Wedding Wars

A Heartwarming Romantic Comedy of Love, Laughter and Second Chances

A double wedding, a complicated love triangle and an unexpected reunion with an old flame. What could possibly go wrong?

Jodie Anderson has a successful cleaning business, a wonderful daughter and a dependable fiancé. Life should be perfect. But when her daughter Amy announces her own engagement and suggests a double wedding, Jodie's carefully organised world begins to unravel.

Things get even more complicated when Ash, Jodie's charming but troublesome ex, returns and circumstances force them to live under the same roof. With old feelings resurfacing and wedding preparations descending into chaos, Jodie must decide whether to embrace a safe, secure future or risk everything for a second chance at love.

Wedding Wars is a funny, feel-good romantic comedy filled with family drama, romantic dilemmas and unexpected twists. Perfect for readers who enjoy second-chance romance, forced proximity, childhood sweethearts and heartwarming love stories.

Discover Wedding Wars today and enjoy a delightful romantic comedy where love doesn't always go according to plan.

Excerpt from the book

It’s Wednesday morning and I’m struggling to achieve my usual effervescent, go-get-’em attitude. I’m still feeling the after-effects of a broken night’s sleep, caused by a bizarre dream. Where my usual affable, calm dentist, Horace, had turned manic and was chasing me with a pneumatic drill, while yelling that I’d missed another appointment. After waking up for a wee to rival Niagara Falls and snuggling back underneath the duvet, I’d then had another dream, where my favourite takeaway had been taped off by Environmental Health and declared a risk to human health. That horrific scenario had propelled me from my warm bed and underneath the power shower, but even the pummelling of hot water couldn’t entirely eradicate the memory of my hellish nighttime escapades. Hence, I am now sitting in my car yawning. Like a sleep-deprived, traumatised toddler.

The tiredness is equal to a feeling of immense irritation, because a drive to the city had not been on my weekly planner list, and certainly not when the weather is abysmal. Outside, the rain is lashing down from a gunmetal-grey sky and the trees alongside the road are being whipped about in what seems to be a hurricane-style gale. I’m struck with an anxious thought that this could be the end of the world. It’s a weird scenario that could usually be attributed to faraway, more exotic destinations like the Caribbean, where super-strong winds are the norm. This kind of weather does not usually happen in the month of July, in a small West Midlands village in the UK.

In fact, this year’s summer has been an all-round disappointment so far. I’m still waiting for the heatwave to arrive, so I can sunbathe in the garden in my new cut-off denim shorts and boob tube. Wham! I grip the steering wheel as a blast of wind slams into the side of my vehicle, rocking it slightly. On the dashboard, my personalised air freshener, with the words Jodie’s Car, wobbles from side to side. I really do hate the wind, or maybe it’s a phobia. Outside, a few trees have been uprooted and I have to edge my vehicle around a couple of bins that have overturned, spewing rubbish everywhere. I glance in the rear-view mirror and notice that my newly styled hairdo has been ravaged by the unusual summer storm too. I could cry with the unfairness of it. In my lunch break, I’d paid one hundred pounds to sit in a swivel chair and watch curls falling onto the floor. Totally extortionate, of course, for forty minutes’ work. My partner claims that I’m being fleeced by my hairdresser. He has a point: the salon I frequent is tucked away in a tiny back street that’s usually full of griping pensioners, and Florence, the owner, is hardly a designer celebrity with her own hair range, like John freaking Frieda. I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much; my hair smells delectable and the massage at the sink had been sublime.