Patricia Johns - The Runaway Bride

Damsel in distress...or veiled threat?

Bernadette Morgan left her cheating fiancé moments before they were supposed to marry in the society wedding of the year. Now she’s stuck in Runt River, Ohio, with a broken-down car and a tattered wedding dress. All she wants is a place to hide. But what she finds are a handsome mechanic, a little boy and family secrets that could change everything. Because the toddler Liam Wilson’s raising is actually her cousin’s child. And she’ll do anything to protect him from her politically ambitious family, even if that means rejecting the possibility of love with Liam...

Bernie looked younger without the makeup.

She had faint freckles spattered across her nose, he noticed for the first time. In that moment under the fluorescent bathroom light, Liam found himself wishing that he could close the distance between them. It would be the most natural thing in the world to slide an arm around her waist and kiss the top of her head. He pulled his thoughts away from the precipice.

Bernie was a part of the cutthroat world he was trying to protect Ike from. One word from her would bring her family’s legal team down on him, and Ike could very quickly be swept away. Attraction shouldn’t factor into this, and entertaining these feelings would only blur his perspective. He needed to be careful. Having the Morgan family’s undivided attention could be a dangerous thing.

Except that he was feeling something for this woman—something he hadn’t felt in a good many years. Was it just that he was lonely, or was it their combined effort in sorting out Ike’s scrapes? Whatever it was, he needed to keep it in check.

Dear Reader,

This book began with an image I had in my mind of a bedraggled bride driving up to a service station in Small Town, USA, in a classic Rolls-Royce. Her makeup would be smeared. Her hair would be a mess. Her dress would be dusty and possibly even a little torn. She’d get out of the car, walk up to the stunned mechanic and say “I can’t believe I made it. It stopped twice on the highway on the way here. Can you take a look?”

But who was she? And what was she doing in Small Town, USA? And if that stunned mechanic happened to marry that bedraggled bride, what a fantastic “how we met” story! A novel was born.

I hope that you enjoy this story as much as I loved writing it. And if you like sweet romance that tugs at the heartstrings, come check out my other novels in Love Inspired and Harlequin Western Romance. All of my books are wholesome, so you can trust them, no matter which line they are published under.

If you’d like to connect with me, you can find me at my blog, patriciajohnsromance.com, or on Facebook. I’d love to hear from you!

Patricia Johns

The Runaway Bride

Patricia Johns

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PATRICIA JOHNS writes from Alberta, Canada. She has her honors BA in English literature and currently writes for Harlequin’s Love Inspired, Western Romance and Heartwarming lines. You can find her at patriciajohnsromance.com.

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To my husband, who inspires the romantic in me. And to our little boy, who once upon a time was a toddler who liked to share cookies.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

BERNADETTE “BUNNY” MORGAN could hear the murmur of voices from the Manhattan cathedral where her family and friends already waited. Ten minutes from now, she’d be walking down that aisle on her father’s arm to the traditional wedding march. She’d imagined this moment a thousand times since they’d booked the cathedral two years ago. Weddings of this caliber didn’t come together in a heartbeat. Everything from the choice of the groom to the color of the scented beads in the dressing rooms took careful planning.

Each element of this wedding was traditional. It had to be perfect, as her mother so kindly pointed out, since the media would be picking it apart. This wedding would be on all the society pages and blogs...but her mother, Kitty, had taken care of most of those details for her from the flowers adorning the church to the Rolls-Royce they would drive away in. Her father had been less inclined to hand over his antique Rolls, but what Kitty wanted, Kitty got. And Kitty demanded perfection for her daughter’s wedding.

Thankfully.

Bernadette loved that car, and she liked the idea of driving off with Calvin toward the Four Seasons Hotel, their security entourage flanking them. It would be the first glorious foray of Mr. and Mrs. Calvin McMann.

“We want them to think of the Kennedys when you drive off,” her mother had told her. “Regal. American royalty. We might not be there yet, but we can put a picture in their minds. I want them to think Jackie Kennedy. So remember, sweet, demure and classic. Always classic!”

Bernadette twisted her engagement ring on her finger—a princess-cut diamond in a cloud of smaller stones, all set in platinum. It was beautiful, eye-catching and fabric-catching, too. She tugged it free of her gauzy skirt, wincing as she noticed the tiny snag.

Calvin was just down the hall. They’d agreed to have a few moments of private contemplation before the wedding began to calm their nerves, but Bernadette was regretting that now. Her stomach flipped as she paused to look in the mirror one last time. The face that stared back at her, framed in glossy dark waves, looked ashen.

What would Calvin be doing with his “contemplation” time? Practicing his golf swing, no doubt. Calvin McMann was unflappable. Tall, chiseled, tanned—he was perfection in a suit, and whenever she felt doubts nagging, all she had to do was look at him, and she’d remember their carefully orchestrated plans for a successful life together. Calvin McMann was a senator, and the position had settled a certain comfortable confidence onto his shoulders. What she needed right now was to see her fiancé—have him give one of those trademark winks that made him so electable.

“Sweet, demure, classic,” she reminded herself aloud.

Kitty would kill her if she snuck into Calvin’s dressing room. Brides stayed put until they went down the aisle... And heaven help the bride who let her groom see the dress a second too early.

This was stupid! Who really cared if Calvin saw her dress? That was superstition, and this marriage wouldn’t be built on something so flimsy. They were a political team, a financial powerhouse. Love on these levels was 80 percent choice, and she’d made the right one in Calvin McMann...hadn’t she?