THE HOOK-UP EXPERIMENT, an all-new sexy, laugh-out-loud standalone romantic comedy by New York Times bestselling author Emma Hart, is coming March 13th!
2.Remember to hate him.
3.Prove my brother wrong.
It should be easy.
The plus for my clients is that I’m the one who gets to sift through the dick pics—except this time, they’re required.
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“Now, are you gonna put your inner asshole away long enough for me to tell you how we ended up on this godforsaken date?”
“When you put it like that…” He leaned back in his chair and looked at me, fingers clasped round the base of his beer bottle.
Great. This was going well.
I sighed and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Dominic decided to challenge me to find out if you could sleep with someone three times and not fall in love with them.”
His eyebrows shot up. “And I’m assuming you’re the test subject.”
“At your service,” I said dryly. “So, because I simply can’t lose—”
“—Here I am.” I sat back, too. Did I?
Did I tell him I owned PAD? And that was how we got here?
Fuck it. I did. I was going to tell him.
“And you got roped into this, because, well.” I twirled the stem of my glass between my finger and thumb. “I own Pick-A-Dick.”
He choked on the mouthful of beer he’d just taken. The glass bottle made a thundering clunk as he slammed it down on the table so he could smack his chest.
Shit. That felt good.
I leaned back with a smug smile curling my lips. Surprise, asshole.
“You own the hook-up website?” he finally said after a moment of staring at me like I had two heads.
I nodded. “Dom and Chloe own the sister dating site. We all went into business together.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Does that mean you saw my submission?”
A derogatory snort escaped me before I could stop it. “If I’d seen your submission, I’d have printed it off and burned it in my kitchen sink.”
“Does that mean Chloe and Mellie saw it?”
“Oh, yeah. They saw it. And it’ll be the last submission the bitches ever see,” I muttered, bringing my wine glass to my mouth.
Elliott’s eyes sparkled as he fought back a laugh. “I would agree, but how likely are they to help you win this dare?”
“I don’t care. I’m about to find another person to carry out this absurdity with. I’d rather die than sleep with you.”
“You wound me,” he replied dryly. “Which is all the more reason to sleep with me.”
“Because I hurt your feelings?”
“No, because you hate my guts, so there’s zero chance of you ever falling in love with me. Hell, I’d die before I let you.”
I paused. He did have a point. Having sex with somebody I already held a grudge against would work in my favor, especially if that somebody was Elliott Sloane.
Before I could answer, our food was brought over. After assuring Marie we didn’t need anything, she left us to it.
I picked up a super-long fry and chewed down it.
Was I seriously considering this?
I glanced over at him. He was handsome. Devastatingly so, but then, he always had been. If his personality matched his looks…
Every female in the world would be fucked. Ovaries would explode from just being in his presence.
I was seriously considering this.
In a weird way, it made sense. I was attracted to him, and since I already hated him, there really was no chance I’d ever have feelings for him.
I clicked my tongue and reached for my wine. Elliott looked over at me as he bit into his sandwich. He definitely had a point…
Was I really going to do this? With him?
I was. Jesus, I was.
“Fine.” I put my wine glass down and looked at him. “I’ll bite my tongue and have no-strings sex with you three times to prove my brother wrong.”
He held up his hands. “Whoa, I never said I’d do it.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? You make a point, then try to tell me you aren’t going to do this?”
“I said you had a reason to sleep with me. I never said I had one to sleep with you.”
“I see you’re just as much of an insufferable asshole as you were in high school.”
“And you’re as painfully frustrating as you were.”
“I’m not going to offer it again. You’re either in, or I’m leaving right now and going to shower six times to rinse the memory of the worst date ever from my mind.”
Elliott sighed. “Well, who knows when the next time I’ll be able to have a date will be? And I guess there are worse people I could have sex with than you.”
“Wow. Talk dirty to me.”
About the Author
By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies—usually wine—and writes books.
Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.
She likes to be busy—unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.
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