Secrets of the World’s Worst Matchmaker
Piper Rayne
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2020 by Piper Rayne
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Cover Photo: Sara Eirew Photography
Cover Design: Okay Creations
1st Line Editor: Joy Editing
2nd Line Editor: My Brother’s Editor
Proofreader: Shawna Gavas, Behind The Writer
About Secrets of the World’s Worst Matchmaker
Imagine you’re a matchmaker and you realize too late you’re in love with your childhood best friend. You only have yourself to blame—you’re the one who matched him and now he’s engaged to be married. When you find yourself in this position there’s a few secrets you’re going to need to keep…
Secret #1 – Smile when he tells you the happy news, even if your heart cracks in half.
Secret #2 – Don’t compare yourself to his beautiful French fiancée. You’re just as beautiful.
Secret #3 – Don’t tag along to the tux fitting with him alone. Just no.
Secret #4 – Don’t help him learn to dance to his wedding song.
Secret #5 – Erase all memories of the two of you through the years when lines blurred for even the briefest of moments.
And the one you never saw coming…
Secret #6 – Definitely, don’t stand and object—someone else might just do it for you.
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings
About the Author
Also by Piper Rayne
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One
Juno
I’m at the bar, waiting for my strawberry lemonade with vodka, when the guests at the Bailey baby shower start yelling about cars and hospitals and kids.
I look over my shoulder and Colton’s weaving through chairs and tables with a concerned expression. I roll my eyes and turn back around. Thankfully, before Colton reaches me, the bartender hands over my drink. I’m only three sips in before Colton snatches it out of my grasp and tosses the plastic cup in the trash.
“Hey, I paid for that,” I say.
“It’s open bar. Savannah just went into labor.”
“Good to know.” His hand grips my upper arm and I attempt to wrench it back with no success. “Shouldn’t you be with your fiancée?” My tone holds more of a sneer to it than usual.
“She had to go into the office. Mr. Beecher’s dog is in labor.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re more qualified than her.”
He huffs and leads me out of Denver and Cleo’s airplane hangar, where the triple baby shower is being held because my two sisters and sister-in-law all got pregnant at the same time. And my brother Denver is now engaged, so I have another soon-to-be sister-in-law. Harley, my other sister-in-law, is now pregnant for her fourth time.
“I have a lot of sisters-in-law,” I say. “They can handle it.”
Colton looks at me. “You’ve had more than I thought. I have no idea why you hang around that Trey Galger.” He shakes his head and scowls. Colton rarely scowls.
My heels push into the gravel, my balance wobbly for a minute before I can really anchor down. “Don’t scowl. You smile. That’s why all the ladies love you.” I pat his cheek.
His scowl turns into a smile, but his grip on my arm loosens at the same time.
I feel myself pitch over, my mind spinning. “Oh God, I’m going to be sick.”
Colton has seen me through a lot, and unfortunately, he’s held my hair back so many times that he’s like the MacGyver of keeping me from getting puke in my hair.
“Hold on.” He moves us off the path.
When I see green, all the acid from the lemonade erupts up my throat and I throw up all over a bush.
“You should thank your buddy Trey for all the vodka he fed you today,” he says, his fist holding back my hair.
“Please, just take me home,” I mumble.
My cheek slides and grinds against the glass from the window being raised and lowered. I blink a few times and glance around. Colton’s truck is parked at the curb on Spring Street.
It was touch and go there for a while—I had my head out the window like a panting dog.
“You could have just nudged me awake,” I grumble.
Colton chuckles. “What fun would that be?”
I sigh. I don’t have the energy to roll my eyes.
“Don’t breathe in my direction. Your breath is noxious.” He waves his hand in front of his face, laughs at his own damn joke, and leaves me alone in his truck. I sit in solitude for ten seconds before he springs my door open. “Let’s go, you’re home.”
I step down onto the running board and grab a hold of the stability bar to climb out. “Stop holding me back,” I tell Colton, swatting my arms in the air.
“Jesus, Juno, your seat belt is on.”
I look down and see that he’s right. “Anyone can make that mistake.”
He bends down into the cab of the truck, his neck dangerously close to my lips. I inhale the scent of his soap and a smell that is just Colton. He’s never been big on cologne except that short phase of junior high when he discovered girls. Unfortunately, the smell of men’s Polo cologne will remind me of my first kiss forever.
“Did you just sniff me?” he asks, unclicking the seat belt and releasing the pressure on my chest.
“No.” I shake my head, dodging eye contact. “Come on, Colton, unless you want me to puke in your truck.”
He moves out of my space and I step out. My heel catches something
