The Wedding Date Disaster Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Her Aussie Holiday, by Stefanie London

  Always a Bridesmaid, by Cindi Madsen

  The Two-date Rule, by Tawna Fenske

  Wild Cowboy Nights, by Katee Robert

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

  Copyright © 2020 by Avery Flynn. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Preview of Her Aussie Holiday Copyright © 2020

  by Stefanie London

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  10940 S Parker Road

  Suite 327

  Parker, CO 80134

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Liz Pelletier

  Cover design by Elizabeth Turner Stokes

  Cover art by

  Elvira Gilyazova/Shutterstock

  Mike Flippo/Shutterstock

  Zhur_Sa/Shutterstock

  Interior design by Toni Kerr

  Print ISBN 978-1-64063-912-6

  ebook ISBN 978-1-64063-913-3

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition September 2020

  Also by Avery Flynn

  The Harbor City Series

  The Negotiator

  The Charmer

  The Schemer

  The Hartigans Series

  Butterface

  Muffin Top

  Tomboy

  The Ice Knights Series

  Parental Guidance

  Awk-weird

  Loud Mouth

  To all the oldest siblings out there. Thank you for always watching out for us younger ones.

  Chapter One

  Hadley Donavan was going to murder her best friend’s evil twin brother.

  Okay, not really murder, but there wasn’t a jury who would convict her if she did. The man was just that awful. Too full of himself. Too obviously hot. Too rich. Too everything that gave the city’s most eligible billionaire bachelor Will Holt an ego the size of Toledo and a hard-on for purposefully ruining Hadley’s day every time he spotted her.

  Well, not today, Satan.

  Tonight was too important for his stupid games. For the past two years, she’d worked her tail off at Kittsen & Sons Charitable Advisors just to get a chance to guide a minor client as they positioned their charitable foundation for the next level. Now, all of that overtime at the office, missed brunches with friends, and sleepless nights staring at the ceiling and wondering what she’d missed had come to fruition with tonight’s event. There was no way she was going to let Will mess it up.

  Her gaze narrowed on his too-wide shoulders as he walked into the Harbor City Grand Hotel ballroom like he owned the place. Well, he did, but that was completely beside the point. He may have snuck past security—or more likely gotten in with a quick hey-do-you-know-who-I-am—but he was not on the guest list and he was not staying. Period.

  The half-a-size-too-small shoes she’d borrowed from her roommate pinched her toes as she hustled around the people on the crowded dance floor, but by the time she made it across, her prey had disappeared.

  Standing off to the side of the stage, she ground her teeth as she scanned the crowd for Mr. Obnoxious.

  Seriously, how hard could it be to spot the one man at a black-tie fundraiser in jeans and a hoodie like a Silicon billionaire instead of the Harbor City trust-fund baby he was? Pretty damn hard, considering everywhere she looked, it was tuxes and ball gowns. She sighed. He was here somewhere, and she would find him and kick him out on his billionaire ass, mark her words.

  Keeping her eyes peeled for the evil twin, E.T. for short, Hadley checked in on the support staff who really made tonight work. The waiters, bartenders, cooks, security, registration attendants, and more were the engine that made any fundraiser go. As a charitable-giving consultant, she pulled all the pieces together for a fundraising event, but at the actual event it was a great support staff who made it all come together. Sadly, it wasn’t until she’d finished her rounds before she spotted him again, by the coat check this time and looking over the crowd as if he were searching for a gazelle to separate from the pack.

  Gotcha.

  The safety pins on her size-too-big-but-it-was-on-sale-seventy-five-percent-off-so-she’d-make-it-work dress from ten seasons ago poked her in the ribs (because if it was too big everywhere else, it was definitely ginormous around her basically nonexistent boobs), but she ignored the pain as she fast-walked-without-looking-it across the ballroom because she had a bigger prick to deal with.

  Will Holt.

  Her bestie—and in a twist of fate that showed just how much of a sense of humor God had, Will’s identical twin brother, Web—was not here.

  That meant Will was here for her. Well, not for her, more like to torment her on the biggest night of her career, the one that would make or break her chances of promotion to bigger accounts, and thus really making a difference in the world.

  Advancing on him like a guided missile, Hadley glued an almost-friendly smile on her face and girded herself for battle.

  “What are you doing here?” she hiss-whispered as soon as they were shoulder to shoulder on the edge of the dance floor.

  He snagged a mini bruschetta from a passing waiter. “Enjoying the hors d’oeuvres and charming company, obviously.”

  Oh yeah, she believed that about as much as she believed her outrageous Harbor City rent was going to pay for itself. “You weren’t invited.”

  “Yet here I am.” He popped the bruschetta into his mouth and picked up two champagne flutes from the tray of another passing waiter, keeping one for himself and handing her the other. “Just like you and last week’s rugby game.”

  She accepted the glass, suppressing the shiver of distaste when their fingers brushed—that was the only explanation for the way her heartbeat kicked up at the slight touch—and took a calm and dignified sip of the high-priced bubbly. It wasn’t like she could throw the drink in his face, considering they were both faking being nice in a room full of some of the biggest philanthropists and gossips in Harbor City. A word here or there from any of them could devastate her reputation and ability to—eventually—start her own charitable-giving consulting firm. He knew it. She knew it. They were both playing their parts while seething on the inside.

  “I went to the rugby game so I could cheer on Web.” It was the same answer she’d given him a million times already. What was it with this guy that he couldn’t accept that she and his brother were besties?

  “When he h
asn’t even played for the last few games because his ankle was acting up? How very”—he paused, clinking his glass against hers—“friendly of you.”

  She sputtered something that barely even qualified as syllables, heat smacking against her cheeks. It was their standing weekly friend date. She and Web always had brunch after. She liked watching rugby. It was interesting. That’s it. There was no other reason for her to go watch the games, definitely not the fact that Will played on the team, too.

  Why does he always make me feel like I’m doing something wrong?

  “You,” she said, about a million epithets for “him” running through her head, “are the worst.”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders and looked totally unconcerned. “Just because I don’t fall for your country-bumpkin, sweet-as-pie con job like everyone else?” He set his untouched glass of champagne down on the nearest flat surface. “I know exactly what you’re doing with Web, and you won’t get away with it.”

  Then, without even bothering to wait for her response—because why would the big jerk?—he strode off, disappearing into the coat closet that was packed full because of an unexpected summer downpour. No one wanted their black-tie finery to get drizzled on, so it was wall-to-wall raincoats and dripping umbrellas.

  If he thought disappearing into there was going to stop her, he had another think coming.

  Pinched toes protesting, pulse rocketing, and ire stoked to Mt. Vesuvius levels, Hadley marched in there and flung the door shut behind her. He stopped and did a slow-motion turn that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the movies—except Will was anything but hero material. He crossed his arms over his chest, the move only emphasizing his thick biceps even in a hoodie—and raised an eyebrow in question.

  The unmitigated cocky gall of this guy. Ugh.

  It was beyond past time for this confrontation. After nearly a year of having to deal with his bad attitude, she was more than ready to have it out.

  “What. Is. Your. Problem?” She bit each word out as her stride ate up the space between them, until she was mere inches from him, finger jabbing him in his obnoxiously hard chest. She ignored the heat coming off him in waves and jabbed him in the chest again for good measure. “You have got to—”

  The rest of that sentence was supposed to be “stop showing up unannounced” but he’d reached down and wrapped his warm, strong hand around hers, presumably to make her stop poking him, and the words froze in her throat as electricity zinged along her skin at the contact.

  She tilted her chin upward, her lips parted in shock, and her breath caught—because Will fucking Holt suddenly looked like he wanted to kiss her until they both self-combusted.

  And damn her mutinous body, at that moment she knew exactly how he felt.

  …

  The world froze for Will, shrinking down to the four walls of the tiny coat closet lit only by the dim light of a single wall sconce and Hadley Donavan. He’d meant to stop her from jabbing him again with her finger, but the second their skin connected, his entire brain short-circuited.

  He didn’t like her.

  Hell, he couldn’t stand her.

  And yet…here he was, holding on by a thread—a worn, raggedy, barely-keeping-it-together thread that was milliseconds from snapping. The last thing in the world he should do is kiss the woman angling to take his brother for every million she could.

  His muscles tense, his lungs burning from holding his breath, he stayed immobile. One breath, one blink, one brush of her body against his, and he’d give up his half of the several-billion-dollar Holt family fortune to finish what they’d start with a kiss. Then she let out a shaky sigh and used the tip of her tongue to wet her lips before looking up at him with a lust-hazy gaze as she lifted herself up on her toes, and he was a fucking goner.

  In a heartbeat, he went from fighting her every step of the way to meeting her in the middle. His lips crashed down on hers as if he’d been waiting years to kiss her. He hadn’t. This was just a fluke of the moment, a crazy combination of timing and lust and frustration and all the other things building up since they’d met. It meant nothing. And he couldn’t stop.

  Her hands were in his hair, cupping the back of his head and pulling him down even as she strained upward, and he deepened the kiss. Sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her, teasing a little moan from her, and she eliminated any remaining space between them. She let go of his hair and he went to take a step back, but instead of taking the space he offered, she went with him until he was standing with his back against the wall. The damp raincoats surrounded them as they kissed. Was that even the word for what this was? It was more of a breaking of the dam as they gave in to what had always been buzzing under the surface of their bickering and teasing.

  She slid her hands underneath his hoodie, her fingertips cool against his abs. How was it possible to not believe something was happening and want more all at the same time? He had no fucking clue, but he was right there. He wanted—needed—all of her even though he shouldn’t. Words like “gold digger,” “brother’s so-called friend,” and “enemy” zipped around in his head, but they had all the impact of a buzzing gnat, easily waved aside for the pleasure that was kissing Hadley.

  He didn’t mean to reach for her skirt, to pull it upward so he could slip his hand underneath, but there he was with his palm gliding up the outside of her smooth thigh and the round curve of her hip. Fuck, she felt good, better than he’d imagined too many times to count. He cupped her glorious ass, too much awesome to fit in his hands, and pulled her close so he could feel her heat against his hard cock straining against his jeans. Hadley let out a soft moan of encouragement, rubbing against him as she forced her hands between them and reached for the top button of his jeans.

  A better man would remember why she was awful. Why she couldn’t be trusted. Why this was wrong. But he wasn’t a better man. Will was drowning in Hadley and he couldn’t think of a better way to go.

  Then a bright light cut through the semidarkness of the coat closet—a reality spotlight landing right on them—followed by a knowing, cruel chuckle that he was all too familiar with. Obviously startled, Hadley jolted away from him, but it was too late.

  “Having some fun with the help, Will?” said Mia, his ex, a cold, close approximation to a smile curling her lips. “You know that’s something I would have overlooked.” She paused for dramatic effect, looking them both over with clinical detachment. “I’ll leave you to get straightened up.”

  The door swung shut behind her.

  He shoved his hands through his hair. Fuck. What had just happened? What had he done? Mia wouldn’t keep her mouth shut. This would be the amusing anecdote of the fundraiser told and retold over cocktails and coffee. He had to protect Hadley somehow.

  “Hadley,” he said.

  It took a second, but she turned toward him—her eyes wide with a what-the-fuck surprise and her fingers pressed to her kiss-swollen lips—and said, “Web.”

  A slap to the face would have been less of a blow than hearing her say his identical twin brother’s name at that moment. The worst part being that it was a self-inflicted wound. He knew better. Of course Web would be her first thought. After all, it would be damn hard to scam a guy into falling in love so she could walk away with half his billions if she banged his brother.

  You’re an idiot, Holt.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice deadly flat even to his own ears. “Exactly.”

  He swiped his raincoat off a hook and made it to the door in two strides, yanking it open and walking out, his steps measured, his breathing even, his heart going a million miles per hour. He never looked back.

  Mia was already halfway to the bar when he spotted her, earning her keep as an impoverished (by Harbor City’s high-society standards anyway) woman from a storied family who kept things entertaining with the latest gossip. There was no point in pursuing her, though;
it would only add legitimacy to her story. The air moved behind him and the extrasensory alert that always went off when Hadley was near blared out a warning.

  A little too late, don’t ya think?

  There was no point in talking to her—it wouldn’t change anything. What could make a difference would be talking to her boss. No doubt Mia was angling to get Hadley fired. He wasn’t going to let that happen, because it would make Hadley more sympathetic to Web and, therefore, make it easier for her to become a gold-digging success story.

  And that’s the only reason?

  It was. It had to be.

  And after that, he’d do whatever it took to stay the hell away from her from now on.

  Chapter Two

  “You! Are! Shitting! Me!”

  Hadley’s roommate, Fiona Hartigan, stood in the middle of their galley kitchen, her mouth agog and her organic fruit smoothie stopped halfway to her mouth. Sure, it was a little overdramatic, but then again, so was Fiona in the absolute best way possible.

  “I wish.” Hadley filled up the Money Honey travel mug she’d gotten in a goodie bag at a philanthropy management conference a few months ago and added an extra shot of store-brand hazelnut creamer. “The Evil Twin stood there in the middle of the event that should have made my career and told my boss that Mia was slinging crap because he would never in a million years kiss someone as lowly as me.”

  Fiona’s green eyes rounded to practically manga-character levels, and she took a long, loud slurp on her straw as she shot Hadley a considering look and then asked, “He used those words?”

  Ugh. Okay, maybe she was being a wee bit over-the-top, too. “Okay, he didn’t use exactly those words, but that was the gist of it. And you know everyone in my office just happened to be circling around the boss like a bunch of gossip sharks that smelled blood in the water. Everything about fundraising in this cliquey environment is about your reputation and who is in your corner.”

  “What did you say?” Fiona asked, leaning one hip against the smidgen of counter space in their teeny, tiny, way-too-expensive-to-be-this-cramped Harbor City apartment.