The RSVP by Lauren Blakely EPUB & PDF

The RSVP by Lauren Blakely EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

  • Status: Available for Free Download
  • Book Title: The RSVP
  • Authors: Lauren Blakely
  • Language: English
  • Genre: New Adult & College Romance
  • Format: PDF / EPUB
  • Size: 2 MB
  • Price: Free

THE MAN IN PURPLE
Harlow
Several Months Ago
The office door clicks open. I look up from the French news site on my
laptop and sit straighter at the dining room table.
This is my chance to check him out. I’m home for the summer, so I’ve
been grabbing as many opportunities as I can. Furtively, I turn my gaze as my
new crush exits my father’s plush home office, then strides across the
polished hardwood floors of the living room, wingtips clicking.
Sounding like money.

Looking like a magazine ad.
I’ve been stealing glances at Bridger for the last week, ever since I
returned home from the NYU dorms. I’ve known him for years, but when I
saw him a few weeks ago at a dinner my father hosted, my pulse surged and
my skin tingled.

And a crush was born.
So, yeah, I love studying in the middle of my home, prepping for my next
semester abroad. Just in case I can catch a glimpse of him.
And I’ll have another one right now, thank you very much. From my
vantage point at the imposing oak table, I peek at the man’s gorgeous profile
as he leaves, hoping he turns toward me soon so I can steal a glance at his
outrageously blue eyes. I want to know what’s behind them.
My father ruins the view, though, walking right behind him, a glass of
Scotch in his hand, saying goodbye to the man he built his media empire with
over the last five years. “Sorry to cut this meeting short,” my dad says wryly.
Everything sounds wry in his English accent. Part of his charm, some say.
His American daughter isn’t fooled by his British charm.

Bridger laughs lightly as they walk through the living room, emptyhanded. “No, you’re not, Ian.”
Dad wiggles a brow. “Fine, I’m not sorry.”
At least have the decency to pretend.
Bridger nears the door, and I’m just not that interested in the subjunctive
tense this second.

Not with Bridger wearing that tailored purple shirt that hugs his arms,
those trim charcoal slacks that hint at a strong body, and no tie.
Never a tie.
Bridger’s tieless look is so…tingly.
“We’ll catch up tomorrow on the Spanish deal,” he says, scrubbing his
hand along his chin. Stubble lines his fine jawline. A faint dusting of dark
brown hair, a seven o’clock shadow.

What would it feel like along my fingers? Against my face?
A shiver slides down my spine, and I suppress a murmur.
“Tomorrow for all things Spanish deal. But not too early, you know,” my
dad says.
What? No wink? How else would one know what you’ll be up to?
I’m tempted to roll my eyes, but instead I seize the chance to inject
myself into their business conversation, flashing a knowing smile Bridger’

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