Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Your wedding day is meant to be the happiest day of your life. Not the day you discover your groom is a cheating jerk.
When I run, strong arms catch me. It’s just a shame they belong to my ex’s nemesis, Oliver Deubel. Rich and powerful, the man is sin in a suit. He’s also arrogant, demanding, and infuriatingly irresistible.
When my wedding disaster goes viral and deportation hangs over my head, Oliver offers me a deal: help him ruin my ex in exchange for my visa. The fine print? Move in with him.
I want to laugh in his face, until I discover how ruthless he is. So I decide to repay him by making his life a living hell, and he retaliates by…being nice to me. Which is where things become really weird as lines blur and pretend suddenly begins to feel real.
But Oliver is no Romeo, and only a fool would fall for him.
Worryingly, I think that fool might be me.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.
—Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
Chapter 1
EVIE
Pockets. The one day in a woman’s life she’s denied a purse, she should at least have pockets.
This gown was probably designed by a man.
Words hum around me like a tune I can’t catch, the papers jammed down the front of my dress prickly and annoying. I should’ve decreased the font and printed them out again or just used my phone. I should’ve—
“Marriage is the union of two people . . .”
I shake off the unfinished thought as the celebrant’s declaration yanks me back to the moment with such clarity. I shouldn’t be here at all.
“. . . voluntarily entered into for life and to the exclusion of all others.”
A wave of rage washes over me. I thought those were the rules too! It takes everything I have not to burst She-Hulk-style from my dress. Hulk smash! Hulk maim! Hulk rip off the groom’s testicles and wear them as dangly earrings!
“Are you, Evelyn, free lawfully to marry Mitchell?” Her tone is sweetly resonant as she turns a warm smile my way.
She-Hulk needs to concentrate.
My gaze slides to the man at my right, my fiancé, as handsome as he’s ever been, in an impeccably cut dark suit. His hair gleams russet in the light, his faint smile meant to reassure as he mistakes the tears that suddenly well in my eyes.
Oh, honey, that’s not love shining there. Try murderous intent.
It’s good for him that I, as a veterinarian, swore an oath to use my skills for good, because I was sorely tempted to swing by the clinic this morning to pick up a little something to put him out of my misery.
“Evelyn?”
Jerked from my thoughts, I notice the celebrant’s worried frown. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Are you free to marry Mitchell?”
“I am.” My husky-voiced answer is technically correct. I am free to marry him. Whether I will is another question.
“And are you, Mitchell, free lawfully to marry Evelyn?”
“I am.” He smiles again, because ignorance is bliss. Ask me how I know.
“Now that you have both declared . . .” The celebrant’s words trail away, the room suddenly echoing as I raise my hand. “You have a question, Evelyn?”
“Um, yeah.” So many, the first of which is, How did it take me until this morning to see Mitchell for what he really is? You might say the veil was plucked from my eyes right before its pearl-encrusted comb was poked into my head.
“Evie?” Mitchell’s expression falters, his eyes darting over my shoulder to Jen, my maid of honor. She needs a new title. A few unflattering options spring to mind, but first:
“Before we get to the ‘I take thee’ part, I’d like to read my vows.” My answer carries clearly through the hall.
“That part comes in a moment, dear.” The celebrant’s eyes ricochet between us before she adds a quiet “Remember?”
“I do—” I almost roll my eyes. “I mean, I know. But I need to read them now.” I reach into my neckline when Mitchell tries to stop me.
“Babe, there’s a way this has to be done.”
“There’s what’s meant to be,” I say, snatching my hand back, “and then there’s what is.” My fingers tremble as I unfold the sheets of A4 paper with the ridiculously large print as I prepare to make what my mother would call (gasp, horror) a scene. “Mitchell”—my voice is clear and calm—“you are the french fry to my chocolate shake.”
The congregation hums a collective “ahh,” and Mitch blows out a relieved breath. I’d call his smile tentative. Short lived, anyway.
“What a shock it was this morning to find you’ve been sticking your french fry into other milkshakes. In other yards.” I shoot a glare Jen’s way. She looks like she’s about to barf.
A giggle or two echo from the small crowd, but when the punch line doesn’t arrive, you could hear a pin drop. Meanwhile, Mitchell looks confused. Time to ditch the subtlety. I give the papers a shake and scan the long line of anonymous text message screenshots I’d gotten this morning.
“Apparently, ‘that thing you do with your tongue is uh-mah-zing.’”
“What?”
“That’s exactly what I said. I feel shortchanged.”
“Evie?” He reaches for me, but I pivot away. Balling up the first sheet of paper, I aim it at his head. Bull’s-eye!
“‘I have never had this kind of connection before,’” I kind of yell. “That one’s from Jen. Which is weird, given I’m the one in the damn dress.”
Color leeches from Mitchell’s face right before I bounce another ball of scrunched paper off his head.
“It’s not what you’re thinking.” His words come so quick, they almost trip over themselves.
“I’m thinking you’re a deceitful, two-timing, unfaithful piece of shit!”
Cue an intake of breath from our audience. It seems Mitchell isn’t the only one a little slow on the uptake today.