Free Wild, Wild Mother of the Bride by Lacey Savage

CHAPTER 1
    At the age of eighteen, after getting an eyeful of Bobby McRae's massive dick at the senior prom, Eliza Webber swore she'd never sleep with a woman. She remembered that night because her cousin Jenny had stunned both their parents by announcing she was a lesbian, then attending the prom with another girl. Eliza had spent the entire evening dancing close to Bobby, rubbing up against his erection and wondering what on earth had possessed her sensible cousin to give up cock forever.
    Now, twenty-four years later, Eliza still believed in the magic the mighty male rod could conjure. So if someone had told her that the night before her daughter's wedding Eliza would be in bed with a sixty-seven-year-old crone who snored like a drunken sailor wielding a chainsaw, she'd have laughed until her sides hurt.
    Well, she wasn't laughing now.
    A thunderous snore rattled the bed frame. Eliza held her breath and fought back a shudder. She should have never agreed to spend the night at Cowboy's Hideaway. When Marissa had told her she wanted the entire wedding party to have a joint sleepover, Eliza should have looked her darling daughter square in the eye and told her in no uncertain terms she wasn't doing it. No way, no how.
    She might have, too, if at that very moment she'd been able to think of anything but Jacob Clarke, naked and chained to the wall of the old-fashioned jailhouse cell.
    The owner of Cowboy's Hideaway, a recreated Old West village that served as a major tourist attraction in Lady Bird, Texas, had starred in Eliza's naughtiest fantasies ever since Marissa had introduced them eighteen months earlier. As the groom's best man, Jacob showed up at any event having to do with the wedding, and a few that didn't. And every time she saw him, Eliza had to remind herself of the myriad reasons pursuing a relationship with Cowboy's Hideaway's delectable sheriff was a very, very bad idea.
    For one, he was her future son-in-law's best friend. Then there was the age difference. She might be able to turn a blind eye to the twelve-year gap between them, but she didn't expect Jacob to feel the same way. And Marissa—old-fashioned, moral-to-a-fault Marissa, who obviously didn't take after her mother—would never understand.
    Still, it didn't hurt to fantasize a little, did it? No one would ever know she dreamed of dressing up in frilly Old West skirts with no undergarments, perching herself on all fours atop the antique sheriff's desk, and having Jacob fuck her silly until she couldn't remember her own name.
    Right. Totally benign.
    Yet those same harmless fantasies had led to Eliza sharing a bed with an elephant impersonator.
    If she'd paid a little more attention to Marissa's plans instead of picturing herself on her knees, mouth-to-groin with Jacob's make-believe cock, she might have learned that Marissa planned to make her share a room with Gemma Serratos, the mother of the groom.
    Another booming rattle from deep in Gemma's throat shook the foundation of the inn. God! Eliza couldn't stand this a moment longer. It was bad enough she'd barely seen Jacob all day. Between the wedding rehearsal, a girls-only afternoon at the spa and a dinner where she'd ended up sitting at the opposite end of the table from the man of her dreams, the hours had seemed interminable.
    The only worthwhile portion of the day had been the time Eliza got to spend with Marissa. She knew it was partly her fault she and her daughter weren't very close, and she intended to remedy that blunder if it took a lifetime. Good intentions aside, repairing her relationship with Marissa wouldn't be easy. Ever since Marissa had been old enough to walk, she'd chosen to let go of Eliza's hand and put significant distance between them. Now, at twenty-one, successful, respectable Marissa Webber was more of a grown-up than her mother would ever be.
    Gemma grunted. With a wheezing half-snore, half-hiccup, she turned over and plopped her arm across Eliza's chest. For a brief