Title: The Matchmakers Playbook
Series: A Wingmen Inc. Novel
Author: Rachel Van Dyken
Publisher: Skyscape
Genre: NA, Contemporary, Romance, Sports
Expected Release Date: 5th April 2016
BLURB supplied by Inkslinger PR
Wingman rule number one: don’t fall for
a client.
After a career-ending accident, former
NFL recruit Ian Hunter is back on campus—and he’s ready to get his new game on.
As one of the masterminds behind Wingmen, Inc., a successful and secretive
word-of-mouth dating service, he’s putting his extensive skills with women to
work for the lovelorn.
But when Blake Olson requests the
services of Wingmen, Inc., Ian may have landed his most hopeless client yet.
From her frumpy athletic gear to her
unfortunate choice of footwear, Blake is going to need a miracle if she wants
to land her crush. At least with a professional matchmaker by her side she has
a fighting chance. Ian knows that his advice and a makeover can turn Blake into
another successful match. But as Blake begins the transformation from hot mess
to smokin’ hot, Ian realizes he’s in danger of breaking his cardinal rule…
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CHECKOUT THE BOOK TRAILER
The Matchmaker's Playbook by Rachel Van Dyken
from Becca the Bibliophile on Vimeo.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
from Becca the Bibliophile on Vimeo.
Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times,
Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and
contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee
at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her
Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!
Want to be kept up to date on new
releases? Text MAFIA to 66866!
You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin
Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com
.
Links:
EXCERPT
Blake let out another pitiful groan. “I
don’t think it fits.”
“They measured you. It fits. Just, tell
me if it looks okay so we can go.” I checked my watch. “Gabi said dinner was at
six, and it’s already a quarter till.”
“This is too much pressure.” Her voice
was frantic. “I can’t do this. I mean, how do I know if it looks good? They’re
boobs.”
I groaned. “Boobs always look good.
Believe me.”
“Boobs are gross!”
Said no man ever. Even the gay ones.
One of the salesladies eyed me up and
down. “Are you two okay?”
“Great,” I chirped. “Just having a very
heated discussion about the beauty of breasts.” I dipped my chin to Blake’s
chest. “What are you? A double D?”
Scowling, she marched off.
Thank God.
“Blake,” I hissed.
No answer.
I’d never had such a difficult client.
If anything, they jumped when I told them to, asked how high, and then kept
jumping until I was satisfied. Blake fought me at every turn.
“Open the door before I crawl underneath
it. I’ll pick the bras, you can close your eyes if you want so you don’t have
to watch me look at you, alright? My stomach literally just ate my liver. I
need protein. Open. The. Door.”
The door slowly creaked open. Taking
advantage of the small crack of air, I pushed it farther, then clicked it shut
behind me and turned around.
Blake was facing me, hands on hips, face
beet-red, body . . . freaking perfect. My tongue almost lolled out, like a dog.
Most girls starve themselves to have abs
like that, which was disgusting. But her abs? They had muscle, actual muscle,
but still appeared feminine.
She also had a nice tan, just enough to
show that she spent time outside or maybe just had naturally darker skin.
My throat went completely dry as I
continued to stare.
“Well?” Her voice was weak. “How awful
do I look? On a scale of one to ten?”
I’d convinced her to buy some new
workout clothes to replace her old ones. I knew I’d never get her to actually
completely change her style. She liked workout clothes? Fine, at least buy the
kind that fit and actually point to the correct gender. I tried to steer her
away from the boyfriend sweats and sweatshirts, but she eventually wore me
down, so I told her if she bought at least five new Pink outfits that had
spandex in them, I’d let her get one pair of ugly slouchy sweats. You’d think
I’d just given her a million dollars, from her reaction.
Currently, she was sporting a short pair
of bright-blue yoga shorts.
And a black push-up sports bra that did
wonders for her boobs.
And the world just in general.
Holy shit.
I gulped as I became more and more
irritated with the fact that my body was reacting as if it had never seen a
girl without her shirt on before. “Blake, it’s great.”
“You sound bored!”
I had to, damn it! What did she want me
to do? Sound interested? Turned-on? Intrigued? Curious? I was all those things.
I just tried to ignorethe insanity bouncing around in my head and blurted,
“Your boobs look really good. Perky, happy, just . . . awesome.”
Did I just call her boobs “happy”?
“You think?” She stared down at her
breasts, then grabbed them.
Holy shit, was she seriously feeling
herself up? I braced my hand against the door and sucked in a breath.
“They still feel comfortable,” she said.
“Do they?” I managed to choke out while
she continued bouncing them a bit in her hands. Dear Lord, did she know what
she was doing? Waving a flag in front of a bull. My jeans suddenly tight in all
the wrong areas, I tried to envision Lex naked, anything to get my dick to clue
in to the word “client,” meaning I was in a no-play zone.
Another first.
It was because I was hungry.
And Marissa? Melissa? Hadn’t satisfied
me. I’d gotten off, and made sure she did too, but the entire experience left
me feeling empty, bored, and—if I was being completely honest? A bit depressed.
Besides, her tits paled in comparison. I had to wonder what the hell I’d been
doing all my life if this was the first time I was having such a strong
reaction to boobs.
Something about Blake had me wondering
if I’d been satisfied at all up until this point. And I had no idea what the
hell was so confusing about her, and about the situation. I was unable to put
my finger on it, and the more I thought about it the more my head hurt.
Hunger does weird things to guys.
“Yeah.” More bouncing, then turning and
staring in the mirror. I wasn’t sure what was worse. Her staring at her own
boobs or touching them. “I’m just no good at this stuff. I didn’t grow up with
a mom, and I hit puberty really early. The girls made fun of me, and the boys
pointed.” Her shoulders slumped inward again.
Could we please go back to the bouncing?
I was a fan of that Blake. The one that rolled up like an awkward armadillo?
Not so much.
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