOG TOUR WITH EXCERPT: So Not Meant To Be by Meghan Quinn
SO NOT MEANT TO BE, a sexy new enemies-to-lovers standalone romance from USA Today Bestselling Author, Meghan Quinn, is available now!
“So tell me, Kelsey, what are you looking for in a man?”
From USA Today and Amazon Charts bestselling author Meghan Quinn, comes a fresh take on a romantic comedy classic, When Harry Met Sally. This steamy, laugh-out-loud, enemies to lovers romance is about an annoyingly handsome coworker and the woman who refuses to be charmed by him.
Am I friends with JP Cane?
Ha! That’s laughable.
Besides the fact that he’s adopted some far-fetched notion from the movie When Harry Met Sally that says men and women can’t be friends and work together, it’s safe to say we’re not friends. He’s annoyingly loud, obnoxiously handsome, and has made an art out of poking all my hot buttons . . . multiple times a day.
So you can imagine how disgruntled I am when I not only have to fly to San Francisco with him for work, but stay in the same penthouse. Yup, we’re sharing the same air, twenty-four-seven. We’re talking full-fledged working roommates.
The man doesn’t know what it means to wear a shirt, thrives off protein bars, and you guessed it, moans loud enough for people to believe he’s Meg Ryan in a restaurant.
Spoiler Alert: I WON’T be having what he’s having.
Tack on his continuous flirting and his polished good looks, and I’m caught staring down the barrel of a seductive temptation that makes it hard for me to sleep at night.
But guess who can control herself? This girl.
Because if there is one thing I know for certain, it’s that JP Cane and I are so not meant to be.
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“…a highly-entertaining, heart-string-pulling, hotter-than-heck romcom.” ~Danielle, Red Cheeks Reads
EXCERPT:
Am I attracted to JP? That would be a definite no. “You really think there’s an attraction between us?” I ask.
“Babe, I can smell the sexual chemistry, and because it’s so palpable, so thick, so . . . musky—”
“Eww, it’s not musky.” What am I saying? It’s not anything. There’s no chemistry. Nothing is palpable, and there’s absolutely no thickness . . . none. Nor is anything musky. Who even describes attraction as musky? But he ignores me and continues his far-fetched diatribe.
“We can’t possibly be work friends because the attraction between us will always and forever put the thought of sex on the table.”
This time I hold back my snort and let silence fill the air for a few breaths before I close the space between us until our faces are only a few inches apart. Despite him being almost a foot taller than I am, I can still look him in the eyes as I ask, “Are you feverish? Is that what’s happening? You’ve come down with something and this is how you act?”
“I’m a specimen of health. You should know that. You check me out enough.”
“I do not.” I don’t. Just need to make that clear. I really don’t. He guffaws, a sound so annoying that my molars grind together.
“Why do you think my sleeves are rolled up right now?”
I glance down at his inked forearms—okay, sure, those are sexy, probably the best thing about the man. That’s it, though, the forearms.
