An irresistible, romantic comedy from award-winning author Beth Kendrick—three wildly different women form an unlikely friendship as they try to decide whether they’d re-do their I Do’s. They’ve had the white dresses and the fancy receptions. But now that the honeymoon’s over, Stella, Casey, and Erin have each had to face some hard truths about the men they’ve married and the lives they’ve chosen. So when the news breaks that the pastor who presided over their weddings failed to file a few critical pieces of paper, none of these newlyweds is rushing down to the courthouse to legalize her vows. Instead, the brides share their hopes, disappointments, and secrets while grappling with that pivotal question: Should they stay or should they go? Everyone says the first year of marriage is the hardest…but what would you do if you found out that you were never really married in the first place? Some say the first year of marriage is the hardest. Three recent brides--Casey, Erin, and Stella--are finding that the honeymoon phase passes pretty quickly. Casey thinks she may have married an immature jerk who wasn't ready to commit. Erin realizes that she's married not only to her husband but also to her conniving mother-in-law. And Stella finds out her dreams of having a child are not going to come true when her husband tells her he's had a vasectomy. When the three brides discover that, thanks to a filing glitch, their marriages are not official, they realize it may be a blessing in disguise. This is a funny, sweet book about the power of female support systems and the ups-and-downs of marriage. Kendrick mixes in a few twists and turns to keep readers guessing about which of three marriages will make it. Then, by the last few pages, there are enough happy endings to go around. Aleksandra Kostovski Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved "A laugh-out-loud page-turner." -- Cara Lockwood, author of I Did (But I Wouldn't Now) "Very funny." -- Carole Matthews, author of With or Without You Beth Kendrick won the Romance Writers of America's Golden Heart Award for My Favorite Mistake. She has a Ph.D. in psychology and an unshakable devotion to the Chicago Cubs. After surviving too many Minnesota winters, she moved to Arizona, where she is working on her second novel (coming soon from Downtown Press). For more information you can visit the author's website at www.bethkendrick.com. 1 STELLA "Yum." I stretched my arms over my head and curled my toes into the zillion-thread-count sheets of the Cartwell House Inn's luxurious honeymoon cottage. "Honey, that was fantastic." Mark grinned. "You enjoyed your wedding day, Mrs. Porter?" "And how." I let my head drop back against the pillow, closing my eyes to relive the ceremony, the dancing, and Mark's champagne toast, which had brought tears to my eyes. "Total dream come true. Modern Bride and Vera Wang and Cinderella all rolled into one ginormous lacy orgasm." Well. Except for the white-hot glares my new stepdaughters kept shooting my way. "And the wedding night?" He waggled his eyebrows at the blue garter, Richard Tyler gown, and ivory satin sandals scattered across the hotel room floor. "Also a dream come true," I assured him. "Are you sure? Because you know I can get my hands on some Viagra samples." "I'm satisfied, I'm satisfied. Thank God I met you after your sexual peak or I probably wouldn't be able to walk." "Just checking. Men of a certain age have to make sure our nubile young trophy wives are happy." I reached over and swatted his arm. "That's all I am to you? A fluffball trophy wife with a sick body?" "A sweet, kind, smart trophy wife whom I will cherish for the rest of my days," he corrected. "Who also happens to be drop-dead gorgeous." "Too late. Don't try to butter me up," I huffed, turning over on my side so he wouldn't see me smile. "I'm unbutterable." He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me back against his chest. "You trophy wives are so temperamental." "High maintenance, but worth it." I yawned, tucking my head under his chin. He stroked my stomach through the sheet. "Can I ever make it up to you?" "Nope." "Are you sure? No way to weasel my way back into your good graces?" "Hmm. Maybe. But it's gonna cost you." "Name your price. Jewelry? Handbag? Insanely overpriced shoes?" I turned my head back far enough to give him a flirty wink. "Well, I'm going to need a new winter wardrobe. I can't tromp around the Berkshires in a fur coat like I did in Manhattan. It's ostentatious. But I don't want to stock up on size fours if we're going to get pregnant, so it'll have to be shoes or jewelry. Or both. We trophy wives are crazy materialistic, y'know." Long pause. Then a forced chuckle. "Heh. I don't think we need to worry about you getting pregnant anytime soon." "Why not?" I flipped over to face him. "I know I've only been off the pill for a month, but it could happen. Wouldn't it be romantic