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

by Ashley Poston

We are fated, like my grandmother, my mother, my sisters, and me, to be the person before. The rebound, the partner at the beginning of rom-coms who is rarely named because they are always what the main character doesn’t need. They are the utterly forgettable Before.

I don’t know what I saw in him in New Orleans. Probably his good looks. 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.

Because the way he kisses feels like the way I fall in love, sharp and quick and deep.