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The Inheritance Games

A Not So Meet Cute Summary

A Not So Meet Cute about a quintessential question asked to every couple. And the answer is usually some bubbly, lovey-dovey tale of being stuck in the bum by Cupid’s arrow.

My meet-cute (well not so meet-cute) is slightly different. I was trolling a wealthy neighborhood in Beverly Hills, searching for someone to take me as their bride, you know, to make my arch-nemesis jealous who consequently just fired me.

He was stomping around the block like some sort of gorgeous ogre, mumbling about a business deal gone wrong and attempting to finagle his way out of it.

And that's when we bumped into each other.
There were no sparks.
Not even a hint of blossoming love.

But next thing I knew, I was scarfing down free chips and guac, listening to this man lay out all of his problems which led to his big ask . . . he wanted me to be his Vivian Ward, you know, from Pretty Woman–minus the frisky behavior.

We're talking about living in a mansion, intimate double dates, and pretending we were head over heels in love . . . and engaged. Can you imagine?

The absolute audacity.

But people do crazy things when they’re desperate. And I reeked of desperation. So, I struck up a deal.

My one big mistake, though . . . big . . . HUGE? I accidentally fell for the incomparable Huxley Cane.

About the Author

Meghan Quinn USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.

A Not So Meet Cute Introduction

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.


“I’m going to fucking murder someone,” I shout as I throw my suit jacket across my office and slam my door.

“Seems as though the meeting went well,” JP says from where he’s leaning against the expansive wall of windows in my office.

“Seems as though it went incredibly well,” Breaker offers from where he’s lying across my leather couch.

Ignoring my brothers’ sarcasm, I grip my hair and turn toward the view of Los Angeles. It’s a clear day today, fresh rain from the night before eliminating some of the smog in the air. Palm trees reach high to the sky, lining the roads, but look small compared to where my office sits above the rest.

“Care to gab about it?” JP asks while taking a seat in a chair.

I turn toward them, my brothers, the two idiots who have been by my side through thick and thin. Who have ridden the ups and downs of our lives? Who has dropped everything to join me in this crazy idea of taking over the real estate market in Los Angeles with the money Dad left us when he passed. We’ve built this empire together.

But the smarmy looks on their faces make me want to punt their goddamn dicks out of my office.

“Does it look like I want to gab about it?”

“No,” Breaker smirks. “But fuck do we want to hear all about it.”

Of course, they do.

Because they were the ones who said I shouldn’t meet with Dave Toney.

They were the ones who said it was going to be a waste of my time.

They were the ones who laughed when I said I had a meeting with him today.

And they were the ones who sarcastically said good luck as I walked out the door.

But I wanted to prove them wrong.

I wanted to show them that I could convince Dave Toney that he needed to work with Cane Enterprises.

Spoiler alert—I did not convince him.

Capitulating to my brothers’ stares, I take a seat as well and let out a long sigh. “Fuck,” I mutter.

“Let me guess, he didn’t fall for your charm?” Breaker asks. “But you’re so personable.”

“That shit shouldn’t matter.” I slam my finger into the armrest of my plush leather chair. “This is business, not some goddamn parade of nurturing friendships and coddling one another.”

“I think he missed something in business school,” JP says to Breaker. “Because wasn’t fostering business relationships an entire course?” His sarcasm is grating on my nerves.

“I believe it was,” Breaker says.

“I went in there and kissed his ass—what more does he want?”

“Did you wear lipstick? Not sure his girlfriend would appreciate finding another pair of lips on her man’s ass cheeks.” Breaker smirks.

“I hate you. I really fucking hate you.”

Breaker lets out a bark of a laugh while JP says, “Hate to say it, but . . . we told you so, bro. Dave Toney doesn’t work with just anyone. He’s a different breed in this city. Many have tried to break into the vast amount of real estate he owns; many have failed. Why did you think you’d be any different?”

“Because we’re Cane Enterprises,” I shout. “Everyone wants to fucking work with us. Because we have the largest real estate portfolio in Los Angeles.

Because we can turn a broken-down building into a million-dollar business in a year. We know what the fuck we’re doing, and Dave Toney, although successful, has some dead pieces of land on his hands that’s hurting his business. He knows it, I fucking know it, and I want to take those pieces of land off his hands.”

JP grips his chin and asks, “What precisely did you say to him? I hope not that? Because, although your little speech made my nipples hard, I doubt he’d appreciate the tone.”

I roll my eyes. “I said something along those lines.”

“You realize Dave Toney is a prideful man, right?” Breaker asks. “If you insult him, he’s not going to want to work with you.”

“I didn’t insult him,” I shout. “I was trying to get on an even playing field, you know, let him see that I’m a pretty normal guy.”

Both of my brothers scoff.

“I am a normal guy.”

JP and Breaker exchange glances and then both lean forward, and I know what’s coming: a classic come-to-Jesus moment. They like to perform them on me from time to time.

“You know we love you, right?” Breaker asks. And so it begins.

“We’re here for you, whenever you need us,” JP adds.

I drag my hand over my face. “Just get the fuck on with it.”

“You’re not normal. You’re anything but normal. None of us are. We live in Beverly Hills, are constantly invited to premieres and celebrity gatherings, and have been in the headlines on Page Six many times. There’s nothing normal about us. Dave Toney, now . . . he’s normal.”

“How the fuck so?” I ask. “Because he doesn’t get invited to celebrity after-parties?”

Breaker shakes his head. “No, because he’s down-to-earth. Approachable. You could easily grab a beer with him in a bar and not feel the least bit intimidated. You’re the exact opposite. You’re flashy.”

“I’m not flashy.”

JP nods at my watch. “Nice Movado—is it new?”

I glance down at it. “Got it last week—” I raise my eyes to meet my brothers’ knowing looks. “Am I not allowed to spend my hard-earned money?”

“You are,” JP says. “The way you live your life is completely acceptable. The house, the car . . . the watch, all earned and rightfully so, but if you want to connect with Dave Toney, then you’re going to have to get on a different level. And that doesn’t mean dressing down, because he’ll see right through that. He already knows you’re a flashy guy. But he needs to see you in a different light.”

“Ooo, I like that,” Breaker says. “A different light. That’s what he needs.” He taps his chin. “But what would that light be?”

Irritated, I get up from my chair and grab my suit jacket from where I tossed it. “While you two morons think about it, I’m going to grab lunch.”

“If only Toney could see this moment, where Huxley Cane doesn’t ask his assistant to grab him lunch but, like a mere peasant, walks the streets of Los Angeles to fetch his own food,” JP says.

I slip on my jacket, despite the heat outside. Ignoring them, I cross toward my door.

“Could you grab us something?” Breaker calls out.

Sighing, I call back, “Text me what you want from the deli.”

“Pickles. All the goddamn pickles,” JP yells as I make my way down the office hallway to the elevator. Luckily, the doors slide open for me, so I step in, press the lobby button, and lean against the wall, hands stuffed in my pants pockets.

Get on a different level. I don’t even know what that means. And I know I’m a businessman who’s made deals with people I’ve gotten along with, but I’ve also made deals with people I absolutely despise. The difference between me and Dave Toney—I don’t give a fuck who takes my money or who I sell to. Business is business, and if it’s a good deal, I’m going to take it.

I offered Dave a fucking good-as-shit deal today, better than what he deserves if I’m honest. And instead of shaking my hand and accepting it, he sat back in his office chair, scratched the side of his cheek, and said, “I don’t know. I’m going to have to sit on this.”

Sit on it.

Sit on my goddamn deal.

No one sits on my deals; they take them and thank Jesus Christ Himself for doing business with Cane Enterprises.

I push through the elevator doors when they part, weave my way through the busy lobby and then head out of the office building toward the hole-in-the-wall deli that’s just down the road. Two blocks.

I don’t usually send my assistant, Karla, to grab me food, because it makes me feel like an asshole—despite what people might think of me—and I also enjoy the second to get out and breathe some fresh air.

Well, it’s LA, so fresh air is an overstatement. But it gives me a second to reset before I get back behind my desk, where I control our billion-dollar operation with my keyboard.

My phone beeps in my pocket and I don’t bother looking at it because I know it’s JP and Breaker’s orders. I don’t even know why I told them to text me, because they get the same thing every time.

Same as me. Philly cheesesteak with extra mushrooms. And, of course, pickles. It’s our go-to sandwich. Something that we don’t eat often, but when we do head to the deli, it’s our usual.

The sidewalk is more crowded than normal. Summer has hit Los Angeles, meaning tourists are sweeping in, celebrity bus tours will be at their max, and driving on the 101 is going to be a hellish nightmare. Lucky for me, I only live thirty minutes from the office.

As I approach the deli, a familiar black SUV pulls up in front of it. When the door opens, I catch sight of Dave Toney—speak of the devil—stepping out of the vehicle. What are the odds?

Whatever they are, they look like they’re in my favor. Nothing like a good follow-up to try to secure the deal. Maybe JP was right, Dave Toney might change his mind when he sees me picking up lunch. That’s definitely on a different level.

I button my suit jacket and pick up my pace. Never miss an opportunity in business. Never. As I grow closer, I’m dangerously caught off guard when I see a feminine hand pop out of the vehicle behind Dave. I slow down and zero in on the hand . . . the small hand with a VERY big engagement ring on it.

Holy shit, Dave is engaged?

I’m assuming he is since he’s holding the woman’s hand.

But engaged . . . hell, how did I miss that?

Usually, I’m aware of such—

My thoughts pause and I blink a few times as the fiancée turns, giving me a profile view.

Holy . . . fuck.

Looks like the engagement isn’t the biggest surprise of the day.

Thanks to her tight-fitting dress and slender frame, there’s no doubt in my mind that Dave Toney’s fiancée is pregnant.

Dave Toney, engaged with a baby on the way. How . . . when?

He waves to the driver, shuts the door, and then glances behind him, just enough for us to make eye contact. His eyebrows lift in surprise and then he turns all the way around and waves to me. “Cane didn’t expect to see you on the streets.”

Yeah, neither of us expected to see each other, but I’m not going to let the shock of this new development rattle me.

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The Inheritance Games

A Not So Meet Cute PDF

Product details:

EditionKindle Edition
Posted onNovember 2, 2021
Page Count404 pages
AuthorMeghan Quinn

A Not So Meet Cute

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A Not So Meet Cute

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Author: Meghan Quinn

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