Title: The Matchmaker's Playbook
Author: Rachel Van Dyken
Series: Wingmen Inc. Book One
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Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1V6UCs6
Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/1QS5BTc
Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/1MipuP3
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1V6UCs6
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Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/1MipuP3
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…
The Matchmaker's Playbook is the first in a new series from one of my favorite authors, Rachel Van Dyken. Former NFL recruit, Ian, runs a secretive dating service and gets in over his head when he takes on unpolished Blake as a client. Professional lines quickly blur and these two must navigate through the tangled web of feelings before both end up losing.
I have always been a fan of Van Dyken's novels, so I was thrilled to get my hands on her latest release. She knows how to write characters that push my buttons and both infuriate and endear me. Full disclosure -- at times while reading, I wanted Ian to get punched in the jewels. His attitude at times was arrogant and pompous and made me want his ego to be obliterated just to teach him humility. At the same time, this man knows defeat and has the kind of loss that forces you to reevaluate your life, your goals, and your self.
Blake is the perfect heroine complement to Ian. Bless her heart. I can relate to her laid back exterior as I will opt for sweats and a t-shirt over heels any day. While reading, I easily fell in like with her. I never once stopped rooting for her to find her inner beauty and reach her full potential. I can't lie, at times, I cringed at her less than graceful moments. Bless her heart.
This story had everything for me. The characters attitudes and behaviors challenged me. The moments where I disagreed with them were the moments that made me connect with them the most by the end of their story. This story line is easy to get swept in to. There's plenty of drama and humor balanced with some serious passion and chemistry. Readers of all genres will love what is contained between the pages of this novel!
I can't wait for the next installment in this series. The Matchmaker's Playbook is another stellar read from the incredible Rachel Van Dyken!
“What are you doing in my room?” Her voice
was accusatory low, and kind of sexy—if I closed my eyes
and thought of it belonging to a different body.
“You mean Gabi’s room?”
“No.” Her nostrils flared. “My room.”
“And you are?” I held out my hand, because I
was a gentleman first, a certifiable man-whore second, and because my grandma
used to swat my ass every time I introduced myself without a firm handshake.
Her eyes widened as she stared at my naked
body.
“Fine,” I said with a half shrug and then
stood. “But I literally only have three minutes
before Gabi hands me my ass. You want the bed or the floor, since you’re
already there?”
And Gabi said I wasn’t charitable enough?
Damn, look at me, just ready to hand out orgasms for free.
“What?” New girl’s wide roaming eyes finally
lifted to meet mine. Damn, some people charge for that kind of
staring. “What are you talking about?”
“Okay, now we’re down to about two and a half
minutes. I’m not gonna say it won’t be difficult, but I could probably do
something that would at least conjure up a little panting. Maybe a scream or
two.”
“Scream?” she said, her eyebrows drawing
together. “What are you talking about? And why are you naked?”
“I was looking for clothes before you barged
in on me.”
“In my room.”
“Look.” I glanced at my watch. “Now we’re
really getting into dangerous territory. I’ve been nicknamed Superman in bed,
but I’m not actually sure I can do a repeat of 2014, though I’d love to add
another instance to the record books. So if we’re going to do this, you need to
hurry up and take at least your shirt off.”
“Are you”—her cheeks reddened—“a stripper for
the party?”
Hmm. The idea had merit. I could do a free
show, which would make me a saint, considering what I typically charge each
client.
“No.” I held out my hand. When she didn’t take
it, I took it upon myself to lift her from the floor and onto her feet.
She kicked. She even tried to bite me.
“There we go. A little enthusiasm!”
“Put me down!” She jerked away from me.
I set her away from me and crossed my arms.
“Sorry, time’s up. You have ten seconds left, and even I can’t perform a
miracle of this”—I pointed at her baggy shirt, baggy shirts, and, holy shit,
was she wearing tube socks?—“caliber.” I swallowed. “Just a guess, but were you
homeschooled?”
Her face reddened with either embarrassment or
anger. “No! And I live here. This is my room!”
“But it’s Gabi’s room.”
“We switched this morning!” She stomped her
foot. The girl was wearing old-school Adidas
flip-flops.
They still made those? Huh. It was like seeing a real live T.
rex.
“Why are you staring at my feet?”
“They have to be worth a mint by now.” I tapped my chin and
continued staring at the ugly rubber flip-flops. “Impressive. Really
impressive.”
“Are you even listening to me?” she shrieked. “Put some clothes
on and get out of my room. Or don’t put clothes on and just get out of my room.
Whichever.”
“Exactly.” I nodded seriously. “I was just about to do that when
you tumbled in. Now,” I said slowly, “you say you switched rooms?”
She nodded.
“Which makes Gabi’s room . . . ?”
She pointed down the hall. I had a brief moment of recollection
in which Gabi had mentioned something about switching to the smaller room
because the two new roommates were going to share.
“Ah, you must be Serena.”
“Blake,” she growled. “Serena’s blonde.”
I’d have bet she was hot too. Serena was a hot-girl name. Blake?
It was what you named a girl that you thought was going to be a boy and
therefore projected all your boyhood dreams onto her. Ten bucks that her dad
had made her play every sport in the book and she was either the product of
divorce or single parenting.
“Why are you still standing here . . . naked?”
This time she looked away, covering her face with her hands.
“What’s wrong with being naked? You do know you were born that
way, right?”
“Just”—she didn’t look again, but pointed at the door—“go.”
“Your loss.” I laughed. “Could have rocked your world.”
“My world doesn’t need rocking.”
I paused midway through the door and turned back, moving in
close, making sure my breath would blow across her neck as I whispered, “Now
that’s where you’re wrong, Blake. Every girl needs to allow her world to be rocked,
at least once. Or if said rocking is coming from me? Twice.”
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!
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