The Groom’s Maid of Honor

Here’s a sneak peek into The Groom’s Maid of Honor a contemporary romance by Ruby Mohan retailing at AMAZON.COM

Archaeologist Mickey Truman has been chosen Maid of Honor at her best friend billionaire Julian Wentworth’s wedding. It does not help that she is a walking hazard who harbors a secret crush on the groom.
Will Mickey’s walk to the altar cement their friendship or is Julian trying to sabotage his own nuptials by giving power to the Dark Force?

 

The bar he took her to was possibly one frequented by celebrities.

“No,” she tugged on his arm and pulled him back, “the real downtown with the real people.”

“You do not think people are real in there?”

“You think they are?”

“Am I real to you or not?” He countered.

She could see the night disintegrating as the fragile truce between them was threatened.

“Ju can we pretend tonight is not about us?” She needed a distraction.

“What do you mean?”

“You are not Julian Wentworth and I am not Mickey Truman. No history of best friends between us. I am,” she thought, “I am True Mickman.”

He burst out laughing. “I refuse to be Villian Jetworth.”

It was a madcap moment and they laughed till their sides ached.

“William, can you be William?”

“All right. I am William Worth.” He conceded.

“We have just met,” she continued with the charade.

“How did we meet?” He was curious.

She glared, “Ju be serious. How does it matter to you how we met?”

“I am not Ju. I am Will. It matters to Will how he met True. And why are you True when you are false?” He started to split hairs figuratively.

“Gr,” she growled, “you obtuse man. Okay I named you, you name me.”

He looked at her with his intense green eyes. A hand hooked under her chin to pull it up so he could look into her eyes.

“Cat,” he said softly, “You are Cat, short for Catherine maybe?”

“You and Wuthering Heights but Cat?” She frowned, “you think I am a Cat?”

“You growl and I know you can bite. Oh outside you look all soft, fuzzy and inviting but I know inside you are all spit, scratch and claw his eyes out girl.”

She pushed his hand away, her breathing unsteady. “I am Kat with a K and not C and it is not short for anything. I refuse to be a Catherine. Kat Cayman, will that do?”

“A swamp cat,” he muttered, “heaven help me! So what do you do Kat?”

“That is Step Two. We have to meet first. I know what! I am going into the bar and you can follow me with a good pick up line.”

“Not fair. I already know you do not want to be picked up by me.”

There was something in his voice that arrested her in mid-motion. Something that made her toss her hair at him like a siren and husk in a throaty come-hither voice.

“William Worth you are not talking about Mickey Truman. Kat Cayman is an unknown entity, remember?”

“Yes Miss,” he saluted and his eyes held a promise of retribution. She laughed a silvery laugh as she got down from the car. She had to expend no effort to act the coquette. Something about Julian Wentworth incited her at a very primitive level. Just to be difficult she walked across the street and entered the bar opposite to the one he had chosen.

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