Addicted to Love
Series: The Wedding Veil Wishes Series
Published by: Grand Central Publishing
Release Date: October 1, 2008
Buy the Book: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, IndieBound, Books-A-Million, iTunes, Walmart, Target
Growing up in Valentine, Texas, can make anyone believe in happily ever after. But newly declared recovering romantic Rachael Henderson has decided that love stinks. After having not one but two grooms ditch her at the altar, she announces her disenchantment in an uncharacteristic act of rebellion. She feels liberated…until she's arrested by Sheriff Brody Carlton.
Once upon a time, being hauled against the taut, rippling body of her first crush would have had Rachael planning the wedding of the year. Now it spurs her to created Romanceaholics Anonymous, a twelve-step program for love addicts. Soon all of Valentine is divided as die-hard romantics clash with antilove cynics. But when Rachael starts fantasizing about a lust-filled affair with Brody, she goes against everything the program stands for. Should she protect her fragile heart…or find a way to have her wedding cake and eat it too?
“This plot is filled with humor, romance and some truly hot love scenes. Brody is a wonderful hero, a wounded war veteran and law enforcement officer. He is very strong but vulnerable, especially in regards to his missing limb. Rachael is a bit ditzy in the beginning, but by the end of the book she has grown up and become an admirable character, still romantic, but not controlled by it. Valentine and its inhabitants are a wonderful backdrop for this story.”
—Maura, Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance
“Rompalicious! Wickedly funny and deliciously hot, ADDICTED TO LOVE, the third book in the WEDDING VEIL WISHES series, is a wonderful romp through the fictional city of Valentine, Texas. It takes hold of your attention from the very first page and doesn’t let go. Filled with witty banter, outrageous characters and a hilarious plot, this tale is sure to have you laughing out loud. For a great way to brighten your day, just pick up any book by Lori Wilde. All I have to see is her name on the cover to assure me of an enjoyable read. Do not miss ADDICTED TO LOVE. I cannot wait to read the next book in the series. Though it can be read alone, I am sure readers will also enjoy the first two books in the series, ONCE SMITTEN, TWICE SHY and THERE GOES THE BRIDE.”
“This third story involving a magical wedding veil is as entertaining and humorous as the last one. There’s a seriousness to it also, as the heroine learns to recognize real love and caring. There are visits from characters from previous stories, and Wilde again includes secondary romances that are intriguing, entertaining and hot.”
“Excellent characterizations, small town schmaltzy settings, and cracker-jack writing are highlights of the story. Don’t miss the rollicking good ADDICTED TO LOVE.”
—Jennell Romance Reviews Today
“…her characters were real, and I could easily see the storyline playing out on a screen because it was just that good. The book made me laugh, it made me feel what they were feeling and I was truly into the story of Rachael and Brody. Their’s was a romance that seemed perfect. It had it’s moments along the way, but the characters were simply good for each other. And really, I loved Brody. I loved that both of the characters had fears and hopes that were not trivial and not typical of usual romance novels. They both had insecurities, and for good reason. It was a really great book and I recommend it to everyone and anyone who wants to read a good love story. A+ Review. I’m eagerly going to fetch out the other books by this author.”
“ADDICTED TO LOVE is funny, engaging and a joy to read and the second installment of the WEDDING VEIL WISHES series. It contains chuckles from start to finish and a few feel good moments too! I especially enjoyed the secondary characters and their romantic woes, watch out for Mayor Wentworth and Giada.”
—The Romance Reader Connection
The last thing Sheriff Brody Carlton expected to find when he wheeled his state-issued, white and black, Crown Victoria patrol cruiser past the Welcome to Valentine, Texas, Romance Capitol of the USA billboard, was a woman in a sequined wedding dress dangling from the town’s mascot—a pair of the most garish, oversized, scarlet, puckered-up-for-a-kiss lips ever poured in Fiberglas.
She swayed forty feet off the ground in the early Sunday morning summer breeze, one arm wrapped around the sensuous curve of the full bottom lip, her other arm wielding a paintbrush dipped in black paint, her white satin ballet-slippered toes skimming the billboard’s weathered wooden platform.
The billboard had been the vandalized before, but never, to Brody’s knowledge, by a disgruntled bride. He contemplated hitting the siren to warn her off, but feared she’d startle and end up breaking her silly neck. Instead, he whipped over on the shoulder of the road, rolled down the passenger side window, slid his Maui Jim sunglasses to the end of his nose and craned his neck for a better look.
The delinquent bride had her bottom lip tucked up between her teeth. She was concentrating on desecrating the billboard. It had been a staple in Valentine’s history for as long as Brody could remember. Her blond hair, done up in one of those twisty braided hair-dos, was partially obscured by the intricate lace of a floor length wedding veil. When the sunlight hit the veil’s lace just right it shimmered a phosphorescent pattern of white butterflies looking as if they were about to rise up and flutter away.
She was oblivious to anything except splashing angry black brushstrokes across the hot, sexy mouth.
Brody exhaled an irritated snort, threw the Crown Vic into park, stuck the Maui Jims in his front shirt pocket and climbed out. Warily, he eyed the gravel. Loose rocks. His sworn enemy. Then he remembered about his new bionic Power Knee and relaxed. He’d worn the innovative prosthetic for only six weeks, but it had already changed his life. Because of the greater ease of movement and balance the computerized leg afforded, it was almost impossible for the casual observer to guess he was an amputee.
He walked directly underneath the sign, cocked his tan Stetson back on his head and looked up.
As far as he knew—and he knew most everything that went on in Valentine, population 1,987—there’d been no weddings scheduled in town that weekend. So where had the bride come from?
Brody cleared his throat.
She went right on painting.
He cleared his throat again, louder this time.
“Ma’am,” he called up to her.
“Go away. Can’t you see I’m busy?”
Dots of black paint spattered the sand around him. She’d almost obliterated the left hand corner of the upper lip, transforming the Marilyn Monroe sexpot pout into Marilyn Manson gothic rot.
The cynic inside him grinned. Brody had always hated those tacky red lips. Still, it was a Valentine icon and he was sworn to uphold the law.
He glanced around and spied the lollipop pink VW Bug parked between two old abandoned railway cars rusting along side the train tracks that ran parallel to the highway. He could see a red and pink beaded heart necklace dangling from the rearview mirror and a sticker on the chrome bumper proclaimed: I Heart Romance.
All rightee then.
“If you don’t cease and desist, I’ll have to arrest you,” he explained.
She stopped long enough to balance the brush on the paint can and glowered down at him. “On what charges?”
“Destruction of private property. The billboard is on Kelvin Wentworth’s land.”
“I’m doing this town a much needed community service,” she growled.
“This,” she said, sweeping a hand at the billboard, “Is false advertising. It perpetuates a dangerous myth. I’m getting rid of it before it can suck in more impressionable young girls.”
“What myth is that?”
“That there’s such a thing as true love and romance magic and soul mates. Rubbish. All those fairytales are complete and utter rubbish and I fell for it, hook, line and sinker.”
“Truth in advertising is an oxymoron.”
“Exactly. And I’m pulling the plug.”
You’ll get no argument from me, he thought, but vandalism was vandalism and he was the sheriff, even if he agreed with her in theory. In practice, he was the law. “Wanna talk about it?”
She glared. “To a man? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Judging from your unorthodox attire and your displeasure with the billboard in particular and men in general, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you were jilted at the altar.”
“Perceptive,” she said sarcastically.
She didn’t respond immediately and he was about to repeat the question, when she muttered, “The Chicago Bears.”
Brody sank his hands on his hips. “The guy jilted you over football?”
“Bastard.” She was back at it again, slinging paint.
“He sounds like a dumbass.”
“He’s Trace Hoolihan.”
Brody shrugged. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
“You don’t know who he is?”
“Hallelujah,” the bride-that-wasn’t said. “I’ve found the one man in Texas who’s not ate up with football.”