Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | You Again |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Lauren Layne |
| Language: | English |
| ISBN/ ASIN: | B09RTN65QX |
| Book Information: | |
They have to stop meeting like this. After a disastrous meet-cute turns into repeated meetings, a flighty free-spirit and a stodgy rule-follower come to realize that one they can't get away from ... is the one they can't live without. • • • Mackenzie ‘Mac’ Austin just wants what any modern, commitment-phobic woman in New York wants: a no-strings-attached hook-up, steamy enough to brag about over mimosas the next morning. What she doesn’t want is her dating app’s latest suggestion: preppy, corporate Thomas Decker. So, obviously, she rejects the guy without a second thought. There’s just one snag: he’s sitting next to her, so he witnessed her do it. And now he’s calling her out. After the initial embarrassment, Mac is determined not to let it bother her, but Fate has other plans – and Thomas isn’t going anywhere. First, he pops up as her new boss. And then he reappears as her best friend’s soon-to-be brother-in-law. As the not-so meet cutes add up, Mac is sure that uptight Thomas is the last man that a free-spirit like her should want. Only the more time she spends with him, the more Mac realizes that the man she can’t get away from has become the same one that she wants to keep close… | |
| Books by Author: | Lauren Layne |
CHAPTER ONE
Friday, September 9
“Another Malbec?”
I glance up from my phone at the bartender, and the fact that she already has the wine bottle poised over my glass makes me think I’m not doing a great job of hiding the fact that I’ve just been stood up.
I smile and nod in thanks as she tops my glass off rather generously, then turn my attention back to my phone.
God bless Collette. My best friend has maintained a reassuring, steady barrage of messages, all of the men can rot variety.
Indeed.
But whereas my best friend is blowing up my phone in grand style, my date, on the other hand, remains steadily, painfully silent.
I suck in my cheeks, and for the tenth time, debate the possibility of texting him. Just something cute and nonchalant. Hey, did we cross wires? Hey, am I at the right place? Hey, did I get the wrong date?
If I tack a casual lol on the end of it. That erases any note of vulnerability, right?
Haha, whoops, did my assistant put the wrong date in my calendar, lol.
There! I start to type. That’s downright breezy.
With a little groan of disgust, I delete the message without hitting send. I don’t even have an assistant.
I take a sip of wine and say a regretful goodbye to the opportunity to explore Kris Powers’ intriguing tattoos up close and personal tonight. I suppose that’s what I get for crushing on a trainer at my gym. If I’ve learned anything from my flaky, free-spirited mother, it’s to never pursue a man who’s better-looking than you.
But oh, how I like the pretty bad boys.
Give me a guy with too-long hair, an aversion to razors, and an inked-up, sculpted bicep, and I end up, well . . . here. Nursing wine, alone, because I’ve got a soft spot for men I can’t count on.
Like mother, like daughter . . .
It’s the way of us Austin ladies. The “settle down” gene skipped right on by us. In place of the commitment chromosome, we got what I like to think is a charming blend of wild child and free spirit.
I mean, we’re not feral. It’s just that our romantic philosophy leans towards love the one you’re with, and love translates more to, well, sex.
But I’m not a cynic. Really, I’m not. I believe in happily-ever-after! I just don’t happen to believe that happily-ever-after has to involve a man—or at least not be limited to one man.
Which is why my below-the-waist parts are disappointed at Kris’s no-show, but there will be no mourning beyond a brief case of Lady Blue Balls.
There are, after all, always other fish in the sea.
And in Manhattan? There are a whole lotta fish. And I know just where to find them: TapThat.
As in, my favorite dating app of late.
Yeah, yeah. I know. Classy.
But also? Sort of addicting.
TapThat happily exploits our human proclivity for snap decisions and gut reactions. You’re presented with a potential match, and then you get five seconds and only five seconds to decide whether you’re feeling it.
Double tap for hell yeah, or do nothing and the guy fades away.
Is it the most cerebral and thoughtful of dating apps? Nah. In fact, it’s quickly developed a reputation as the hookup app more than the meet-your-future-spouse app, but as we’ve established, that suits me just fine.
Especially on nights like tonight when I have no intention of letting my cute, lacy thong go unseen all because of a flaky gym rat.
I open the app, thumb at the ready. I know within a half second that the first match is a no. The guy is probably sweet, but I’m definitely not into the bright coral bow tie.
The second guy warrants two seconds of deliberation—the body’s an A-plus, but the purposeful way he’s leaning against a shiny red car gives me the sense he knows more about how Porsche’s parts work than my parts, if you get what I’m saying.
I let him fade away.
A third comes up and he’s an immediate double tap. Oh mama. But he’s also a long shot. He looks like a young Idris Elba, and I’m like, a 6.5 on a really good day.
I’ll need a backup plan, so I move onto Guy #4, who’s an eventual yes, earning a double tap just as his image starts to fade away. I’m a sucker for hair falling out of a man bun, but my loins aren’t exactly throbbing at the popped collar of his baby blue polo.
One more, just to build my safety net.
Guy #5 is . . . hmm.
The eyes are amazing, I’ll give him that. That sort of muted pale blue that looks almost gray. But he’s also super intense, and his unimaginative haircut and gray suit have him looking a bit like a stock photo for “successful businessman.”
My thumb stays still without tapping, and I let him fade into obscurity.