28 Dates, a captivating all-new friends-to-lovers romance by Stacey Lynn is now live!
In the age of apps and social media, how many dates does it take to find â€œthe oneâ€? The author of Knocked Up and Fake Wife swipes right on love with a captivating friends-to-lovers tale.
Caitlin Pappas is a lifelong commitment-phobe. The closest thing sheâ€™s had to a relationship in the last few years was a friends-with-benefits thing that fizzled out because the guy wanted more. So when she and her best friend design a new app that promises to find â€œthe oneâ€ in 28 Dates, Caitlin is the perfect guinea pig. Little does she know that she may have already met her match. . . .
Jonas Reeves has tried his best to move on after Caitlin didnâ€™t want take things to the next level. Now they really are just friends . . . without benefits. Caitlinâ€™s even a regular at his bar, The Dirty Martini. But when he learns that Caitlin plans to beta-test a new dating app on his home turf, Jonas senses a golden opportunity to win her heart. Even if he has to slide into her DMs to do it. . . .
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Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2IsV1DS Amazon Worldwide: https://mybook.to/28Dates iBooks: https://apple.co/2zJHLYR Nook: http://bit.ly/2Nf1L9b Kobo: http://bit.ly/2NUKjMx Google Play: http://bit.ly/2xU12Fz
Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2IsKTLf
She nods against my chest and mumbles something I canâ€™t understand since her face is smashed to my coat. I lean back, brushing hair off her face. â€œWhat was that?â€ Her lips pull to one side, and then she nibbles on her bottom lip. â€œI asked if you wanted to come in.â€ Fucking hell. Sheâ€™s killing me. My hands are at the sides of her face. â€œYouâ€™re drunk.â€ â€œIâ€™m not that drunk.â€ If I wanted to be any other guy for her, hell, even how we used to be, the answer would be so easy. My dick already thinks the answer is obvious. Iâ€™m hard as a rock just from hugging her and getting to hold her for the first time in so long. â€œI canâ€™t, Caitlin.â€ She blinks and looks away, frowning. â€œI figured. Of course you donâ€™t.â€ â€œHey.â€ I pull her back and bend down so Iâ€™m close to her. So damn close I could easily press my lips against her, slide my tongue into her mouth, feel her small but strong fingers dig into my hips. Visions and ideas of what I want to do to her body flash in my mind so quickly I groan. â€œI canâ€™t go inside with you, honey. I donâ€™t want to go back to what we used to have. You mean too much to me.â€ She closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, any hope or emotion is gone. â€œI understand.â€ She doesnâ€™t. Caitlin canâ€™t have any clue of what she means to me or what I want from her, and the time for this conversation is not when she can barely stand. But soon, very soon, because thereâ€™s no
way I can continue this charade for much longerâ€”especially if it means seeing her prance into Dirtyâ€™s with more guys. Before I know it, sheâ€™s on her tiptoes, and her lips brush against mine. I inhale the sweet scent of her perfume, and itâ€™s impossible to deny her. My hands yank her to me and I step backward, pulling her into her apartment. The door slams closed behind us, and her back is against it. Sheâ€™s already rolling her hips, and Iâ€™m swallowing her groans as she takes mine, accepting my tongue that I slide against her lips. And fucking hell in a handbasket. Sheâ€™s fire and ice and even drunk sheâ€™s still the best damn kisser. Itâ€™s the kind of kiss that boils my blood and shoots desire straight down my spine. I pull back, breathless. â€œWe canâ€™t,â€ I say, although Iâ€™m gasping and my hips have her pinned to the door. â€œI canâ€™t do this with you, Caitlin. Not like this.â€ With secrets and uncertainties. I press my head against her forehead even as her hands slide to my waist. â€œI miss it,â€ she says, and itâ€™s so sweet, so sad and faint, I want to fall to my knees and explain everything, carry her to bed, and make it all better.
About the Author
When Stacey Lynn isnâ€™t conquering mountains of laundry and fighting a war against dust bunnies and cracker crumbs, you can find her playing with her children, curled up on the couch with a good book, or behind closed doors, imagining the next adventures sheâ€™ll soon write.
She lives off her daily pot of coffee, can only write with a bowlful of Skittles nearby, and has been in love with romance novels since before she could drive herself to the library.
Stacey Lynn lives with her husband and children in North Carolina.
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