The Wedding Chapel: Your Invitation to Romance, #2

By Caroline Mickelson

Total strangers. Questionable nuptials. When they work together to track down the truth, will they stumble upon an accidental happily ever after?

 

Bella Johnson is holding tight to her legacy. But with her inherited wedding chapel business struggling, she's facing a battle against mounting bills with no relief in sight. So when a handsome man offers to help turn her enterprise around, she gratefully grabs on to the lifeline.

Colin Bladestone is fed up with dancing to his grandmother's tune. After she sets up a challenge to choose who will take over the family foundation, the charming Brit believes the pretty woman he meets owns the perfect solution. And embarking on a champagne-fueled tour to learn the industry, he's shocked to wake up with a new wife.

 

With gleeful relatives waving around a marriage license she doesn't remember signing, Bella vows to join hands with her maybe husband to uncover what truly happened. And as Colin suspects his grandma is behind this elaborate scheme, he fears his own stirring feelings… and the potential for heartbreak.

Will a suspicious walk down the aisle become the path to a lifetime of love?

The Wedding Chapel is the delightful second book in the Your Invitation to Romance series. If you like engaging couples, character-driven stories, and hopeful chances, then you'll adore Caroline Mickelson's humorous romp.

 

Buy The Wedding Chapel to put a ring on it today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bon Accord Press
• Release date: Dec 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386178897

Book preview

Chapter 1

I f that’s another past due notice, Grandpa, you can just turn around and go out the way you came in. Bella Johnson tossed her pencil down on top of the pad she’d just been scrawling figures in. She eyed the stack of mail in her grandfather’s hand. I don’t want those envelopes anywhere near my desk. Unless you think one of them might contain a check?

Sorry, sugar plum, no sign of incoming currency in these. Clive Johnson, the seventy-two-year-old founder and owner of the Hopeful Hearts Wedding Chapel, tossed the white envelopes on his granddaughter’s desk. He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head and then smiled an optimistic smile. But remember, this is Las Vegas and our luck’s bound to change at any moment.

Precisely what I’m afraid of, Bella said. She ignored the new bills. They could just wait in line behind the other requests for payment from local florists, photographers, and assorted wedding vendors. Next I’m afraid you’re going to tell me that our new Elvis has gained weight and can’t fit into his jumpsuit.

Okay, so I won’t tell you that I saw him at the ice cream shop around the corner. My word, the man appears to love fudge sauce.

Bella couldn’t keep a smile from her face. Grandpa, are you teasing me?

I am. Consider it the desperate attempt of an old man to bring a bit of humor into your day. Did I succeed? His expression was hopeful.

Your nefarious plan worked. I smiled. Bella felt a rush of affection for the man who had raised her from the time she’d arrived on his doorstep a sad, lonely, gangly eight-year-old girl with long red braids. She hadn’t been sad for very long after she’d come to Nevada to live with her grandfather. Now she knew that long legs were an asset, but then she’d felt like a clumsy colt. Although her hair was still red, her grandfather always referred to it as auburn which had made it easier to live with. I’m sorry I’ve been such a curmudgeon about the bills lately. I just can’t stop thinking that we’ll be forced to make some pretty drastic choices if things don’t change.

Change. Her grandfather waved his hands to encompass the two-thousand-square-foot wedding chapel that he’d opened in 1952. I keep up with the times.

If you say so.

What? Her grandfather looked around. We’ve redecorated recently.

The early-eighties isn’t recent, Grandpa. A true romantic at heart, Clive Johnson had been swept up in royal wedding fever when Prince Charles had proposed to the young, shy Lady Diana Spencer. In a rare moment of extravagance, her grandfather had re-painted, re-plastered, re-wallpapered and re-carpeted his beloved chapel. Out went the ‘50s décor and in came the ‘80s opulence. And the only change that Bella had been able to talk her grandfather into since then was removing a wedding portrait of the ill-fated royal couple.

So, you think we should refurbish?

Bella didn’t think they could afford as much as a postage stamp. Which made redecorating out of the question, but there was no point in saying aloud what they already both knew. Maybe next year.

That’s the spirit. Clive clapped his hands together and pointed toward the door. Bella, I’m telling you that the next person who walks in that door is going to be a sign that our ship’s about to come in. Together they stared at the glass doors for several moments but no one even passed by. Be patient.

A full three minutes later, Bella was just about to tell her grandfather that they both needed to get back to work when the bells over the door tinkled merrily as it opened.

A young couple in full bridal attire stepped in, giddy smiles on their faces. Young love, Bella wondered, or too much champagne? Maybe both. Either way, they were customers.

Her grandfather stepped forward and smiled warmly at the pair. Welcome to the Hopeful Hearts Wedding Chapel.

The bride cocked her head to the side. Hopeful Hearts? Is that what you said?

It is indeed. Clive flung his arms wide as if he were a magician conjuring up a tiger from a kitten. If you’re looking to enter into the state of wedded bliss, you’re in the right place.

The couple looked around and then at each other. Actually, I don’t think we are, the groom-to-be said.

Cold feet, my young man, that’s all. Fear not, marriage is a blessed institution.

Marriage is a crap shoot, Bella thought, with the odds not running in favor of the house. But she stayed silent. Her grandfather looked so hopeful that she couldn’t bear to interrupt him.

No, I think my fiancé means we’re in the wrong place, the bride clarified. This isn’t the Happy Hearts Wedding Chapel?

Bella and her grandfather exchanged a quick glance. It looked as if their ship wasn’t so much coming in, as it was sinking.

Well, is this the Happy Hearts Chapel? the bride persisted.

It could be, Clive said, his voice holding just enough hope that it tugged at Bella’s heart.

She got up and came around the desk. The chapel you’re looking for is a block down the strip. Come on, I’ll point you in the right direction. She ushered the couple out onto the pavement and gave them brief directions to the chapel they wanted. Good luck, she called after their departing backs. They were going to need it.

And so was she, if she wanted to keep their doors open.

Our odds have just improved, her grandfather said when she rejoined him. Which means the next person through those doors is bound to be just the lucky charm we need.

Bella sighed. There was no talking her grandfather out of his eternal optimism once he was on a roll. She slipped a twenty dollar bill out of her wallet and handed it to him. Take the rest of the day off, Grandpa. This will buy you a few frames at the bowling alley and lunch too.

Clive looked down at the money. Maybe I should. If we get slammed with business for the rest of the month, recreation may have to be set aside.

Bella laughed. Only you, Grandpa, can see the silver lining in every situation. Go and have some fun.

Come with me?

She shook her head. I don’t want to scare off any lovely ladies that may have their eye on you. You go. I’m fine here.

He looked doubtful. You’re sure?

Absolutely. Bella gave his shoulders an affectionate squeeze. Besides, someone has to stay here and wait for our good luck charm to sail through the doors. It might as well be me.

Colin Bladestone stood on the Las Vegas strip and looked up at the bright blue sky overhead. Only a few puffy white clouds dotted the expanse of blue. The mid-morning sun was strong but stopped just short of being uncomfortably warm. It was yet another gorgeous day in the city of sin, and it made him homesick for the overcast sky of his native England. At least the gray skies there would have better matched his mood.

This was Colin’s first trip to Las Vegas and he would be quite content if it were his last. He glanced at the hotel and casino entrances as he passed them. Their lights and over-the-top architectural details looked garish in the morning light. Nighttime flattered Las Vegas, not daytime. Not that he’d actually left his hotel the night before. Instead, he’d opted for a steak dinner in his room and then he’d spent the remainder of the evening reading through notes for today’s meeting. He hoped he was well prepared, or at least a bit better prepared than his two cousins would be. While Colin didn’t consider either man a match for his business acumen, he didn’t doubt that they were in fighting form, ready to come out swinging in an attempt to be declared the prize winner. The prize was his grandmother’s millions and ultimate control of the family trust. Definitely not a prize he’d easily hand over. Not to the two of them.

Colin gazed down at his watch. Ten minutes past ten. He frowned. It had been ten minutes past ten the last time he’d checked. He shook his wrist and then flicked his finger against the watch’s face. It was dead. He reached in his pocket for his cell phone but it wasn’t there. He’d left it on the dresser in the hotel. He groaned.

The last thing he needed was to be late for his meeting. Granted, this was the same meeting that he’d groused about all week, whining that he’d do almost anything to get out of attending. Being tied up in Los Angeles rush hour traffic on a hot day with no air conditioning would be preferable to what lay ahead of him. But duty required his presence at the annual meeting of the Bladestone Family Trust.

He glanced around the semi-deserted street. Mid-morning in Las Vegas didn’t bode well for finding many open shops. Curse it. Standing still wasn’t going to get him to his meeting any sooner so Colin began walking. He didn’t pass anyone that he could ask the time but a hundred feet ahead of him he saw someone come out of a building and walk briskly ahead. He quickened his step. Somewhere in that same building there was bound to be a clock. Doubtless it would be Vegas tacky with little shot glasses to represent the hours, but at least he could see just how late he was going to