Blitzing Emily

by Julie Brannagh

  “Jack McKenna, you behave yourself,” Suzanne told him with an indulgent smile.

  “Never.” He winked at Emily. “My offer still stands,” but he kissed his wife’s cheek. “Ready, Mrs. McKenna?”

  Jack accompanied Suzanne up the aisle and made sure she was seated, and then it was time for Mark and Meg to make their way up the aisle. She gave Emily one last hug, and took both her hands.

  “I love you, honey. I’m so happy for you.”

  Emily’s fingers brushed metal. Wait a minute. There was a ring on the third finger of her mother’s left hand.

  “Mom?” Emily pulled her hand up to see. “What’s this?”

  “I asked your mother to marry me again the night before last, and she said yes,” Mark Hamilton told his daughters.

  Emily was frozen in shock for a moment. Her mother’s face was radiant with happiness as she held out her left hand for Emily and Amy to see her new ring. A few minutes later, though, it was a bunch of Hamiltons, hugging and crying on the best day of Emily’s life. Their parents finally pulled away, though. “We need to get this show on the road.”

  Emily watched her father loop her mother’s hand through his arm. They beamed at each other, and made the slow walk up the aisle.

  Amy stepped into place as well. The string quartet in the choir loft swelled.

  Emily’s breath caught as she watched Amy’s progress. The ballroom skirt of her dress swished as she walked the aisle. Just buttoning the back of the gown took half an hour. The copper silk shone like a new penny as the sun hit it. She was incandescent.

  Amy reached the altar, turned to face Emily, and mouthed, “Hurry up.”

  The wedding coordinator and her assistant shut the sanctuary doors, preparing for Emily’s grand entrance. She’d seen far enough into the sanctuary to note it was standing room only. The physical contrast between Brandon’s teammates and the rest of the guests was a bit startling, too.

  Emily’s father patted her hand. “Ready?”

  Her voice came out in a whoosh: “Yes.”

  “Nervous?”

  “Not at all.”

  She shook like the leaves in her headdress. Her palms were sweaty. She swallowed the tiny bit of moisture in her mouth. Her heart pounded, the adrenaline raced through her body, and she whispered, “Do you have any advice?”

  A few seconds later, the sanctuary doors opened with a flourish. The organist and trumpeters launched into Purcell’s “Trumpet Tune.” Emily saw her mom stand up in the front row. The rest of their guests got to their feet and turned toward the back of the church.

  Brandon and Emily had invited people on very short notice, but everyone they loved was here. Emily and her father took measured steps over the threshold and into the sanctuary.

  “It’s a hell of a time to ask for advice, punkin.” Mark Hamilton held his eldest daughter’s hand a little more tightly. “Brandon asked me the same thing this morning.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Sure, he did. I’m going to tell you exactly what I told him, too. Love each other. Think about the things that would make him happy, and do at least one of those things every day. Put each other first. Take it one day at a time.” Her father nodded at someone he knew as they passed by. “If there was one more thing I could tell you, maybe you should learn from your mom’s and my mistakes.”

  “Dad, everyone makes mistakes.”

  “There’s a difference between those who learn from it when they screw up, and those who keep doing it over and over.” Her father’s mouth twitched into a grin. “Punkin, this could never be a mistake. You and Brandon are always going to love each other.”

  The end of the aisle was in sight, and Emily’s eyes locked on Brandon. He looked more handsome than she’d ever seen him. His curls were styled. He wore a black morning coat with a white silk pocket square, subtly striped tuxedo pants, a pearl-gray vest, and a soft gray cravat. He took whatever breath she still had away. She was so absorbed in staring at him that she was barely listening to her father.

  Brandon stepped forward at the end of the aisle. His lips curved slowly into a smile, and he held out his hand to her. Her father stopped, and Brandon walked to them. Emily’s dad shook Brandon’s hand, and they hugged each other clumsily.

  “Here she is, son. You can walk with her the rest of the way.” Mark Hamilton pulled his daughter’s veil up enough to kiss her cheek. “We love you.”

  “I love you, too, Dad.”

  He settled the veil back over her face, put her hand in Brandon’s, and stepped aside.

  Brandon and Emily took a few more steps, and they stood at the altar. “Nice dress,” he whispered into her ear. “I can’t wait to take it off you.” She let out a laugh. The rest of their lives started now, and Emily could hardly wait.

  Enjoyed BLITZING EMILY?

  Good news! There’s a lot more to come in Julie Brannagh’s

  sparkling, sexy Love and Football series.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at

  RUSHING AMY—

  on sale February 11, 2014

  from Avon Impulse.

  An Excerpt from

  RUSHING AMY

  THE WEDDING WAS over, and Amy Hamilton stood amongst the wreckage.

  Every flat surface in the Woodmark Hotel’s grand ballroom was strewn with dirty plates, empty glasses, crumpled napkins, spent champagne bottles—the outward indication that a large group of people had one hell of a party. A few hours ago, Amy’s older sister, Emily, had married Brandon McKenna, the man of her dreams.

  Three hundred guests toasted the bride and groom repeatedly. Happy tears flowed as freely as the champagne. The dinner was delicious, the cake, even better. The newlyweds and their guests danced to a live band till after midnight. The hotel ballroom was transformed into a candlelit fairyland for her sister’s flawless evening, but now all that was left was the mess. The perfectly arranged profusion of flowers were drooping. So was she.

  Amy arranged flowers for weddings almost every weekend. Doing the flowers for Emily’s wedding, though, was an extra-special thrill. She’d seen it all over the past few years, first as an apprentice to another florist, and then opening her own shop a little over a year ago. It was long hours and hard work, but she was determined her business would succeed.

  Amy took a last look at the twinkling lights of the boats crossing Lake Washington through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the west wall. She couldn’t help but notice she stood alone in a room that had been packed with people only an hour or so ago. She’d been alone for a long time now, and she didn’t like the feeling at all. She picked up the black silk chiffon wrap draped over yet another chair, and the now-wilting bridal bouquet Emily had tossed to her. Obviously, she’d stalled long enough. She wondered if the kitchen staff would mind whipping up a vat of chocolate mousse to drown her sorrows in.

  HEAVY FOOTSTEPS SOUNDED behind Amy on the ballroom floor, and she turned toward them. The man she’d watched on a hundred NFL Today pregame broadcasts strolled toward her. Any woman with a pulse knew who he was, let alone any woman hopelessly addicted to Pro Sports Network.

  Matt Stephens was tall. The body sculpted by years of workouts was showcased in a perfectly tailored navy suit, but that didn’t tell the story. The wavy, slightly mussed blue-black hair, the square jaw, the olive skin that seemed to glow, and the flawless, white smile were exactly what Amy saw on her television screen each week during football season. Television didn’t do him justice. After all, on her TV screen he didn’t prowl. He locked eyes with her as he crossed the ballroom.

  She glanced around to note she was still alone in the ballroom, and he was making a beeline toward her. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted, but she would be finding out in a few short moments.

  She knew a lot about him. Matt was a former NFL star, and a good friend of her new brother-in-law’s. When Matt got tired of playing with the Dallas Cowboys (three Super Bowl rings and six visits to the Pro Bowl later) he’d played in Seat
tle for the last two years of his career, afterward embarking on the wide world of game analysis and product endorsements. Guys wanted to be him, and women just plain wanted him.

  Well, women who were still on the playing field wanted him. She was putting herself on injured reserve. After all, once burned, twice shy, and every other cliché she’d ever heard that reminded her of salt being poured on the open wound that was her heart.

  Mostly, guys that looked like Matt weren’t looking for someone like her; she was a woman more interested in being independent than being some guy’s arm candy.

  Matt stopped a few feet away from Amy. The deep dimples on either side of his lips flashed as his mouth moved into an irresistible grin.

  “Hello, there.”

  “You’re late.” The words flew out of her mouth before she realized she’d said it aloud.

  His smile cajoled. The man was completely aware there wasn’t a woman on the planet that could hope to resist him. She could, though. She would. She wasn’t going to fall for someone like him. He slipped one hand into his pants pocket.

  “Oh, I’m definitely not late,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I’m right on schedule.”

  She let out a gasp of outrage.

  His eyes slid over her from head to toe. Slowly. They made a few stops along the way, too. Amy dragged a shallow breath into her lungs. She resisted the impulse to smooth the wrinkles out of her dress, shove the hairpins back into what was most likely the wreck of her updo, and press her lips together in any attempt to salvage lipstick eaten off hours ago. Until she reminded herself that she was dealing with yet another male. Even worse, this one evidently believed the rules in life applied to everyone else but him.

  “Were you actually invited to this event?” she asked.

  He looked a bit wary. Even if Matt was the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, he was not getting away with this. She was busting his chops. After all, someone had to do it.

  “Yes, I was invited.” He tried to look sheepish, but she wasn’t buying it. “McKenna’s going to kick my ass.”

  “Why do I think it won’t be the first time that’s happened?”

  Matt lifted one eyebrow, seemingly unused to any woman who didn’t collapse into a quivering mass of flesh whenever he chose to make any effort at all. She saw his mouth twitch into a smile.

  “It seems we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe we should try this again.” He took a couple of steps toward her and extended one hand. “Hi. I’m Matt Stephens.”

  Amy tried to surreptitiously wipe what she was sure was a sweaty palm on her dress before her hand vanished into his much larger one.

  She nodded a bit and tilted her chin up, as if she were introduced to guys who made People’s “Sexiest Man Alive” issue every day. “Matt, huh?”

  “And your name is?”

  Her mouth evidently had a mind of its own. For some perverse reason, she blurted out, “I’m Fifi.”

  “Fifi.” He looked a bit skeptical.

  “Yes.” She squared her shoulders. “My parents were . . . imaginative.”

  “Is that so?” He glanced around for a brief moment, and his eyes moved back to her. “I’m a little thirsty. Are you thirsty, Fifi? Let’s have a drink.”

  Amy deliberated for about half a second. Despite the fact she was fairly sure she’d just met the most arrogant man in the world, she was dying to see what he was going to do next. Broken heart or not, she was in.

  And don’t miss

  CATCHING CAMERON

  coming Spring 2014

  from Avon Impulse.

  About the Author

  * * *

  JULIE BRANNAGH has been writing since she was old enough to hold a pencil. She lives in a small town near Seattle, where she once served as a city council member and owned a yarn shop. She shares her home with a wonderful husband, two uncivilized Maine Coons, and a rambunctious chocolate Lab.

  When she’s not writing, she’s reading, or armchair-quarterbacking her favorite NFL team from the comfort of the family room couch. Julie is a Golden Heart finalist and the author of four contemporary sports romances.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  By Julie Brannagh

  Blitzing Emily

  Coming Soon:

  Rushing Amy

  Catching Cameron

  Give in to your impulses . . .

  Read on for a sneak peek at four brand-new

  e-book original tales of romance from Avon Books.

  Available now wherever e-books are sold.

  ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS A COWBOY

  By Emma Cane, Jennifer Ryan, and Katie Lane

  SANTA, BRING MY BABY BACK

  By Cheryl Harper

  THE CHRISTMAS COOKIE CHRONICLES: GRACE

  By Lori Wilde

  DESPERATELY SEEKING FIREMAN

  A BACHELOR FIREMEN NOVELLA

  By Jennifer Bernard

  ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS A COWBOY

  by Emma Cane, Jennifer Ryan, and Katie Lane

  What’s better than Christmas?

  Christmas and Cowboys.

  From Emma Cane, Jennifer Ryan, and Katie Lane come three wildly romantic holiday stories featuring snowstorms, proposals, a sleigh ride . . . and, yes, cowboys.

  The Christmas Cabin by Emma Cane

  Sandy and her five-year-old son, Nate, are Christmas tree–hunting when a snowstorm strikes and an old ranch hand points them to an abandoned cabin. Little does Sandy know, the hand sent cowboy Doug Thalberg to the same place. It’s a Christmas all of Valentine Valley will remember.

  Can’t Wait by Jennifer Ryan

  Before The Hunted Series began . . .

  Though she is the woman of his dreams, Caleb Bowden knows his best friend’s sister, Summer Turner, is off limits. He won’t cross that line, which means Summer will just have to take matters into her own hands if she wants her cowboy for Christmas.

  Baby It’s Cold Outside by Katie Lane

  Alana Hale hits the internet dating jackpot when she finds Clint McCormick. He’s sensitive and responsible—not to mention wealthy. When he invites her to spend the holidays on his family’s ranch, she readily accepts. But on the way there, a blizzard strands her with a womanizing rodeo cowboy who could change everything . . .

  An Excerpt from

  SANTA, BRING MY BABY BACK

  by Cheryl Harper

  A bride abandoned at the altar . . . just in time for Christmas? ’Tis the season for second chances at Cheryl Harper’s Elvis-themed Rock’n’Rolla Hotel.

  There was something about Grace Andersen that made him want to help, even after decades of trying to guard his mother and her money against personalities and stories like hers.

  He wouldn’t mind being Grace Andersen’s hero.

  To avoid doing something stupid, Charlie turned to go but stopped when she added, “Oh, Charlie, could you do me a favor?”

  She shuffled toward him, the rustle of the wedding dress sweeping the floor loud in the silence. “Could you unzip me? I thought I was going to dislocate a shoulder getting it zipped in the first place.” She turned and bent her head so that all Charlie could see was the smooth, pale skin of her shoulders and the loose dark hairs that tickled her neck.

  When he didn’t move quickly enough, she turned her head to look at him over one perfect shoulder.

  Remembering to breathe became a struggle again.

  He forced himself to step closer. He grasped the zipper with one hand and slid the other under the fabric. The zipper made a quiet hiss as it slid down the curve of her back, every centimeter showing more beautiful skin.

  And out of the blue he wondered if unzipping Grace Andersen would ever get old. Finished, he took two steps away to keep from smoothing his hands over her shoulders like he wanted, or tracing a finger down her spine just to see goose bumps.

  She turned her head. “Thanks.”

  As he pulled the door closed behind
him, Charlie tried to remember the last time he’d seen anyone as pretty as she was in real life. Never. But she wasn’t his type. He preferred career women who wore glasses and looked like they could reel off stock prices or legal precedents. He liked women with sharp minds and sturdy savings. He’d had enough excitement growing up with Willodean McMinn Holloway Luttrell Jackson. Now all he wanted was a comfortable home, an easy, companionable, stable relationship, and maybe a baby to keep things interesting. Maybe.

  Grace Andersen looked like . . . magic.

  He propped his hands on his hips and shook his head as he looked out at the guitar-shaped pool that was covered for the season.

  Magic? He hadn’t been in the hotel for a full twenty-four hours and already his mind was going. Something about being that close to her had melted it. But Grace Andersen was just a woman. She’d been left at the altar but didn’t seem too broken up about it. He hoped her new plan, whatever it was, included checking out of the hotel immediately. Beautiful Grace Andersen might have the ability to wreck his goals along with his logic if she stayed.

  An Excerpt from

  THE CHRISTMAS COOKIE CHRONICLES: GRACE

  by Lori Wilde

  (Originally appeared in the print anthology The Christmas Cookie Collection)

  New York Times bestselling author Lori Wilde returns to Twilight, Texas, for another delightful holiday installment of her Christmas Cookie Chronicles. And this time, a young couple are thrilled to expect the greatest gift of all: a new baby!

  The perfect Christmas starts with the perfect tree . . .

  Flynn MacGregor Calloway put a palm to her aching back, wrapped her other arm around her pregnant belly, canted her head, and studied the spindly-branched, lopsided Scotch pine. After much wrestling and a few choice words, she’d managed to get it set up in a corner of the living room in the cottage she shared with her husband, Jesse.