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Can the golden boy of Copper Ridge, Oregon, get a second chance at happy-ever-after?
Ranching heir Colton West knew his wedding would be the talk of the town. But he didn’t expect to get left at the altar—or to escape on the next flight to Vegas with Lydia Carpenter, the woman who gets under his skin like no one else. The only thing crazier than honeymooning with Lydia is waking up married to her. So why does he find himself entertaining his new wife’s desire to stay married—and fantasizing about a real wedding night?
As Copper Ridge’s prospective mayor, Lydia can’t risk a divorce scandal so close to election time. But pretending to be blissfully in love with her new husband is more confusing than she’d thought. For a man who’s always rubbed her the wrong way, Colton suddenly seems to know exactly what to do with his hands. And his lips. Now Lydia’s wildest mistake could turn out to be her luckiest move, if they’re both willing to take the ultimate gamble…
Praise for New York Times bestselling author Maisey Yates
“Fans of Robyn Carr and RaeAnne Thayne will enjoy [Yates’s] small-town romance.”
—Booklist on Part Time Cowboy
“Passionate, energetic and jam-packed with personality.”
—USATODAY.com’s Happy Ever After blog
on Part Time Cowboy
“Yates writes a story with emotional depth, intense heartache and love that is hard fought for and eventually won in the second Copper Ridge installment… This is a book readers will be telling their friends about.”
—RT Book Reviews on Brokedown Cowboy
“Wraps up nicely, leaving readers with a desire to read more about the feisty duo.”
—Publishers Weekly on Bad News Cowboy
“The setting is vivid, the secondary characters charming, and the plot has depth and interesting twists. But it is the hero and heroine who truly drive this story.”
—BookPage on Bad News Cowboy
Tough Luck Hero
Maisey Yates
Contents
SHE DIDN’T HAVE a chandelier hanging from her bedroom ceiling. But somehow, when she opened her eyes, that was what she saw.
Lydia Carpenter’s bedroom ceiling was sedate, and mostly nondescript. White. It was not bright yellow with diamonds painted around a—well, yes, it was still a chandelier.
She squinted in the dim light and looked to the left, at the curtains—bearing a similar pattern to the ceiling—and the near-blinding shaft of light they let into the room.
Wind from a vent somewhere shifted the curtains and let in more light. Light that promptly stabbed her in the eyeballs.
She hissed and rolled onto her back, her head pounding, the room spinning slightly.
She wasn’t at home. Where else would she be?
The wedding.
Oh
