I was able to wait this long before asking you to take my name,” he growled and kissed me again. “But this time, I wanted to promise you forever in front of the real thing.”
I wished there was a pause button so I could sit and soak in everything I felt at this moment.
Life was unexpected. Everything about it. Family. Jobs. Loss. Hope. Love. There was no recipe for how it all worked and came together, it just did.
And James and me… we came together like a roll of the dice. A fast, tumbling spin. Breaths held and hopeful. Until we stopped and landed on forever.
“I love you so much.” I wound my arms around his neck, feeling my knees go weak as we took one last glance at the glittering Eiffel Tower before the show stopped and the only thing left glittering was the desire in my fiancé’s eyes.
With a low growl, he tugged me alongside him. I giggled as he retrieved his camera from the woman with gruff gratitude and sped us back in the direction of our hotel as though we were being chased.
“And now, I’m going to take you back to the hotel and make you come so many times you won’t remember your name,” he murmured into my ear as we walked toward the street. His low, seductive promise that shot down straight to my core and made me ache for him.
For everything about him.
“You’re welcome to try,” I teased with a coy grin. “But I don’t think I could ever forget it… because my last name has always been yours.”
The End
Did you enjoy Carrie and James’ happily-ever-after? Then check out Oliver and Thea in my ‘Runaway Bride’ meets ‘Father of the Bride’ swoony romcom, Ready to Run!
KEEP READING to check out the first few chapters of this steamy and hilarious romantic comedy!
Preview of Ready to Run
Eighteen years old
“Oh. My. God. I cannot believe y’all are gettin’ married tomorrow, Dix!” Millie Jean gushed and fanned herself as though she wasn’t the one sittin’ at Crossroads Diner, nineteen and pregnant.
I smiled, but it was forced.
Millie Jean didn’t notice because forcin’ smiles was a necessary skill for survivin’ in Chicktown, Alabama past the age of nine.
The only thing more artificially sweetened than the tea down here were those smiles.
She rubbed a hand over her growing stomach. “Ben told Sue-Lynn that he’s gonna have you barefoot and pregnant at the farm within the year.”
My cheek twitched where it strained to hold my grin in place like those corsets that kept a Kardashian waist smaller than a Disney Princess.
Of course, he did.
Because that was the kind of thing the guy who proposed to you while you both accepted the crowns for Homecoming King and Queen would do…
Not leave me much choice in the matter.
“I don’t know about that, Millie Jean,” I drawled slowly to make sure she was listening. Millie was one of my best—better friends, but her attention span rivaled a gnat, especially when someone said anythin’ not gossip-worthy.
Or pretty much anythin’ resemblin’ the truth.
“I told Ben I want to start my own business,” I forged on, taking a quick bite of my ice cream sundae to cool the way defiance made my mouth burn.
I was the smart and pretty head cheerleader. Ben was the star quarterback whose family owned the largest farm in three counties. Ours was a tale as old as time—especially in Chicktown.
A tale I’d grown to hate.
Which was both frustrating and depressing because I loved weddings. I was one of those girls who’d dreamed about getting married—the flowers, the dress, the planning process… everything.
And all the things I’d loved in theory became just one more nail in the coffin of having a life outside of home and husband.
Because marriage wasn’t my only dream.
“Dixie Dorothea Winston.” Mille Jean pointed her spoon threateningly at me. “The only business you’re startin’ is the babymakin’ kind, and don’t you even think about anythin’ else or your momma will have a heart attack.”
I winced.
Lucille Winston was more excited about this wedding than I was; it was a fact. My momma’s been plannin’ this day since Ben took me to my first homecoming dance. And, if I was being honest—which really seemed to be the case right now—she’d planned most of the wedding with her preferences over mine.
“Dixie, you’re too young to know what flowers will hold up best for photos.”
“Dixie, all you need to know is that you look good in white. I know what style will fit you