Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set by Gigi Blume (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📕

as Harriet and Martín led the first dance as a married couple. So in love. Mr and Mrs Roberto Martinez. The Spanish/Irish theme was the perfect mash-up of classy and wild. The DJ spun an epic playlist of Riverdance and The Gypsy Kings. Harriet’s uncles and cousins gambled at the corner table, and Martín’s family provided a sword for the cake cutting. Every detail was just as it should be.

Pinky caught the bouquet and was carried off by the groomsmen, probably to take pictures, and everybody flooded the dance floor, having a rowdy good time. My husband and I were blissfully content to forego the bedlam of the dance floor for the calm of the dining table.

Jax beamed at me. I beamed back. I was just too crazy about him. He leaned in for a kiss.

“Mmmm,” he groaned, licking his lips. “You taste like aioli.” He kissed me again.

“I made a point to add a few extra spoonfuls,” I said.

He kept kissing me, like kissing me was all he wanted to do just then. “I thought for sure you’d have cake by now.”

He pushed my empty appetizer plate aside with one swoosh of his forearm so he could lean on the table, bending closer. Our knees locked together. A garden reception full of wedding guests, and all I saw was Jaxson. I kissed him back, nipping at his bottom lip. Perhaps if he thought I hadn’t eaten cake yet, I could convince him to nab me another slice. I’d already tried the pineapple coconut layer and was ready to sample the other two flavours. But then the potato fritter bar called to me—beautiful balls of potatoes, cheese, and breadcrumbs deep-fried to perfection and made to order. Served with chipotle aioli.

The potato bar was my idea. So was the multi-flavoured cake. Each tier a new adventure for the palate. In fact, I was involved in planning Harriet’s wedding from the get-go. I even orchestrated the proposal. It’s all Harriet talked about for months. Flash mob, dancers, street musicians, the whole enchilada. Martín sang. Harriet cried. It was beautiful.

I bade Martín not to tell Harriet I was the one to save her from the old ‘ring-in-the-champagne’ restaurant proposal. I let Martín take all the credit. It was the least I could do after all the junk I did to Harriet. It was a wonder she ever spoke to me again after I shared the news about my engagement to Jaxson. She was angry for ages, so in Harriet time—a week and a half.

She confessed to some serious soul searching which may or may not have involved getting a tattoo. She came out of her funk having realized she’d projected all her love for Martín on the wrong guys.

She came over one night, and we’d talked it out and made up. After some ice cream and facial masks, our friendship was better than ever.

Two months later, she caught my bouquet. And here we were in a garden eating paella and deep-fried potatoes. And cake.

“Maybe you could pop off and bring us a chocolate raspberry slice?” I suggested. Jaxson’s eyes danced playfully as he ran a single finger over the firm roundness of my belly. He gazed at my face as a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. I felt the gentle pressure of his finger as he made a swift swiping motion and came up with a finger full of royal icing.

“I wonder how that got there.” He raised one brow.

Jax was good at finding evidence on my baby bump. It was a catchall. Jax shot me a devilish stare—his frosting-covered finger suspended between us like a dare.

I wanted to point out in my defence that technically, the first piece of cake was all for the tiny human. Kids are messy creatures—it couldn’t be helped. She took up so much space, I had to sit far back from the edge of the table. Things were bound to drip on the belly. In hindsight, I should have draped the tablecloth over myself.

“Look at the mess your baby made,” I quipped.

A smirk overspread my husband’s beautiful face, and he slid that finger into his mouth, slurping the icing right off. A smudge lingered on his lower lip and oh, sweet mother of pearl. That icing was all mine. I captured his mouth—frosting and all—tasting sugar and vanilla in every ounce of his kiss. I moaned as my husband trailed his hand down my back. Icing transferred onto my lips. I begged for more. He deepened the kiss.

“Will you two get a room?” Annie and Randall sat across the table—just staring at us. Most of the wedding guests were on the dance floor doing the Cha Cha Slide, but Annie’s belly was bigger than mine. She was having a boy.

Jax and I turned a sideways glance toward Annie and Randall. Party poopers.

“Actually, all I want right now is a slice of cake,” I said.

Jaxson kissed my forehead and stood. “I’m on it.”

Annie’s face lit up at the mention of cake. It wasn’t lost on Randall who rose to follow Jax. “We’ll be right back.”

I smiled at Annie, grateful to share this season of life with her.

“What cravings are you having lately?” she asked. It was code for ‘how enormous are we feeling these days?’ I loved every bit of pregnancy.

“Beans on toast. But that’s nothing out of the ordinary. You?”

“Anything chocolate. I was at the checkout the other day and made an impulse haul on candy bars. I have some in my purse. Want one?”

“Something with nuts in it?”

She dipped into her handbag and tossed me a Mr. Goodbar. It bounced off my chest and landed on my belly. Good catch, baby. I mentally high-fived my awesome daughter.

Just then, Will and Beth Darcy returned from the dance floor, plopping onto their chairs.

“Why do I try to dance in stilettos?” Beth lamented. “Hang on. What’s with the chocolate?”

“Prego perks,” said Annie. “You should really join our club.”

“Yeah. Join us, Beth,” I agreed. “You’ve been married