Her Big Easy Wedding The Complete Series

by Abby Knox

  Her Big Easy Wedding

  A New Orleans Shapeshifter Romance: The five-part bundle

  Abby Knox

  Contents

  Her Big Easy Wedding

  I. Taking the Belle

  II. Having His Cake

  III. Chasing the Night

  1. Chapter 2

  2. Chapter 3

  3. Chapter 4

  4. Chapter 5

  5. Chapter 6

  6. Chapter 7

  7. Chapter 8

  8. Chapter 9

  9. Chapter 10

  10. Chapter 11

  11. Chapter 12

  12. Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  IV. Running with the Pack

  13. Chapter 2

  14. Chapter 3

  15. Chapter 4

  16. Chapter 5

  17. Chapter 6

  18. Chapter 7

  19. Chapter 8

  20. Chapter 9

  21. Chapter 10

  22. Chapter 11

  23. Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  V. Her Big Easy Wedding

  An excerpt from Walk With Me

  About the Author

  Also by Abby Knox

  Her Big Easy Wedding

  A New Orleans Shapeshifter Romance in Five Parts

  This bundle contains five interwoven stories about five separate couples, all set against one couple’s big, drama-filled nuptials within the elite shapeshifter society of New Orleans.

  The individual stories are fun, quick reads full of insta-love, alpha males, big-haired debutants and plenty of Louisiana hot sauce for everyone!

  Warning: these stories are about grown-up shapeshifters in a paranormal universe doing grown-up things, sometimes with fangs and claws. But don’t worry, they don’t bite. Much.

  Copyright © 2018 by Abby Knox

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Cover Designer: Mayhem Cover Creations

  For my fella, who listened to me break these stories aloud endlessly for the first three months of 2018, as the flu, strep, stomach viruses, seasonal affective disorder and sore throats ravaged our entire household. None of that could compare, however, to our bedroom wall covered in sticky-note timelines, in true serial killer fashion. Bless.

  Part I

  Taking the Belle

  By Abby Knox

  Taking the Belle

  Ashton Boudreaux knows what he wants as soon as he sees it.

  When the strange little princess in the dangerous dress walks in to his friend's bar one night, Ash can barely remember his own name, let alone the name of the woman who recently did him wrong. He knows it's a bad idea to get close to someone who doesn't understand his wild-and-woolly secret, but he's the breed of guy who mates for life. He doesn't care who her daddy is and does not care how many gilded hoops he has to jump through. He's gonna marry that girl and do whatever she says to get her down the aisle.

  Rosemary DuChamps has got it all, except any desire for a daddy-approved mate.

  She's a hell cat who's hell-bent on sinking her claws into just the right down-home fella.

  A man who can keep up with her. A man who isn't after her family's money. And, a man who can handle her family's secrets. Ashton Boudreaux fits the bill perfectly. He's a self-made man, tons of fun and mystery, and has latched on to her so fast they're as cozy as beans and rice.

  Chapter 1

  June 2018

  He closed his eyes as he drank her in, his senses heightened to her sweet taste and scent. He could try to devour every drop of her, but there was always more. She drenched herself shamelessly for him. That’s one of the many things he loved about her.

  On the outside, she was a refined Southern belle from old New Orleans money with finishing-school manners and traditions. But inside? She was a hellcat. And the wolf loved him some kitty cat action.

  Ash wouldn’t have his bride any other way.

  He looked up to glimpse her flushed face as he ran his fingers along the lace trim of her white thigh-high stockings. “Rosemary Michelle DuChamps Boudreaux, who’s your daddy?”

  She smiled down at him. “You are, Ashton Lewis Boudreaux.”

  She had to know how absolutely fucking insane he had been with his need for her. His need to taste her, nibble on her, to fill her and get lost in her had consumed him from the moment she decided they should abstain until the wedding night. But Ash had played along. He had obeyed and accepted her terms with gritted teeth.

  And he swore throughout the engagement that she would pay for this. He had not endured her little games throughout these last few months only to be rewarded with some vanilla missionary wedding-night sex. Not when Rosemary’s spice taunted him daily.

  Now she was all his. And she was going to pay. There were no more barriers, least of all the silk and tulle that lay crumpled on the floor by his charcoal morning suit. You don’t fuck with Ash Boudreaux.

  “Get ready, girl, ’cause I’ve got a present for you.” He snapped her baby blue garter belt, then pulled it off with his teeth. No, he had not been down for ceremonially pulling this little “something blue” off of his bride during the reception. Nobody was getting a look at the goodies under her dress. Nobody but the groom. The drunken wedding guests had begged for this torrid display, but he was not having it, and his word was final on the subject.

  She squirmed on the bed, desperate for him to finish her with his mouth. “Oh Ash, please.”

  But he didn’t listen. He got up and pulled a small box out of his pocket inside his suit coat. When he returned to the bed, she was up on her elbows, her sweet breasts heaving up and down with her ragged breath. She saw the box with the velvet bow and smiled. His baby girl could not resist a present, even if she was on the edge of going wild with lust for more of his face in her lady bits.

  He snuggled in next to her on the bed. “Open it.” He grinned mischievously as she took the box, her eyes dancing like a little kid on Christmas morning. She untied the bow and tossed the lid on the floor, lifted the tissue paper and pulled out the silk Hermès scarf.

  “Oh my god, Ash. Thank you!” She went to tie it around her neck, but he abruptly took it away.

  “This scarf is a present for me, too,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  As if she didn’t know.

  He watched her face as he proceeded to skim over her breasts, teasing out her nipples with the luxurious silk. Her eyes fluttered shut and she moaned.

  “Arms above your head.”

  She obeyed.

  “Good girl.” He tied her wrists together with the scarf.

  “What a life we live, using a brand new $400 dollar scarf as a sex toy,” she said with a husky little laugh.

  He gazed down on her as he knotted the scarf around her wrists. “Damn right, and it was bought and paid for with my own hard-earned cash, and not with one of those platinum cards funded by the father of the bride.”

  “Oh, Ash…”

  “And you know what I’m really going to enjoy?” he growled. “Watching you cut up those cards to smithe
reens later. Lionel DuChamps isn’t going to pay for so much as another pack of gum for my Rosemary Boudreaux.” And with that he buried his face in her once more.

  She caught her breath and said dreamily, “Hearing you say my new name gets me so hot. Pissing off my daddy makes me even hotter. Thank you for taking care of everything today.”

  “You’re welcome,” he breathed between kisses, “’and I told that old man I’m also gonna get you good and pregnant tonight. And then again and again and again for the rest of your child-bearing life. There are gonna be so many Boudreauxs running around New Orleans with so much money that nobody will ever drag my daddy’s name through the mud again.”

  Ash left no spot unloved between her thighs, bringing her to an epic crescendo of spasms. He slowed his strokes, anticipating the orgasm to subside. But somehow it kept going.

  Holy shit. He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew it was time strike if he was going to get his kitty-cat pregnant tonight.

  Quickly, Ashton joined his body to hers, guiding his cock into her sheath. She was still convulsing, and now spasming around him and quickly bringing him to the brink of exploding. “How are you still coming? Are you OK, baby girl?”

  But she could barely form words, only cries of pleasure. He guided himself in deeper and felt the point of resistance. She encouraged him with the grip of her thighs. So he went for it. He felt it pop easily and he was all the way in, her sex still contracting around him.

  She cried out again, her sex gripping him tighter. Her legs were wrapped around his waist as he pushed into her, over and over, her cries taking on an inhuman, unearthly growl. He rode her faster and deeper until he joined her in her extended climax. His eyes locked onto hers, committing to memory every pore of her skin, every tremble of her lips. Her face was sublime as he came inside her. Her sex was matching his pace and egging him on.

  The beasts inside them had met their match, and the animals wanted it all. The cat wanted everything the wolf would give and more. He had never imagined it would feel this good with anyone. It was as if he might be falling off a cliff and flying at the same time. It felt as if neither of them were in control of their orgasms any longer. They were just vessels for something greater. The seed kept coming, and her sex was drawing it all in with a vengeance.

  Then, something else was happening. They were now creating something entirely new with their love. Something, and someone.

  Exactly what that new life would look like remained to be seen.

  Ash had been able to think of little else than this moment since he first laid eyes on his girl last January.

  Seriously, though. Fuck June weddings, he thought. He should’ve started getting her pregnant the night of Bobby’s party.

  Chapter 2

  January 2018

  Ash

  If there were ever an extreme sports of mixology event, Ash’s best friend Bobby Jordan would be the undefeated world champion. Who knows why Ash’s best friend had decided on Singapore Sling as the signature cocktail of the evening for his bar’s annual Twelfth Night party. Maybe because he looked good mixing them.

  Bobby slid the drink across the bar. “Why do you have to make it a girly drink, man?” Ash asked.

  His friend grinned at him. “Because of exactly that. Girls, man. Girls come to my bar for my good looks and they stay because I know how to mix the pretty, pretty drinks. And they like to watch me.”

  Ash shook his head and drawled, “Well, I ain’t so much interested in the ladies tonight, so how ’bout I come back there and fix myself something to put hair on my chest?”

  Bobby laughed. “You don’t need no more hair on that chest, ape man. Besides, everybody knows you need a nice little chicky-poo to get your mind off of Valerie. She fucked you up good and you need to move on.”

  Ash shook his head and sipped his drink. It was sweet and cloying like candy. Girly drink for sure. “This is terrible. Move over, Bobby.”

  Bobby blocked him. “No, man, this is my bar. and this ladies night shindig is my own personal Thank-Your-Personal-Baby-Jesus-Christmas-Is-Over Party. I insist. Here, I’ll make you an old-fashioned.”

  “I’d appreciate it, thanks. And try not to be jealous of my chest hair. I can’t help it that God doubled down on my testosterone.” Ash pounded his fist on one of his pumped-up pectorals.

  Bobby mixed up the old-fashioned and slid it in front of his friend, then his eyes glanced past Ash with an odd look on his face. “Sure, pal. Let’s hope you still got some of that manhood left to work with after what Val did to you, because you’re gonna need it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ash sipped his drink. Bobby nodded to the front door. Ash swiveled around in his barstool and suddenly felt as if he had been struck dumb.

  He stood up, because that’s what you do in the presence of a queen. And that’s about all that he knew how to do at the moment when she locked eyes with him.

  He didn’t know her name, but she looked like she knew him. She was taking off her flimsy lace shawl with the silver fringes and handing it over to Penny LeFleur.

  “Who is that?” Ash asked his friend without taking his eyes off her.

  “I believe that’s a client of Penny’s at the design studio. Penny said something about bringing her along tonight. She supposedly landed a big fish with this account. I don’t know her name, but she’s old money. Way older than your sorry-ass Boudreaux money, my man.”

  Ash turned to his friend and laughed. “Oh yeah, then why’s she partying over here in Freret and not whisking our girl away to some tony club in the Garden District?” He took a healthy gulp of his drink and enjoyed the burn on the way down.

  “I don’t know, I guess she and Penny hit it off.”

  Ash turned again and she was still watching him. And now, she was approaching. The woman had deep brown, intense eyes, high cheekbones, a heart-shaped face, and wild blonde hair. He had the feeling she was about to hit it off with more than just Penny. Was it possible that this incredible-looking female was making a beeline for him? Was he dreaming?

  Ash detected her scent long before she slithered up close to the bar and stood right next to him. It was a mix of sandalwood and lavender. The big, bad wolf in him latched on to it.

  She wore a dangerously short sequin dress, five-inch fuck-me heels. Her hair and makeup looked impeccable. No way that wasn’t professional. At least ten pounds of antique diamonds sparkled on her wrists, neck and earlobes.

  “What you drinkin’, darlin’?” Her eyes homed in on the girly drink on the bar next to Ash, the one he had tasted and set aside in exchange for his old-fashioned. Her voice felt like a cool satin sheet sliding across his chest on a steamy night in July.

  Ash was doing his best not to drool. He kept his eyes focused on hers, despite knowing full well her nipples were trying to poke through the thin fabric of that glittery dress. But even focusing on her eyes—her long lashes accented with some kind of teeny rhinestones that gave her the look of an unearthly snow queen—gave him an insta-boner.

  “Ah…” He looked for words. Words, man, think of words. The woman asked you a question. “Old-fashioned. What’s your poison? I’ll fix you whatever.”

  “Hey, that’s my job,” Bobby said, interrupting, but Ash ignored him.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the girly drink. Every time she spoke, her lashes fluttered at him like she was beckoning him to come closer.

  “Ah…Singapore Sling or some shit that my man Bobby here thought would help him seduce the ladies.”

  “Hey!” Bobby said.

  The Snow Queen smiled and picked up the girly drink. “I love these colorful cocktails,” she said. “Makes me happy to look at them.”

  Bobby cleared his throat. “Ma’am, let me make you a fresh one, that one has Ash’s cooties all over it.”

  She leaned sideways against the bar and sassily thrust out one hip. She spoke to Bobby but kept her eyes trained on Ash. “I ain’t scared of Ash’s germs. H
e looks like good people to me.” And then she winked one of those gorgeous brown eyes, picked up the cocktail and held it aloft.

  “To Ash and his cooties,” she said, raising her glass. Ash laughed and raised his drink, not knowing what to say back.

  “Rosemary,” she said, as if answering the question by reading his mind. “My name is Rosemary.”

  He nodded and they clinked glasses. “To Rosemary. My favorite flavor.”

  They kept their eyes locked on each other as they sipped their drinks. Then they surprised each other by tossing back their drinks in two huge gulps.

  Rosemary laughed as she watched him dab a tiny dribble off his chin and slam his glass on the bar. Then she followed suit, with a bravado that matched his. Shit, a woman who can drink, too.

  He held out his hand, “Ashton Boudreaux.”

  She smiled coyly and accepted his proffered hand. “Rosemary DuChamps.”

  If Ash had been drinking as she announced her family name, he would have done a comedic spit take. “Did you say DuChamps? As in DuChamps Shipping?”

  She sighed and pushed her empty glass toward Bobby. “Bartender, how ’bout another one of those,” she said, laying on the drawl thickly. Then she turned back to Ash. “And DuChamps Trucking. And DuChamps Sugar. And DuChamps Steel. Yes. That one. Got any more questions about my rich daddy?”