With Any Luck (The Improbable Meet-Cute, #5)

by Ashley Poston

I was a sucker for good looks. My one downfall, apparently, because Theodore Luck is like a cardboard cutout of a man—all sharp edges and paper-thin emotions. If beige were a person, he’d be the premier paint color.

He went on, “Rhett wouldn’t shut up about you when I first met him. You should’ve heard the way he talked about you—like you hung the moon, the sun, and all the stars. I couldn’t wait to meet you in New Orleans, and when I did, I realized he didn’t even tell me the good parts.”