I grab my bouquet, Ava and Fiona at my flanks. Ava checks to make sure Dallas isn’t outside the door before waving us into the hall. We stroll toward the back courtyard, decorated with white flowers everywhere, and black and turquoise ribbons.
Dad waits for me at the end of the hall. His eyes tear up as soon as he sees me. “You look like an angel,” he says and kisses me on the cheek.
I tear up as well, but I don’t want to cry before Dallas gets a chance to see me. And it’s all his fault anyway. I never used to cry until Dallas came around. Lately, though, it’s all been tears of joy. I’ve never been happier than I am with him. Which is exactly why I’m marrying him.
The pianist and violinist start Pachelbel’s Canon in D, and we line up.
“Oh, can’t forget this,” Ava says and pulls the veil over my face.
“I love you,” I tell her.
“I love you too,” she says and gets back in line behind Fiona.
Fiona goes first, Denton offers his arm and walks her to the altar. It was a long road to get Dallas and Denton to a place where Denton is in his line, but it’s perfect and well worth it to have him here.
Randall, the best man, and Ava go next.
The music picks up. That’s our cue. Dad leans over and whispers in my ear. “I couldn’t be more proud of you than I am right now.”
I sniffle. “Thanks, Dad.”
He walks me out onto a path covered in white rose petals lined by black and turquoise chairs for the audience. I see Marky toward the front. He’s cleaned up nice.
Once my focus lands on Dallas, it stays there. He’s smiling, his eyes welling with tears. He wipes them with his suit cuff. He is the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. The tailored suit emphasizes his broad shoulders and large chest. I look down, notice he’s wearing his Chuck Taylors, and laugh. He is so Dallas Brown and I love every single thing about him. I can’t wait to show him my cowboy boots.
Dad and I stop next to Dallas, and Dad lifts my veil, kissing me on the cheek before taking his seat next to Dallas’s mom.
I look to Dallas and chuckle to keep from crying.
“You are gorgeous,” he says and takes my hands.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “And you are so handsome.”
The minister calls our attention and gives a talk about marriage and how it can be hard and how it can be fun, but mostly it’s difficult and a commitment not to take lightly.
We trade vows, but Dallas adds to his, “I can’t promise to never fuck up, to never add to my criminal record, but I promise to love you until my heart stops beating. I promise to treat you right and give you a life beyond anything you could ever have planned for yourself.”
I’m crying now. There’s no way to hold it back.
The minister finally says, “You may now kiss the bride,” and Dallas and I reach each other and kiss like we haven’t touched lips in years. The passion and joy between us is beyond anything I ever dreamed of in all my careful planning.
The crowd claps and cheers, and the minister announces us for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Brown.
I laugh and wipe my tears. This is the happiest day of my life. And not because of the event, but because of who I’m marrying. I never realized it before, but it’s not what you do in life that matters, but whom you do those things with. And I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone other than Dallas Brown.
Dallas grabs my hand and leads me back down the aisle. “Now we dance!” he yells when we’re almost to the doors.
Everyone laughs, but I stop and pull Dallas back with me. What is she doing here? “Mom?” She’s sitting on the aisle seat near the back.
My first reaction is fear, fear that she’ll mess this up for me. But she comes toward me with her hands stretched out in front of her, looking beautiful and sober. “My baby,” she says and cups my face before pulling me into a hug.
It was hard not having a mother throughout all the planning, to know she wouldn’t be here today, and despite her choices, I was still wishing she’d be here. And she is. I cry into her hair, the same caramel color as mine. When I pull away, I tug Dallas forward. “Mom, this is Dallas. My husband.”
Dallas offers his hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Mom pulls him in for a hug. “Thank you for making her happy again,” she tells him. It makes me cry harder because that’s exactly what he’s done, and after all this time of not seeing Mom, she knows it was him who made me this way.
People are leaving their chairs now and coming toward the doors. “I’ll catch up with you more inside, okay?” I say.
“Of course,” she says, releasing my hand.
I look back toward Dad and stand on my tiptoes. “Thank you,” I mouth.
He smiles and nods before Dallas and I go inside to get ready for our first dance.
I don’t even know what song we’re dancing to for our first dance as a Mr. and Mrs. Brown; Dallas wanted to pick it. His big secret.
The music starts, and I laugh. It’s “I’ve Had the Time of My Life.” Dallas walks across the dance floor and fingers for me to meet him. I do, and he mouth-sings the song to me just like Johnny did with Baby.
“You’ve been practicing,” I say.
He grins and turns away from me, walking with a swagger I’ve never seen on him before. He does a floor slide and fingers for me to run toward him.
I shake my head. “No way! We aren’t even in water.” He may have practiced on his own, but we haven’t and I’m in a puffy dress.
“Trust me.” He gestures with his hands again for me to come.
“You drop me, and I want an annulment.”
He laughs.
I run and jump. He catches my hips and lifts me into the air. His base is surprisingly good. Everyone claps and I’m grinning so hard, my cheeks hurt. I’m trying to hold back my laughter because I don’t want my first broken bone to happen on my wedding day.
He slowly drops me down his front. Kisses me.
“What was all this for?” I say, referring to the spectacle of the lift.
“Well, remember how good I got laid last time we did the lift?”
I throw my head back and laugh from my belly. “It’s our wedding night. I’m positive it’s safe to say you’re getting laid tonight.”
Laid, my ass. He just loves me.
Dallas is hard as nails on the outside, but on the inside, he’s a hopeless romantic.
My hopeless romantic.
Wicked Thing’s Pinterest Board includes everything from Dallas’s bike, to Dallas’s tattoos, to Carmyn’s wedding ring and dress.
Denton’s journey to be in Dallas’s line at his wedding wasn’t an easy one. The next book is Denton’s story about how he got there. Oh, and he gets a happily ever after as well.
Read other books by Angeline Kace
Jenn Sommersby, thank you for being one of my cheerleaders as I wrote this book and always, always believing in me. Your faith in me never wavered. You have been such a great inspiration for me to keep going and how powerful words can be. Thank you for your amazing edits with this book. Any errors remaining are my own. Thank you for the suggestions you gave me to make this book and my characters that much better. I love you, my non-blood sister!
Heather Hildenbrand, thank you for all your support, with this book and with everything in life in general. Thank you for your beta reading input. I rely on you so much! You’re an amazing writer and friend. I am grateful every day for you.
Lindsay Cox, thank you for being the Mickey to my Rocky. Thank you for staying up late to read my freshest words (or just being there in case I needed you). Thank you for all of your input with each scene, with each detail of every part of this book. Thank you for beta reading and offering me input the likes of a beta reading savant! Thank you for cheering me on when I felt too inadequate to write this story. And thank you for loving Dallas even when you didn’t read contemporary. Thank you for every part you played in this book (and every aspect of my writing journey
). It would not be what it is today without you.
Jessica Estep, thank you for making my dreams come true. I’ve always wanted you to do for me what you’re doing now. Publicist fits you so well! Thanks for trusting me as one of your first clients. Thanks for enjoying my work enough to read the scenes as I wrote them and to bug me for more! Thank you for doing all the things that need to be done that I can’t manage or do on my own, and for keeping me straight. I’d be lost without you. Thank you for being with me from the very beginning. You are a Godsend.
Kate Copsey, thank you for all of your support, and for beta reading even when you were too busy to do so. Thanks for all the chats about this book. It’s be a long time coming, and a lot of my continued excitement over this project remained because of your excitement over it as well. Thanks, Yin!
To my Indie Hellcats: Amy Bartol, Georgia Cates, Lila Felix, Michelle Leighton, Quinn Loftis, Rachel Higginson, Samantha Young, and Shelly Crane, thank you for your support, for your knowledge, for including me in this wonderful group of woman who shine so bright I must have been lucky the day you invited me into it! Thanks for your support, the laughs, and the love!
To my street team, Angeline’s Awesomes, you guys have stuck by me from the very beginning. I am forever grateful to you and everything you do to support me and my books! Much love, always!
To my husband and family, thank you for your support and knowing that when I’m “working on my book” you just won’t see or hear from me often. And thanks for loving me regardless.
To the book bloggers and all the readers. Thank you for reading this book! Each one of you keeps this dream of being a writer alive for me, and I am forever grateful to all of you!
Angeline is a Scorpio living in the Rocky Mountains with her husband and dogs. She loves all things paranormal, believes ghosts are real, werewolves aren’t, and vampires? Definitely real! At least in the Vampire Born world they are.
For information on new releases, giveaways, or anything else to do with Angeline Kace, visit her website at: www.angelinekace.com
A Risk Worth Taking
Heather Hildenbrand
“You want to talk about it?” Ford asked, sitting beside me. He was close enough to reach out and touch but far enough away, it didn’t make me squirm. I could think clearly as long as he stayed over there.
I stared at the water, watching the gentle ripple where it trickled around a rock that stuck out above the surface. Further up, where I’d have to race with Casey, it was deeper, the rapids much faster. I liked it better here, where the sound of water was soothing and more of a background noise instead of in your face and roaring. “Not especially,” I said finally.
“Wanna make out?”
“What?” I whipped my head up, sure I’d misheard him.
He laughed. “Casey said you needed a distraction. Just trying to help.”
“Casey’s an ass.” My cheeks burned at the thought of accepting Ford’s invitation, even if it had been a joke.
“Agreed. Doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”
“Depends on who you ask.”
There was something so easy about the way he bantered. Like nothing ruffled him. Nothing shook his center. I wished I could be like that. Then again, maybe he’d never had something happen that was big enough to shake him. And somehow, the thought lessened my irritation. I couldn’t snap at him. He didn’t know my baggage. I didn’t know his.
“Ford.” I took a deep breath, letting my shoulders rise as the oxygen filled me completely and gave me the patience and courage to continue. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but I don’t know you. I’m not going to just spill all my problems. And you don’t have to bring me out here and do … all this.” I used my hands to gesture around us. “It’s not your problem, it’s mine.”
“I’m not arguing the first part. You don’t know me. But I’d like the chance to let you. And sometimes talking to someone who doesn’t know all about it helps you see it clearer.” He spoke slowly, as if he’d considered his answer carefully rather than just throwing out what I might want to hear. Again, I felt a layer of defenses crumble.
“You might be right,” I admitted. “I just … I don’t do that.”
“Didn’t you come home in order to start doing things differently? Make a new way for yourself?”
“You can’t use my words against me.”
He smiled. “Fine. I’ll give you until we get to my greenhouse. By then, when you tell me, it’ll seem like your idea.” He stood and offered his hand. I took it, letting him pull me up.
“Why are we going to your greenhouse?” The words came out breathless. I dropped his hand the moment I was on my feet. How did simple hand-holding reduce me to a sixth-grade prude? You would’ve thought it was Danny-what’s-his-slobber all over again. No, that wasn’t right. Even without any solid proof, I was absolutely positive Ford could kiss better than that.
I eyed his mouth and watched as it slowly curved up at the corners. Oh yeah. That mouth definitely didn’t slobber. As hot as its owner was, I almost wouldn’t mind if it did. I licked my own lips and jumped when Ford suddenly closed the distance between us so that we stood toe to toe. Our only contact was his chest pressed lightly against my breasts. It was enough to make my nipples tighten and my breath quicken.
He bent over me, his breath warm on my face. “I was going to respect your wishes. Give you some space. But the more I think about it, the more I agree that you just need to be good and distracted. And since you can’t seem to take your eyes off my mouth, I think we should start there.”
Before I could protest, he lowered his lips to mine. I told myself to pull away, to walk straight back to the dirt bike parked up the hill and demand he drive me home. Or drive myself home. Or run. Kissing would only lead to … more kissing—and I didn’t want to think about what else. Or I did. And that was the problem.
But the second Ford’s mouth touched mine, every reason and excuse and rational thought disappeared. His lips moved slowly at first, prodding my own apart slowly. When the kiss deepened, he laid a hand on my hip. I leaned in, wanting more of his hands on my body. I was rewarded with his arm sliding around as he pressed his palm against the small of my back. When his tongue darted out and licked the inside of my upper lip, my knees went liquidy. I slid my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. I didn’t want him to try anything crazy like pull away.
Heat burned its way through my veins settling between my thighs and leaving an ache. My hands began to move on their own, running down the length of his back and up the planes of his chest. My heartbeat roared in my ears. I couldn’t breathe. And I didn’t particularly care if I never did again. So long as he never stopped touching me.
When Ford broke the kiss, it felt like waking from a heavy dream. It was almost painful coming back to reality. His hand stroked my hair and trailed down my arm before dropping at his side again.
I tried to think of something to say, but my brain felt foggy. “Well. That was …” I didn’t know how to finish.
Coming October 2013
For more information and a complete list of titles visit www.heatherhildenbrand.blogspot.com
Please enjoy this excerpt from the adult contemporary novel from
The Beauty Series
Beauty from Pain
by Georgia Cates
I sit in the dark corner and scan the room like a starved predator searching for prey. I haven’t chosen her yet, but the woman who will share my bed for the next few months is in this room right now.
I watch a lovely blond approach my table. “What can I bring you?” Hmm. A waitress—not at all my usual taste.
I have a type. Attractive. Mature. Refined. This barmaid meets the attractive requirement well enough, but she’s void of refinement or maturity as displayed by her choice of apparel—a white, barely there tank top and frazzled cutoff denim shorts. She doesn’t do it for me. Plus, my last two companions were blond. I want a different flavor this time, but no redheads.
I want a brunette. A beautiful one.
I remind myself I’m not in Sydney where I have an endless variety of sophisticated women from which to choose. My choices are more limited in the small town of Wagga Wagga, but that doesn’t mean I have to settle for the first attractive woman I see.
“I’ll have a Shiraz.”
I’m prepared for a more prolonged relationship this time—three whole months instead of the usual three or four weeks. I’m looking forward to keeping this one around a little longer, and that’s all the more reason to be certain I make a wise choice.
I begin my search of the club with the first table toward the front of the room. A brunette beauty sits with a group of women. I watch her for a while, but decide she’s too friendly with the woman sitting next to her. Lesbians aren’t in my repertoire.
I spend the next hour scanning the club and come up empty-handed. I’m discouraged. No one stands out as the one and this club is by far my best bet for meeting single women in this town. Maybe I should consider coming back another time when it’s not open mic night. Tonight, the place is crawling with boozed college students.
Tonight’s search has been a failure, but at least the karaoke was entertaining.
I’m finishing off the last of my wine before I leave when an announcer from the club takes the stage and asks for the next singer to step forward. A small group of people across the room nominates one of its own. My view of the poor bastard is blocked by the crowd of intoxicated kids standing between us, but I’m certain this is going to be another delightful train wreck.
The club erupts into cheer and chants. “Do. It. Do. It. Do. It.” A young woman walks onto the stage and stands with her back to the crowd as she takes a guitar from its stand. She lifts its strap over her head and then tosses her long brown hair over one shoulder. When she’s finished settling the guitar into place, she circles around and sits on the stool in the middle of the stage.
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