Ain't She Sweet (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers #2) - Whitney Dineen Page 0,100

eyes and rolls into the middle of her bed feeling her husband’s arm around her.

Preorder It’s My Party (book three in the Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Series):

High off her success of playing matchmaker for both of her sons, lodge owner Ruby Cavanaugh decides to try her hand pairing other eligible singles—starting with her executive chef and her new event coordinator.

Party planner Claire Choate has a cheating boyfriend who also happens to be her boss. After visiting Oregon for her brother’s wedding—which didn’t even happen—Claire is offered a job that gets her out of LA for good. How can she pass up an opportunity like that?

Even though he has little time for a social life, executive chef Geoffrey Bere loves his job. After a past complication left him gun shy about workplace entanglements, he lives by a strict, “no dating co-workers” policy. But when Claire Choate arrives on the scene, he finds himself ready to break his own rule.

Will Ruby cement her reputation as matchmaker extraordinaire or will Claire and Geoffrey prove too much of a challenge for even her?

Find out in this deliciously fun third installment of Seven Brides for Seven Mothers!

While you’re waiting for It’s My Party, check out book one in Whitney’s multi-award-winning Creek Water Series!

The Event

Chapter One

In my esteemed, but obviously biased opinion, Creek Water, Missouri, population 14,012, is the armpit of the world. Scratch that, it’s a ripe pustulant boil on the butt of the Northern Hemisphere. If it weren’t my hometown, and I weren’t desperate for employment, I’d have never considered moving back. Ever.

I just got off the phone with my Uncle Jed—the Beverly Hillbillies reference is not lost on me—and he’s offered to make me manager of a new commercial venture he and my other uncle Jesse (yes, like Full House) are starting up in the old warehouse district. The revitalization of Creek Water continues as my former peers have discovered that it’s cheaper to live at home and not go out into the real world like I did. Problem is, I got myself into a tiny bit of trouble in the real world.

I was driven in my formative years to prove that I could make something of myself without any backing from the illustrious Frothingham family, of which I am one. I was sick to death of people thinking everything was handed to me on a silver platter just because of my last name. So, I worked hard to get excellent grades in school, and I earned myself a scholarship to college. After graduation, I moved to New York City, determined to leave my small-town, small-minded roots behind. Things were going great too, until The Event.

I worked as head buyer for Silver Spoons Enterprises in Manhattan, an exclusive gourmet/kitchenware boutique chain on the Eastern Seaboard. I was stationed at our flagship location on East Seventy-Third Street.

The Event was the corporate dinner dance at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where all the bigwigs gathered to pat each other on the back and recognize top-performing employees. I thought I was a shoo-in for the Demitasse Award, honoring the most creative contribution to the company during that fiscal year. I was personally responsible for the whole “Linens for Dinner” campaign, which promoted the idea that both urban and suburban millennials only use cloth napkins to dine, thus not only cutting back our carbon footprint by lessening paper waste, but also adding a touch of elegance to our lives. We sold more linens that year than in the previous ten years combined. It was that successful.

So there I sat in my way too expensive dress—I splurged because I knew how important it was to make a good impression on the executives and because it was the perfect little number to accept my honor in—when Jameson Diamante announced the nominees for the Demitasse.

There were only three of us—me with my linen campaign, Juliet Smithers from the Southampton store for her “Drink More Wine!” crusade, and Allison Conrad from Atlanta for her “Pretty Please, Y’all” call to reinstate formal invitations on engraved card stock.

Why don’t we just kill the planet, Allison, with all the trees we’re going to murder for your cause?

I was poised on the edge of my seat ready to throw my hands across my heart and gasp something along the lines of, “What? Me? My word, I’m so surprised!” I’d imagined how I’d get up and show off my six-hundred-dollar understated elegance to the whole room.

Jameson announced, “This year’s decision was not an easy one