Calamity Rayne Gets Hitched Read Online Lydia Michaels

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
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Time was flying. We had a team of people helping us and I could finally envision something close to the final product. But no matter how many invitations, or menus, or mood boards I saw, what I awaited most of all was the look on Hale’s face when we finally made it to the altar. The only thing that mattered to me was becoming his wife.

“Have you finished the seating chart yet?”

My eyes drifted to the enormous pile of index cards on the counter. Hale just added two more guests that morning, so the seating was far from finished. “We’re almost done with it.”

“Rayne,” she said with a stern and knowing look.

“We’ll have it finished before the weekend. I promise.”

“Thank you. Oh, hold on, that’s Josette.”

I frowned. Why was Josette texting Phina before me? I was the bride. Then I remembered that this was what I wanted, and I quickly got over any sense of jealousy.

Seraphina read a text then squealed and clapped.

“What is it?”

“Josette managed to get Rarity Lockhart!”

Was I supposed to know who that was? “Who?”

“She’s a famous New York photographer, Rayne. A great one! Hale knows her brother, Riley. After their father passed away, Hale bought his shares in some big New York company.

I reached for the stack of cards and shuffled my way to the L’s. “Riley and Emma Lockhart?”

“Yes. Go ahead and mark Rarity as a vendor. She’ll need a seat for herself and two assistants.”

Great. More people.

Hale returned from upstairs, sans child, and a frazzled expression on his face. His cuffs were rolled to his elbows and he held the monitor in his hand as he went right to the wine fridge. Poor guy. Looked like the score was doody diaper-one and Dad-zero.

He lifted a bottle of chardonnay, gesturing to the label to silently ask if I wanted a glass. I nodded, because it was rude to let him drink alone.

“Phina, I’m going to let you go so we can work on that seating chart. Thanks for everything.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Kiss Elara for me.”

“I will.” I shut the laptop. “You look like you just got your ass kicked by a six-month-old.”

“I’m not sure if she’s teething or growing horns.” He handed me a glass. “Cheers.”

Little did he know, his adorable little demon spawn already had him wrapped around her tiny finger. He wasn’t going to win any battles where she was concerned. Deciding that there was no way to salvage his night, I said, “Sorry to break it to you, but we have homework.”

“What? No.”

“Your sister wants the seating chart by the weekend.”

“Fuck that chart.”

“Hale. We have to finish it. She’s doing so much already. This is the only thing she asked us to do.”

He growled and topped off his glass. “There are a million ways I’d rather spend my night off with you.”

“Hey, these are your people. My guests are organized neatly at tables three and four.”

He groaned. “Fine.”

I grabbed the stack of cards and headed to the living room. “Bring the wine.”

Hale reluctantly followed.

I pushed the coffee table out of the way and tossed Elara’s toys into the bin. “I think this will work best if we lay everything out. I printed the names and cut and pasted each one on the front of an index card with any notes about allergies or enemies on the back.”

“How very Ms. Meyers of you.” Hale teased, using the name my students used back when I was a teacher.

“I might have geeked out a little over this, but let’s not read too deeply into it. My affinity for childlike crafts doesn’t lend itself to bouquets and bridal belts. I’m still me.”

“What’s a bridal belt?”

“That torniquet thing brides wear around their thigh.”

He laughed. “A garter?”

“Whatever. Unless I need to carry a knife, I’m not wearing one.”

“I think it’s sexy.”

I paused from cleaning up the toys, second-guessing my decision. “You do?”

“Yeah. And I get to pull it off of you with my teeth.”

“Not in front of four hundred strangers.”

“We’re far from four hundred, and I’d rather save that part of the night for when we’re alone.”

Warmth spread from my chest up my throat. “Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“See?” He crossed the room and hugged me from behind, distracting me with a kiss on the side of my neck. “Wedding traditions can be fun. You’ll be dressed up like a cupcake and I’ll get to claim you through all that crinoline and lace.” His hand cupped my boob possessively and I sank into his hold. “My bride.”

Sensing he was trying to distract me, I squirmed out of his arms. “Calm your loins or we’ll never get done.” I held up the cards. “Girls are in pink and boys are lavender.”

“Why not blue for boys?”

“Because traditional colors create a gender stereotypes, and our wedding will be a progressively freeing affair.” I pointed to myself, the most non-bride bride in the history of womankind. “Obviously.”


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