Page 2 of Hot Mess Wedding

Me: You aren't serious.

Cordy: I'm completely serious.

Gem: I like the idea. Maybe I’ll take the plunge with that jewelry exhibition in town next week. Show off a few of my creations.

Peyton: It's insane, but I like it.

Mandy: Something we would never do? It's a terrible idea! We don’t do things for a reason.

Devyn: Fine. I’m in. One of the volunteers at the rescue keeps wanting to fix me up with her nephew. Next time she offers, I promise I’ll say yes.

Me: But do you know the statistics of how many women go off to do something on their own and get targeted by a predator? I have statistics. So many statistics!

Thinking about those statistics has raised my stress level so I go into my kitchen and grab some chocolate from the freezer. I need a little serotonin.

Gem: You know what they say–you don’t grow if you stay in your comfort zone.

Mandy: Gem, that's an amazing idea! Your pieces are beautiful! Maybe you’re right. I can’t believe I am saying this, but I’m in! I’m going to book that boudoir shoot I've been thinking about.

Peyton: Well, if you girls are game, I’m doing it too. I was going to send the latest conservation report to the property developer, but I’m going to confront him in person!

Cordy: So, we’re doing it then?

Me: I have a work conference in Vegas during Valentine’s. But I suppose I could dip my toe out of my comfort zone.

That’s not completely the truth, but it’s not a lie either. There are shades of the truth, I suppose. I roll my eyes at myself because that is a ridiculous thought. I’m not being completely honest with my friends, and it makes me feel like a troll.

Peyton: I’m standing up for what I believe in, and I’m not backing down.

Gem: Yay!

Me: Maybe I’ll quit the Sheriff’s office and become a showgirl.

Mandy: I hate wine chats.

Devyn : Aw, Mandy, don’t blame the wine. Whatever happens, it will all be Cordy’s fault! I’m already regretting this.

Cordy: I’m actually looking forward to Valentine’s Day now. Yay! This is going to be so much fun!

chapterone

Cleary

I used to think I would make the world’s worst spy. A couple of factors played into this belief. First and foremost, I’m not what you’d call inconspicuous.

My hair is the color of boiled carrots. It's big, and I guess you could call it curly, though mostly its frizzy. Whatever. I just know it's not straight, but it's big and it's orange, and I'm pale and freckled.

I look like one of those stereotypical Irish lasses, but one who obviously missed the potato famine. Let's just put it that way.

I have two older brothers who are big and mean and scary looking. Even though both of them are sweet as pie and madly in love with their wives. Though, how could they not be? I mean, they married literally the coolest women in the world! Two of my favorite romance authors.

Which brings me back to the whole spy issue. I mean my looks aren’t inconspicuous as we’ve discussed. However, the main reason I would make a crap spy is the fact that I cannot keep a secret. When I was eight, I ruined my mom’s surprise party. When I was fourteen, I told Tanner Forsyth—the hottest boy in school—that my best friend had a crush on him. In front of our entire English class. As recently as this past year, when Cam met and fell in love with Paige, I spilled the beans to practically everyone in town.

In my defense, I’m pretty sure I figured out he was in love with her before he did.

So yeah, I’ve never been good at keeping secrets.

Until this year.

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