It was her special day... but his worst nightmare.
A rekindled romance wasn’t part of the plan.
Despite his American background, August O’Leary is the most sought-after wedding planner in London. Naturally, Libby and Edward come to him for a wedding the city will never forget. But Edward is an international businessman, so the details are left to Libby and her best friend—who happens to be the love of August’s life and the one who broke his heart eight years ago: Christopher Burke.
How’s August supposed to pull off the event of the year with Christopher distracting him and old feelings crashing the party uninvited?
Christopher has let money and status dictate his life, but no more. His failure to stand up to others’ expectations cost him his future with August—one he hoped would include marriage. Now he has to face August’s hurt and anger and prove he’s still the best man to make August happy.
Buy links: Dreamspinner | Amazon
Cat gives this one 3 Meows...
August O leary is a wedding planner in London. One of the best. He is chosen to plan the wedding of the year for a socialite family and is shocked to see that the best man and the man that will be helping Libby is his ex and the man he still loves, Christopher Burke. Christopher has never gotten over August and has made up his mind to look him up and try to work things out when fate steps in opening that door.
The Worst Best Man is a predictable but fun to read story. The characters are believable, and the story is enjoyable. I really liked the English settings, the English voice and the movement from different holidays though the story did quickly span a year.
If you like sweet romances, wedding planners, charming characters, socialites, second chances, cute dogs and a sweet ending this is for you.
“HEY, MATE, do you have the signed contracts for the Steinberg bat mitzvah yet?”
August O’Leary’s coworker and best friend, Will, stuck his blond head through the door. He rarely bothered to knock, so August found it easier just to keep the door open. He’d learned his lesson one day when Will had thrown his door open in one of his usual moments of exuberance and nearly broken through the drywall with the brass door handle. Helena Preston Events was one of the premiere event planning firms in London. Wouldn’t do to have an obviously patched wall when they were charging an arm and a leg for their services, would it?
“I haven’t had a chance to deal with getting them yet. Why?” August had been slammed all day with work orders and phone calls. He hadn’t had time to hound customers for signed paperwork. August the enforcer had taken a backseat to a million more pressing matters.
“I just wanted to get started on the flower orders, and I can’t do that until we have a signature. Remember what happened with the Stout wedding?”
What had happened was nine hundred pounds’ worth of blush-colored roses and calla lilies, a cheating groom, and one very angry bride—also incomplete signed paperwork. Their company had to eat the cost of the flowers since there wasn’t anything holding the ex-couple to the payment. Not endearing to their boss, Helena, in the slightest, even if she did love Will and August. Usually.
August would never make that mistake again.
“Can you get on the Steinbergs?” Will asked.
They both knew August was far better at hounding clients for details like checks and signatures. Seeing as he didn’t like to do it any more than anyone else, he wished he’d kept that fun skill to himself. Nobody liked to be the enforcer. Even August. He told himself he’d stand his ground and not fall for Will’s charming smiles. He wasn’t calling the Steinbergs. Someone else’s turn.
Will walked the rest of the way into August’s office and flopped down on the couch. It was meant for clients so August could have cozy meetings with them to discuss the details of their weddings, birthday parties, or corporate shindigs. Typically, Will got more use out of it than anyone else. It was his favorite hiding place from both Helena and their very capable but rather bossy assistant, Louise. Will liked to hide a lot. Especially when there was a large pub lunch to digest and paperwork to avoid.
“Will, you know I have a huge list on for today. I don’t have time to run a paper chase.”
Will started to make one of the signature pathetic noises that usually got him whatever he wanted. It was the blond hair and the big blue eyes. August wasn’t immune, even if Will was straight as a stick and practically his brother. Wasn’t going to work, though. Not today.
“It’s your fault I’m so busy.” Time to go for the guilt trip. “You’re the one who ‘didn’t want to deal with another society wedding full of posh wankers.’”
August knew Will hated the finger quotes. It was a surefire way of pissing him off.
“I hate the finger quotes.”
He said it every time. August enjoyed annoying him every single time as well.
“I know. But I’m still the one who got stuck with the Pritts-Shackleton wedding because you didn’t want to deal with them.”
“People like that always look at me.”
August sighed. “I know, I know. You’re Northern and not a blue blood, and they give you attitude about it. Well, a Northerner has to be better than an American in their eyes, and yet here I am about to meet with one of London’s premiere society couples. I think you can call the Steinbergs. It’s more than an even trade.” August raised his eyebrow and waited for Will to crumble.
August wondered if he’d ever be able to go back to a past version of himself—sixteen, seventeen, even twenty-year-old him in the middle of a business degree from Oxford—and explain what on earth he was doing working for one of the biggest event planners in London. What he was even doing in England after so many years. He’d only meant to stay for college and then go back to Boston—hell, he’d had enough reasons to leave after graduation, but… he hadn’t.
He had a life, and he had Will, and it was complicated like things always were. But he was happy. Ish. Some days, like today when he was cold and tired and not in the mood to deal with another picky bride with more money than August would ever see in his life, he wanted to pack his bags and fly home to Mommy, tell her he couldn’t deal with adulthood anymore. But he’d manage. He always did.
“What do you think our prince and princess will be like?” Will asked.
“Apparently it’s going to be our princess and her GBF,” August said with an eye roll. “Prince Shackleton is in the import-export business, and he’s quite busy.”
“This tosser’s really sending a stand-in?”
“You probably shouldn’t call our clients tossers.” August bit back a grin. “I guess the dude’s been friends with both of them since birth. Maybe it makes sense in their world.”
Will made a face. “Better you than me, mate. I don’t love weddings at the best of times. Give me a nice corporate golf tournament to organize any day. Maybe the girl’s mate will be hot. You need a shag.”
“Thanks for keeping track of my sex life.” August gave Will another eye roll for that. He was far too invested in how often August got laid. “I’m sure this random gay man who walks into our office to plan his friend’s wedding will be up for it. Probably should just skip trousers altogether and tell Miss Pritts to take a hike.” August snorted loudly.
“Don’t sell yourself short.” Will shrugged. “I would be up for it if I was into dudes.”
August giggled. “I love you,” he said on a laugh.
“By the way, you sure you have to go home for Christmas?” Will asked. “My mum was looking forward to seeing you. I swear she loves you more than me. Plus, there isn’t a chance in hell I can make your sticky toffee pudding recipe for her.”
The holidays were coming up soon, and August had booked ten days off from the office to visit Boston. It had been two years since he’d gone back for more than a long weekend, and he actually missed the big, loud O’Leary clan. Will’s family was a close substitute, but it wasn’t quite the same thing.
“I can’t this year. I promised my mom I’d come home. She said you’re very welcome to come as well. Maybe our families can just do a son trade.”
There was something about Will’s down-to-earth, rough-and-tumble personality that fit into the O’Leary family perfectly, maybe even more than August ever had. They loved him, and he loved them right back.
“I think that’s a solid plan. But we need another solid plan for tonight. One last lad’s night before you desert me for nearly two weeks.”
August looked out the window at the snow drifting down, a few lazy flakes at a time. The London streets were covered with thin, slippery black ice, and the snow had been falling slow but steady for hours.