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Horror author Rachel Harrison has taken us on a devilishly campy ride to a haunted house and behind the scenes of what it\u2019s actually like to be a vampire, but her latest work may tackle her most terrifying topic yet: the wedding industry. As if eating up all your PTO<\/a>, spending thousands on a bachelorette trip, and bringing the inevitable hungover scaries that come with spending too much time on the dance floor isn\u2019t scary enough\u2014Harrison is adding a slasher twist in Kiss Slay Replay<\/em>.<\/p>\n While you don\u2019t have to wait too long to kick off spooky season with this inaugural horror read publishing on September 1, for those of you who have been celebrating Summerween for a couple of weeks, we\u2019re gifting you an exclusive excerpt now. Below, a sneak peek of your new favorite horror read<\/a>, Kiss Slay Replay<\/em>.<\/p>\n Every wedding guest\u2019s worst nightmare is on repeat in this wild and twisty new horror novel from the New York Times<\/em> bestselling author of So Thirsty<\/em> and Play Nice<\/em>.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n Despite the gorgeous venue and incredible weather, Willa Sullivan is not enjoying her best friend\u2019s wedding. Namely, because it\u2019s the first time she\u2019s face-to-face with her ex-fianc\u00e9 in months\u2014and he\u2019s brought along a date. But when Willa meets the groom\u2019s single, charming childhood best friend, Danny, things start looking up. That is, until they\u2019re interrupted by a masked killer terrorizing the reception. Willa and Danny fight to survive and save the ones they love, but they fail.<\/p>\n Or do they? Willa wakes up, and it\u2019s the morning of the wedding after what she assumes was a terrible nightmare. But as the day unfolds, she starts to question whether it was really a dream. Finally, Willa realizes she\u2019s stuck in a time loop, and she must learn how to escape or suffer a fate worse than death\u2014being an eternal wedding guest<\/a>.<\/p>\n Audio excerpted with permission of Penguin Random House Audio from KISS SLAY REPLAY by Rachel Harrison, read by Charlotte Lobdell. Rachel Harrison \u2117 2026 Penguin Random House, LLC. All rights reserved.<\/em><\/p>\n I stand in front of the mirror scrutinizing my reflection. Cassie salvaged my hair, swept it back into a stylishly messy bun. My makeup is fine. Maybe a little too much, but there\u2019s nothing I can do about it now. I gently sweep under my eyes with a Q-tip, eliminating rogue flakes of mascara.<\/p>\n The dress isn\u2019t a complete disaster. Plain, black. Loose but not wholly unflattering. Paired with my red strappy heels, red beaded clutch, and some jewelry it\u2019s wedding appropriate. Not a knockout, but it\u2019s not the worst.<\/p>\n I finally tear myself away from the mirror and step out into the living room.<\/p>\n \u201cYou look amazing,\u201d Evan says, giving me a hug. \u201cAnd you smell like a bachelorette party.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you serious?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEvan,\u201d Cassie says, reaching into her bra and adjusting her cleavage. \u201cNot now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m only joking,\u201d he says. \u201cYou have nothing to worry about, Willa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course not.\u201d I\u2019m fucking vibrating with nerves. I dig my nails into my palms, nibble on my inner lip. There is no calming down. No preparing. I need to accept what\u2019s about to happen. What I\u2019m about to see. Who<\/em> I\u2019m about to see.<\/p>\n \u201cWe all set to go?\u201d Wyatt asks, scratching his neck. He\u2019s not used to wearing a tie. He hates it.<\/p>\n \u201cAll set!\u201d Luke says, holding the cabin door open for us. He slaps Cassie\u2019s ass on her way out and she calls him a pig before making a crude sexual gesture and giving him a wink. It\u2019s all very sweet and nauseating. Their relationship has changed over the years. Since marriage. Since the suburbs. Since Theo. Cassie getting increasingly uptight, Luke further mellowing to accommodate. They used to be the couple that would fight in front of everyone, that would hook up in front of everyone. All passion. If they\u2019ve managed to maintain it, they\u2019ve moved it behind closed doors. Cassie will still get on Luke\u2019s case, but it\u2019s not the same.<\/p>\n To have this brief glimpse at their old dynamic instigates a surprising jealousy. What if I was pining after an old version of a love that I could never get back, and it made me blind to any possible future?<\/p>\n Or . . . what if I\u2019m just spiraling? What if that?<\/p>\n \u201cHold up! I want a picture,\u201d Luke says. We pose in front of the cabin, and he takes a selfie.<\/p>\n \u201cMy phone, too,\u201d Evan says.<\/p>\n It turns into a whole photo shoot. My cheeks hurt from forcing a smile.<\/p>\n Then the group starts down the path toward the lake. I wish I could feel some strength in numbers, but I don\u2019t. It\u2019s all happening too fast. Before, this weekend was an abstract thing. A problem for future me. I always seem to forget that future me will eventually be present me. Then I\u2019m angry at past me, but there\u2019s nothing I can do about it.<\/p>\n We\u2019re getting close. I can hear live music. Steph hired musicians for the ceremony\u2014a married couple who play piano and acoustic guitar, who are mildly YouTube-famous. There will be a DJ for the reception, thank God. I\u2019m so fragile right now a mediocre wedding band cover of \u201cSingle Ladies\u201d really might do me in.<\/p>\n \u201cOkay, Wills,\u201d Cass says. \u201cYou ready?\u201d<\/p>\n My gaze travels ahead toward the charming party setup\u2014mismatched vintage couches and chairs and high cocktail tables topped with mini lanterns and a mobile bar operating out of a restored retro silver Airstream. Just beyond that are rows of chairs facing the water, an aisle cutting through leading to a delicate lattice awning draped with gauzy fabric that dances erratically in the wind, lights blinking underneath like hostage fireflies.<\/p>\n There are three tall floral arches that separate us from the wedding. The loveliest gate.<\/p>\n And he\u2019s there. Ravi. Standing in the center arch. White button-down, slacks, his favorite bomber jacket. He bought it at the Brooklyn Flea in Industry City. With me. I was the one who found it on the rack. Handed it to him. Insisted that he try it on. Told him that he had to get it. That it was made for him.<\/p>\n He\u2019s so close to me. He\u2019s right there.<\/p>\n But he\u2019s a memory. I can\u2019t touch him. He\u2019s gone.<\/p>\n He\u2019s ordering a small black coffee. He\u2019s asking me out. He\u2019s asking me to marry him.<\/p>\n He\u2019s standing in the kitchen watching me shake. He\u2019s asking me if I\u2019m serious. He\u2019s asking me why I didn\u2019t say anything sooner, and I\u2019m trying to explain that I couldn\u2019t, that I didn\u2019t know how. He\u2019s asking me not to leave. Don\u2019t do this. Not now.<\/em><\/p>\n He\u2019s telling me we can work it out, that he wants to fix it, but says nothing when I ask him how, what that even means. Says nothing when I tell him I think it\u2019s too late.<\/p>\n He looks the same. Actually . . . no. No, he doesn\u2019t. He let his hair grow out. He knows I like his hair long. When we were together, he\u2019d shave it anyway.<\/p>\n I watch a manicured hand appear and stroke the back of his neck, a pretty finger wind through one of his curls.<\/p>\n It\u2019s her. Pink satin dress clinging to her curves. Long, caramel-colored hair in glamorous waves. Black heels. Black ribbon choker. Black YSL bag. She\u2019s gorgeous. Striking. Perfect glowing skin. Thick fluttering lashes. Big, pearl white smile. She looks like a fucking model.<\/p>\n The two of them together. Ravi with someone else. With her<\/em>. Me alone, still reeling. It\u2019s too much.<\/p>\n \u201cUm, no.\u201d My knees buckle. \u201cI can\u2019t do this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, you can,\u201d Cassie says. \u201cI\u2019m right here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe got you,\u201d Evan says.<\/p>\n \u201cI just . . . need . . .\u201d I can\u2019t breathe. \u201c. . . need a second.\u201d I pull free of my friends and take a shaky step back.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere are you going?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust one second. Just one . . . one minute.\u201d<\/p>\n The shiny new couple, they\u2019re going to turn this way. They\u2019re going to look at me. They\u2019re going to see<\/em> me, here, distraught, and it might kill me. It really might kill me.<\/p>\n Panicked, I dart off the path and into the woods. I know I\u2019m acting like a lunatic, but I don\u2019t care. I don\u2019t stop. I run until my heels betray me and I roll my ankle.<\/p>\n \u201cShit.\u201d<\/p>\n I hate running. I collapse against a tree, hyperventilating. The world warps around me. For a moment, everything is neon, wavy. Then sepia toned, still. Loud and pulsing. Eerily quiet.<\/p>\n What if it wasn\u2019t too late? What if we could have worked it out?<\/p>\n Why was I so certain then that there was no salvaging our relationship, our life together? Why am I so uncertain now?<\/p>\n Is it being at this wedding, surrounded by love? Flowers and vows?<\/p>\n Is it her? Knowing that there\u2019s someone else, that he\u2019s moved on?<\/p>\n Is it because I\u2019m low and lonely and afraid of feeling this way forever?<\/p>\n My heart thud-thud-thuds, vision blurs, the ground gives underneath me\u2014squish<\/em>\u2014the earth soft, warm, yielding, like an open mouth.<\/p>\n My skin prickles, and I experience the sensation of falling. That flip in my gut.<\/p>\n It doesn\u2019t matter why I\u2019m feeling how I\u2019m feeling. There is no going back. It\u2019s over. He\u2019s with her. And I\u2019m going to have to watch them together. Sit together. Eat together. Dance together. Be together. Be happy in a room full of happy people, while I\u2019m nowhere even close.<\/p>\n I\u2019m so dizzy I don\u2019t know which way is up. There\u2019s grass in my eyes, sky swallowing my feet. A swirling iridescence.<\/p>\n Am I about to pass out?<\/p>\n I close my eyes, press one hand against the tree to keep myself steady, hold the other to my diaphragm and attempt to breathe normally. Inhale. Exhale. I summon my friends, their voices telling me that I\u2019ll be fine. Inhale. Only way out is through.<\/em> Exhale. Inhale. What story worth telling starts with a retreat? <\/em>Exhale. You\u2019re going to be okay.<\/em><\/p>\n I just need to survive the night. That\u2019s it. Survive.<\/p>\n Breathing now under control, I open my eyes and turn my attention to my ankle. I reach down and massage it. It feels all right. That\u2019s one crisis averted. Imagine? Adding injury to insult?<\/p>\n Another deep breath. Inhale . . . Exhale . . .<\/p>\n It\u2019s sudden, the sound. A rustling somewhere. The ugly snap<\/em> of a twig pops my head right up. Disorienting, what\u2019s in front of me. The image unplugs me from reality, so uncanny I can\u2019t really process what it is I\u2019m seeing. I\u2019m off-kilter. My brain doesn\u2019t know what to do with the information. It takes a while for it to register. For me to understand that there\u2019s a figure standing in the distance. Beyond the clearing, up on a slight hill, between the trees. They\u2019re partially obscured by shadow, by the shade of the woods.<\/p>\n I can\u2019t tell what\u2019s most disturbing. The shade, or the angle they\u2019re at, which makes them seem freakishly tall. Or that they\u2019re dressed in all black\u2014combat boots, what might be coveralls, and a mask, a black three-hole balaclava, with silver duct tape over the mouth. There\u2019s a red smile drawn on, with a zipper between, like metal teeth. And the eyes . . . I can\u2019t see its actual eyes, I\u2019m too far away, but I can see that there are big fake eyeballs adhered to the mask near where its real eyes should be.<\/p>\n The figure has one hand hidden behind a tree. With the other, it waves. It wears black utility gloves.<\/p>\n I stumble backward. Into something. Someone. I whip around, a scream tripping across my lips.<\/p>\n Excerpted from KISS SLAY REPLAY<\/a> by Rachel Harrison, published by Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright \u00a9 2026<\/em><\/p>\n Every wedding guest\u2019s worst nightmare is on repeat in this wild and twisty new horror novel from the New York Times<\/em> bestselling author of So Thirsty<\/em> and Play Nice<\/em>.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n As an Editor for The Everygirl, Lauren ideates and writes content for every facet of our readers\u2019 lives, from must-read books and behind-the-scenes interviews to beauty products she can\u2019t live without. When she isn\u2019t sitting in an AMC watching the latest buzzy release, she can be found scouring Goodreads for the perfect pick for The Everygirl Book Club<\/a>. There, she co-hosts discussions with members, debating plotlines, fancasting characters, and, of course, tossing in her own recommendations.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n\n
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<\/a>\n <\/div>\n\n\nRachel Harrison<\/div>\n\n
\n Kiss Slay Replay <\/a>\n <\/div>\n\n\n
\n Shop Now <\/a>\n <\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\nWhat is Kiss Slay Replay<\/em> about?<\/h2>\n
Listen to the excerpt<\/h2>\n
Exclusive excerpt from Kiss Slay Replay<\/em> by Rachel Harrison<\/h2>\n
Pre-order Kiss Slay Replay, releasing September 1, 2026<\/h2>\n
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\n <\/a>\n <\/div>\n\n\nRachel Harrison<\/div>\n\n
\n Kiss Slay Replay <\/a>\n <\/div>\n\n\n
\n Shop Now <\/a>\n <\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n ![\"lauren](\"https:\/\/media.theeverygirl.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/01\/Lauren-Blue-Headshot-TEG.jpeg\")
\n <\/div>\n\nABOUT THE AUTHOR<\/div>\n\nLauren Blue, Editor & Book Club Co-Host<\/h3>\n