Mail-Order Brides for Christmas Read Online Frankie Love, Hope Ford, Fiona Davenport, S.E. Law

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Novella, Romance Tags Authors: , , ,
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Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
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I really have just come home.

Chapter Two

Spencer

Our mother has had some hair-brained plans over the years, but to order my brothers and I brides for Christmas, that really takes the cake. I get what she’s trying to do. I love this little town as much as the next resident, but I’m really not sure this is the best way to go about saving it.

I’ll never forget the looks on my brothers’ faces when she dropped the bomb and told us to expect our beloveds to turn up over the coming days.

She’s always been a romantic, it’s probably got something to do with all the sappy romance novels she’s addicted to, but to actually believe that this is going to be okay, she really must have faith in love.

I, however, like to think I’m a little more of a realist.

Love exists, I can’t deny that.

It’s incredible, exhilarating, life-changing. All the things everyone tells you it is. But when you give your heart to someone, you’re trusting that they’re going to look after it. And when they don’t… fuck, that shit hurts.

No one warns you what that’s like. And even if they did. You can never be prepared for it.

I tried not to think of the woman I’d been matched with. I knew that if I did, I’d only imagine one person.

Golden blond hair. Clear blue eyes that disarmed me every time I looked into them. Full lips, rosy cheeks, and a smile that knocked me on my ass even before I understood the power she had over me.

I knew it was futile. The woman who was going to be standing at the airport with a single red rose as requested would never be her. She left. Walked away without so much as a glance back in my direction.

If it weren’t for my family—for my mom—then I’d have walked out of that arrivals area only moments after I’d arrived. It was only the thought of seeing her so happy, knowing that she saved our town, that kept my feet rooted to the spot.

Nerves assaulted me as I stood among the crowd waiting to see the woman who would be carrying not only a single red rose—the only thing that popped into my head when the woman at the mail-order bride company asked how I’d like to be able to identify my bride when she arrived—but my future.

I shake my head, internally laughing as I say the words mail-order bride to myself.

How is this my life right now?

I was happy working all the hours I could get and banging a snow bunny from the slopes when I found one that interested me. Hell, she didn’t even really need to interest me, I wasn’t exactly choosy.

Yet here I am, waiting for my soon-to-be wife.

Wife.

There’s only ever been one woman I thought could possibly be that to me. Only one who ever held my heart.

Yeah, we were young, and I know people—my brothers especially—thought I was crazy, acting like it was so serious when we were only in high school, but it was. She was my world and the day she walked away it crumbled down around my feet.

My heart is in my throat as people start to emerge. I ignore any men that appear and focus on the women, wondering if any of them are her and she had forgotten the rose.

My chest heaves and my palms begin to sweat the longer I have to wait. The idea of walking away is forgotten, I’m too focused on seeing who my perfect match is.

The seconds tick by as if they’re hours as I stand there. The world around me vanishes to nothing as I stare at the opening where the passengers come from, but that is nothing compared to what happens when my eyes land on that single rose.

My stomach turns, I have no idea if it’s just the nerves, fear, or a little excitement.

I take a second, my eyes locked on that flower before I suck in some courage and lift them.

She’s wearing a simple white sweater that is tight enough to reveal her curves and the swell of her breasts. It’s not until I get to the curled blond hair that’s hanging around her shoulders that things start to go wrong—or very, very right, depending on how you look at it.

My heart races, but I’m pretty sure I stop breathing as I continue up and find what my head was already telling me.

It’s her.

Gabriella.

Suddenly I’m a seventeen-year-old boy once again, only it’s not the feelings of love, of contentment, of security, that hit me as I stare at her. It’s the anger, the hate, the devastation I felt as she turned her back on me and embarked on a new life that runs through my veins.

It’s that fury that has my feet moving, closing the space between us where she’s stopped, while I keep my eyes locked on her shocked ones.


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