The What If Guy Read online Lauren Blakely (The Guys Who Got Away #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Guys Who Got Away Series by Lauren Blakely
Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

The What If Guy (The Guys Who Got Away #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Lauren Blakely

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
Book Information:

It should be an easy rule to follow - don't bang your boss... But I didn't know who he was when I met him.
And the first time I saw him, our connection sounded like the stuff of romantic legends -- that whole "their eyes locked across a crowded room" moment that turned into more.
I didn’t believe it. . . . until it happened to me.
Fine, the charming, clever, sexy-as-sin guy in the tailored suit was only trying to buy the same Snoopy lunchbox (as a gift!), but still, our eyes totally locked, and my lady parts definitely tingled as we vied for the prize.
Naturally, I did what any badass business woman would do. Negotiated for the lunchbox, then found my what-if guy online and made plans to see him the next night.
One night only -- that was the deal we made. But one fantastic night had us both changing our minds in the morning. And making plans for another.
Until I walked into the office to learn he just bought my company. And here’s the biggest rule of romantic legends -- no matter what, don’t bang your boss.
Especially if you’re already falling for him.
Books in Series:

The Guys Who Got Away Series by Lauren Blakely

Books by Author:

Lauren Blakely



Prologue

Logan

Some things in life are hard, some are damn hard, and some might as well be impossible.

Snagging a dream job?

Tough, but I finagled it.

Raising a kid solo?

Anything but easy, but I must be doing something right, because mine is awesome.

But try meeting a woman when you’re in your thirties, a single dad with zero free time.

Wait. Make that a woman you like, who’s fun to talk to, and who’s not going to stab you in the back, or the spleen, or right in the heart with a jagged knife.

Now that’s a Herculean task.

I’m not sure it’s possible to find someone like that no matter who you are. You might call me jaded, but I prefer to think I’ve learned from my mistakes.

I live in the present, sure, but I don’t forget what life has taught me.

I’m careful. I’m cautious. And when it comes to my romantic life, I am as skeptical as a fact-checker, looking for hoaxes, lies, and emotional scams like it’s my job.

And that’s worked well for me.

Right up to the day I pop into a store to grab a gift for the most important person in my world. I know what I’m after. I should be in and out in a minute.

Instead, I lock eyes with the sexiest brunette I’ve ever seen.

And her hand is on the same Snoopy lunch box I want.

Game on.

Game fucking on.

I thought I knew what “tough” was. But I forgot that it’s when you assume you have life all figured out that it decides to make an ass out of you.

And I have a feeling I’m about to get schooled.

1

Bryn

From the very first line, I know.

This is it. This article will be perfect for impressing the new site owners next week.

Attention, cynics! “Their eyes locked across a crowded room” is not a lie. It’s based on science.

“See?” I tap my tablet, showing the piece to Teagan. “It’s not just a movie cliché or a romance novel trope. There is real science behind the power of the gaze.”

With a flip of her red hair, Teagan gives me a grin that could be a You know it, girl meme. “Love is science, and science is sexy.”

We shuffle closer to the front of the line at my favorite coffee joint in all of Manhattan, which happens to be next door to a delightfully quirky collectible shop I might need to hit up next.

“Truer words,” I agree. The science of love is one of the many topics we aim to tackle on the dating and relationship advice site where we work, with me in charge of content and Teagan handling social media. One of our writers submitted this article this morning, analyzing whether those much-derided romantic standbys hold water outside of rom-coms and chick flicks.

I’m not going to lie—when this article landed in my email inbox this morning, I crossed my heart, then offered prayers to the editorial goddesses. The good news is, so far, this article is killing it. I need for it to kill, dismember, and dispose of the body though. It has to be one of the best pieces we ever publish.

As I read on, strands of brown hair fall from my makeshift updo, and I tuck them back into the pencil that’s doubling as a hair accessory. “Want to know the ins and outs of why eye contact is so powerful?” I read aloud.

Teagan shoots me a naughty look. “I always want to know the ins and outs, baby.”

I mime a slam dunk with my free hand. “And that’s one innuendo for the redhead, and it’s only ten a.m.”

She wags a finger at me. “Hey! Don’t count me short. I innuendo’d the hell out of this coffee invite. What was it I said when you asked me if I was in the mood for a cup of joe?”

I slide into an imitation of my best friend. “‘Yes. A large. I always want a large one.’ So, I concede—that’s two so far for you today.”

“It’s a good day when I can get multiples.”

I pretend to drum a rim shot. “There she goes again, folks. Three and counting.”

She takes a bow. “Thank you.” Then another. “Thank you very much, my adoring, perverted fans.”

The pink-haired woman ahead of us scans the chalkboard menu, her horse-size ponytail swishing back and forth. “I’d like a hot white mocha with ten pumps of white mocha. And can you make it thick?” she asks the barista in a conspiratorial whisper.

Teagan’s eyes widen. Her mouth opens.

I point a warning finger at her, shaking my head. “Find the will to resist,” I murmur.

“Usually we recommend twelve pumps for maximum thickness,” the barista says, and I manage to keep it together when the pinkified gal says, a little giddily, “A dozen pumps it is.”

Teagan though?

She purses her lips tight, holding in the wisecrack. She’s a kettle about to boil, a balloon about to pop. She fights like hell, but this wide-open opportunity tests her resolve something fierce. It’s a valiant struggle, but the naughty play-by-play commentator KOs her better nature, and she blurts out, “That’s what she said!”

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