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Say Yes
Say Yes
Say Yes
Ebook72 pages50 minutes

Say Yes

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About this ebook

A standalone novella from New York Times bestselling author Elle Kennedy!

 

Maid-of-honor Emilia is looking for some stress-busting fun the night before her best friend's wedding. And what's more fun than a no-strings hook-up? Good thing there's an app for that, and she's in luck—the sexy stud she swipes right on is more than happy to fulfill all her needs. Her hot night with "Dirk" is everything she knew it would be.

 

But this morning?

 

He looks a hell of a lot like the groom.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 8, 2021
ISBN9781990101076
Say Yes
Author

Elle Kennedy

A New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author, Elle Kennedy grew up in the suburbs of Toronto, Ontario and holds a B.A. in English from York University. She is the author of more than 40 titles of contemporary romance and romantic suspense novels, including the international bestselling Off-Campus series.

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Book preview

Say Yes - Elle Kennedy

PROLOGUE

Marcy & Devon

1

Emilia


Tom, 29

Interests: the gym, hiking, basketball, beers with the boys


Fine, so any man who lists beers with the boys as an interest probably isn’t a viable long-term partner.

But who says I’m looking for one of those?

Tom’s online profile might lean toward the douche side, but it doesn’t stop me from swiping through his pictures. He likes the gym, all right—I find three gym-mirror selfies, one in which he’s holding a dumbbell to show off his very defined biceps. Then we have the token shirtless shots, two on the beach, one at a swim-up pool bar with a bunch of guys who I’m assuming are the boys. But where’s the shirtless, bathroom-mirror selfie? There’s always at least one of—there it is. Right on cue.

Tom has a pretty-boy face and an honest-to-God twelve-pack. Seriously, I can’t even count the number of horizontal ripples slashing his tight abdomen.

The only problem is, he’s glistening. I don’t know if it’s sweat or tanning oil, but his skin looks wet in every photograph.

As much as I’m hoping to score a fun hook-up for the night, I don’t know if I would enjoy Tom dripping all over me.

I swipe left.

Bradley, 25

Ugh, I should probably change my age settings. Twenty-five is too young for me. But even if I had been able to ignore the age difference, there’s no way I can overlook Bradley’s teeny-tiny doll hands. In my experience, that old saying about a man's hands is one-hundred-percent true, and I have no desire to find myself in another awkward micropenis situation.

I swipe left.

And keep swiping left.

One left after the other.

Dammit. Where are all the hot men who are DTF? I swear, it’s getting harder and harder to find an actual hook-up partner on this app. It’s like all the men on here actually want to . . . shudder . . . date.

Don't get me wrong, being part of a couple can be awesome. I’ve done it a few times. Cuddling and farmers’ markets? Sign me up. I was with my college boyfriend for three and a half years, my longest relationship. My most recent was a six-month fling with a firefighter named John, but the spark fizzled out—no pun intended—about seven months ago.

I enjoy being single, though. It means I can starfish in my bed every night without worrying about some snoring jackass hogging the blanket. I can watch whatever I want on Netflix, listen to my music in the car. It’s nice.

But I’m still a red-blooded woman who needs to get laid sometimes. And this is the perfect opportunity for a no-strings, anonymous hook-up. I checked into the Blue Valley Lodge a day early for this precise reason, since I knew that once all the wedding chaos began, I wouldn’t have time to indulge. I’m the maid of honor, so I anticipate the next three days will involve doting hand and foot on Marcy, the bride.

Confession: I’m still a bit shocked she even asked me to be the maid of honor. I haven’t exactly been the most available friend lately. New apartment, huge promotion at work, more hours and responsibilities . . . I could probably list more excuses, but they’d be just that—excuses. It takes zero effort to send a quick text, even if you’re the busiest person on the planet.

Marcy and I were inseparable in middle school. Her mom called us Siamese twins because we were glued at the hip. In high school, our paths began to veer; I attended a private arts academy and she went to public school. We still spoke, but it wasn’t the same as seeing each other every single day, and eventually even our weekend plans became few and far between. After college we’d reached the point of a phone call once a month, and when she asked me to be her maid of honor a few months ago, we hadn’t spoken in nearly two years. There’ve been some social media likes and brief texts, but nothing substantial.

Hence the confusion. But I guess Marcy still considers me her friend despite my absence of late, and there was no way I could say no when she asked. This was Marcy, my Siamese twin. Of course I said yes,

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