Want to know a secret?
It’s about that girl over there.
Don’t look, but she’s the one in the power suit—with the long, black hair and the serious expression, the one I’m about to go on a date with . . .
Yeah, according to her, she “accidentally” donated an obscene amount of money to my charity — The Lineup — to win said date but I found out the truth. Miss. Button Up Blouse has a secret, passionate crush on me.
I didn’t know her name until two days ago, despite the friends we have in common.
Was I oblivious? Probably.
Was I blind to it? Definitely.
But I’m no fool, I see it now. The High Heel Harlot wants more than just a date with Jason Orson, she wants to be able to claim the best butt in baseball as hers.
Here’s another secret . . . she has no idea I know.
Romance | Contemporary | New Adult | Sports Romance
***Received an Advanced Readers Copy through author’s reader group in exchange for an honest review***
Oh my lanta, can Meghan Quinn be more amazing? Seriously, cue the borderline obsession. I have been in a reading slump for well over a month now and if I knew all I needed was a sports themed RomCom – well lets step back, because lets be real, I obviously just needed The Lineup in my life. That is what I was missing.
Okay, where to start – oh with Jason. That’s right, this book boyfriend is by far the best human ever imagined. I am not sure if my rambling excitement will convey how amazing Jason is, but lets see if I can…because Jason, my furry friends, it the sweetest, very sensitive hunk of man meat that melts my heart as much as he is the perfect wet dream. And the man cooks! Who needs a woman in the kitchen making me a sammich, we have Jason and tator salad, and this cook comes naked in a apron with mittens.
I seriously don’t think any fictional male is this amazing. Right at the start, he is a charmer, obviously he is a great charismatic personality. The way he treats everyone is really great, he cares for his friends and his family. His dynamic is just so many levels that he is simply a whirlwind of entertainment.
I know, but ten days has felt like ten years. And I thought wearing my green sweater to Friendsgiving would be a nice pick-me-up but you just peed all over that idea.
But what else can make me swoon? Oh well easy, Dottie. This woman is everything; step aside Jason, not only are you my book boyfriend, Dottie holds a special spot in my heart. As someone within the corporation America myself, the cutthroat, cold exterior personality is something that I love seeing in fictional female leads. Dottie is absolutely the easiest character I have ever connected with on such an emotional, mental level. I could relate towards her personality so easily, not just with her work ethic, but how she treats people in her circle. She was jaded and she really does have this barrier, always keeping everyone at a distance, it was just heartbreaking as it was comparable to myself.
Don’t get me wrong though, she may appear to have this rude, almost conceited dynamic, but honestly she is so easy to adore once she really starts to open up. She has such a great sense of humor, she is also kind as she is sweet. Dottie is just such a full circle, multi-dimensional lead that I idolized.
You know, I don’t have to take this kind of abuse…. I hope Knox has limp dick for the rest f the night – You’re attached to her. And you listen up, Know Gentry, you better not tell Jason about any of this, or else I’ll wish worse things than limp dick on you – A one-fifty batting average.
The romance between Dottie and Jason blindsided me. Dottie obviously had a crush on Jason way back in college, and now as adults, she still has a boner for the guy, but after the description of the towel picture, who could blame her. But even though she still finds herself attracted to the Jason, she tries to deny it, even causes this aggressive tension filled atmosphere for a good chunk of the build. It was hilariously entertaining at this teasing, push pull chemistry. Then as the chemistry started to shift, Jason started to peel back those ogre layers, both really start to develop stronger feelings, which leads to awkward advances, hilariously cute moments, and yet more cringe worthy conversations.
Once things really heated up though, whew, these two had the perfect everything. The sexual playful scenes to the all out rabbit actions, they had me drooling. It took forever for either to really make a move that I was sitting there on the edge of my seat screaming “NOT THE COLLARBONE – WTF?”… I could not get enough and their drama crushed me! Seeing them fight, seeing them suffer, ugh, I wasn’t prepared for the feels. Their relationship was the right amount of perfection, everything you expect from a RomCom in my opinion. It had feels, passion, angst, drama and hilarious shenanigans.
And obviously, this The Lineup would be nothing without some secondary character dynamics, it is the entire gang too, I’m swooning. Knox and Emory, Milly and Carson, and some Lindsey! Gah, I am just head over heels in love with everything about this group of shenanigans. Not only does the bromance still hold strong, because man, those moments between Knox, Carson and Jason is beyond extraordinary, I laughed so hard but then you had the brutal dynamic of powerhouse chicks, its like a chickmance – can that be a valid word, because I am going with it. I have said it before and I will say it again, Meghan Quinn makes some of the best friendship dynamics that it honestly makes the secondary characters just as memorable as the main characters. I cannot get enough.
I’m up for a bro weekend. Then I wouldn’t have to see the deep eye-roll your daughter gives me on a constant basis…Do you mind sharing underwear with another man? Because I’m game.
If you cannot tell, The Lineup stole my heart. Meghan Quinn you adorable woman you; I didn’t think anything could top The Lineup, then you gave me The Dougout, and because I could say you couldn’t outshine it, you gave me this gem. This book was everything for me, especially considering the hardcore slump I have been, I literally wanted nothing to read let alone a romance and then I was blindsided by how much I am obsessed with The Lineup, but honestly, at his point I shouldn’t be surprised.
Again I say, if you have not picked up this series, I highly recommend that you do. At the start you are guaranteed laughs until your stomach cramps by the time you find yourself invested, you will be melting from glee or tearing up from the feels. Loved every page.
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It isn’t in my nature to cry over burnt ham, but here I am, tearing up like a jackass, because the meal I’ve been reluctantly slaving over for the past four hours is two shades away from charred dust.
I had it all planned out. The timing was right, the recipes perfected, the table decorated with impeccably folded napkins that impersonated angelic swans, and polished silver that I scrubbed for an hour until I could see my balls in the reflection. Nothing says polished silverware like a spoon that gives you a clear upside-down view of your gonads.
But even with countless hours of preparing this feast, naked as the day I was born with only an apron to cover my man-loins, I still ended up with a scorched ham doused in fire extinguisher agent because somehow, the damn thing caught on fire.
Imagine this, a grown-ass man—no, not just a grown-ass man, but a man at the fresh age of twenty-eight, built like a linebacker with buttocks you can bounce rocks off . . . thanks to squatting for a living—dancing around the kitchen on his twinkle toes, arms flailing with pink and white potholders attached to his hands, screaming like a banshee, as flames light up the Jenn-Air double oven where the brown sugar and pineapple ham resided.
Are you seeing it?
Add the imagery of said man naked, dick and balls harmoniously bouncing in panic while the apron his “girlfriend” got him that says Eat my food, Lick my dick, unravels in the fit to unleash the fire extinguisher.
That was me . . . a minute ago.
Frantic, screaming, and all in all losing any last shred of my man card I had left.
It’s why I’m currently weeping like a nitwit into the flaps of my apron, wondering where I went wrong.
If we’re going to be honest with each other—and I would like to establish honesty with you—I’ll admit, I’ve always leaned toward the sensitive side. You know, the cuddly grizzly bear. Big and intimidating but a fucking gooey butterball heart on the inside.
Tell me a love story. I’ll listen the crap out of it.
The Bachelor? Why yes, that’s one of my favorite shows.
Do I smile when sharing a candlelit dinner with myself, followed by a nice long soak in a bubble bath while Enya—the fucking goddess of all voices—plays in the background? I sure as shit do.
But if some ignorant asswipe gets in my face on the ball field, stirring up trouble, I’m the first to lay a fist across his jaw and the first to be thrown out of a game.
And I’m not even sorry about it.
People are arriving in an hour. I’m vulnerable as fuck with my bare ass resting against the cold white-oak floor of my girl’s apartment, while a lonely tear streams down my freshly shaven cheek. I have no main dish, and the apartment smells like burnt rabbit turd.
Why am I in this hopeless predicament?
Because of one person.
One single person who flipped my life upside down.
A bombshell in a suit, a ravenous sex-fiend in the sheets, a classy and sophisticated tight-ass in the boardroom. She’s a knockout who’s always on my mind. She’s the girl you do things for, that you never thought you’d ever do . . .
Like cook a fancy-as-fuck four-course meal for her and her business associates while practicing interesting conversational starters to ensure the night flows smoothly.
Back in college, I might have been referred to as the mother hen of the boys. I might have cooked at least two meals a week for the guys in the loft, and yeah, I was the ironing wizard, the one everyone turned to, to get out the most stubborn wrinkles. The title has carried on over the years, but my creativity in the kitchen has dwindled with the lack of time, my ironing is now done by my apartment keeper once a week, and the fresh flowers scattered around my place? They’re more dead now than alive.
My point—I’m not the lady of the house I used to be. But I’ve been getting back into the swing of it.
So when my girl asked me to perform the impossible feat of an intimate dinner for four, I should have ordered in, tossed everything in serving dishes, and called it a night.
But nooooooooo, I had to attempt to be a goddamn hero and try to cook everything myself.
And all for what?
For one girl?
No. Not just one girl. The girl who owns my balls, who has a grip so tight on them that if she asked me to bellow out my ABCs in soprano while swirling my finger around my belly button . . . I would.
Who is this girl that has brought me to the brink of boo-boo smush bear insanity and caused me to weep like a schoolgirl in the corner of the apartment?
There’s only one lady with more than enough ovaries to buckle the knees of the mighty Jason Orson.
The one and only Dorothy “Dottie” Domico.
About the Author:
USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.
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