Bad Bride Good Cowboys

Bad Bride

Good Cowboys

by

Kandi Silvers

BAD BRIDE GOOD COWBOYS

Copyright ©
2014 Kandi Silvers

Cover Art by
Kandi Silvers © 2014

Edited by
D.L. Paul2014 – No Copyright Assigned

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the web -without permission in writing from the author. For information, please contact the author via the contact form at:

http://kandisilvers.com/contact.html

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

First Edition 2014

ISBN: Not Assigned.

License Statement

This
eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please download an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Ménage à trois

Bad Bride Good Cowboys

Coming Soon

Guarding Their Heart

Royal Bounty

Two Cowboy Hearts

Dear Reader,

With this book being my first release and the launch of my writing career, I admit I was a bit nervous. I had the love and support of my mom, aunts and writer friends, so I decided to finally put the story that had been in my head for a while into a word document, and thus,
Bad Bride Good Cowboys
came to be.

Felicia is about to marry the completely wrong man, to appease her family. She is torn between what will make her happy and not letting her family down. Like many of us, we often try to please everyone from our families to our closest
friendships; too many times forgetting we need to please ourselves as well.

Allow me to take the time now, to thank you for your purchase. I hope you enjoy the story of Felicia, Mickey and Brady.

http://kandisilvers.com

Chapter One

One month earlier…

I hate this dress as much as a root canal
.

Felicia Morgan stared in the mirror at the boring
, lacy nightmare of a wedding dress, draping her form. What had her mother been thinking? Afraid to answer the question, she winced at the sadness reflecting in her eyes. The insecurities over her looks, her questions and the doubts over her desirability hid within her dark gaze. She was as pathetic as the off-white gown which held as much sex appeal as a dishrag.

“I think you look lovely. So very classy,” her mother
Clarissa gushed with an enthusiastic smile.

And I think you took one too many Prozac.

“Well that’s fine and good, but I look like a vintage prayer hanky.” The dress wasn’t her taste or style. “This is a definite no.”

“Let me go get the sales cle
rk and see what she has to say. I think she’ll agree with me.” Her mother walked off to hunt down some overzealous smiling twit who didn’t care what the dress looked like as long as she got the commission.

Get
ting married will be wonderful, they said. It will be fun, they said. Lies. So far everything to do with the wedding was turning out to be stressful and far from fun. Paul, her fiancé, worked constantly, kept late hours and when asked for his opinion on the wedding plans, always responded with the standard answer of ‘whatever makes you happy’.

Groaning, Felicia took refuge
away from the glare of the three-way mirror and retreated into the spacious changing room before her mother and the sales clerk returned. There were three other dresses to try on, only one of which she chose. The other two were her mother’s taste. Whose wedding was this anyway? Right—her mother’s via Felicia.

N
othing like living vicariously.

She peeled off the lace atrocity, hung the spectacle on the hanger
, and then shoved every inch of the horrific fabric back into the garment bag. Her mind shifted to her brother Collin who was out of the country digging up Egypt. The relics and precious artifacts had been there for thousands of years. Surely they could wait another two or three months so he could drag his ass home to help keep her from locking their out-of-control mother in a broom closet.

Your wedding will be one for the society pages.
Her mother’s words echoed in her brain like a broken record as she took off her bra before stepping into the soft white strapless dress her mother had rolled her eyes at when Felicia had said she liked the color and style.
It has to be perfect. After all, you’re not just marrying anybody.

She reached around to pull up the zipper when she remembered the gown had a lace up back.
Holding the fabric between her ribs and arms, she tried desperately not to have the strapless dress end up at her waist. An incident of baring her breasts to a store of uptight and over enthusiastic brides wouldn’t be the highlight of her day. Why wasn’t she one of the happy, can hardly wait to walk down the aisle with the love my life, women? What was wrong with her?

Today was suppose
d to be an amazing day. She was supposed to get her wedding dress and have lunch with her fiancé Paul, his parents, her mother and their closest friends. Well, her and her brother’s closest friends. Everything was going to be perfect, despite the fact her mother’s tastes ran toward lace and skirts resembling fluffy meringues.

She pulled open the change room door and came face to face with
Mickey Connors.

“Just the girl I’m looking for,” he greeted with a wink and a lopsided grin.

No doubt the sexy cowboy hunted her down at her mother’s request. A damn shame that, despite all his rugged hunkiness, he preferred men. She swallowed back the sting of bile in her throat and the guilt fluttering in her chest. Mickey was proof she wasn’t desirable, and staring at her brother’s longtime friend, her heart ached at the reminder she was…well…an epic fail.

Stepping on her
tiptoes, she peered around his tall frame and large strong shoulders in search of her mother. The scent of woodsy soap mixed with pure male reminded Felicia that despite her insecurities and his sexual preference, Mickey was one hell of a virile cowboy. She met his gaze and ignored her minor hesitation. “Thank God, it’s only you. I need help.”

“Your mother—”

“Don’t finish that sentence. The last dress is
not
an option. I think she’s drunk. Please help tie this up.” She flashed her most charming smile, and her sarcasm hit full tilt. “You still remember how girl clothes work, right? God knows you’ve removed your share of them from several unsuspecting ladies over the years.”

He cast a scolding expression, but the spark in his dark brown eyes reve
aled he found her antics amusing. “Turn around, smart ass.”

She shifted around
, trying not to step on the delicate white fabric. “Thank you so much. I just didn’t want to fall out of this while I looked for my mother.”

“That would prove to be interesting.”
Warm fingers brushed against her, and a familiar spark from days gone by flickered over skin.

Felicia swallowed down the memories
with enough force they formed a knot in her stomach. Mickey’s fingers worked the laces with accuracy.

Yep, practice makes perfect.
He has corset laces memorized.

Strange
conflicting emotions washed over her, and with every casual touch of his skin against hers, the past went from a fuzzy, black and white recollections to clear, full color memories.

“I never pictured you in
this type of wedding dress.” His breath teased the nape of her neck, sending heat rippling over her body.

Unsure if it was the words
, the smoothness of his rich baritone, or the intimacy of the situation, she was brought back to the present.

He pictured me in a wedding dress?

Her lips parted to speak, but nothing came out, as she wasn’t sure what to say.

“All done
.” His tone sounded flat.

Felicia
lifted the front of the dress so she wouldn’t trip, and turned to face him with a smile on her lips, although she didn’t really feel any reason to be happy. “Thanks.”

His dark eyes studied her a moment
, then finally, he glanced away. “I’ll let your mother know you have a different dress on, and that the last one was a no.”

“More like a
hell no, death first
sort of thing.”

Mickey turned
, and his gaze raked over her as he nodded once. “You might want to put the one you’re wearing on the same ‘hell no’ list.” Without another word he pivoted on his boot heel and walked away.

What the hell is it with everyone?

She shook off the weird emotions, no doubt brought on thanks to the brief trip down memory lane. Mickey and his, for lack of a better word, boyfriend, were just trying to help where her brother was failing miserably. With a heavy sigh, she made her way to the large, round stage in front of the three-way mirror to study the dress.

Felicia
chewed her bottom lip. Although she wore the one she had picked, and the gown was better than the fashion travesties of her mother’s choosing, something was off. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her in the mirror. Her heart cracked again. For something she had been so positive would be perfect, now she wondered what she was thinking in regards to the dress.

Movement
from behind drew her attention to the reflective surface, and her gaze met the steely blue stare of Brady Jackson. Mickey’s partner—her brother’s other best friend—appeared lost in thought. The expression on his face was unreadable. 

W
hen she was younger, she’d always wanted to be like the pretty, classy women the rich boy turned cowboy had dated. Then one day he stopped dating and, shortly thereafter, he and Mickey had become more than friends.

Her stomach started to ache and a strange invisible weight settled over her chest. The whole time growing up,
Felicia had always figured the day she picked out a wedding dress would be because she was marrying one of them. Collin’s two best friends had been in her life as long as she could remember. They were like family on so many levels, and yet…

She darted a glance to the neckline and every rhinestone blinking back. If th
e wedding felt wrong before, the twinkle of the bling on the dress just emphasized all her doubts. In two months, she was marrying the man she thought she loved; only she wasn’t sure now. She wasn’t sure if she really loved him or was in love with the idea of being in love. Paul was damn near perfect and she should count herself lucky he’d proposed. Lucky was the last emotion she currently felt. Maybe waiting until the last minute to pick out her wedding dress hadn’t been the best move.

Paul is a
man who is going places and you’ll soon be the wife to a partner in one of the most prestigious Los Angeles law firms.
Her mother’s words echoed in her mind like an overplayed commercial on the radio.
They have a Beverly Hills address; nothing says class quite like that.

Felicia’s
thoughts reminisced over the last few months with Paul and she couldn’t deny things were different.

It’s just cold feet. This is nothing more than pre-wedding jitters.

A shiny penny between two strong fingers filled her vision. “For your thoughts?”

She lifted her gaze and stared up into grey
-blue eyes framed by jet-black lashes. “Brady,” his name fell off her tongue with a stolen breath as she took in every detail of the sexy cowboy. Her attention tore off the man towering over her five-foot-nine frame and back to the round, copper currency. She removed the coin, and again met his gaze. The moment resembled hundreds of others they’d experienced. “I’ll put it in my collection.”

Maybe it wasn’t the wedding shopping making her jittery today. Perhaps it was because she was around Mickey and Brady. 
Oh God
, she still had to get through lunch. This shouldn’t be an issue.
What the hell is wrong with me?

“I’m waiting
, doll.” His head tilted to the side and he studied her intently.

At one time, Brady had been her best confidant, and maybe even her best friend. In a lot of ways, he knew her better than Paul did. Ironic considering everything that had transpired with her and Mickey. Now she was marrying someone who wasn’t
her two favorite cowboys. She swallowed and her brain struggled to get with the Paul wedding plan and off her stupid girlhood fantasies, which made her lashes heavy and produced a prickle behind her eyes.

“No bride-to-be should look so melancholy. What’s going on?”

“I—”

“Felicia, wait till you see this gorgeous dress. Society will be all over it.” Her mother’s voice not only cut off her words but
the opportunity to confess her doubts. On the bright side, the woman probably prevented her from opening-mouth-and-inserting-foot by saying something she would no doubt regret.

“I think this dress is the one!” Her mother’s overzealous chirp rang out.

Both she and Brady turned to the woman making her way through the racks of white fluffy fabric with the dimwit commission vulture toting a ruffled disaster with more bling than a tiara. “Oh God,” she breathed.

“And the nightmare continues,” Brady whispered with a whole lot of skepticism.  “The dresses just keep getting worse and worse.”

His words had her turn to him. “Including this one?”

He shrugged and ran a quick look over the dress before again meeting her gaze. “It’s not bad, just not what I pictured you in.”

Two gorgeous cowboys making the same comment. What the hell did this mean? Had they noticed her doubts or was it something more?

Again
, uncertainty crept into her heart and mind. She missed Collin even more and wished her brother was here. He wasn’t though, and had sent his two closest friends to make sure everything went perfect.

“Enough said,” she forced in a rushed breath as the walls of the overly white store closed in around. She hiked up the front of the gown and again retreated to the chang
ing room.

After shutting
the door she leaned against the wood. The cool surface came as a welcome relief to her warm skin. Felicia exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding and glanced down at the penny caught between her fingers and the heavy fabric of the skirt.

Peeling away from the threshold
, she walked over to her purse and dropped the copper currency inside. She forced in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, gathering composure.

Everything will be perfect. Mickey and Brady will like Paul. Everyone likes Paul
.

I hate this fucking guy.

Mickey
stood in the shadows back by the restrooms of the restaurant. The uptight, prick fiancée of his best friend’s little sister caressed his hand up past the hemline of the waitress’s black skirt. By the way the fabric bunched, Paul Hutchinson had a lot of the woman in his grasp. The blonde he groped wore an enamored expression, and then giggled at something he had said.