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About the author:
Polly Harris is the author of six YA novels and runs her own editorial company where she works on books just like this one. When Polly isn’t writing or editing, she can be found cuddling her cat (professionally known as her editorial assistant), crafting, or swiping through dating apps.
What inspired you to write your book?
We’ve all been there. You match with a cute guy on a dating app, you hit it off over text, and you arrange to meet up. Everything feels fine until you remember that awful story your aunt told you once at Thanksgiving—the one where a young woman was murdered by someone she met online. Or the horror stories she’s read about how creepy dating apps can be. So you do some internet stalking before meeting up with aforementioned cute guy, just to make sure he’s not too Ted Bundy-ish. I mean, better safe than sorry, right?
And as an unfortunate veteran of most of the dating apps on the market, I’ve had quite a few of those moments. Because we all want to find love. While avoiding creepy stalkers and murderers. Naturally.
I wrote this book mainly because I was fed up with dating apps and wanted a platform to ruthlessly mock them (while also entertaining all those “what if?” moments when I’ve gone on a date with someone I probably shouldn’t have).
Anyway, I’m willing to bet that you relate. So go ahead and read the book. I promise it’s a fun time. 😉
Here is a short sample from the book:
I laugh, and Ash finally breaks too, standing closer until he’s inches away from me. I look up at him, his forehead almost resting against my own. “You really gonna make out with a boring, nonbusiness-owning shop girl? You’re putting your gold-digging aspirations to shame,” I say.
“I don’t know about that boring part, but yes, I am totally going to make out with you,” he replies.
I giggle, but then he’s already kissing me. He deftly sets our coffees aside on the counter, and then presses me against the nearest bookshelf. His hand glides along my cheek and into my hair, and I can feel him smiling against my lips.
There’s this moment of suspension, like time means nothing, like we could stay here forever and I’d never notice, never miss anything else. And I remember now why I wanted a boyfriend again. The best thing about this whole process, the element I missed the most. Not the fun dates, not the flirty banter, not even the kissing, per se, but this. This feeling of going crazy. Like losing your mind on purpose.