by Violet Howe
Wedding planner Tyler Warren left heartbreak behind when she ran away from her small Southern hometown and started a new life in a big city. Years later, she wants to believe in the fairy-tale endings her job promotes, but the clients she meets day after day seem to be more “Crazily Ever After” than “Happily Ever After.”
Meanwhile, her own attempts at romance play out as bizarre comedies rather than love stories, and she’s starting to think Prince Charming either fell off his horse or got eaten by a dragon. When unresolved issues from Tyler’s past complicate things even further, she discovers she may yet have some things to figure out before she can find her own happy ending.
This delightful first book in the Tales Behind the Veils series chronicles Tyler’s wacky misadventures, both personal and professional. Whether she’s getting insane requests from brides or outlandish requests on dates, you’re sure to be charmed and entertained by the Diary of a Single Wedding Planner.
“Here,” she said, gingerly holding out a pair of pantyhose between her French-manicured fingers. “Put these on.”
I swear for a minute I thought she meant for me to wear them. Then it dawned on me with sickened recognition that she wanted me to put the pantyhose on her. Ewww.
I stared at her a bit dumbfounded. I have been asked to do many things in this line of work. It’s definitely not as glamorous as the star-crossed wannabes imagine it. But never in the multitude of weddings have I ever been expected to put on another human being’s pantyhose. I thought surely she was joking. Surely, there was a bridesmaid left hiding in the room to do this. Surely, a meteor could come crashing into the hotel at that moment and create a hole to swallow me up.
As a girl with abundant thighs myself, it is my personal belief that support pantyhose are a relic left over from some medieval torture chamber. I have never been happier with the fashion world than when they decided pantyhose were out of style and we could all go bare-legged.
Putting on hose is an all-out swearing, sweating, pushing, pulling, aerobic activity that borders on assault. My granny used to say it’s like shoving two pounds of lard in a one-pound sack. To go through this torture against your own thighs within the privacy of your own room with the shades pulled down tight is one thing. But with someone else’s sweaty thighs? I was repulsed. It must have shown.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Violet Howe enjoys writing romance with humor. She lives in Florida with her husband, who is her knight in shining armor, and their two handsome sons. They share their home with three adorable but spoiled dogs. When she’s not writing, Violet is usually watching movies, reading, or planning her next travel adventure. You can follow Violet’s ramblings on her blog, The Goddess Howe.
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