The Make Out Artist (Accidentally in Love #3) Read Online Sara Ney

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Accidentally in Love Series by Sara Ney
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
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Enter.

Images of him pop up on the screen along with a biography, and I click on the images in the top search bar to see more.

Elias at the NFL Football Draft, year after year after year, with various athletes. Elias at the ESPY Awards with a woman in a black gown. Another one with a woman in a red gown, this one blonde. A redhead. Elias at the Super Bowl with Jack Jennings and his girlfriend. With tennis pro Whitney Bondlander. With soccer player Mia Goodall.

Coming out of a restaurant with a leggy brunette, who’s hiding her face with a designer purse.

I snort.

“No one cares, honey,” I mutter, clicking the images gallery closed and going to his bio on Wikipedia.

Elias Cohen (36 years old) is an American sports agent, founder and CEO of CGM (Cohen Global Management), a global sports, events, and talent management company headquartered in Chicago, IL.

One of the highest-paid agents in America, Cohen grew up on the south side of Chicago, attending South Bay High School before attending Boston College on an academic scholarship, where he earned his business degree. Cohen then obtained his law degree. His career began as a junior agent at PDM (Phillip Davis Management) before moving on to form his own firm at the age of thirty-two, CGM. Among his current and previous clients are two-time world wrestling champion Elliot Camp, three-time Super Bowl champion Walt White, and two-time Wimbledon champion Venus Cartwright. Cohen lives in Chicago, Illinois.

Country: America

Born: Elias Grant Cohen

Parents: Grant and Susan Cohen

Siblings: Kate Cohen Davis (30)

Spouse(s): None

Children: 0

Awards: Click here for full list

I’ll admit, I’m not exactly unimpressed by his list of clients as I am a huge fan of several of them. That doesn’t mean I’m going to fall for his charm or be taken with his words.

Swiveling in my chair, I cross my arms and wait for another knock on my office door, chuckling that I sent the man to fetch me things, and he went willingly, without an argument.

He must be desperate!

A man who’s dated models and athletes and other beautiful, successful women.

Ha.

Big deal.

I snort, tapping my fingers on my desktop, stomach growling.

Elias does not disappoint.

Not ten minutes after I sent him on his errand, he returns with a quiet knock on my door. I wait a few heartbeats before standing and going to the door, pulling it open far enough so that he can hand me my newly laden plate. He’s added a few things; snap peas and tomato and some dill dip—which is my favorite, but I’ve been trying to quit dairy.

Still, it’s very nice that he put more effort into it than I’d asked him to.

“Thank you,” I say with a smile. I’m not a complete asshole even though he probably thinks I’m one, given my brusque behavior. I mean, listen—I’m tired and beat down and in no mood for a house party. I don’t mind Posey having parties. It’s just… sometimes I don’t want to participate in them.

“Now,” Elias leans against the doorjamb. “About that favor?”

I yawn. “I don’t need to do you a favor just because you got me food.” I put a piece of celery in my mouth and crunch down.

It’s good and loud and distracting.

“All I’m asking is for you to think about it,” he says.

“Dude, I have no idea what you’re even asking me to consider. You weren’t specific.”

“I need you to be my wingwoman,” he tells me, grinning like a fool. “You saw how those two women were downstairs. It happens everywhere I go. And I made a bet with someone that I intend to win.”

His wingwoman? Never in my life has anyone suggested such a thing unless you count Claire down in the dining room—which I don’t.

I set my plate down on a nearby table and cross my arms back at him. “What kind of bet?”

I may not be willing to participate, but I’m certainly intrigued enough to ask questions about it.

“My client’s girlfriend bet that I would settle down—or at least get a girlfriend of my own.”

“You bet against a relationship? Ew.” My nose wrinkles.

“No, I didn’t bet against a relationship. I just said that I wasn’t going to settle down. I’m not going to be tied down like he is.”

Well, aren’t those pretty words.

Not.

“You consider being in a relationship being tied down?”

“That sounds awfully cynical.”

“And you’re not?”

“First of all, you don’t know me. You’ve been in my house all of an hour, and you’re here eating my food. Just because I’m not tripping all over myself like Claire and Alexa doesn’t mean that I am not a relationship person.” I stiffen my stance. “I’ll have you know that I’ve been in a relationship since about five months ago—and I’m not the one who broke up with me. He broke up with me, not the other way around. So yeah.”


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