It is truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a dead-end job, shoebox studio apartment, and zany, intensely loyal friends, must be in want of a man.
But in my wildest dreams, I never expected that man to remember me selling overpriced KoolAid in my Rainbow Brite underpants when I was six years old. Life is unpredictable.
Fraser Drake was the least sexy boy when we were growing up: all elbows and knees and khaki pleats and debate club. But right now, in my mother's kitchen, he's never looked hotter, more irresistible. Granted, he's looking down on me as I expertly dance the sock hop scene from Grease. But behind those layers of haughty indifference, I detect the hint of lust.
He is everything I never knew I wanted. Since I met him, my feet haven't touched the ground and my smile hasn't left my face. His laugh is like a well-aged scotch, and I have a feeling I could get drunk on it.
If a Pride and Prejudice/Bridget Jones’s Diary mash-up but with more sex, sexual tension, and sexy sex, sounds good to you, you've come to the right place.
Romantic comedies can be tough. In order to be funny, the characters have to be a little silly, or over the top...and this can make them hard to relate to. In order for the characters to be both relateable and feel like you are reading a romance, the humor and the romance have to work together.
This is a tough challenge, and one that Poppy Dunne masters very well. As always.
Fraser and Emma knew one another when they were younger. But, as happens when the geeky friend becomes the hot guy in the kitchen, she doesn't immediately recognize him. Although she immediately lusts after him.
Fraser feels the same way, he is bemused by Emma, and I think a little surprised that he is as attracted to her as he is, and this lets him see all of her quirks and amusing thought patterns as amusing rather than off putting.
Add in trust issues after a situation in Fraser's past, a lecherous boss, and a mother who is, well, not exactly supportive of Emma and her life choices and you have a couple of people who are both a little guarded. While the funny thoughts are Emma, they are also Emma's way of hiding behind the humor. Fraser sees her for who she is, and likes her, while forgetting that it is possible for Emma to see him, and like him, for who he is.
Watching Emma figure out she is lovable even if she isn't being funny and watching Fraser figure out that in order for someone to trust him, he has to be willing to trust them makes for a fun ride...and for one that is just a little deeper than you think it is going to be when you start the book.
Also, thanks Poppy. I snort laughed while drinking a margarita at the Fight Club reference.
I laughed and cried my way through this title. I enjoyed it, and I recommend it.
Emma is by far one of my favorite female characters I've read. She's quirky. She's smart. She's funny as all get out. Her humor is her defense and that worked for her really well. This is a character I'd want to be friends with, someone I'd want to go grab a drink with and just have a good time.
Fraser was equally great. I admire authors who can get inside the male POV and I think Poppy did a wonderful job with that here. He's been hurt in the past and that colors his judgment for a bit, but haven't we all been there? He provides a great balance to Poppy and it just works.
The banter between these two had me in stitches. They have a fantastic chemistry between them as well and the banter just adds to that. I appreciated their connection and I loved watching them navigate their way through their relationship.
The secondary characters in this book enhance Emma and Fraser. They give us an understanding as to why Fraser and Emma became the people that they became. While I wanted to slap some of them at times, they truly served their purpose well.
The writing here was on point. It flowed so very well. The pacing worked and honestly, I just loved this plot. I just loved it.
This book was fabulous. It's my favorite from this author yet. It was laugh out loud funny and had me swooning and sighing. I loved this book and absolutely recommend it.
AMAZON US: http://amzn.to/2ovPi7l
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Fraser was looking like a granite block of control before; at my words, he’s still got that chiseled expression, but it’s wonderful to see the light come back into his eyes. The hot, sexy light smoldering in those (warm, brown) eyes that are set in that (handsome, sculpted, take-me-now) face is enough to melt any woman’s heart. And panties.
“Thank you.” He gathers me against him, and kisses me. The first brush of lips is a quick reassurance, almost sweet. Then, the second time, it becomes deeper and slower. The heat turns up as he gathers a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back. I gasp, grazing his lower lip with my teeth. His whole body vibrates with that. We kiss again, falling deeper and deeper into each other. I start pulling at his tie, and have it off in seconds. He slides out of his jacket, which falls to the floor. Don’t worry, all my sweatpants and discarded bras will keep it company.
I really should clean up more. But not right now. Right now, sex is all I can think about, and clothes just get in the way of sex. It’s math.
Fraser stills as I unbutton his shirt, giving myself a glimpse of that rock hard, sculpted physique that I find I happily can’t get enough of. I’m like Pavlov’s dog now: whenever someone takes a shirt off, I start drooling.
I had to try to curb that last time Fraser and I had sex. It almost got awkward.
With my help, Fraser strips off his dastardly shirt in a matter of seconds. I shiver as my fingers play up the contours of his abs, his chest. I trail my touch down the steel and silk muscles of his arms. Holy shit, this man must work out a ton.
And to that I say: huzzah.
“I’m feeling a bit more exposed than you,” Fraser whispers in my ear, kissing down my neck. In a flash, he helps pull my shirt over my head, and a second later, I slide out of my work skirt. Now in only bra and panties, I gasp as Fraser picks me up. My legs straddle his waist as he carries me to the bed, and lays me down…on top of more crinkling cellophane.
“How many Doritos do you consume in a week?” His eyes stay molten as he says it, the desire in his voice never losing its edge. Apparently snacking is the most erotic thing on the planet. Lucky, lucky me.
“Some of these are Fritos,” I whisper back.
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