Wrong Room, Wright Girl

I'm not the guy who gets the girl. Never have been. Never will be. So when I'm one part of a bridal party filled with a bunch of guys who look like they belong on the cover of Men's Health—not to mention the groom is the current "sexiest man alive"—I feel like the before shot. I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb. I feel like the husky sidekick.

And I also can't breathe from sucking my stomach in so hard.

But when the tiny red-headed maid of honor blushes every time we make eye contact, I have to wonder—after making sure she's not looking at the guy behind me—does the big guy, the funny friend, the guy with a great personality actually have a chance?

Do I even have the courage to take that chance?

When our hotel room keys get swapped and she lets herself into my room, fate might just make that decision for me.

Maybe I'm not the sidekick in this story after all. Maybe I'm the Hero . . .

Contains mature themes.

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Hljóðbók: 6 december 2022