The Wedding Wrecker
By Penelope Bloom
Who doesn't love a perfect wedding?
James “The Wedding Wrecker” Carter. That's who.
His mission is to expose cheaters, liars, and frauds before they can say "I do." And he's frustratingly good at his job.
And me? I'm Emma Marshall, wedding planner extraordinaire who happens to believe in things like happily ever afters, love, and the power of a perfect wedding. Or at least I did until a certain wedding wrecker gave me the best night of my life, then wrecked my biggest wedding, along wi...
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Who doesn't love a perfect wedding?
James “The Wedding Wrecker” Carter. That's who.
His mission is to expose cheaters, liars, and frauds before they can say "I do." And he's frustratingly good at his job.
And me? I'm Emma Marshall, wedding planner extraordinaire who happens to believe in things like happily ever afters, love, and the power of a perfect wedding. Or at least I did until a certain wedding wrecker gave me the best night of my life, then wrecked my biggest wedding, along with my career, the following day.
Three years later, I’m finally ready to give another big wedding a shot and rebuild my reputation. My little sister is marrying the son of one of the richest men on the planet, and they’ve asked me to plan everything.
Am I terrified of screwing it up? Absolutely. So imagine my horror when the wedding wrecker shows up at the mountain ski resort with the rest of the wedding party. Worse? He decides to play hero by pretending to be my boyfriend to ward off the unwanted advances of the world’s creepiest groomsman.
Now I'm sharing a room with the most infuriating (and irresistible) man I've ever met. He's cynical, sexy, and has a terrible habit of making me want to break all my carefully crafted rules—rules that are supposed to keep him on his side of the bed and me on mine, among other things.
The problem? While I'm busy planning the perfect wedding, he might be plotting to wreck it. And if he does, he'll destroy my career. Again. He’ll also destroy my little sister’s perfect day, which is something I’m never going to let happen.
But convincing the wedding party we’re legit means more “fake” kisses than I can handle. It means being carried away from the ski slopes when I barely twist my ankle so he can “pretend” to pamper me all day by the fireplace. Except nothing about his soft touch or the way he looks devastatingly gorgeous in those sweaters he keeps wearing feels pretend.
Worst of all, it means getting glimpses of the man beneath the emotional scars—the one whose past breaks my heart and almost makes me understand why he does what he does.
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