Wedding Dreams: 20 Delicious Nuptial Romances

by Maggie Way

  “Whoa, he’s good.” That was fast.

  “You have no idea. He knows what he is doing, trust me. So are you going to do it with him?”

  I blush, but luckily the quality of the call is blurry so he can’t see me that well. “Do what with him?”

  “Work with him, you doofus.”

  Oh. How silly of me. “Oh right. Yeah, why not. It can’t hurt, right?”

  “I told him to take it easy on you.”

  “Hanny!” I scold, frowning at him.

  “What? He’s going to be your boss.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s just Tristan, I can handle him. You don’t need to shelter me from everything.”

  “Alright, I guess after what you’ve just gone through…”

  I give him a warm smile. “I appreciate it but I’ll be fine. Business is business, alright? So I bet you’re glad to have him back in Sydney, huh?”

  Hansley sits up and props a pillow on the wall, resting his back. “Yeah, I’m glad to have my bro back. My roommate is pretty glad too, she is doing my head in; constantly yapping about him. Tristan this, Tristan that,” he mimics her by imitating a higher pitched voice and grimaces. “Blech!”

  I swallow hard at his sudden comment. His roommate Ashley, as in the tanned blonde yoga instructor who always wears skimpy tank tops and shorts? “What do you mean?”

  “She keeps asking me to set her up with him. I don’t know why she would be interested in him when she lives with someone as good looking and cool like me right?” He chuckles.

  “Uh huh, in your dreams. I can’t believe she’s lived with you as long as she has. You snore like a tractor! I used to hear you through my wall.”

  He scoffs, “Hey! She gets to hear my beautiful voice 24/7. That’s a privilege, sis.”

  “Why don’t you make her pay more rent if you set her up with him,” I suggest without a second thought.

  He snaps his fingers. “Ooh good idea! You know what, she’s so keen on him I think she’ll do it.”

  My stomach twists. I was kidding. He really wants to set Tristan up with a hot blonde? Why does the idea make me seethe with anger and nauseous all at once?

  “Sis, you still there?”

  “Huh? Sorry, bad reception,” I fib, before quickly resuming my happy demeanour. “Yeah why not, you’re a talented haggler aren’t you?”

  “Hey, I’m good with money that’s why I’m in finance! Also, I’ll get her to set me up with her friend Jess. Not too hardball?”

  I swallow hard. “Do what you want. Anyway, I have to go. Just wanted to call you and let you know I’m okay. I texted mom and dad, but I’ll call them tomorrow.”

  Hansley yawns again. “Okay, thanks for the idea! Let me know if you need anything okay?”

  Don’t set Tristan up with the Yoga bunny! I give a quick wave to my phone, eager to press the hang up button.

  Throwing the phone down on the bed, I shake off any newfound thoughts I had about Tristan. To think I thought there was something there, something special. That kiss, albeit brief, was different in every way that was good for me.

  It was powerful.

  It was rough.

  It was sweet.

  It shook me to the core how much I liked it and to him it was a mistake. This can never happen again…. His words ring in my ear, something I need to remind myself every time I think about him. Which is often. Note to self, must start doing yoga.

  What is Gabe up to? I open my door and make a sharp right to the next room, number 16. I knock the door in a way that Gabe knows it’s me – three successive knocks, followed by two slow ones.

  “Come in!”

  I turn the golden knob and walk into another gorgeous room. Unlike the cool blue ocean theme my room had, Gabe’s is like a warm rustic Spanish villa with yellow mustard walls and green furniture. Green bed sheets, velvet green curtains, a faded green dining table.

  Gabe has changed from his usual ensemble of a neat cardigan, shirt and jeans into a linen shirt and white shorts. As usual he keeps his white scarf on, because that’s what Gabe does best – look stylish 24/7. From the looks of it, he has already started unpacking most of his things, including his large toiletry bag, filled with his hair products and creams. Unlike me, he packs 30/70 so he will be looking a lot more stylish than me.

  “I just wanted to see how you were going. Looks like you’re settling in pretty well.” I walk in and take a seat on the firm double bed. Gabe continues to take some more clothes out of the suitcase, arranging them into planned outfits.

  “Girl, you have no idea how much I’m loving this right now. Once I get my clothes sorted, we have to make our way down to the pool and get some cocktails.”

  “I won’t have any, I’m meeting Amelia tonight for dinner. I want to be prepared in case she wants to go through our plans for her; any questions she might have,” I stress, trying to sound calm.

  “Geez she said to worry about that tomorrow, tonight is just dinner. And knowing you, you are twice as prepared as anyone I know. Enjoy your first day here!” he insists, focused on his garments.

  He’s got a point. I haven’t even been in Italy for four hours and all I can think about is getting my laptop and finishing my third run sheet - and starting the dark peppermint crunch block.

  I heave a sigh. “I guess you're right.”

  “Of course I'm right. Relax, girl! Let's go down to the pool and get some cocktails. Which board shorts should I put on? The gay pair or the really gay pair?” He points to two pairs of barely-there briefs, a white one and a baby pink one. I'm guessing the pink one is the 'really gay' pair.

  “Go with the white one, you want to make people guess about your sexuality…for an extra minute at least.”

  Gabe lets out a quick chuckle, “Why would I want to do such a thing? Fine, only because you said so. Go get changed! I'll get you in ten minutes.” He grabs the tight whities and saunters to the bathroom, leaving the door wide open. I know he'll be more than ten minutes, so I’m not going to hold my breath and wait here. For someone with short hair, he spends an awfully long amount of time styling it with his endless amounts of creams, mousses and gels. Unlike me, I manage my wild and unruly hair with a wooden brush, hair ties and bobby pins.

  I force myself off this ridiculously comfortable bed and open the door, walking with my head sticking out without looking. Without warning, the sudden impact hits me. Just like a speeding car heading out of a drive way, I've crashed into someone.

  The mystery victim stumbles back. I look downwards and I see a tone chest beneath a tight grey t-shirt. Tanned, lean arms.

  “Scusi, Io non ho visto…”

  That accent, it’s so thick. It’s deep, hypnotic and lush.

  “I-I’m so sorry—” I keep my eyes glued to the floor, trying to avoid looking at him. Given the way his voice sounded, I don’t even want to imagine how his face looks.

  I can sense a pair of eyes looking at me, and I’m all too aware that I don’t have bra on. To think I slammed into his chest with my bare breasts like that. Hesitantly, I look up at this mystery man with the unbelievably suggestive voice.

  I didn’t think it was possible, but his face is even more pleasant than his voice. Olive skin, wide and inviting jade eyes, tousled honey coloured hair, are the first things I noticed. The perfect scattering of blond stubble on his square jawline set off his full, bee-stung lips. This is the face of an angel, a Botticelli angel. If he was a half a foot taller he could easily be a model, but he only stands a few inches taller than me. I’ve got to admit, he’s gorgeous.

  “No sorry bella….”

  Words are not coming out of my mouth right now.

  “Come ti chiami? Your name?”

  My mind draws a blank. My name, my name… How can I not know the answer to this?

  “Lacey.” I smile weakly at him thankful my brain hasn’t suddenly dissolved to the mental capacity of a two-year-old.

  He takes a lingering glance at me, stopping short of my décoll
etage once again making me conscious that I’m not wearing a bra. What a sleaze! With an impish grin on his face, he starts to move backwards and turns towards the hall.

  “Ciao, signorina Lacey.” is all he says and he walks down the corridor without looking back at me. The way he says my name, the way it rolls off his tongue and pronounces it is sexy.

  What was that? I couldn’t string two sentences together. I almost forgot my name, for god’s sake. Get a grip Lacey, it’s just a guy. But who am I kidding, I’ve always been shy around cute guys. The idea of one flirting with me makes me shudder with despair, I’m totally clueless about it. I’m That Wedding Girl – give me a sixty guest wedding in a foreign country to plan any day. But having a thirty second conversation with a tanned lothario? That’s something I don’t have much experience in.

  All of a sudden, Gabe opens the door behind me and steps out with a big towel in his hand, his aviator sunglasses on his forehead. “Hey, you’re not changed yet! I thought you were getting ready,” he whines.

  “No, I am ready,” I grin to myself.

  I’m suddenly feeling much more settled in, and keen to check out the scenery.

  Get Book Two – Amalfi Coast here!

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  If you enjoyed this book, found it useful or otherwise then I’d really appreciate it if you would post a short review on any of the retailers or Goodreads. I don’t want to have to beg but since I am a nobody at this stage I could use all the love I can get. I’ll reward (or punish) you with more of my work!

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  About the Author

  Maggie Way is your typical city gal who hails from Sydney, Australia. She loves drinking ridiculous amounts of wine, making her own beauty products from scratch, and traveling around the world while munching on cheese and chocolate. She lives with her real-life happily ever after, while fantasizing about all her hot fictional book boyfriends on the side.

  She is also mommy to a little Maltese who may or may not be named after a famous vampire lover. In case you were wondering, no, she will never ever not in a million years write a vampire hero. She prefers her men to be true-to-life even when they just live inside her brain and on the pages of her books.

  She writes stories with heat, humor, and lots of heart and is more than happy to say what the rest of us are thinking, and sometimes what we’re not.

  You can contact her at info@maggiewayauthor.com

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  A SEAL's Surprise Wedding

  Brides of the Belle #1

  by Iona Findley

  Chapter One

  Vivi

  New Orleans hurricanes were often deadly, especially the fruity red ones in the tall curvy glasses I stared at. We’d moved on from the green drinks, fuzzy leprechauns those were called, go figure. Now Marianna and I had the iconic drinks Pat O’Brien’s was more commonly known for, Hurricanes.

  When I agreed to the St Patrick’s Day mini-bachelorette party, I’d focused on keeping it small. My goal: to minimize what Marianna called fun, but most normal people would consider chaos. “Just the three of us,” I’d insisted, “a girls getaway,” and she’d finally agreed. Lexi, my twin, Marianna, our host in the big easy, and me.

  Bachelorette. It wasn’t a role I’d ever really considered. Sure, marriage, and absolutely to Con, my strong, sexy SEAL, but the crazy drunk fest complete with sex toys, green drinks, and dueling pianos…never saw this coming. Never. Besides, the wedding was months away, not until August.

  But there I was, making the best of it and enjoying the once in a lifetime experience, even if partying wasn’t really my thing.

  Now Lexi, she loved this type of scene. From the minute the crew of young Navy men asked to join us in the piano bar, she’d been in her element. Which worried me. Lexi, in New Orleans, on a holiday weekend. That combo spelled trouble.

  “How many of them do you think she’ll take on?” Marianna had hollered over the crowd’s enthusiastic rendition of Billy Joel’s “The Piano Man.”

  I glanced away from the scrolling song lyrics above the stage to find my twin had crawled into one guy’s lap, and another had his hands starfished across each of her breasts. Her wavy blond hair, lighter than my own, with green tips tonight draped over one bare shoulder. Her strapless dress was already dipping close to nipple level, and one small tug from that man’s fingers would flash them all.

  “She won’t need to leave at all if that keeps up. They can just lick and suck anything they want right here.”

  Marianna laughed and winked me her agreement, waving her hand in front of her face indicting the sexual heat was on the rise. Irritation and worry battled within me, but I swallowed them down, determined not to ruin this night.

  Another sailor’s hand got friendly with my knee just then, trying to draw me into the circle of orgasmic delight. I smiled at him and pushed the straying fingers away.

  “Uh, uh,” I laughed lightly. “Bride here, remember.” I pointed up to my blatantly obvious veil and he just shrugged and grinned.

  I edged towards Marianna, putting some space between me and the wandering hands, and began singing again, full-bellied and off-key, but who cared. It was all in fun.

  “They’re so different from Con,” I said, nodding at the sailors when the song ended and the piano players announced a short break. “Do you think his team acts that way when they’re celebrating?”

  A naughty smile stretched across my friend’s beautiful face. “One can hope… sex starved SEALs? Yum.”

  “Oh, stop. You know I love my sexy SEAL, and being with him… well it is all kinds of hot. He’s very physical, but never so, I don’t know… public.”

  “Well, I’ve heard real SEALs don’t like to bluster and brag. Maybe they’re more private about other stuff too. I’m guessing they still know how to cut loose behind closed doors, though.”

  Lexi and the guys flirted and debated about who was the most skilled at something, God only knew what, when I decided it was time for a relocation to the main bar. No sense in watching a slow moving train wreck. Lexi made her own choices.

  We lucked into two bar seats when a bartender caught sight of us in the crowd and waved us over.

  He pointing to a pair of twenty-somethings pushing away from the bar and hollered, “They’re heading out."

  Marianna gave the lean, tattooed barman a high-five, and we climbed on to the recently vacated bar stools.

  “You girls up for some fun?” He handed us a drink menu, an actual eight page listing of all manner of tasty concoctions.

  “What is a Purple People Eater?” I laughed.

  “That there is what you call one hell of a purple punch. It drinks down like grape Kool-Aid and kicks back with a wallop.”

  Marianna laughed and shook her head. “Nope. Not purple, tonight is for green or for hurricanes. This is New Orleans after all.” And so it went.

  Tremaine, our bartender, regaled us with funny stories about the bar, its patrons, and the city. And we slurped back sweet drinks and munched on bar nuts.

  "I’ve got to pee,” said Marianna. “You coming with me or holding our places here?”

  Remembering the iron railed spiral staircase that I’d climbed earlier to reach the second floor ladies room, I considered her question. She grinned at me with fun and excitement sparkling in her chocolaty eyes and waited.

&n
bsp; Oh... Words, Vivi, words.

  I reached out and clamped one hand around the front edge of the aged wooden bar. The index finger on my other hand stabbed my response into the once glossy bar top in front of me.

  “I’ll be here,” I screamed over the hum of the crowd. “Riiiight here.”

  Laughing and giving me a nod, she pushed away through the throng of revelers jockeying for a spot at the bar, or better access to the green jacketed bartenders.

  “You ladies aren’t from here, are you?” the strange male voice boomed in my ear, about the same time the waft of recently smoked marijuana seared into my nostrils.

  Ew.

  I reached up, dragging my grandma’s precious hand embroidered veil far away from the noxious smelling guy. Lexi had brought the precious headpiece to the bar, and I’d given in to her demands that I wear it. I should have hidden the real antique one and provided my own fake, tulle look-alike, but I’d hoped to avoid embarrassing myself.

  “So where are you from, my lovely lady?”

  Him again. The one with the spikey unibrow and slightly hooked nose. It hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes since we shot him down the first time.

  “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not your anything.” I met his glassy stare, hoping he’d move along.

  “We’ll see.” His flat reply creeped me out.

  “I’m sure there are plenty of women in here who aren’t engaged. Maybe you missed my veil? Please go find someone else to spend your evening with.”

  I scooped up the slick, cool glass in front of me and sipped down more of the delicious nectar.

  Ignore him. He’ll go away.

  If he didn’t, Marianna would be back soon enough and she’d encourage him to leave. Ha! Encourage. My girl could bend iron with only her mind and a few sharp words. She’d take care of him.