Dating and Dragons

From the author of the nationally bestselling Quinn Norton is starting over at a new high school and hopes that joining a D&D game will be the trick to making friends. The plan sounds even better when she’s invited into a group that includes Logan Weber, the cute and charming guy she met on her first day of class. But this isn’t your average D&D campaign-- this group livestreams their games and enforces strict rules: no phones allowed, and no dating other group members. ; ;;;;Quinn is willing to accept the rules, even if it makes Logan off-limits. And she quickly learns that doing so won’t be a problem, since Logan goes from charismatic to insufferable as soon as she agrees to ;join. As their bickering--and bantering--intensifies inside and outside ;the game, Quinn can’t help wondering: Is Logan’s infuriating behavior a smokescreen for hidden feelings? Quinn is risking it all, and the twenty-sided dice are rolling!

Autorentext

Kristy Boyce played her first role-playing game in high school and has been friends with that group ever since. In fact, she married the DM. Nowadays, she teaches psychology as a senior lecturer at the Ohio State University. When she’s not spending time with her husband and son, she’s usually writing, reading, or watching happy reality TV. Kristy is the author of Dating and Dragons, Dungeons and Drama, Hot British Boyfriend, and Hot Dutch Daydream and lives in Pickerington, Ohio.

Klappentext

From the author of the nationally bestselling Dungeons and Drama comes another gaming romance that's sure to win you over!

Quinn Norton is starting over at a new high school and hopes that joining a D&D game will be the trick to making friends. The plan sounds even better when she’s invited into a group that includes Logan Weber, the cute and charming guy she met on her first day of class. But this isn’t your average D&D campaign— this group livestreams their games and enforces strict rules: no phones allowed, and no dating other group members.
Quinn is willing to accept the rules, even if it makes Logan off-limits. And she quickly learns that doing so won’t be a problem, since Logan goes from charismatic to insufferable as soon as she agrees to join. As their bickering—and bantering—intensifies inside and outside the game, Quinn can’t help wondering: Is Logan’s infuriating behavior a smokescreen for hidden feelings? Quinn is risking it all, and the twenty-sided dice are rolling!

Leseprobe
Chapter One

I thought I’d already experienced every “new girl at school” nightmare imaginable in the run-­up to today, but I guess my brain wasn’t creative enough to come up with this scenario. I’m not arriving at school naked or late for a final exam I haven’t prepared for . . . but I am being dropped off at my new high school for my first day of junior year by my overly excited grandma, who is insisting we take first-­day-­of-­school photos together in the parking lot.

“But it’s not the first day of school,” I argue for a third time.

“It’s your first day at this school, Quinn,” Grandma replies. She grips the steering wheel with both hands and leans close so her face is only a few inches away from the windshield. “It doesn’t matter if it’s February. Can I park here?” she asks, pointing to an open spot.

I look out the window. “No, the sign says it’s for the seniors.”

“Well, I’m a senior!”

I turn to the back seat. “Andrew, care to help me out at all?”

My fifteen-­year-­old brother lifts one shoulder without looking up from his phone.

Great, he’s as engaged and useful as ever. I face Grandma more fully. “The parking lot is filling up. It’s really okay—­we can just get out. We can get pictures another time or we can take a selfie in the car.” Or I can do everything in my power to make sure Grandma never drives us again. I grab my book bag to show her I’m ready.

“Nonsense. My only grandchildren are finally living close enough for me to see them every day, and I’m making up for lost time. I want a first-­day-­of-­school photo.”

She frowns and adjusts her orange silk scarf. You’d think it was Grandma’s first day of school the way she dressed up for this ten-­minute drive, but then she’s always prided herself on being the most elegant woman in any room. She doesn’t wear stereotypical “grandma clothes”—­she’s always in colorful blousy tops, linen pants, and her ever-­present floral scarfs. She’d fit in better on a yacht than she would in rural Ohio.

My brain flails and I glance feverishly around the parking lot for onlookers. A ton of students are still meandering into the building, so there’s no way we can do this without witnesses. I begged Mom and Dad to let me drive this morning, but they needed both cars to get to their new jobs. We just moved two hours west to Laurelburg, Ohio, a week ago to be closer to Grandma. “She’ll get such a kick out of it!” Mom had argued with pleading eyes. “You know how happy she is to see you two!”

Oh, she’s happy, all right. To my horror, she’s rolled up to a group of guys circled around a fancy red car. And if their varsity jackets are to be believed, they’re athletes. I scoot down in the seat like a snake slithering into a hole.

Grandma lowers her window and waves at them. “Hey, boys, hope you aren’t getting into trouble over here. What a good-­looking group you are!”

A small moan comes out of me, and I squeeze my eyes shut. There’s no one in the world Grandma won’t talk to. Behind me a door opens and slams closed. I glance over my shoulder to see Andrew dashing through the cars toward the school building before Grandma can notice. The traitor! I can’t believe my younger brother is smarter than me.

“Can I get you to take our picture?” Grandma says, and I slither down farther.

I hear muttering and a hoot of laughter and then Grandma drives away. “Well, they were very rude. Don’t waste your time on them.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” I say.

Grandma is making sure I have absolutely no chance of making new friends here. I don’t need help being awkward. I’ve never been popular, but at least—­for a while—­I had close friends at my old school. Everything had been so comfortable and easy with them . . . until our group imploded. I take a deep breath and remind myself that this move is for the best. It’s what I wanted. I don’t miss the old school or the anxiety I felt there, always worrying about running into one of them in the halls.

Grandma continues to slowly drive down the parking lot row and my gaze catches on a group of five students chatting together. I can’t exactly explain it, but they look like my kind of people. Like, under the right circumstances, I might have enough courage to walk up and say hi. And is the South Asian girl wearing sparkly green d20 earrings? My hopes lift even more.

Unfortunately, Grandma notices them as well.

“They look nice. I bet one of them will take it.” This time she rolls down my passenger-­side window and leans across me. “Hiya! Can I get one of you to take a photo?”

Unlike the other group, who just laughed and ignored her, these kids stop and turn toward the car. They exchange confused glan…