Glynis Kirby's love life stinks. Her boyfriend dumped her for another guy. Her next-door-neighbor held her hostage on prom night. And now she's been trapped in a Porta-Potty by a monkey with a switchblade. And she's not even going to talk about her date with the poly sci major with the Pocket Ouiji Board. Maybe she really is desperate enough to take everyone's advice--including her mother's (ugh!)--and date the dashing Daniel Bond.
Corin Lancashire runs the popular blog site mydreamgirl.com where he chronicles his less than stellar attempts to get noticed by his dream girl, Glynis Kirby. After taking the "all girls think stripteases are hot" advice from a reader, and discovering that "all girls but Glynis think stripteases are hot," Corin disables the comments feature on his blog and takes matters into his own hands to build a friendship-crawling-toward-relationship with his dream girl. But competing with the charming, suave, and well-dressed Daniel is a hazard Corin didn't anticipate, and neither is the information he digs up on Daniel that could threaten Glynis's life…
EXCERPT:
Corin grabs my arm and spins me around to face him before
I'm safe in the halls of the Math Department. Not many guys will follow you in
there. It's like a Geek Den where everyone is too wrapped up in their research
and books and whiteboards to think to ask a girl out on a date and I'm pretty
sure that's what Corin was planning to do before the stripping and the singing.
“Who put you up to
this?” I demand. “Who? Was it Kathy? My mom? Who put you up to this?”
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“Shy guys don't strip in public.”
“They do when they take really bad advice from people on
the Internet.” Corin runs a hand through his Doctor McDreamy hair before
raising his pale eyebrows and giving me McDreamy eyes to go along with his
McDreamy hair. “You're probably not going to believe this, Glynis, but I'm not
a freak or a stalker. I'm completely harmless. Really.”
“You have yet to convince me of that, Crazy Bus Boy.”
“Does that mean I get another shot?” He perks up at the
thought. “You can call me whatever nick-names you want—good or bad—just give me
another shot. I'll be boringly normal from here on out. I promise.”
I take an unconscious step closer to Corin as he's
talking because, the strangest thing happens as I'm looking up at his bright,
hopeful face and coaxing smile. I feel safe. For the first time in
almost a year, I feel safe.
“Get off the bus tomorrow at my stop and you'll have that
shot.”
What's the harm in giving the guy a
little crumb of hope? Maybe if he has hope, so will I.
About the Author:
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