My review for Three Blind Dates By Meghan Quinn- Plus buying links, author information all below:

My review for
Three Blind
Dates
By
Meghan Quinn

5 out of 5 stakes!

This book is cute and has some funny parts. Noely is the main character.
Noely finds herself wanting to settle down and have what her brother has.
She is tired of the bad dates, trying to find the one is hard when she’s a talk show host.

So Noely signs up for this blind date app/restaurant thing. She figures why not? It’s suppose to match you up with the perfect match. Doesn’t hurt to try right? Well first Noely gets paired up with “the suit” who seems perfect for her.
But one slip up on air and it’s off to the second blind date. Which is with”the Rebel” . Now he seems perfect for Noely almost in everyway. However her mind is still on the suit. But things don’t work out the way she wanted them to.

Enter the 3rd date “the Jock”.
Now he seems so great for Noely as well. Meeting three different guys whom are suppose to be perfect for her has its flaws. However just when Noely wants to give up on the dating for awhile she gets a new message from a person saying they want a second chance with her.

Who could it be? She got along with all three guys well enough. Who is trying to win her over?
For me I personally really liked the Jock, I found him to be the sweetest out of the three guys.
I felt like I was on these dates with the guys, the author Meghan did an amazing job.

“There is no way that’s what that line means.”

“It sure as hell does.”

“That’s ridiculous. What, did you study palm reading as well as Spanish?”

He chuckles and says, “I just know things. And that line right there means you’re allergic to coffee.”

I shake my head and laugh. “You’re such a liar.”

He strokes my palm with his finger, running it along every line, making my insides flutter and my breathing pick up with each stroke. He’s so close, his body practically on top of mine, his breath pressed against my ear, his scruff rubbing my skin ever so gently. And me, well, see my hips? Yeah, they’re slowly gyrating in his direction. I would like to blame the margarita, or even the music, but I know that’s not the case. It’s my libido skyrocketing into dangerous territories from the way this man lightly strokes me in just the right way.

“Not a liar, just telling you what I see.”

“Is that so?” I lean in closer and ask, “Then how come I have coffee every morning and I’m fine? Seems to me like you just wanted an excuse to touch me so you pretended to be a palm reader.”

I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.

“You’re right. I did. Now give me a chance to touch you even more.” He retreats from the booth and holds out his hand for me to follow.

I take it without even giving it a second thought. Smiling devilishly, he guides me to the dance floor and immediately spins me into his arms where he takes my hands and links them behind his neck. Pulling me into his body, he places his hands on my hips and presses his forehead against mine.

As if it’s second nature to him, he starts moving us back and forth along the dance floor, his feet effortlessly gliding us. Intimidated at first, after a few passes across the floor, I start to feel the music and my muscles begin to loosen up.

“That’s it,” he whispers just loud enough so I can hear him over the music. “Loosen those hips, Sassy.”

A distinct trumpet and cowbell echo through the room, setting the pace and tone to the dance. It’s fast, yet commanding, encouraging us to grind together, and that’s what Beck does. His hands slide from my hips to my butt where he grips tightly and pulls me flush against his crotch. With my legs entwined with his, we stay in place as our hips gyrate together.

Breathless and turned on, I match his gaze with mine, his seductive eyes penetrating any last wall I might have had before this date, and for once in a long time, I let loose . . . completely.

“Just like that. God, you look so sexy.”

Leaning my head back, I let my hair fall behind me and give it a little shake before lifting my head back up and meeting his lust-filled, greedy eyes. His hands grip my butt tighter and I’m greeted by a noticeable hard-on.

I did that to him, and if that isn’t a turn-on, I don’t know what is.

My fingers start to play with his hair, twisting and turning the short strands, causing his eyes to haze over. Is it weird I want more? That even though our pelvises are pressed against each other, I want to be closer?

The music now flowing through me, controlling my every movement, I glide my hands down to his shirt where my fingers dexterously undo two more of his buttons, exposing more of his tan skin, his necklace in full view now. It’s a medallion I can’t quite make out, but it doesn’t matter right now, because all I care about is the muscular expanse of chest in front of me.

I slip my fingers inside his shirt and dance them across his chest, feeling the sinew of muscles flex with every move we make together.

When one of my fingers accidentally caresses one of his nipples, he growls into my ear and turns me around in his arms, causing me to temporarily lose my breath, that’s until his hands find mine again, securing my butt right against his crotch. I sigh and loop my hand around me to the back of his neck, anchoring me in place while he swivels our hips together, his lips pressed against my ear.

“Fuck, you feel good against me,” he whispers. His breath sends chills up and down my entire body as the music continues to guide me.

I push my butt even harder against his erection, heavy and obvious, swiveling my hips, loving the way I can feel his excitement so easily. I love that I affect him like this.

I’ve never been with a man so comfortable in his own skin that he doesn’t care about how I affect him. It’s like he’s proud of it. Of us.

It’s extremely rewarding.

Feeling the music, we dance slowly in tandem, letting the beat guide us. Still hanging on to him, my other hand now on top of one of his, he starts to feel the length of my leg, his body bending just slightly to reach the hem of my dress. When he moves his hand under the fabric, my breath stills for a second before he pulls away and lifts his hand back up my body until both of his hands reach my ribcage.

Oh God.

His head peers over my shoulder, his eyes trained down the valley of my cleavage. “I told you this dress was going to get you into trouble tonight and the way you’re moving against me, my self-control is slipping, Sassy.”

Taking a deep breath, I move his hand farther up my body and say, “Then let your will slip.”

“Fuck,” he growls into my ear, letting his hand move to just below my breasts. I suck in a breath from the contact and wait for him to move a little higher, but he doesn’t. Instead, he swivels his hips with mine and moves his hands down my sides until they’re resting on my thighs, his thumbs closing in on the juncture between my legs.

The heat level between us rises to inferno in the matter of seconds and my skin starts to prickle with need, a yearning I haven’t felt since . . . well since Jack, but before that, since I can’t remember.

“I don’t know how much more dancing I can do with you,” he says into my ear. “I’m about to combust here.”

I turn in his arms and look straight at him. “Then let’s get out of here.”

The way the words fall off my tongue sound so foreign to me, but then again, there’s not a chance in hell I want to take them back.

ABOUT MEGHAN QUINN:

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

Facebook | Follow on Goodreads | Amazon Author Page | Instagram | Follow on BookBub

GOODREADS – http://bit.ly/2zY0Zuf

AMAZON – http://amzn.to/2EhjKIK

AMAZON PRINT – http://amzn.to/2DyQpbC

AMAZON UK: http://amzn.to/2CndvFm

AMAZON AUSTRALIA: http://amzn.to/2lqYMyy

Advertisements

Published by

thebookslayersite

I love reading lots of different books and writing books. I like chatting with lots of people about books,writing,music. Feel free to email me at thebookslayer77@gmail.com check out my Instagram @thebookslayer77 Twitter - @thebookslayer77 https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC1bKOqqt5qxmaM5QC0q6oBA

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s