Exposing The Groom

EXposing The Groom The EX Files by Rachel Van Dyken www.rachelvandykenauthor.com Copyright © 2023 RACHEL VAN DYKEN® This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation. EXPOSING THE GROOM Copyright © 2023 RACHEL VAN DYKEN® ISBN: 978-1-957700-28-1 Edited by Kay Springsteen and Jill Sava Cover & Interior Design & Illustration by Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction TABLE OF CONTENTS Title Page A Note On Content Dedication Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Epilogue Want More RVD? Caught You! Acknowledgments About The Author Also by Rachel Van Dyken A NOTE ON CONTENT I know that some of you like to know if there is anything in a book that may be difficult for you to read. Some real-life issues are discussed/portrayed within these pages. If you would like to see what they are, please click HERE Or scan the QR Code As always, thank you for reading! Hugs, RVD DEDICATION To all my readers who’ve waited wayyyyy too long for another RomCom. PROLOGUE Scarlett It will, one hundred percent, go down as the most viral moment of my life—not on purpose. I think it was pure uncontrollable rage that pushed me down the aisle. My smile is perfection, cameras flash from all angles blinding me as I walk. Everyone stares like I am living the absolute dream. I even believed it for a few seconds. He smiles at me, my fiancé Rob—what kind of name is Rob anyway? The things that I remember are always dumb ones, like Rob was never the name of the hot guy in college, at least give me a Zane or a Jesse, but no, I chose Rob. Rob is safe. Rob is secure. Rob is boring. But boring is at least predictable, right? Wrong. So. Wrong. I used to date Adrians and Dukes—Adrian was the one you never brought home to your parents in case they disown you for life because he was constantly causing trouble in school, and Duke, well, he was actually British and so hot I introduced myself as Scarwet when I met him; he thought I did it on purpose. I’ve never been more mortified. I guess there’s always room for more embarrassing moments. Lucky me. Rob was in law school, came from money, had sandy brown hair, crystal blue eyes, a sharp jawline, and no joke, a country club membership at age fifteen. The guy was probably born with golf clubs in his hands. But I digress. I’d like to point out I never ever thought about cheating on him, not once. Not even when I got tired of missionary and asked if he’d pull my hair only to have him say he was concerned that something was wrong with me. “Women belong in a certain place, Scar, and you’re so classy, how could I possibly do that to you? Let me just hold you, you’re my treasure.” Oh yeah, he’d said treasure, and the idiot that I am, I melted like, OMG this guy is the best, while in the back of my head, I was like but what’s so bad with being a little dirty? A little bad like I was with the other boyfriends? And who the hell uses the word treasure? Is my hoo-ha a blushing flower on top of it? He’d proposed months after we both graduated college, and I just let both moms take over what was supposed to be the wedding of the century between two of Seattle’s richest and most elite families—which by the way, mine was rising on the way to the top and it was made even easier when the great Rob Danish the Third gave us instant access to his lifestyle. I still remember going into the Everett Country Club and nearly passing out after using the bathroom. It had perfume, like actual perfume for you to spray down your shirt so your boobs smell like heaven. And not the Walgreens brand I kept grabbing because it was convenient and, in my opinion, smelled identical. No, they had Gucci, Prada—they had everything and mints that probably cost more than my Nordstrom Rack purse, my parents were worth a lot of money but they always kept us humble and never really exposed us to the other side of life. I take another step toward Rob. He smiles like I am his world, his eyes blurry with tears. My heart sinks, knowing that it is all a lie. I’d been lying in bed all night staring up at the fancy ceiling with its intricate designs and moldings and wondering if I could really do it. My family will be disappointed if I don’t. This is a whole new world for us. It opened doors that we could have never possibly dreamed of, despite our success. Plus, my dad has a startup that Rob’s family already funded. My sister is obsessed with her new big “bro.” He calls her Sprite and buys her expensive purses, so of course she loves him. Should have seen that coming when he asked what kind of dog I wanted to adopt in order to prepare for the brood we would have later. Yeah, he said that to my face while she was walking around with