The Matchmaker’s Playbook (Wingmen Inc. 1)
Publication Date: April 5, 2016
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…
This book was such a little gem. I loved it from start to finish. It was funny & charming and I ate it up!!! I was grinning the whole time. I loved the concept of the story, it was your classic ugly duckling fairytale but definitely with a modern twist. And I’m a sucker for fairytales!!!
Ian is a love guru and boy is he a good one. He knows what men want and how to assist his clients in getting their crushes. However, he has a rule… never fall for a client. And he sticks to that rule faithfully…. that is till Blake comes along. Blake is a hot mess when she first meets Ian and at first he wonders if he bit off more then he can chew with this helpless client. But he sees her potential under all her frumpy clothes and makeup-less face. He knows that with a little tender, love and care she will polish up rather nicely. A little too nicely if he is being honest with himself. Enter “oh crap” moment here.
Blake is so darn cute and sweet it’s like a toothache at times. But it hurts so good and she wins your heart over in .2 seconds. She is a determined little bugger too, and she has a crush to win over, so bring on the big girl pants!!! Enter Ian and his services *snicker*… she goes along with all of Ian’s crazy ideas and shinanigans, because hello he is gorgeous so he must know a thing or two on romancing. As the story goes on, Blake’s idea of her dream guy begins to shift and change. And soon she becomes hot for teacher.
This book had it all. It was laugh out loud funny, so sexy and Ian’s one liners are just so damn good!! I will defiantly be continuing with this series and I can’t wait to see where the series goes. I recommend this book to anyone going on vacation and looking for a little love advice. Ian’s the matchmaker for you!!
Lex “suck my balls” Luther
Every hero needs a villain right? I mean thats how some of the best stories are written, so why not have one in real life? You’d think that being a certified genius would be enough, but for Lex, it isn’t, Poly Sci just isn’t what it used to be you know? So he seduces women by day and hacks computers by night.
If Ian is the beauty behind Wingman Inc. then Lex is the brains.
Only, he’s hella hot too.
Seriously, just ask the two girls currently vying for his attention in bed while he tries to take down the Pentagon.
Its a tough job, but hey, someones gotta do it!
“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?”
“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.”
omped over to the swear jar and tossed in a dollar bill.
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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