DONT KISS THE BRIDE

I guess you could say I was a damsel in distress, and he was my knight in shining armor. But more accurately, I was a girl with a lot of bad luck, and he was a guy with a lot of muscles and tattoos and a big heart.

Jude "Lucky" Lucketti wasn't just a sexy, brooding construction worker. He was my own personal hero, showing up in all the right places at the right times. Like when my car broke down and I needed a ride home, and when I face planted on the sidewalk right in front of him and he rushed me to the emergency room.

Those weren't exactly my best moments, but they were his.

When he approached me with a crazy idea to help me out with my many problems, I couldn't say no. He offered me a lifeline.

The arrangement was supposed to be temporary. A marriage on paper and a safe place to live—nothing else.

It should've been easy, but it wasn't. Because here I am, eighteen years-old, married to a man sixteen years older than me who I was never supposed to fall in love with. We had just one simple rule—no kissing the bride. But then, we broke that rule.

Now, I really don’t want that divorce we agreed to.

Does he?