Wedded Curves: a BBW Romance Bundle

1

Jolene

I was named after a song. My momma thought I was so beautiful when I was born that I’d steal hearts wherever I went. And I suppose I did. Just not in the way she thought. I stole my daddy’s heart—he’s the mayor of Oakwood Falls and probably the most over protective dad a girl could have. He thinks I’m too good and that people take advantage of me. But, I’m, like, the best friend you’ll ever have. I like being kind, and I enjoy giving more than I receive. If you and I are close, I’ll go above and beyond for you. Daddy says he keeps me close to keep an eye on everyone who’s around me. His heart is in the right place, and I still have a wonderful group of friends who love and adore me just the way I am. But romantic love? That’s something I have little experience in. Daddy says no man will ever be good enough for his little girl. I get it, I do. But I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m twenty-seven. And at some point in my life, I’m going to have to spread my wings and step out on my own. It’s hard watching everyone I grew up with leave town for big careers in the city or get married and start having kids. I’m not big on the career option, I mean, I like Oakwood Falls with it’s small town feel and mountain surrounds. But I would like to try the married with kids part. Something tells me I’d make a really great wife and an excellent mother.

If only I could find myself a groom.

That’s not to say I haven’t been to my fair share of weddings. I’ve been a bridesmaid fourteen times so far. That’s fourteen dresses that cost enough to feed a small village and fourteen dresses I’ll never wear again. On top of that, I’ve caught the bouquet three times. Six weddings later and I’m still not the next to marry. I’m destined to be alone.

The closest I’ve come to being in a relationship is with the local Baker. He makes the most delicious profiteroles you’ve ever tasted. I may have a slight addiction, but I figure if a man can’t accept the profiter-rolls all over my curvy body then maybe he’s not worth my time. I’d rather be alone than starving, even if my biological clock is ticking.

“Gosh, I’m so nervous.” My best friend, Marnie, bounces on her toes, powdering her nose as she tries to contain her excitement over walking down the aisle. I’m not a bridesmaid this time. I’ve been upgraded to maid of honour. This is wedding number fifteen.

“You’ll be fine,” I assure her, pulling a tube of rescue remedy from my clutch to roll on her wrists. “You and Danny are perfect for each other. This is just the start of your happily ever after. There will be kids and white picket fences and fourth of July picnics in the near future. You’ve got a lot of joy ahead of you.”

“Do you really think so?” she asks, gripping my forearms with a strength I wasn’t expecting from such a slight woman. But her bony fingers dig into my abundant flesh and I’m trying not to let my eyes water from the pain.

“Yes,” I wince, prying her free. I’m at least twice the size of Marnie, but somehow she possesses the strength of a tiger climbing a tree.

“Maybe you need a little more of this.” I roll an extra helping of rescue remedy in the crook of her arm to be safe.

“It’s time.” One of the bridesmaids appears in the doorway and the room erupts into bouncing squeals. Five women dressed to the nines, jumping up and down like two-year-olds in a bouncy castle. It’s quite comical, actually, even though I’m one of them. But what can I say? Weddings are exciting, even if they aren’t mine.

The musics starts and we head down the aisle one at a time, just like we practised. Danny is waiting for his bride with his hands clasped at his front, feet hip-width apart. He looks so handsome in his dark suit and shiny tie. And he’s a good match for Marnie. They’re going to be really happy together.

I keep the smile on my face, taking my well rehearsed steps up to the pulpit where the groomsmen are lined up to the side. As the first the three bridesmaids peel off, I get my first look at the best man. He’s an old marine buddy of Danny’s, a bit of a recluse from what I’m told. So reclusive that in the two years Marnie and Danny have been dating, I’ve never managed to meet him. He didn’t attend any of the festivities in the lead up to today’s nuptials. He wasn’t even at the rehearsal dinner last night which is a big no-no in the bridal party handbook. And it’s not like he’s that far away. From what I understand, he lives up in the mountains that surround Oakwood Falls, so he could have made it up and back with time to spare. I suppose I shouldn’t let it bother me, neither Marnie nor Danny were stressed about it, but I was annoyed on their behalf. I mean, it’s just bad manners!

My first instinct upon seeing him is to look down my nose at the man, but then we lock eyes and all I can do is stare at him agape. Holy fucking hotness.

They said he lived in the mountains, not that he was one. The man is huge, muscular-huge. I’m surprised he was able to find a suit to fit his massive frame. All I can think is that he must know the tailor who makes suits for the Rock and John Cena, because that’s the only way he’d get something that didn’t tear at the seams every time he twitched his pinky and popped a bicep.

And he’s beautiful too. Not in the traditional male model sense, but in the sense where he exudes manliness, which is incredibly attractive in my books. He has dark hair that’s shaved close at the sides and a little long on top, but it’s styled so it’s slicked back and neat for the occasion. He’s tan like he spends most of his day outdoors, green eyes that shine like a beacon calling me in. And that’s not all. He has a beard. A beard, ladies. Now, I don’t know about you, but a well grown beard is a bit of a panty dropper in my books—not that I’ve dropped my panties for a man yet, but if I were to throw that long kept V-card of mine away, it’d be with a man with a gloriously thick beard. There’s something about it that just screams man to me. And the best man is ALL man. I can’t stop looking at him.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I manage to trip and fall on top of the priest….

 ___________

Chapter 2

Gavin

I can’t breathe. This suit is choking me, and the collar is itchy. I want to tear this tie from around my neck and throw it in the trash somewhere. I look like a stuffed turkey, ridiculous. But I’m not doing this for myself. I’m doing it for my buddy, Danny, who’s done more for me than anyone in my own family ever has. I owe him my life—both on the battlefield and back home—and if he wants me here to celebrate his happy day then that’s what I’m gonna do.

“This is it,” he says over his shoulder when the music starts. Danny straightens his shoulders and trains his eyes on the door, the excited anticipation coming off him in waves. I do the same, feeling awkward and on show, but proud of this kid for getting himself such a good life once his military career was over.

Danny was smarter than me. He got out before the job scrambled his brains so bad that normal life wouldn’t work any more. I stayed about three tours too long. But then, I’ve never been known for my smarts…

I’m trying to ignore the constraints of my clothing when I clock a blonde-haired beauty coming in through the door. I’ve never met any of Marnie’s friends before, so I’ve no idea who this stunning creature is. But I like what I see. She’s got curves for days and a smile so bright it makes a cold-hearted wretch like me want to smile right back. My heart beats. Harder than it has in years. It’s like it was encased in concrete and suddenly that’s cracked away, falling into the cavity of my chest like gentle rain with each thumping beat. Who is she?

She seems to notice me too. Her pretty blue eyes find mine and the room falls away as she takes step, after slow step toward me. Reality shifts, there’s her and there’s me, and nothing else matters.

Until she falls.

“Whoa!”

Her heel catches the carpet, or maybe she steps on her dress, I don’t even know. But all of a sudden, she’s going down and she’s taking the priest down with her. The congregation gasps and I’m quick to react, catching her about the waist before her full weight even hits the floor. I pull her up until she’s standing, her wavy hair hangs over her face like a veil and I find myself wishing that this was my wedding and not Danny’s. I want this beauty to be mine.

She hooks an arm beneath her curls and swishes her hair away from her face. “I’m so sorry,” she gasps, her blue eyes wide and panicky as she looks at the priest who’s also been helped to his feet. “I’m so embarrassed.”  

“Don’t be,” I mumble, my voice sounding raspy from the lack of use. Living alone doesn’t give me a lot reason to speak. “It’s not every day a man has the woman of his dreams falling at his feet.” Shit. Did I say that part out loud?

The look on her face tells me, yes, I did say that part out loud. But I don’t get to unpack it any further before she’s pulled from my arms and directed to her place on the other side of the pulpit. I want to protest, but now isn’t really the time. Instead, I stand in place and watch her every move. Her cheeks are pink with embarrassment and she’s keeping her eyes down which I think is the saddest thing a woman with her beauty could do. Look up, sweetpea. Let me see you.

I watch her shamelessly, begging her to lift her eyes and look at me. It isn’t until the ring exchange that she does, and I’m rewarded with a tiny and precious smile, followed by brand new blush, one that’s made only for me. She’s so precious. I’ve never felt the desire to claim a woman before, but right now, I’m feeling all caveman over this one with visions of tossing her over my shoulder and taking her back to my cabin filling my head.

When the wedding is over, the bride and groom link arms and exit the church, and since I'm the best man and she’s the maid of honor, my curvy beauty and I get to do the same. She slips her arm into the crook of mine, and it fits just right. 

“I didn’t catch your name before,” I say, needing to lean down to talk to her because she’s so small compared to me.

She glances up, smiling, blushing, doing all the things I’m quickly becoming enamored with. “That’s because you caught me instead,” she jokes, and I laugh. It’s the first real laugh I’ve released in a decade. It scratches its way out of my throat, but it feels good. And I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her now.

“I’m Gavin,” I say. “But my friends call me Bear.”

“I can see why,” she says, her eyes lifting until they reach my face. “I’m not tiny and you dwarf me.”

“You’re tiny to me.”

She smiles, and to my absolute joy, she leans in closer, hugging my arm. “Jolene. But my friends call me Jolene.”

I laugh again. I feel like a different man around her. One who’s suddenly alive. I didn’t think that was possible, but in a few short moments, she’s resurrected me.