I COULD BE YOURS, a new enemies-to-lovers, second-chance destination wedding romance from New York Times Bestselling Author, Helena Hunting, is out now!
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I am absolutely not going to fall for the best man.
The best man ghosted me six years ago after kissing me, and now I have to do every wedding event under the sun with him.
Nate Stiles is the definition of serious. Furrowed brow? Check. Rain cloud personality? Double check.
I shouldn’t be thinking about the fact that our kiss was the best one of my life right now. I should be planning the bachelorette party of the millennium.
I shouldn’t be wondering when Nate became such a good dancer after we got roped into salsa lessons with the happy couple. I should be mentally ticking off boxes on my bridal checklists.
I shouldn’t be wondering what it would be like if I didn’t hate Nate Stiles. I should be holding strong against a man who doesn’t believe in love.
My name is Essie Lovelock. I am a reformed love obsessed fairytale fanatic and I’m determined to be the best maid of honor my best friend could ever have.
And I am absolutely not going to fall for the best man.
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“…a sizzling, emotionally charged destination wedding romance full of heat and second-chance vibes!” ~Danielle, Red Cheeks Reads
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EXCERPT:
Essie
I snap several pictures, but the mirror doesn’t allow me to fully capture the miles of poofy satin, tulle, and lace that make up this wildly ostentatious dress. My best friend, Rix, the bride-to-be, should be here any minute, and I want to give her a reason to smile. She’s been stressing over every wedding detail lately. Tonight, we’re having dinner to tick all the boxes on the upcoming bridal shower and the stag and doe. Rix is determined everything go smoothly, which is why I’m here ahead of her, checking on the dresses. I take my role of maid of honor seriously—most of the time anyway—but when I saw this dress, I couldn’t resist trying it on.
The chime of the door signals her arrival. “Trixie Rixie, I have something amazing to show you!” I singsong as I grab a suit jacket from the rack. Me and my makeshift groom twirl into the viewing area, belting out the lyrics to our favorite slow-dance song from high school.
Except my best friend is not standing in the middle of the store. It’s her soon-to-be brother-in-law, Nate Stiles. Looking wildly uncomfortable. And ungodly gorgeous. And also horrified and unimpressed. How someone can wear so many feelings at the same time is an absolute wonder.
His delightfully dark brows pull together, chocolate eyes narrowing, full lips pulling down. “What in the actual fuck?”
“What are you doing here?” I attempt to backtrack, but this dress has more yards of material than freaking Fabricland. I step on the train and topple backwards, landing on the floor with an oof. My makeshift suit-jacket groom goes flying. The hoop skirt flips up, and I raise my arm just in time to prevent it from smacking me in the face.
I feel like a flipped-over beetle as I struggle to right myself.
Uma, the sales associate who has been our go-to for all wedding-dress-related issues, rushes over. “Oh my goodness! Are you okay?”
Nate’s stupidly pretty, displeased face appears above me, and he extends a hand. “That’s a loaded question.”
I ignore his offer of assistance and try, again, to right myself, but the freaking hoop is a menace. Nate’s face is a telling shade of red. I am ten thousand percent sure my underwear is showing, and probably ninety percent of my ass since it’s a thong. My mortification doubles.
Nate disappears, and two strong hands slide under my arms. A moment later I’m on my feet. I fight the goose bumps that skitter across my skin. The hoop skirt somehow flips up again, but this time I’m not fast enough to keep it from hitting me in the face. I jerk my head back and connect with his chin.
Nate grunts and releases me. I wobble perilously before settling, still on my feet thankfully.
“Are you okay?” Uma asks again.
“I’m fine. Just peachy. Thanks so much. I’m very sorry.” I can’t die of embarrassment today, not when Rix is counting on me.
I spin, and the excessively poofy skirt flares, returning to the appropriate location. I bet it looks so cool. But I can’t confirm this because Nate is glaring at me, his thick, defined forearms crossed over his equally thick, defined chest. The Stileses have excellent genes. All three brothers are ridiculously good looking. But Nate has that tall-dark blond-and-grumpy thing going, and I’m such a fan.
I shouldn’t be, based on our history, but I tend to be attracted to the wrong men—including the one standing in front of me, looking displeased.
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About Helena Hunting:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
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