Stealing the Bride

Stealing the Bride

When the hottest woman I ever slept with leaves me fifty bucks and sneaks out of my bed, I'm completely stunned and left feeling a little...dirty.<br /><br />Most men might let it go. But I'm not most men. This woman has left her mark and I have to track her down.<br /><br />Imagine my surprise when I discover that she's getting married...<br /><br />So I do what's most logical: steal the bride. Except...am I even at the right wedding?<br /><br /><b><i>Stealing the Bride</i> is a standalone full-length romance novel with a sexy AF billionaire, smart geeky heroine, identical twins and mistaken identity. No cheating, no cliffhanger. Just lots of heat, heart and humor. Grab it today!</b><br /><br />★★★★★ <br /><br />The bride is over my shoulder, wriggling like a trout caught between a bear's paws. And it's true: my paw is on her butt, so maybe she feels like a trout, even though we're on a beach and there are no bears in Maui. And she's screaming like a banshee.<br /><br />I sprint down the aisle, past the tropical flowers lining each side, feet churning the sand. Somewhere a Chihuahua is barking insanely. The bride's head bounces on my back, the white veil brushing my thighs and knees. The guests in semi-casual beachwear are too stunned to move. They just stare, their mouths open. It looks comical--like something from a third-rate chick flick.<br /><br />"Stop!" comes from behind me. The groom's finally pulled himself together.<br /><br />Sissy. I didn't even push him out of the way that hard. I look over a shoulder to give him a superior smirk.<br /><br />He's started after me, his feet pounding the sand. But the guy's not fast enough. Even with a struggling woman over one shoulder, I can outrun him. I didn't get my muscles from one of those jiggle dumbbells that simulates you-know-what.<br /><br />Oh yeah. You aren't getting married. Not until pigs win the Super Bowl.<br /><br />Besides, he's going to thank me. As soon as the fact that his intended and I slept together only two weeks ago sinks into his microscopic brain.<br /><br />My getaway Maserati convertible is waiting. Yeah! Stealing this bride in style.<br /><br />I dump her in the passenger seat. Cursing, she struggles against the tangled veil and a small sea of white fabric.<br /><br />I start the car. The engine roars like a lion, while the bride screams like I'm Hannibal Lecter coming off a month-long fast. The Hawaiian breeze ruffles my hair. I smack the wheel in triumph and give the car some gas.<br /><br />Someone in red runs right in front of the car. Crap! I slam on the brakes.<br /><br />"You crazy?" I shout, my heart knocking hard against my chest. The Maserati could've turned her into a bloody human pancake. "I almost ran you over!"<br /><br />A tall, slim brunette places her hands on the hood of my car, almost like she's daring me to run her over. Then she lifts her chin.<br /><br />What the...?<br /><br />The familiar aquamarine eyes send a jolt through me. I blink. The bride is right next to me, still cursing. What is she doing over there in that red dress? Am I seeing things? I've been thinking entirely too much about her over the last two weeks.<br /><br />"Skittles?" I say.<br /><br />"Yeah." The same husky voice.<br /><br />Whoa... It <i>is</i> her.<br /><br />I glance at my kidnapped bride...who has finally gotten her veil out of the way and has the exact same face as Skittles. What is going on?