Read So Much More (Made for Love #3) Online

Authors: R.C. Martin

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #New Adult & College, #A Made for Love Novel

So Much More (Made for Love #3)

Copyright © 2015 R.C. Martin. All Rights Reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other elements portrayed herein are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons or events is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Cover Design by Cassy Roop at Pink Ink Designs ©2015

www.pinkinkdesigns.com

Interior design and formatting by
Champagne Formats

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

 

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Epilogue

 

Preview of Mountains & Men

Also by R.C. Martin

Acknowledgements

About the Author

 

To my Father and my dad, who have both encouraged me to always come as I am.

And to anyone who has ever felt like a mess.

I
CAN DO THIS
. I can smile my way through the next hour.
Two, tops
.

Shit. I’m the maid of honor, for crying out loud. It’s in my job description! Today is not about me. This whole weekend—it’s not about me! It’s about my best friend—that beautiful bride who is out there dancing with her husband while I sit here, alone, trying to drum up the energy to reapply my smile.

Addison has been looking forward to this day since before I met her, five years ago. Beckham is the love of her life and they’ve climbed mountains to get here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m
thrilled
for them. I truly am. Not to mention that it’s been wonderful getting to spend the weekend with friends; it’s practically a college reunion with everyone in our group back in town to celebrate the nuptials we’ve
all
been anxiously anticipating.

Yet, no matter how happy I am for the newly named Mr. and Mrs. Willis, I can’t ignore the state of my own heart. I want to.
Believe me
, it’s preferable. If I could just lock that little bitch up and throw away the key until she felt like playing nice, I would. Unfortunately, I’ve put her through the wringer and I can’t blame her for rebelling against my attempts to avoid my reality—even if just for a few days.

“You and that dress are
way
too hot to be sitting over here all by yourself,” says Claire as she plops down in the seat next to mine.

I manage a half-hearted smirk as I look over at her, wearing the same pale blue strapless number that I am. I will admit that Addie chose bridesmaids dresses that are so pretty they should be offended to be titled as such. As for the state of my own beauty, I wouldn’t know. I’ve been avoiding mirrors as much as possible these days. Looking at my reflection is just far too humiliating, knowing who I’ve become.

“Oh, yeah?” I murmur. “What’s your excuse?”

“I’m not alone. I’m with you, now.”

“And Jackson?” I ask, referring to her husband.

Jackson and Claire are in town from Georgia, where they settled down after college. Jackson’s destiny is there; he was born and bred to be a part of the family business. He was given the freedom to study and play football wherever he wanted—which is how he ended up at Colorado State—but he always knew his stint here was temporary. Lucky for him, he loves his family and his job. Lucky for Claire, he loved her so much he refused to go home without her. They’ve been married for just over a year. Their anniversary was a couple weeks ago.

I remember their wedding fondly. She dressed me in teal.

“I’m giving him a break. I’ve made him dance with me for the past hour. He’s grabbing us some cake. You, too. You look like you could use some.”

Cake. Yeah—cake is good. I’ve already eaten two slices, but who’s counting? I’ve got a sweet-tooth like nobody’s business. Baked goods are my thing. I’m not a fan of candy. No, candy is for children…

Children. Fuck. Even just the
word
makes me want to curl up into a ball and hide in the corner.

Fuck—now
fuck
has become a word I use as if I have no sensor.

Though I suppose I won’t be needing a sensor anymore.

Ugh. Screw the cake. What I’d enjoy even more is a kitchen in which I could throw on an apron and bake the cake. Or a hundred cakes. Or maybe some cupcakes with some freshly whipped up buttercream frosting. With some alcohol. Yeah—spiked cupcakes with spiked frosting.

No judgement. I wouldn’t eat them all. Just a couple. I’d give the rest away. I usually do. Baking helps take my mind off of things. Always has.

“Sarah?”

“What? I’m sorry.”

She furrows her brow at me, showcasing her concern. Apparently, I’m not doing a very fine job of
reapplying my smile
. It’s as if she sees right through me. I breathe in deeply when she reaches over and tucks a stray blonde lock behind my ear. “Something’s going on with you. Are you okay?”

At first, I don’t know what to say. The answer to the question is:
Hell no!
Nobody knows that, though. I’ve been hiding the truth. Hiding. Avoiding. Evading.
Whatever
. I know I have to deal with it, but this weekend…it’s not about me.

Even still, as I try and rationalize the lie that I’ve been repeating, the lie that is at the tip of my tongue, I realize I’m a shitty friend for not fessing up. I’ve spent all weekend with the people who know me best. If they knew what I’ve been keeping from them, they’d be pissed. Even still—there’s no way I can let my mess, my stupid decisions, and my broken heart trample through the bliss that has been Beck and Addie’s wedding weekend.

I’m pulled from my thoughts at the sound of a familiar giggle. I look away from Claire and spot Avery—Addie’s carbon-copy and matron of honor—with Grayson—Beckham’s best man—as they head for the exit of the ballroom. The reception is still going on all around us.

Grayson and Avery were married last summer, too. Their anniversary is next month.

It was a glorious wedding. She dressed me in green.

I watch as their pace grows faster the closer they get to the door. Then, just as they cross the threshold, Grayson scoops Avery up and over his shoulder. She squeals, clapping her hands over her grin as he playfully bites her side and quickly carries her out of sight.

“Oh, my god! They’re totally sneaking off to have sex right now,” Claire chuckles. “Color me impressed and extraordinarily proud. Our angel, Avery, is all grown up.”

Another half-hearted attempt at a smile plays at the corners of my mouth. What I just witnessed is supposed to have me lost in a fit of giggles. I never thought I’d see the day when Avery, of all people, would be slipping away from her sister’s wedding to have a steamy rendezvous with her man, only God knows where. Then again, I never thought I’d see my life fall apart the way that it has, either. I’m single, unemployed, unhappy, humiliated and, dammit—

I’m officially the only girl left in our group
not
married. I’m so far from being married, it’s not even funny. That would be okay if I didn't want to be married. But I do!

Or I did.

Or...I think I might.

Now, even just the idea of me being in a relationship causes the bitch that is my heart to give me the finger. I don't blame her. My love life is pretty much a shit show. I don't pick men well. I'm seriously wondering if I'm meant to be celibate. I pray to God that's not true. Honestly, no one should have to be celibate. If pure, little, innocent Avery is getting laid, we all should be getting laid.

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