Sarah Morgan - Ripped

“Wardrobe malfunction” doesn’t begin to cover it.

With a rip louder than the “I dos,” Hayley’s hideous bile-yellow bridesmaid dress explodes. She’s always had enviable curves, but nearly naked wasn’t quite the look she’d been going for at her ex’s wedding.

She’s rushed from the altar under the best man’s designer tux jacket. Hayley’s expecting a blast of icy disapproval from sexy, sophisticated Niccolò Rossi—his usual reaction to anything she does. What she gets is a kiss that nearly melts what’s left of her polyester nightmare gown.

It’s impossible on a million levels. Exuberant engineer Hayley and buttoned-up lawyer Nico have never seen eye to eye—but skin to skin? Oh, mio…. So when Nico shows up at her flat on Christmas Day to give her a fabulous gift—himself—Hayley’s delighted to do the unwrapping. But it’s just a holiday fling. By New Year’s Day, she’ll come back to her senses…unless Nico’s sensual skills tear away all her resolve.

Contemporary, sexy stories for sassy women.

Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon

www.millsandboon.co.uk/cosmo

To Katie, with love. Have fun and be fearless. xxxx

Dear Reader,

I love writing about strong, independent women and I’ve always been a lover of Cosmopolitan, so when I was asked to write a Red-Hot Read from Mills & Boon story I knew I was going to enjoy myself.

The heroine of Ripped, Hayley, is a real Cosmo girl. She’s fun, fearless, independent and busy living life to the fullest. She shares an apartment with her sister Rosie, has a job she loves, a great circle of friends—but her love life is a total disaster. And it’s about to get worse. Rescued from the most embarrassing moment of her life by smoking-hot Italian Nico Rossi, she decides to give up on love and settle for sex. But dark, dangerous Nico has his own ideas about what he wants from Hayley…

I hope you have as much fun reading this story as I had writing it. Look out for Rosie’s sister’s story coming June 2014.

Find out more about my books on my website www.sarahmorgan.com, and chat with me on Facebook about books, shoes, life and all things fun and fabulous.

Sarah

xxx

Contemporary, sexy stories for sassy women.

Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon

www.millsandboon.co.uk/cosmo

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BESTSELLING author Sarah Morgan writes hot, happy contemporary romance and her trademark humour and sensuality have gained her fans across the globe.

Sarah lives near London with her husband and children, and when she isn’t reading or writing she loves being outdoors, preferably on vacation so she can forget the house needs tidying. You can visit Sarah online at www.sarahmorgan.com, on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AuthorSarahMorganand on Twitter @SarahMorgan_.

M&B

SLEIGH BELLS IN THE SNOW*

The O’Neil Brothers trilogy

Mills & Boon Modern

LOST TO THE DESERT WARRIOR

These and other titles by Sarah Morgan are available from www.millsandboon.co.uk/cosmo

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

‘Dearly beloved,’ the priest droned, ‘we are gathered here today to witness—’

A mistake of massive proportions, I thought gloomily, holding my breath and sitting up straight in a bid to stop my bridesmaid dress splitting at the seams. Any moment now I was going to burst out of this pukey-yellow tube and the wedding would forever be remembered as the one where the bridesmaid exposed herself. Not that I was prudish. Far from it. I’d danced on plenty of tables in my time, but on an ideal day I’d prefer not to find myself revealing all Victoria’s secrets to Great-Uncle Henry.

Some girls went through their lives dreaming of being a bridesmaid. You heard people talking about it as if it were a life goal. I had a list of life goals. I wanted to build a robot, visit Peru (I’ve always had a thing about llamas), work for NASA. Bridesmaid? That was nowhere on my list.

My parents married when they were both twenty-one. They stood at the front of a church much like this one wearing ridiculous clothes they wouldn’t normally be seen dead in, made all the usual promises—have and hold, death us do part, blah, blah—and then divorced when I was eight. Which taught me one thing—that a wedding is just a party by another name.

Because my neck was the only part of me that could move without straining a seam, I turned my head and glanced sideways. Through a forest of fascinators and absurd hats that made me think of UFOs, I could see the door that led to a pretty private churchyard, now covered in a light dusting of snow. I was glad it was pretty because I was sure I was going to be there soon. Here lies Hayley, who exploded out of her dress at the most inconvenient moment of her short, very unsatisfactory life and promptly died of shame.

The tiny church was crammed with people and stuffed full of extravagant flower displays, the cloying scent of lilies thickening the air and mingling unpleasantly with the smell of perfume from the elderly aunts. My nose tickled and my head started to throb.

The priest was still droning on in a hypnotic voice that could have been recorded and sold for millions as a cure for insomnia. ‘If anyone knows any reason why these two may not be joined, speak now….’

Any reason?

Was he kidding?

I could have given him at least ten reasons without even revving up a brain cell.

Number one—the groom was a total bastard.

Number two—he’d slept with the bride’s sister and at least two of the bride’s friends.

Number three—it was three days until Christmas and who the hell was dumb enough to get married when they should have been rushing round buying last-minute presents?

Number four—it was far too cold to be wearing a strapless dress and at this rate I was going to be eating my Christmas dinner in hospital with a nasty bout of pneumonia.

Number five—

‘Hayley, are you OK?’ My sister Rosie nudged me in the ribs, increasing the strain on my dress.

Of course I wasn’t OK. We both knew I wasn’t fucking OK. That was why she’d agreed to come with me, but this was hardly the moment for sisterly bonding over margaritas. To be honest, if she’d passed me a margarita I wouldn’t have known whether to drink it or drown myself in it.

I was good at statistics and I could tell you right now there was a 99 percent chance this wedding was going to end in tears. Probably mine.

‘You should have said no when she asked you to be her bridesmaid,’ Rosie hissed. ‘It was a mean thing to do when everyone knows you used to date him.’