Genres: Contemporary Romance
I received this book for free from in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
Come Again by Poppy Dunne
Release Date: February 28th
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Designer: Shanoff Designs
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Let me first say that I have found my new book boyfriend: Fraser Drake. He’s not smooth, he’s not your typical book hunk (but he does have the bod). He’s a little a closed off because he’s been hurt, and he’s rocking the uptight prepschool turned man vibe…and I dig it. He was once a nerd and is now a man – a real man who isn’t going to jerk a woman around. He’s the perfect blend of Mr. Darcy & Mark Darcy (yes, insert swoon here). Just reading his thoughts about Emma gets you all tingly.
Okay, now that we have that out of the way (I think I firmly established how much I adore Fraser), I can talk about Dunne’s story. The plot does a good job of recreating the tension we loved so much in Pride and Prejudice and Bridget Jones’s Diary. The fresh take in this story is Emma and her perspective; she is what makes this mash-up feel fresh, fun, and quirky. Her blend of sexuality, sense of humor, and nonstop mental undressing of Fraser make you quickly realize what a perfect these two make; he is the yin to her yang.
Dunne manages to make you laugh, keep you engaged in all of her characters (even the ones who make you want to wring their neck at times..ahem…Delia), and gets you invested from the very first scene. In a world of thousands of book options, you must choose wisely because there is nothing worse than a DNF. This is a different type of DNF – Do Not Forget to read!!
Dunne has quickly been added to my go-to authors to read. I hope you love Fraser as much as me…but I call dibs!
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.
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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