Confessions Of A Bad Bridesmaid
She should never have agreed to be a bridesmaid!Bridesmaid Olivia Matthews has arrived at her best friend’s glamorous society wedding – and stepped into her worst nightmare! From her cleavage to her attitude, nothing about Livvie is welcome – and before she knows it she’s won the disapproval of everyone there.The only silver lining is best man Edward Winchester. He might be a bit uptight, but he’s also gorgeous and kisses like an X-rated dream… So Livvie decides there’s only one way to redeem this wedding from hell: persuade control freak Edward to cut loose and have his wicked way with her. If only he’d stop being so chivalrous…!
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âStop apologising.â Edwardâs hands were shoved into his pockets and the collar of his grey coat was up.
âWhat?â
âYou had a rough day. You drank too much champagne. It happens.â
âBut I ⦠I â¦â Threw myself at you. Tried to kiss you.
Heat rushed up and burned Oliviaâs cheeks. As if someone like Edward would ever kiss her. She snuck a quick look at him. Today he was even taller and more handsome. Even more unattainable.
Stupid, stupid, Olivia, she berated herself. Always wishing for things she couldnât have. Always falling for the wrong men. Not that she was falling for Edward. She just wanted to feel his skin. That wasnât falling for him.
That was just lust. Hot, dirty lust.
Dear Reader
This story has been kicking about in my head for a long time. In the beginning I didnât know it was a story. It was just a scene of a girl traipsing along a lonely country road in the cold, towing a tower of luggage, while a car crept up behind her. I didnât know who she was, and for a long time I wondered where she was going.
But one day I was writing another story and this particular girl popped up in it. Suddenly I realised who she wasâand where she was heading on that lonely road. I opened a blank page and started writing furiously. It was as if she had finally found a way out of my head and couldnât wait to get onto the page.
I hope you enjoy meeting Oliviaâa vulnerable little peacock with a tough shellâand Edwardâthe man strong enough to see through to her beauty inside.
These two people wanted me to tell you their story. So here it is. I hope you enjoy navigating through the maze of their love as much as I did.
Love
Jennifer Rae x
JENNIFER RAE, a journalist and freelance writer for some of Australiaâs leading lifestyle magazines, had written plenty of short stories in her teenage years, but it wasnât until she received a commission to interview a couple of romance-writers for a feature article that she was introduced to the romance genre.
Finally the characters who had been milling around Jenniferâs head since her long years on the farm made sense and she realised it was time to start expanding her short stories into a book.
So with little more than a guidebook borrowed from the local library and a you-can-do-this attitude, Jennifer sat down to release her characters and write her first romance novel. No one was more surprised than Jennifer when her novel was picked up by Harlequin just a few weeks after typing The End.
Jennifer has spent the last twenty years travelling and living in the US and the UK but now calls Australia home.
This is Jennifer Raeâs debut novel for MODERN TEMPTED⢠and is available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk
For Mick, who never gave up.
Contents
ONE
It wasnât just cold. It was bones-aching, tits-freezing cold. The white furry coat Olivia had purchased before sheâd left home looked fabulous, but it was doing nothing to keep out the December winds that whistled along the rough country road she was now trudging down.
âFive-hundred-dollar boots,â she muttered as her cheetah print luggage got stuck in yet another muddy hole in the road. âF...â she began, but the honk of a car horn behind her stopped the expletive coming out from between her hot-pink lips.
The road had been deserted for the last hour. Not one car or person had come along as sheâd waded through the slush and ice. But this car now stopped behind her and waited. She didnât look back but moved to the side of the narrow road so it could pass. But the car didnât move and a prickle of fear spread over her shoulders and into her stomach.
âWonderful. Now Iâm to be murdered on the side of the road. What a fabulous start to my holiday,â she muttered into the wind.
Hopefully the killer would change his mind. Still, searching for an escape route seemed a sensible idea, so she anxiously swivelled her eyes to the sides of the road. The car crept up behind her again. Blood rushed to her head and burned her temples. She didnât know what she was going to do. One thing she did know, though, was that when she found Edward Winchester she would kick him in his forgetful shins; then slap his inconsiderate face.
If heâd picked her up from the airport four hours ago sheâd not be here, on a deserted road, in a foreign country, freezing and wondering how long it would take the authorities to find her dead, frozen corpse in the English countryside.
The car bleated another loud honk, which made her feet slip on the icy road. What did this bloke want? For her to turn around, plonk herself in his car and ask which way she should turn her head for the knife to slit best?
