Her Best Man

By Kate Stone

From jilted to madly in love in less than 24 hours - am I crazy to think this will work?

 

I never expected my marriage to crumble before it even began, and let me tell you, being left at the altar really sucks.

 

What's a jilted bride to do but enjoy the honeymoon suite and then head down to the bar for a few drinks.

 

I had no idea the drop-dead gorgeous guy I was talking to would have been the best man. By the time we woke up in the morning I was certain he was absolutely *the best* man.

 

Is it possible to fall in love over night? My head says no but my heart says yes.

 

Will this relationship go anywhere or will he leave me just like my ex did?

 

***

Husband needed is a steamy hot jilted bride instalove romance with a (surprisingly) happy ending, no cheating and no cliffhanger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate Stone
• Release date: Jun 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201529789

Book preview

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For Mr. Stone, who makes all my dreams come true.

Contents

Chapter 1 – Phoebe 6

Chapter 2 – Xavier 9

Chapter 3 – Phoebe 13

Chapter 4 – Xavier 17

Chapter 5 – Phoebe 22

Chapter 6 – Xavier 28

Chapter 7 – Phoebe 34

Chapter 8 – Xavier 39

Chapter 9 – Phoebe 42

Chapter 10 – Xavier 44

Chapter 11 – Phoebe 47

Excerpt from Jason 52

CHAPTER ONE - JASON 52

About the Author 59

Chapter One – Phoebe

When I was a little girl, I didn’t believe in love stories. Marissa was the dreamer of the family - always was. She was the one who ate up fairy tales like there was no tomorrow, who began having crushes before she was even old enough to know what a crush was, who plunged into love like she was on a rollercoaster and moved from one relationship to another without a second thought. That was never my style. I remember watching my older sister’s romantic escapades as the two of us grew up, thinking that kind of romance wasn’t for me. It wasn’t that I didn’t want any part of it; it was that I never thought it would happen for me. I guess you could call me a cynic - maybe that was my mom’s way of thinking coming through. After multiple divorces, she had sworn herself off relationships entirely, and I remember thinking that if she couldn’t make it work, then there wasn’t any hope for me. I resolved to remain single, untouched by the pains of heartbreak and disappointment.

How did I end up sitting on the floor of the grand ballroom of Boston’s Lenox Hotel, crying my eyes out, the white ball gown I selected for my wedding day spread out in a heap around me. I ran my palm along my face, smearing my makeup horribly but not caring. This is your fault, you know, I think, sniffing in an unladylike way and glad that the rest of the guests had already cleared out, not wanting to witness my inevitable breakdown. I can’t blame them; after waiting in the rows of chairs for almost an hour, hoping that Zachary was just running late, it became obvious that he wasn’t coming. Idly, I wonder if there’s some unspoken etiquette for guests at weddings where one half of the couple fails to show.

Phoebe, came a voice from behind me. I turn to see Marissa standing at the entrance to the grand ballroom, looking as put-together as always as she chews her bottom lip. I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, she says, walking the rest of the way down the aisle to where I’m sitting at the front of the room, feeling exceedingly small in the large, empty space. That would be a stupid question, under the circumstances. I try to give her a weak smile, but I can see she doesn’t buy it as she comes to take a seat beside me. So what happened? she asks, placing a tentative on my back, which is still trembling with leftover sobs.

I take a shaky breath, sweeping a piece of blonde hair out of my face. Sharon, I reply, and the one word seems to tell her everything she needs to know.

Ah, she says. I should have known.

I just... I sigh, shaking my head. I feel like such an idiot. I meet her eyes, the world still shimmering with unshed tears. Was it that obvious? Did everyone but me realize what was going on?

"I don’t think everyone did, replies Marissa. Zachary seemed like a good guy. An honest guy. And it was obvious how much you cared about him."

As if that was enough, I say, snorting. I’m going to be the laughingstock of our whole family.

Phoebe, she begins, that’s not-

Come on, Marissa, I say, my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands. This is like something from a bad soap opera. ‘Husband-to-be runs off with bridesmaid.’

Maybe you should pitch that to your network, Marissa says, and I shoot her a look. Her half-smile vanishes. Okay. Sorry. Bad joke.

I sigh. Serves me right for having faith in people, I guess.

She looks me in the eyes. Don’t say that, Phoebe.

Why not? I retort, spreading my arms and glancing around the empty wedding venue. "I always said love was overrated. I mean, I knew it was, and I fell for his shit anyway. My voice starts to wobble again. Did he ever even love me?"

I’m sure he did, Marissa says, but she’s looking at the floor, and I can tell she doesn’t believe it. Considering the fact that he didn’t even bother to show up and tell me in person, I can’t blame her.

He could have at least told me before today, I say, my voice bitter. Spared me the public humiliation, at any rate.

Hey, says Marissa, giving my shoulder a squeeze, nobody’s going to think badly of you, okay? I overheard Mom talking to her friends on the way out. They’re all on your side on this.

I guess I have that to be thankful for, I say, and slowly haul myself to my feet. I’ve been sitting at the altar for God knows how long, and my ass was getting numb. I let out a long sigh as I look around the room. Someone’s going to have to clean this all up.

Let me handle that, says Marissa, standing up alongside me. Some of the others are still here. I’m sure they’d be happy to take this part off your hands. Besides, she adds, that insufferably happy glint in her eyes, "I’m the maid of