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    I Do!
    I Do!
    I Do!
    Ebook95 pages1 hour

    I Do!

    By Rachel Gibson

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    In New York Times bestselling author Rachel Gibson's newest novella, Vince Haven and Sadie Hollowell are headed to the altar, and all their friends are headed to Lovett, Texas, to join them for the party of the year.

    But Becca Ramsey doesn't have time for all that. Fresh out of beauty school, Becca's all business . . . and the last thing she needs is bad boy Nate Parrish anywhere in her life.

    In the past, Nate was trouble. He's been trying to repair his reputation—heck, he's even got just one girlfriend. The problem is, she isn't Becca. Now Nate's in a whole lot of hot water. He needs to get Becca from "I won't" to "I do" . . . but how can he do that when she won't even say "I might"?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateJan 20, 2015
    ISBN9780062247513
    Author

    Rachel Gibson

    Rachel Gibson began her fiction career at age sixteen, when she ran her car into the side of a hill, retrieved the bumper, and drove to a parking lot, where she strategically scattered the car’s broken glass all about. She told her parents she’d been the victim of a hit-and-run and they believed her. She’s been making up stories ever since, although she gets paid better for them nowadays.

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    Reviews for I Do!

    3.5/5

    28 ratings2 reviews

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    • 1/5
      It was possibly the worst marketing attempt to lure more readers. The story wasn't good, the dialogue was trite. Novellas can be a good break from long reads, but my god, this one was tough to go through.
    • 5/5
      great

    Book preview

    I Do! - Rachel Gibson

    cover.jpg

    I Do!

    RACHEL GIBSON

    29126.png

    Contents

    Chapter One

    Chapter Two

    Chapter Three

    Chapter Four

    Chapter Five

    Announcement page to previous titles

    An Excerpt from What I Love About You

    About the Author

    By Rachel Gibson

    Copyright

    About the Publisher

    Chapter 1

    AT THE AGE of twenty-­three, Rebecca Ramsey had found her passion. Her love. Her creative calling. While some artists worked in oil or fabrics or clay, Becca worked in hair. While other girls her age were still in college trying to figure out what to do with their lives, Becca had mapped hers all out. Since graduating from the Milan (Texas, not Italy) Institute of Cosmetology a few years ago, she’d worked diligently perfecting her passion. Her love. Her art. Becca was good at cuts and blowouts, fabulous with highlights, ombres, peekaboos, and dip-­dyes, but when it came to the updo, she was a true master. She excelled at creating everything from simple French knots to complicated runway hair, complete with twigs and birds and working fountains.

    Of course, there wasn’t a lot of demand for runway hair in Amarillo, Texas, where she lived and worked, and absolutely none at all sixty miles north in the small town of Lovett where she’d been born and raised. But this was Texas, where special occasion hair was in high demand. The bigger the hair the closer to God was not just a saying in the northern panhandle, it was like the eleventh commandment: Thou shalt have big hair.

    Proms, graduations, and Becca’s favorite, bridal hair, kept her elbow-­deep in complicated chignons and styling product. She loved big occasions that called for big hair and had big plans to open her own salon in the future. She hadn’t quite settled on a name, but she had some time yet to think about it. She figured she could call it something catchy like Becca’s Bangz and Beauty, or Becca’s Flair for Hair. Or she could go for classy, like Salon B or Creative Hair Design. Or she could go for fun and funky like Fringe or Bouffant.

    Beneath the bright June sun, Becca reached across the seat of her Volkswagen Beetle and grabbed her sunglasses out of her Coach bag sitting on top of several bridal magazines. She slid on her cat-­eye sunglasses like she was Audrey Hepburn and adjusted the visor. Typical of a Sunday afternoon in the panhandle, traffic from Amarillo to Lovett was sparse except for the occasional truck pulling a bass fishing boat or a ­couple of four-­wheelers.

    Becca had driven this particular stretch of road so many times, she drove by rote, barely noticing the clumps of grasses and windmills stirred by the breeze. Her right front tire hit a dead armadillo as she recalled the salon name she’d thought up right before she’d fallen asleep the night before. Sometimes, her best inspiration happened just before sleep, like the Retro Cinderella or Crystal Chandelier updos she’d envisioned and then perfected for her portfolio.

    Last night she’d thought Head House had seemed like a great name for a salon, but now in light of day and a clearer mind, it sounded more like a bordello.

    Becca slowed and took the off ramp for Lovett. Just last week, local photographer Daisy Parrish had come into Lily Belle’s Salon and Day Spa where Becca worked to take photographs of Becca’s latest inspired wedding hairstyles. Because Daisy and the owner of the spa, Lily, were sisters, Daisy gave a big discount to everyone who worked at the salon. Both sisters were beautiful and talented in their own ways, Daisy with her camera and Lily with the spa. They were so classy and seemed so happy that it was hard to believe the old gossip about the two brawling at the Gas and Go years ago.

    Becca didn’t have time for gossip and was much too busy to care about a beat-­down over Lily’s cheating ex-­husband and his slutty girlfriend at a convenience store. All that had happened when Becca was in middle school. She hadn’t heard any gossip about the sisters lately. Then again, she’d lived in Amarillo for a year now and didn’t hear hometown gossip every time she stopped to fill her car with gas or grabbed some breakfast at the Wild Coyote. She didn’t hear much at all unless her mother called to fill her in. Which was quite often, actually.

    Right now, talk in Lovett revolved around the wedding of Sadie Hollowell and Vince Haven. It seemed the small town had its collective panties in a bunch because the ­couple had chosen to have the wedding at the JH Ranch—­named after Sadie’s late father, Clive Hollowell—­with only close friends and relatives in attendance.

    There were a lot of ­people in town who thought Sadie owed them a big doin’s simply because the Hollowells had settled in the panhandle when Lovett had been nothing more than a stage stop and general store. The ranch was a deeply imbedded part of Texas history. Almost as much as the Alamo to the South, but without the revolution or siege or James Bowie.

    Secretly, Becca wished the wedding was going to be a big doin’s, too. Not because she thought Sadie owed her anything, but she was styling the bridal hair. A big wedding would have been a great way for ­people to see her work.

    Becca stopped at a red light in the middle of town and touched up her pink lip gloss. After one quick stop to fetch the latest photos Daisy had left for her, Becca was heading to the JH and a final meeting with Sadie before the ceremony next Saturday.

    Sadie was more than Becca’s latest bride client. She was engaged to Becca’s good friend Vince Haven, and had become Becca’s friend, too. So much so that Sadie had not only hired Becca to do her wedding hair, she’d included Becca in some of the planning. She’d sought her advice on flowers and the arbor and the maid of honor dress.

    Vince had been no help at all. His favorite colors were brown and dark brown, and talk of flowers made him fold his arms over his big chest and scowl. Sadie’s sister, Stella, wasn’t much help, either. Stella was busy with her own life and own fiancé, and frankly, Stella wasn’t a Texan. Like Vince, she didn’t understand that a simple wedding was never simple, and Stella’s tastes ran more toward leather and combat boots than toward lace and satin pumps.

    Bless her heart.

    The light turned green and Becca took off. She changed lanes in front of an old pickup truck that moved too slow. She didn’t have time for slow. She had a client list to build, money to make, and a bride waiting to see the latest updo photos Daisy had taken for her portfolio.

    It was a good thing Sadie had enlisted Becca’s help, because even though Becca would never say it out loud, Sadie wasn’t very good at special occasion planning, and neither was the local event planner she’d hired. Vince’s sister, Autumn, was a wedding planner, but Autumn lived in Seattle and could do little but

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