Free Bad Bride Good Cowboys by Kandi Silvers

Felicia’s body went on alert.
    Doom. Pure doom and it’s a quarter toss to determine if the white tragedy in your hands or the gossip of the century is the bigger of the disasters.
    “Mom! There are no words to describe my excitement at seeing you!” Her stomach churned with acid as she boldly lied to the woman who’d raised her—for the most part—single handily. She cast a sweet smile at Betsy. “Wow, there are hardly words.” Good breeding kicked in despite the awkwardness. “Mrs. Kline, what a pleasant surprise.”
    I’m going to hell. Maybe the boys will buy me a Prada handbag, so I can go to hell in style.
    The phrase ‘hell in a handbag’ made complete sense, but by God, she was going to go out inundated in nothing but the best. She blinked at the two older women and reality hit. Of course, the cowboys would buy her Prada. Everything and anything she wanted they gave her—except the men themselves. Hell, Brady and Mickey would rope the moon if she asked, snag fireflies and a ray of sunlight in a jar for good measure.
    Down deep in her soul, though, she’d surrender all the designer shoes and clothes, even her luxury car for a chance with their hearts. Grief hit her full force. She knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. A sudden flood of sadness washed over her, like humidity on a hot day with pending rain.
    Betsy Kline stepped forward and patted her upper arm. “Oh dear, how could I deny you this special moment?”
    Like the rest of the world, with tequila and denial. She thought for a moment. Possibly more hard liquor if that doesn’t work.
    She bounced a glance to her mother who was raking her judgmental glare over Felicia’s appearance. Choosing to ignore her mom for a moment, she turned to Betsy. “So what special moment couldn’t you deny me?”
    The little old smiled. “Why loaning you the wedding dress I got married in.”
    Jesus! I should’ve had shooters instead of conversation with the guys.
    Suddenly she missed her brother. As usual, he was unavailable for consultation. She glanced into the kitchen at the men who held her heart—for how long?—she couldn’t remember. Both wore a ‘deer in the headlights’ expression and she knew, this go round with her mother, she was on her own—what else was new?
    Her mother stepped closer to her and her expression became more studious. Not good. “You’re in a man’s shirt three sizes too big.” Her eyes widened and horror etched across her face. “Oh, please don’t tell me you brought a strange man home to warm your bed over your disagreement with Paul.”
    Disagreement? I called off the wedding.             
    “Um...”
    Her mother heaved an exasperated sigh. “I have it on good authority you were pounding back the drinks at the town bar, like a… ah”, she glanced at Betsy and seemed to change her train of thought, “a woman parched for liquid.”
    Bitch! And I mean it in the most loving way possible. Sorta.
    She cast a sideway glance at Betsy who wore an intrigued look on her face. Felicia then refocused her attention on her mother and figured the time had come to rock the proverbial ‘boat’.
    “Not exactly. Hot guys kept buying me drinks and even the bartender gave me a few on the house.”
    Horror replaced her mom’s expression. “Tell me you were a good girl.”
    “Better than good. I was awesome. Rumor is , I came home with two gorgeous men and yes, I’m wearing one of their shirts.”
    The gossip known in six or maybe eight counties around raised her brows in shock. “Oh, my! Lord have mercy.”
    And a sense of humor. Prude.
    Felicia rested her attention back on her mother. “What can I say, my bad?”
    Her mother’s face turned snow white. “Felicia, tell me you’re kidding.”
    She flashed her mom a smile. “Well, I would, but that would constitute lying.”
    “How could you do this to your fiancé?”
    And now comes the bomb of the century.
    “Ex-fiancé, I called the wedding off around