♦Reviews♦
“Brides Maid in Heaven was third offering in the anthology, and a very nice additive it was. I loved the lead characters, Katie and Brad...
Ms. Lyndell is a very gifted comedic writer, and the last few scenes with the "wedding" were just hysterical and had me laughing out loud. Very well done and extremely well written, Bride's Maid in Heaven is one of those rare finds of a story that you know you will remember for some time to come.
All in all, I would have to say that this anthology is lovely.”
Kristal Gorman--Romance Reader at Heart Jul 1 2006
"This story is the best of the three because here, Ms King creates a most believable romance" Mrs. Giggles
Copyright © 2007 Lyndell King
“The wedding’s off,” Janie blurted as she collapsed onto her bed’s floral patchwork quilt. With an Oscar-winning sob and practiced flair, she threw a hand over her forehead.
Katie winced. So this was what someone about to have all her dreams come true looked like. Great. Everyone counted on her to calm Janie down. No easy task. The wedding had been called off a dozen times in the last two weeks, every time the smallest thing went wrong. By the time the day arrived, she’d have ulcers the size and depth of the Marianas Trench.
She chewed her lip and let her gaze wander around her sister’s room. Except for the loud, slurping sobs reverberating off the walls, it could be an ad for Brides are Us. Lace stockings, fake orange blossoms, and the traditional blue satin garter formed a pile of hope on a bedside chair. An untidy pile of wedding magazines sprawled across the silky oak dresser, their pages heavily earmarked and promising such tantalising articles as “Make Your Honeymoon Count: Bridal Mathematics 101.”
The bride-to-be rolled toward the wall and hid her face under the bedding, her knees stiffly folded under her like a wounded grasshopper. The wailing and gnashing of teeth intensified into master class intensity. Perfect.
Katie resisted rolling her eyes. Instead, she sat beside Janie’s pillow and patted her twin’s head. “It can’t be that bad,” she crooned. “Give me another look at your face.” She raked Janie’s thick brown hair behind one ear.
The crying lessened, as it often did when Janie succeeded in making herself the center of attention. With an indelicate sniff, she lifted her head. Her lips rolled together and her chin dimpled as she struggled not to cry. Her sunburned cheeks glowed like two bright red traffic lights. The rest of her face wasn’t much better.
Katie sucked in a quick breath. Two days until the fairytale wedding and the bride looked like a broiled lobster. Her Ruby Roses lipstick would match more than her nail polish, but now wasn’t the time to say so. She offered a feeble smile, trying to think of something positive to say.
“I’ll pick up some aloe vera gel from the drugstore to take the heat out. And with some good make-up...”
She let her words hang while she mentally scrambled for more encouragement.
Red face, white gown, blue garter. How patriotic. Janie’s “something borrowed” better be a good quality concealer stick or she’d look like the flag.Janie gave a watery hiccough. Her brown eyes swam with more tears. “I can’t get married looking like a peeling pomegranate,” she sobbed.
Appropriate image. Ever since they started planning this wedding, Janie had acted more and more like a fruit.
Katie swallowed and lifted a soggy strand of hair from Janie’s eyes, struggling to be patient.
“The burn will fade by Saturday,” she reassured, hoping she was right. She leaned forward to kiss the top of her sister’s head, the only obvious place not burned and sore. “Are you going to be okay for your final fitting?”
Janie threw a hand over her face again, yelped at the contact, and collapsed back onto her bed with a dramatic thud.
“The final fitting,” she howled. “I forgot.” She glanced at the clock. “I’m supposed to be there already. How can I go like this?” She tugged the loose neckline of her tee shirt down, exposing a glowing, red vee of flesh.
Scotch the flag image. With the scooped white neckline of her bridal gown pressing across the red burn, she’d look like an unhappy candy cane. Not to mention the tight pull of fabric would be agony.
Janie’s bottom lip pouted. “You could go, Katie. If the dress fits you, it will fit me. Maybe by Saturday my burn won’t hurt so much.”
She wrinkled her nose and made little ouchy sounds as the skin pulled. Her sad puppy-dog eyes, already red-rimmed from crying, wrenched at Katie’s heart. The girl could work it. At least the wedding was back on.