Every Bride Needs a Groom (Brides with Style Book #1)

Janice Thompson

Description

Small-town girl Katie Fisher is planning her wedding. Sure, her boyfriend hasn't managed to pop the question just yet, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't enter a contest in Texas Bride magazine to win the dress of her dreams, right? But when her boyfriend breaks up with her and takes a job in another town--the very same day Katie wins her dream dress--her world is turned upside down. Should she claim her prize? And will the hunky former pro-basketball player who runs the swanky Dallas bridal shop--yeah, you read that right--catch on to her humiliation if she does?Janice Thompson designs a romance sure to delight, with plenty of fish-out-of-water moments, a hilarious supporting cast, and more of the wedding biz world her readers adore.

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 14 avril 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781441223074
• Langue: English

Extrait

© 2015 by Janice Thompson
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www . revellbooks .com
Ebook edition created 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-2307-4
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
The author is represented by MacGregor Literary, Inc.
To the real matriarch of Fairfield, Texas: Eleanor Clark. You have inspired me, reshaped my view of the golden years, and given me hope that I can continue to share my gift all of my days, no matter my age.
And to the queen of country music, the amazing Loretta Lynn. What fun to name my chapters after your song titles!
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
1. God’s Country
2. Don’t Mess Up a Good Thing
3. For the Good Times
4. I’ve Got a Picture of Us on My Mind
5. Ten Little Reasons
6. A Dear John Letter
7. Somewhere Between
8. Who Was That Stranger
9. You’re Lookin’ at Country
10. I’m Living in Two Worlds
11. For Heaven’s Sake
12. Somebody’s Back in Town
13. I Keep Forgetting That I Forgot about You
14. Why Can’t He Be You
15. Girl That I Am Now
16. Holding On to Nothin’
17. You Lay So Easy on My Mind
18. My Past Brought Me to You
19. My Shoes Keep Walking Back to You
20. Miss Being Mrs.
21. I Don’t Wanna Play House
22. Shoe Goes on the Other Foot Tonight
23. Two Steps Forward
24. Tomorrow Never Comes
25. Hello Darlin’
26. Before I’m Over You
27. You Wouldn’t Know an Angel (if You Saw One)
28. Who’s Gonna Take the Garbage Out
29. If Teardrops Were Pennies
30. If You Were Mine to Lose
31. There Goes My Everything
32. Let the World Keep On A-Turnin’
33. Heart Don’t Do This to Me
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Sneak Peek of Book 2 in the Brides with Style Series
About the Author
Books by Janice Thompson
Back Ads
Back Cover
1 G od’s Country
It was very much like Norman Rockwell: small town America. We walked to school or rode our bikes, stopped at the penny candy store on the way home from school, skated on the pond.
Dorothy Hamill
T hat whole thing about being a big fish in a small pond is more than just a saying, at least in my neck of the woods. When you grow up in a sweeter-than-peaches town like Fairfield, Texas, you find yourself captivated by the love of family, friends, and neighbors. And don’t even get me started on the church folks. They’ll swallow you up with their bosomy hugs and convince you that you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread.
If you’re not careful, you’ll start believing it too, especially if you’re fortunate enough to be named Peach Queen like I was my senior year at Fairfield High. And why not? Why shouldn’t a small-town girl like me allow a little lovin’ from the locals to go to her head? Being a somebody in a small setting is a sure sight better than being a nobody in a big one.
Not that us small-town girls are unaware of the goings-on beyond our quaint borders, mind you. Oh no. I’ve had glimpses of life beyond the confines of my little town—say, on one of those housewives reality shows. But I can’t picture it. Not really. I mean, who in their right mind would treat their friends and family members like that? And the language! If I ever took to swearin’ like those potty-mouthed gals, my mama would stick a bar of soap so far down my throat I’d be gargling bubbles for days to come. No thank you. I may be twenty-four years old, but respect for my elders has been pounded into me. If I ever lost sight of it, my grandmother would be happy to remind me with a swift kick to my backside.
We small-towners aren’t just taught respect, we genuinely care about our neighbors. It’s not unusual for folks to linger in the checkout line at Brookshire Brothers grocery store to chat about the weather or discuss plans for the upcoming peach festival. And the investment at our local churches is stronger still. The big news there most often revolves around the various prayer lists, where the Pentecostals are interceding for Brother Sanderson, who has undergone a much-needed hip replacement, and the Baptists are shocked to hear that Bessie May Jenson, the congregation’s oldest member, has recently suffered a gall bladder attack. This sort of news is always followed by a rousing chorus of “God bless ’em!” and “Don’t stop praying!” from the prayer warriors.
And boy howdy, do those prayer warriors take their work seriously. The Fairfield Women of Prayer—known to the locals as the WOP-pers—have pulled many a wandering soul back from the abyss. Take Levi Nash, for instance. Fairfield High’s best-loved football hero tried to get involved with drugs his freshman year of college. Stress tried . Party-lovin’ Levi never stood a chance, not with the WOP-pers beating down heaven’s door on his behalf. Before he knew it, the dear boy, as they called him, had seen the error of his ways. He’d also transferred to a Bible college in the Dallas area, where he planned to major in theology. Go figure. No doubt the WOP-pers would pray in a godly wife for Levi and a couple of precocious kids to boot.
Yep, those prayer warriors clearly had an inside track straight to the Almighty. My grandmother—known to the locals as Queenie Fisher—insisted this had something to do with the fact that the WOP-pers didn’t discriminate. They invited women from all of the local denominations to pray in one accord. Even the Presbyterians. Whatever that meant.
“There’s something to be said for praying in unity, Katie,” Queenie would say as she wagged an arthritic finger at me. “When you’re out of unity with your fellow believers, you’re prone to wandering.”
And heaven forbid any of us should wander. Not that the temptation rose very often. Most of us wouldn’t trade our small-town living for any amount of money. Okay, so my oldest brother, Jasper, talked incessantly about moving away to Houston, but Pop always managed to reel him back in by reminding him that he would one day manage our family’s hardware store. That seemed to pacify Jasper, at least for now. And Dewey, my middle brother, had talked loosely about going to A&M but ended up at the local junior college, closer to home. This, after Queenie insisted she might just have a heart attack if a family member ever moved away. My grandmother had nothing to worry about where my youngest brother, Beau, was concerned. The way Mama coddled that boy, he would never leave home. Or learn to do his own laundry. Or get a job.
With the exception of my older cousin Lori-Lou Linder, no one in my circle had ever moved away to the big city. Who would want to leave paradise, after all? Certainly not me. Not now. Not ever. In my perfect small-town world, Daddy coached Little League, Mama directed the choir at our local Baptist church on Thursday nights, and Queenie sat enthroned as Fairfield’s most revered matriarch. And that was precisely how I liked it.
I pondered my idyllic life as I drove to the local Dairy Queen on the last Thursday in April. After a full day’s work at our family’s hardware store, I was due a break, and what better place than my favorite local hangout? Besides, Casey would be waiting on me in our special booth, the second one on the left. If I knew him well enough—and I did—he would have my Oreo Blizzard waiting for me.
Waiting.
Casey.
Hmm. Seemed a little ironic that my boyfriend would be waiting on me for a change. How many months—okay, years—had I spent waiting on him to ask me to marry him? Seemed like forever. Oh well. Something as great as a marriage proposal to an amazing fella like Casey was worth the wait. Besides, I had every reason to believe it wouldn’t be long before he popped the question. The signs were all there.
Any moment now I’d have a wedding to plan. Not that the lack of a proposal had slowed down my hoping and dreaming. I’d started mapping out my wedding at the age of six, when I’d first served as a flower girl. In the years since, I’d turned wedding planning into an art form.
A delicious shiver ran down my spine as I thought about how wonderful my big day would be. I’d planned out every single detail, right down to the music, the colors of the bridesmaid dresses, and even the flavor of the cake. Of course, all of it hinged on one thing: Casey’s proposal. Which, I felt sure, would arrive any day now.
Just as I pulled into a parking spot at the DQ, my cell phone rang. I recognized my cousin’s number. After turning off the car, I climbed out and took the call. “Hey, Lori-Lou!”
Her usual cheerful voice sounded from the other end of the line with a hearty, “Hey yourself! What are you up to today? Working?”
“Hmm? What?” I waved at Casey through the big plate-glass window at the front of the DQ, then pointed at my phone to let him know I’d be a minute. “Oh, yeah.” I turned my attention back to my cousin. “Just wrapped up at the hardware store. We’ve been swapping out the window displays for the upcoming summer season. Now I’m meeting Casey at Dairy Queen for an Oreo Blizzard.”
A lingering sigh erupted from Lori-Lou’s end of the line. “I’m so jealous.”
“Of what?” I leaned against my car but found myself distracted by the pensive expression on Casey’s face. Weird.
“A Blizzard sounds great in this heat.” She sighed again. “It’s sweltering outside and it’s not even summer yet.”
“Ah. It is hot.”
“Our AC is on the fritz and we don’t have the money right now to fix it. That’s not helping things. But honestly