When the hottest woman I ever slept with leaves me fifty bucks and sneaks out of my bed, I’m completely stunned and left feeling a little…dirty.
Most men might let it go. But I’m not most men. This woman has left her mark and I have to track her down.
Imagine my surprise when I discover that she’s getting married…
So I do what’s most logical: steal the bride. Except…am I even at the right wedding?
Stealing the Bride is a standalone full-length romance novel with a sexy AF billionaire, smart geeky heroine, identical twins and mistaken identity. No cheating, no cliffhanger. Just lots of heat, heart and humor. Grab it today!
★★★★★ Excerpt ★★★★★
The bride is over my shoulder, wriggling like a trout caught between a bear’s paws. And it’s true: my paw is on her butt, so maybe she feels like a trout, even though we’re on a beach and there are no bears in Maui. And she’s screaming like a banshee.
I sprint down the aisle, past the tropical flowers lining each side, feet churning the sand. Somewhere a Chihuahua is barking insanely. The bride’s head bounces on my back, the white veil brushing my thighs and knees. The guests in semi-casual beachwear are too stunned to move. They just stare, their mouths open. It looks comical–like something from a third-rate chick flick.
“Stop!” comes from behind me. The groom’s finally pulled himself together.
Sissy. I didn’t even push him out of the way that hard. I look over a shoulder to give him a superior smirk.
He’s started after me, his feet pounding the sand. But the guy’s not fast enough. Even with a struggling woman over one shoulder, I can outrun him. I didn’t get my muscles from one of those jiggle dumbbells that simulates you-know-what.
Oh yeah. You aren’t getting married. Not until pigs win the Super Bowl.
Besides, he’s going to thank me. As soon as the fact that his intended and I slept together only two weeks ago sinks into his microscopic brain.
My getaway Maserati convertible is waiting. Yeah! Stealing this bride in style.
I dump her in the passenger seat. Cursing, she struggles against the tangled veil and a small sea of white fabric.
I start the car. The engine roars like a lion, while the bride screams like I’m Hannibal Lecter coming off a month-long fast. The Hawaiian breeze ruffles my hair. I smack the wheel in triumph and give the car some gas.
Someone in red runs right in front of the car. Crap! I slam on the brakes.
“You crazy?” I shout, my heart knocking hard against my chest. The Maserati could’ve turned her into a bloody human pancake. “I almost ran you over!”
A tall, slim brunette places her hands on the hood of my car, almost like she’s daring me to run her over. Then she lifts her chin.
The familiar aquamarine eyes send a jolt through me. I blink. The bride is right next to me, still cursing. What is she doing over there in that red dress? Am I seeing things? I’ve been thinking entirely too much about her over the last two weeks.
“Skittles?” I say.
“Yeah.” The same husky voice.
Whoa… It is her.
I glance at my kidnapped bride…who has finally gotten her veil out of the way and has the exact same face as Skittles. What is going on?