red wedding guest dress

? ? Oh, Bailey…We get to meet this tomboy with an attitude in The Lucky One (book 3).
Here’s an excerpt:
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It wasn’t really my fault. It was the fault of every movie ever made, every book ever written, and every damn talk show ever produced. When you’re single, on the cusp of thirty, and your only sibling is getting married, things happen. Things like clocks ticking, insecurities blooming, little green demons taking up residence in your mind—all things you never knew were inside you until that day.

So it happened that, on the day of Nate and Laney’s wedding, I’d awoken not feeling quite like myself.

Part of the reason, I knew, was that I would be required to wear both make-up and a freaking dress to the wedding. Bailey Murphy does not do girly shit. But when a tiny, blond force-of-nature threatens your very existence if you don’t don the assigned attire (and smile while doing it), you obey. I’d seen Fiona in a temper and it was no joke. She took her maid-of-honor responsibilities very seriously and I was not about to provoke her. red wedding guest dress

I’d shown up to fittings, as instructed, and I’d done all the oohing and ahhing at the bride (who did look stunning in her gown, by the way). And I had enthusiastically participated in the shower and bachelorette party, although I didn’t indulge as vigorously as a certain bride-to-be who had to be carried into the house by my big brother when the night was over.

For the entire week leading up to the big day, I’d walked back and forth across my living room in a pair of ridiculously high heels, determined that I would not humiliate myself by falling on my face in front of everyone I knew.

I’d thought I was prepared.

I was wrong.

I felt a twinge of something when I woke up, but I brushed it aside, as there were many things to be done—the worst of which involved Fiona plucking errant eyebrow hairs from my face that I insisted I needed to keep for warmth when winter came. She didn’t share my feelings.

But, as the day progressed, there was no denying what was happening to me.

I was falling victim to the oldest cliché in the book. My brother was getting married, my friends were in happy relationships, and I was single and about to turn thirty. I could almost physically feel the cloak of the proverbial Old Maid descending upon my shoulders.

And that right there was how a tall, handsome, smooth-talking guy by the name of Jake Beckett worked the second oldest cliché in the book and got laid by a bridesmaid.

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