Summer of Love
A Runaway Bride Romance
Natalie Knight
Crimson Vixens
Contents
Description
Summer of Love series
1. Huxley
2. Olivia
3. Huxley
4. Olivia
5. Huxley
6. Olivia
7. Huxley
8. Olivia
9. Huxley
10. Olivia
11. Huxley
12. Olivia
13. Huxley
14. Olivia
15. Huxley
16. Olivia
17. Huxley
18. Olivia
19. Huxley
20. Olivia
Summer of Love
A Runaway Bride Romance
By Natalie Knight
Copyright 2018 by Crimson Vixens
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.
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To Lauren
Description
It was supposed to be the wedding of the century.
The flashiest, most ostentatious Hamptons event of the summer.
The Vandercliffs and the Athens finally tying the knot.
Until the bride and groom are nowhere to be found…
Huxley
Yeah. That's right. My brother has disappeared without a trace.
I shouldn't be surprised. Love 'em and leave 'em is his M.O.
Why should I think things would be any different?
But as the best man, it's my job to fix this. Now.
Only things just got a bit more complicated.
Because the maid of honor has the same idea.
Says we need to work together. Well that's just great.
Because Olivia's sassy little mouth gets my blood boiling.
I barely tolerate her. She drives me out of my mind.
But now that we're on this mission to save this wedding,
I can't seem to focus on anything but that mouth…
And all the wicked ways I can put it to use.
Looks like our work is cut out for us.
Good thing I'm the best man for the job.
Olivia
A total freaking disaster.
That's what this wedding has become.
And to top it off, the guy I can't stand thinks he can fix it.
Yeah right. It's going to take a lot more than his smooth talking.
Because my sister the bride is MIA.
And we have a wedding to save.
Just when I think things can't get any worse, they do.
Because it looks like Huxley and I are stuck together now.
Guess it's my duty to fix this mess. Even if it means working with Hux.
Who is most definitely not the best man.
But the longer we're together, the less I feel like a maid of honor.
Because the things I want from him aren't maidenly or honorable…
Yep. Like I said.
Total. Freaking. Disaster.
_***Summer of Love is the first in a brand new 10-book series of standalone romances that will hook you from the start and not let you go. Grab a towel and an ice cold drink because this steamy summer romance is going to burn up your Kindle!***_
Summer of Love series
At the Hamptons summer wedding of billionaire Theo "The Duke" Athens to the world's most over the top bridezilla, Emma Vandercliff, the wedding party is treated to a round of drinks from Oberon Lawson, the mysterious & intimidating billionaire who owns most of the neighborhood.
Maybe there's something in the drink—or maybe it's just enough of the liquid courage they all need—but hijinks ensue as each member of the wedding party has a wild night they'll never forget. Secrets are uncovered, stakes are raised & lives are changed forever.
The only thing certain by the end of each novel is the happy ending—but the person you arrived with might not be the one you end up going home with by the time the night is through...
Summer of Love
Book 1, Summer of Love Series
By Natalie Knight
Summer Escape
Book 2, Summer of Love Series
By Liz K. Lorde
Summer Temptation
Book 3, Summer of Love Series
By Lana Hartley
Summer Flame
Book 4, Summer of Love Series
By Gage Grayson
Summer Secrets
Book 5, Summer of Love Series
By Vivien Vale
Summer Heat
Book 6, Summer of Love Series
Alexis Angel
Summer Lover
Book 7, Summer of Love Series
Carter Blake
Summer Fling
Book 8, Summer of Love Series
Daphne Dawn
Sinful Summer
Book 9, Summer of Love Series
By Aiden Forbes
Summer Bride
Book 10, Summer of Love Series
By Natalie Knight and Daphne Dawn
Huxley
Olivia Vandercliff’s ass is a work of art. It’s what I imagine the Mona Lisa’s ass would look like if Leonardo da Vinci had thought to paint her from behind.
And just like a da Vinci, I’d like to take her to a fine museum and nail her up against a wall.
“Huxley,” she breathes, shoulders heaving.
That’s right, baby. Say my fucking name.
Olivia is gorgeous, elegantly sculpted, and nude, save for a cheeky blue thong. If she was in my bedroom right now, she wouldn’t even be wearing that.
“Huxley,” she says again, her voice husky and intense.
In fact, if we were in my bedroom right now, this scene would be fucking perfect in every goddamn way. Hell, she’s even dripping wet—just not in the way I would prefer.
See, just like a priceless work of art, Olivia’s ass—and the rest of her—is off-limits to me.
Today is my older brother’s wedding—to Olivia’s older sister.
And no matter how much I’d like to escort Emma Vandercliff’s maid of honor away from this wedding and back to my bedroom, I’m not technically her date.
There’s also another small hitch in my plans of bending Olivia over and introducing her Birth of Venus to my big, thick paintbrush…
Namely, the fact that she’s standing naked at the end of the wedding aisle while the hall literally burns down around us. In full view of the entire guest list of both our families and friends, no less.
“Huxley,” Olivia says—and this time, it’s a rage-filled growl while she kicks her destroyed, soaking wet bridesmaid dress out from under her feet. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Ah, right. I probably should have mentioned—this is sort of all my fault.
Good thing I’ve got a lot of experience in damage control, huh?
First things first: Olivia’s dignity. I throw off my tuxedo coat, leap forward, and cover her up before anyone else can get a closer look.
Of all the things to gawk at in this room right now—such as the flaming drapery, the vomiting priest, and the destroyed wedding cake—Olivia’s tits are definitely garnering the most attention.
Even my uncle has put on his glasses to get a better view. Dirty bastard.
Her lithe little frame is dwarfed by the broad s
houlders of my tux jacket, but at least once she has her arms through the sleeves, she can wrap up in it. Not that my partially clothing her has improved her attitude toward me, of course.
“Slowly,” Olivia adds. “I’m going to kill you slowly, Huxley Athens.”
Without Olivia’s ass to distract me, I can survey the rest of the scene of these happy nuptials. Unfortunately, that only forces me to face the truth—this wedding has turned into a total shitshow.
The flaming drapes and puking priest aren’t even the half of it. Add in the way that the wedding cake is currently smeared across Vandercliff Hall’s eastern wall, and I’d still say that all of this would be fixable…
But it’s not just the drapes and the priest and the nude maid of honor and the cake.
The old biddy at the organ is still playing the wedding march—in two different keys at half the speed while she stares in horror at the ancient Vandercliff family broadsword. It’s still trembling in place where it’s pinned Daddy Vandercliff to the wall by the leg of his tuxedo pants, narrowly missing his family jewels.
That’s not all, either. They say the Devil wears Prada, and today, so did Mommy Vandercliff. Due to an eruption of the chocolate fountain, she’s accessorizing with Godiva—splattered all the way across her champagne-colored silk gown.
My own mother is attempting to help clean it off—not easy, considering that the sprinkler system turned on about thirty seconds ago, soaking the entire hall and melting my mother’s mascara into a dark, sludgy, eye-stinging mess.
The sprinklers aren’t doing much for the east-facing window, though. There, the drapes are still burning, threatening to melt the wall with their heat. I can see the entire Atlantic Ocean waving at me through the glass, but it’s too far away to douse the flames.
The rest of the wedding party is either sneezing violently in a cloud of yellow pollen, missing entirely, or—in the case of Chad Huntington-Beaumont—knocked out cold.
Which, knowing Chad Huntington-Beaumont, is actually to our benefit. Dude has the world’s tiniest cock while still managing to act like the world’s biggest prick.
And then there’s Olivia. Sweet, sassy, neurotic Olivia, who has been chasing her bridezilla sister around all morning and giving me hell for not doing the same for my brother as his best man.
So, the rest of this wedding might look like hell, but Olivia, on the other hand, looks so sweet, with my tuxedo coat wrapped around her svelte little body. I could kneel between her stilettos and lick her pussy until she melts.
“Not only am I going to kill you, Huxley,” she informs me, “but Emma? Emma is going to fucking castrate you.”
Speaking of castration—I look over my shoulder to see how Daddy Vandercliff is doing with his predicament. My own father has joined the scene now, trying to pull the Vandercliff’s sword out from between Daddy Vandercliff’s thighs.
You don’t have to be a fucking rocket surgeon to know that this isn’t going to end well.
“Dad!” I call to him, reaching my hand out in caution while he tugs on the sword between Daddy Vandercliff’s legs. “Don’t—”
But it’s too late. With a triumphant yank, my father pulls the sword from between Daddy Vandercliff’s stones like King Arthur freeing Excalibur from some mystical wainscoting.
“Ha!” he announces, proud.
The only problem is, he pulls a little too hard.
The sword swings wide as the priest rushes for the bathroom. My father narrowly avoids slicing the man of the cloth cleanly in two with it.
The rope that serves the sole purpose of raising and lowering the Vandercliff’s priceless 1700s sapphire and crystal chandelier isn’t so lucky.
Swwwf! goes the sword, and Snap! goes the rope.
Which is how a four-hundred-pound lighting fixture that has been hung in Olivia’s family hall for the last three centuries comes crashing to the ground, nearly crushing a stray bridesmaid in the process.
The crystals shatter, the sapphires scatter, and the candles that aren’t put out immediately by the hall’s sprinkler system…
Well, they roll to and fro, catching more of the hall on fire wherever their flames find purchase.
I wish I could say that was the end of it.
It should have been the end of it.
A call could have been made to the fire department and the correct insurance agencies. The guests could have been sent home a little damper than expected, but with one hell of a story to regale the Rockefellers and Joneses with over brunch tomorrow. And the wedding could have been rescheduled.
But from the way Olivia’s pretty jade-colored eyes are darting around the room in a panic…
It’s not over until the fat lady sings, I guess—and if Auntie Bertha has a song in her right now, it’s only a funeral dirge for the wedding cake.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I ask Olivia, trying to be charming.
After all, I’ve already given her my jacket and the biggest social disaster of the summer season—so, other than giving her a good, hard dicking, my charm is all I’ve got left.
“Emma,” Olivia says, scanning the crowd of annoyed and incensed socialites with a furrowed brow. “She should have been right behind me…”
I double down on Olivia’s efforts, visually searching the crowd for anything that might resemble a bridal veil or Emma Vandercliff’s monstrous ballgown wedding dress.
Nothing.
And you know what they say—when it rains, it fucking pours.
The bride isn’t the only one missing from this wedding day debacle.
So is the goddamn groom.
“Theo.” I say his name like a curse. Then, for good measure: “Well, fuck.”
Today has felt like an episode of Bridezilla in real life. I thought by now we’d be reaching the end of the episode, but now I realize…we’ve barely made it past the opening credits.
“What the fuck do we do, Huxley?!” Olivia asks, turning to me.
I shrug and put my arm around her, guiding her out of the hall—and toward the bar.
“I don’t know about you, cupcake,” I tell her. “But I need a drink.”
Olivia
THREE HOURS EARLIER
This is the fifth or sixth time I’ve listened to my sister’s voicemail greeting, and it still doesn’t sound any less shrill.
“Here comes the bride! I’m at my wedding—and you should be, too! So if any of you fuckers screw this up for me, so help me God…Leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you after the honeymoon! Bye-eee, mwuah!”
As Emma’s maid of honor, I have the so-called honor of making sure she makes it down the aisle on time, in her wedding dress, without so much as a hair out of place.
The perfect hair part is under control. We went to the salon this morning and asked the stylist for an updo that would survive the apocalypse. Between the two of us, we have enough bobby pins to pick the locks of every house in the Hamptons.
I know Emma wants to spend her wedding reception dancing her face off, not checking her hair in the mirror every five minutes. Now she’ll have one less thing to worry about.
But after we got her in her dress today, she disappeared. She didn’t call, she didn’t text, and she definitely didn’t tell me in person that she was leaving. Now the wedding is just thirty minutes away, and I have no fucking idea where she is.
Honestly, I wouldn’t blame her if she decided to cancel this whole thing. I don’t care if the Duke is a billionaire. You couldn’t pay me enough to marry that fuckboy.
In fact, I kind of hope she’s fucking him goodbye right now.
Suffice to say, I don’t have high hopes for my new brother-in-law, Theo “the Duke” Athens. As far as I’m concerned, without his money and looks, there’s not much to him.
He’s a human party favor. All six pack, no substance.
Which I guess explains why my sister took him home one night after a party.
Their whole fucking relationship has been one long walk of shame.
Kristen Jones, one of the other bridesmaids, sits next to me on the bed and pops open a bottle of champagne.
If I didn’t have to worry about Emma’s whereabouts, this would be the most fun part of the wedding. The bedroom we’ve designated as the bride’s changing room is gorgeous, and all our closest friends are here.
“How much do you want to bet that she’s canceling this whole thing?” Kristen asks. She takes a swig of champagne and offers me a sip.
“Zero dollars, Kristen,” I say firmly, refusing the glass of champagne with my hand. “This is my sister’s wedding, not a horse race.”
“Are you sure you don’t want in on this? Chad Huntington-Beaumont bet me a hundred dollars they’d break it off right after the wedding. If you bet they’ll end it before the ceremony starts and you’re right, you can double your money.”
“Kristen, we’re not making bets right now. Don’t make me stage an intervention. Can you try calling Emma from your phone? Maybe it’s me she’s avoiding.”
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