Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“All joking aside, this is the best day of my life,” I say.
“Mine too.”
We wait for the crowd to stream through the door and find their places around the white tables. It’s a beautiful spring day for a reception.
We have tea and delicious hors d’oeuvres, champagne, and a tower of open-faced sandwiches next to another silver stack of pastries and petit fours. The ornate wedding cake looks like it could feed an army, and on top, there’s a small golden telescope with a sparrow figurine perched on it.
Yeah, I’m in heaven.
Even the usual wedding photos aren’t torture. The Winthropes’ photographer makes things fast and fun.
And before we leave, I toss a bouquet to Jenn, who catches it with a red-faced squeal.
“Not fair. I’m your sister!” Maisy says.
“You’re still seventeen,” I say. “No need to stress Dad out.”
“I agree, Mais, you’ve got at least five years before I let any man steal away my youngest. Deal with it,” Dad says.
“You both suck,” Maisy whines.
“So, where’s the honeymoon again?” Dad asks, sipping a beer he’s had someone sneak into a champagne flute.
“Honeymoon?”
Oops. I hadn’t planned one. I kinda thought we did the honeymoon thing in reverse with the European tour back in autumn.
Brock throws an arm around my waist and gives me a reassuring squeeze.
“You’re not the only one who can plan a trip, Sunshine. We’re off to Iceland tomorrow,” he tells my dad. “And if I’m not mistaken, we’ve got a pretty sweet ride waiting.”
A gasp slips out of me.
I can’t even get my questions out as he walks me to the iron gate. The entire wedding party follows behind us. Another housekeeper opens it for us and I’m afraid to believe my eyes.
Two tall white horses stand in front of a sleek black carriage that looks like it just arrived from 1910.
“Oh my God!” I’m so overwhelmed I can’t help it.
Grabbing his head, I pull his face to mine and attack his lips with excited kisses.
Good thing he’s always game to match my intensity, even as I fall down in his arms and he dips me with a low bow, giving every camera in sight a photo finish.
“Get a room!” Maisy yells.
Brock straightens and helps me up with a chuckle.
“Shall we, Mrs. Winthrope?”
“One minute,” I say, turning back to the family gathered closest.
I have to show respect one more time for making this day so incredible. His grandparents take turns hugging me and his parents do the same.
When I spin around again, I meet Brock’s gaze as he holds out a hand.
I smile and nod.
Brock knocks on the side of the carriage and the footman opens the door for us.
“Shall I help you, ma’am?” the footman asks.
Yeah, I think my face is about to get stuck smiling.
Never, in a million years, did I ever dream up a wedding like this.
“I’ll help her up,” Brock says with a jealous growl that makes me laugh. “What?”
“Your possessive streak is kind of cute.”
“Glad you approve. It’s worse now that you’re wearing my ring,” he warns.
A few seconds after I’ve tumbled into the carriage, straightening my dress, there’s a high-pitched noise that startles me.
Yip! Yip!
“What’s that?” I ask.
Before he answers, Andy peeks out of a wicker basket on the floor and comes sliding out in all of his sausage-dog glory. He’s decked out in a big purple bow.
The pup tries to climb my dress and licks my hand before we settle him back on the floor.
“So, um, Iceland?” I say, resting my head on his shoulder. “I’m thrilled, but how did you choose that for our honeymoon?”
“It’s a place neither of us have been. We’ll enjoy nature. We’ll eat lots of fish. Plus, I really want to get you naked in the hot springs,” he rumbles in my ear.
God, he’s too good to me, even when he’s burning me down.
He holds me so tight the rest of the way, occasionally stealing a kiss, but after that we don’t really say much.
This day has been too wonderful and my husband is magnificent. I need a moment just to absorb it all.
But the carriage is definitely slower than a car, and wooden wheels on the cobblestone road make for a bumpy ride.
“How much farther?”
“A few more miles.” He chuckles. “Too rough for you?”
I shake my head fiercely.
“No way. I like being Cinderella’d for a day.”
And my face heats when I realize how true that is.
She was a simple girl who married a prince and set her father’s legacy right. I’m a fisherman’s daughter and now I’m hitched to a billionaire after he saved my dad’s life.
Sometimes when fiction comes true it takes your freaking breath away.
Finding Brock Winthrope naked in my shower because someone overbooked his room was more than a coincidence.
It was magic.
It was fate.
It was unbreakable.
“I’m not sure you’re Cinderella,” he says with a wicked grin.