I just finished reading The Accidental Bride by Denise Hunter (published by Thomas Nelson). It was a cute book with the plot being a girl is jilted by her boyfriend on the courthouse steps on the day they choose to elope. Fourteen years later they are reunited and are “accidentally married”.
She can’t stand him and really treats him horribly. All, of course, in the name of protecting herself from hurt. He, of course, continually comes over and invades her life. Despite her ill treatment of him.
I won’t give away the ending. The book is cute. If you’re looking for a light, fluffy book this would fit the bill just fine.
I am a little tired of this plot line. You find it in historical fiction and any romance type novel. I would love to find a book without that plot line.
You can judge for yourself by reading the first chapter below.
(I received a free copy of this book from the publisher for the purpose of review)
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to
Audra Jennings – The B&B Media Group – for sending me a review copy.***
Denise lives in Indiana with her husband Kevin and their three sons. In 1996, Denise began her first book, a Christian romance novel, writing while her children napped. Two years later it was published, and she’s been writing ever since. Her books often contain a strong romantic element, and her husband Kevin says he provides all her romantic material, but Denise insists a good imagination helps too!
Visit the author’s website.
Shay Brandenberger has built her entire life on the shifting sands of what others think. Constantly seeking the approval of others, she has struggled through a rocky childhood, a failed marriage and single parenthood. Now it looks like she’s losing the ranch that has been in her family for three generations, a surefire way to mark her as a failure in the eyes of the community. When Travis McCoy, the high school sweetheart who very publicly broke her heart fifteen years before, returns to Moose Creek, she is less than pleased. Not only does his re-appearance dredge up a deluge of painful memories, it also reminds everyone in town that it was he who left her, not the other way around. To make matters worse, Shay and Travis are unwittingly paired to play bride and groom in the annual Founder’s Day wedding re-enactment where, much to her chagrin, she discovers he still has the power to take her breath away.
List Price: $15.99
- Paperback: 304 pages
- Publisher: Thomas Nelson (January 3, 2012)
- Language: English
- ISBN-10: 1595548025
- ISBN-13: 978-1595548023
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
and—despite her most valiant effort—Shay Brandenberger’s eyes darted toward the
entry. An unfamiliar couple entered—tourists. She could tell by their khaki
Eddie Bauer vests and spanking-new hiking boots. Look out, Yellowstone.
she checked her watch and took a sip of coffee. Five minutes till she met Miss
Lucy at the Doll House, forty till she met John Oakley at the bank. What if he
said no? What would they do then?
waved her hand too close to Shay’s face, her brown eyes widening.
her Saturday was breakfast with her daughter, and she couldn’t enjoy it for the
dread. “What were you saying?”
pancake-sticky plate and heaved a sigh worthy of her twelve-year-old self.
“Never mind.” She bounced across the vinyl bench, her thick brown ponytail
swinging. “I’m going to meet Maddy.”
but Olivia was out the door with the flick of her hand.
Silverware clattered and scraped, and the savory smell of bacon and fried eggs
unsettled her stomach. She took a sip of the strong brew from the fat rim of
not look. I will not—
girl, and gathered Olivia’s dishes. “On the house today.”
said, then made off with the dirty dishes.
Mabel Franklin gave Shay a pointed look.
foal the week before. It was the neighborly thing to do.
wave. She pulled her wallet from her purse, counted out the tip, and dragged
herself from the booth, remembering her daughter’s bouncy exit. Lately her
thirty-two years pressed down on her body like a two-ton boulder.
both ways before exiting the Tin Roof and turning toward the Doll House. She
was only checking sidewalk traffic, not hiding. Nope, she wasn’t hiding from
anyone. The boardwalks were busy on Saturdays. That was why she hadn’t come to
town for two weeks. Why their pantry was emptier than a water trough at high
into the cool, welcoming air of Miss Lucy’s shop.
the middle of helping a customer, called over her rounded shoulder, “It’s in
the back.” Miss Lucy’s brown eyes were big as buckeyes behind her thick
glasses, and her white curls glowed under the spotlights.
entered the back room and flipped on the overhead fluorescents. She scanned the
boxes of doll parts and skeins of yarn until she found what she was looking
for. She approached the box, lifted the lid, and parted the tissue.
folded and tucked away. Shay ran her fingers over the delicate lace and pearls.
Must’ve been crisp white in its day, but time had cast a long shadow over it.
Time had a way of doing that.
She remembered another time, another dress. A simple white one that hung on her
young shoulders, just skimmed the cement of the courthouse steps. The ache that
squeezed her heart had faded with time, but it was there all the same. Would it
ever go away?
the task at hand. The gown seemed too pretty, too fragile to disturb.
box, then shimmied from her jeans. When she was down to the bare necessities,
she stepped carefully into the gown. She eased it over her narrow hips and slid
her arms into the long sleeves. The neckline was modest, the gathered skirt
fuller than anything she ever wore. Here in the air-conditioning it was fine,
but she would swelter next Saturday.
hitched the skirt to the top of her cowboy boots and entered the store.
the door. When she turned, she stopped, her old-lady shoes squeaking on the
linoleum. “Land sakes.”
the skirt. It fell to the floor with a whoosh.
“And with some low heels it’ll be the perfect length.”
have to do. Button the back?”
toward a small wall mirror flecked with time, and began working the tiny pearl
forced its release, then frowned. Wedding gowns were bad luck. She’d sworn
she’d never wear another. If someone had told her yesterday she’d be wearing
this thing today, she’d have said they were one straw short of a bale.
between her shoulders, and Shay lifted her hair. The dress did fit, clinging to
her torso like it was made for her, wouldn’t you know. Even the color
complemented her olive skin.
Brandenberger wearing this valuable piece of Moose Creek heritage? A white
wedding gown, no less. If she didn’t have the approval of her closest friends
and neighbors, what did she have? Not much, to her thinking.
shimmy right out of the dress, tuck it into that box in the storeroom, slip
back into her Levi’s and plaid button-up, and go back to her ranch where she
could hole up for the next six months.
Lucy had nimbler fingers. Of all days to do this, a Saturday, when everyone
with two legs was in town. And she still had that infernal meeting with John
forgot Jessie was going out of town.”
cow dung.” The woman’s marionette lines at the sides of her mouth deepened.
after all Miss Lucy had done for her.
dropped her hair and smoothed the delicate lace at the cuffs.
is smiling down on you today for your kindness.”
another. It was her neighbors she worried about.
the talk of the town on Founders Day.”
would be thinking about the last time she’d worn a wedding gown. And the time
squeezing her shoulders. “You look quite fetching, like the gown was made for
you. I won’t have to make a single alteration. Why, it fits you better than it
ever did Jessie—don’t you tell her I said so.”
was right. The dress did make the most of her figure. And she had as much right
to wear it as anyone. Maybe more—she was born and raised here, after all. It
was just a silly old reenactment anyway. No one cared who the bride and groom
behind her. She glanced in the mirror, over her shoulder, where a hulking
silhouette filled the shop’s doorway. There was something familiar in the set
of the man’s broad shoulders, in the slow way he reached up and removed his
cage, squeezed the air from her lungs as if she were wearing a corset. But she
wasn’t wearing a corset. She was wearing a wedding gown. Just as she had been
the last time she’d set eyes on Travis McCoy.