"A fun and absolutely charming novel!"
Reviewed by Sharon Galligar Chance
Posted March 18, 2012
Christian | Romance Contemporary
As a wedding planner, Sherilyn Caine should be able to pull
off the perfect wedding experience, especially for her own
wedding. After all, she just landed her dream job at the
wedding destination hotel, The Tanglewood, and will be
working with her best friend, Emma Rae. The rest should be a
piece of cake, especially for Sherilyn's Type-A personality. But while everything else in her life goes smoothly, her own
wedding plans begin to disintegrate right before her eyes.
First her dream wedding dress is lost, then her second dream
wedding dress is lost, but worst of all -- Sherilyn fears
that she has become allergic to her sweet fiancee Andrew.
Oh, and throw in a drunken rock star who needs a place to
hide out for a while, and the mix just keeps getting wackier
and wackier. But, one way or the other, Sherilyn is
determined to make everything work out -- even if it kills
her. In ALWAYS THE WEDDING PLANNER, NEVER THE BRIDE, Sandra D.
Bricker's second book in her "Never The Bride" series,
weddings, brides and lots of fun are in store for readers
who are fortunate enough to pick up this hilarious book.
Bricker's wonderful sense of humor shines in this story, and
her masterful storytelling skills are fully evident in a
lively, fast paced and absolutely charming novel that will
leave readers wanting more!
SUMMARY
As a wedding planner, you'd think she would have the perfect
wedding experience... Sherilyn Caine has left Chicago behind to marry Andrew
Drummond IV, an Atlanta native with a family name that tops
all the social registers. Landing the job as The
Tanglewood’s wedding planner is a piece of cake for someone
with a Type A personality; she’s the perfect fit for a
wedding destination hotel known for its attention to even
the tiniest details. But when everything else is going along swimmingly, why are
her own wedding plans drowning right before her eyes? One
way or the other, Sherilyn is determined to make this
wedding work—until the latest development threatens to call
the whole thing off. Is it possible that Sherilyn is
allergic to her fiance?
Excerpt1
Sherilyn hadn't been to Roswell in years, but its rustic
south- ern charm hadn't waned in the least.
Barrington Hall stood proudly at the highest point in
the small town, on the south side of the town square,
looking every bit the plantation home with its stately
white columns. The shops at Roswell Mill bustled with
people, and the crisp scent of fall clung to the sweet
breeze wafting over the nearby Chattahoochee River. Leaves
had only begun to turn with glimpses of what was to come.
Sherilyn knew that, by next month this time, the greens and
golds and burnt reds of Georgia autumn would be welcoming
her home in color at full mast.
Not that Georgia was technically her home. She'd lived
there for five years while attending Emory University and
carving out the beginnings of her career, but it hadn't
taken long for her to make her way back to Chicago. What
were the odds that she'd meet the man of her dreams there,
and that he would hail from Atlanta, Georgia?
Her ties to the place, albeit temporary, had been strong
ones just the same, and something had always whispered that
she would return one day. But to marry, rebuild a career,
and settle in for the rest of her life? That, she never
could have imagined.
However, if there was one sure thing in Sherilyn's
future, Andrew Drummond IV was certainly it. She'd known
him just seven weeks when Andy proposed, and Sherilyn
couldn't have accepted any faster.
Sherilyn Caine-Drummond.
Mrs. Andrew John Drummond, the Fourth.
The prediction of their marriage had likely been
inscribed on her heart long ago; it was only a matter of
time before she caught up with it. She'd slipped on the
ring and into Andy's life in one fell swoop. In fact, it
wasn't until she'd crossed the border into Georgia that
very morning that she turned back for a quick glance over
her shoulder and asked herself, What am I doing?
The Tanglewood Inn.
She spotted the sign and made a hard left into the large
circular drive. Enormous glass doors glistened, and an
invit- ing lobby filled with greenery and sunlight beckoned
from the other side.
Sherilyn swallowed around the lump in her throat, and
she drew in a long, deep breath. While she did want to
fling open those doors and run inside to find her old
friend, the angst that held her to the seat of the Explorer
won out. She closed her eyes and tilted back against the
headrest.
Forty-eight pounds.
That's how much weight she'd gained since the last time
she saw Emma.
And if the photograph she'd found online, taken the
night of The Tanglewood's grand opening, was any
indication, Emma Rae Travis had stopped aging the very day
she graduated from culinary school.
"You practically have the job before you even arrive!"
Emma had gushed over the telephone the week prior. "Oh,
Sher, I'm so happy you're coming back to Atlanta. And the
timing couldn't be more perfect. We're just days away from
placing an ad for a wedding planner to join the staff. All
you have to do is impress Jackson and Madeline, and I
predict you have that in the bag."
Sherilyn pulled the keys from the ignition, dropped them
into her bag, and drummed her fingers on the door handle.
She swallowed past the clump of anxiety one more time, took
the bull by the horns—Well. The door by the handle!
—and yanked it open.
One foot on the ground and the other on its way, and
Emma's voice sang in her ears like church bells. "Sher!
You're here! Sher!"
Emma slammed into her and enveloped Sherilyn in her
arms, kissing her several times hard on the cheek.
"It's so good to see you! How was the trip?" "Long."
"Any trouble finding us?"
She shook her head and smiled as Emma turned toward the
uniformed boy emerging from the lobby. "This is Sherilyn
Caine, Bobby. She'll be staying with us for a while. I have
her booked in room two-ten." Turning back toward Sherilyn,
she added, "It has the sweetest little balcony that
overlooks the courtyard." And before Sherilyn could reply,
Emma had spun back to the bellman again, producing a key
from the pocket of her navy blue pleated trousers. "Take
her bags up for her?"
"Yes, ma'am."
He reached for the laptop case slung across Sherilyn's
shoulder—pale pink with a bright neon orange, yellow
and pink flower emblazoned across the front— but she
braced it close and shook her head. "I'll keep this with
me."
"And return the key to my office?" Emma asked him. "Will
do."
Emma looped her arm through Sherilyn's and grinned at
her. "If he calls me ma'am again, there's going to be
trouble." Sherilyn giggled. "I have tea and snacks set up
for us. Then I'll take you on a little tour of the hotel on
our way up to Jackson's office."
"I'm not supposed to meet with him until tomorrow
morning."
"Not for a meet. Just a greet."
"Oh. All right. I don't look too—" "You look
beautiful, just like always." "Liar."
"Sher!"
"Come on," she said with a chuckle as they crossed the
entry and sailed through the doors leading to a beautiful
courtyard. "You can say it. I look like you-know-what."
"Yes, I know what. Like my college roommate with the
peaches-and-cream skin, silky strawberry-blonde hair and
those great big turquoise-blue eyes."
"Accent on big?" "Sher. Cut it out."
"You still look like you did the last time we were
together, Emma. And I look like I ate the girl you knew."
"Sherilyn! Stop that."
Emma pointed at a wrought-iron bistro table set with
china and linens, and the two of them took their places on
either side of it.
"You always warned me that my metabolism would catch up
with me," Sherilyn said, tucking a strand of hair behind
her ear. "And did it ever overtake me!"
Emma tilted her head to one side and smiled. "You've
always been the prettiest girl I've ever seen close up.
That hasn't changed, Sher."
She sighed. "It's so good to see you, Em."
Emma reached across the table and squeezed Sherilyn's
hand. "Tell me everything. Start with Andy."
The corners of her mouth were suddenly attached to invis-
ible wires like a marionette, and Andy controlled the
crossbar. Just the mention of his name, and the grin
bubbled up from somewhere deep inside of her, plastering
itself across her face.
"He's spectacular."
Emma laughed. "Well, he must be. I owe him a huge debt
of thanks when I finally meet him. I've always wished you'd
stayed in Atlanta."
Sherilyn pulled her bright pink laptop from the sleeve
of its case and slid it open. In a matter of a couple of
clicks, a screen-sized photo of Andy smiled at her. She
shifted the lap- top toward Emma and waited for her
reaction.
"That's him?"
"Yep," she beamed. "That's my Andy." "He's a regular
Clooney!"
"Better."
"Sher, really. He's adorable." "I know!"
Sherilyn's attention was drawn away toward the woman
approaching them with a tiered tray, grinning at her over
the bridge of square black glasses. Her ebony hair, pulled
back from her face into a messy little bun, was punctuated
by bangs cropped short. A tiny silver hoop pierced her
nose, and one arm sported a sprawling, colorful garden of a
tattoo.
"Oh good!" Emma exclaimed. "Fee! I want you to meet my
college friend, Sherilyn Caine. Sher, this is my right arm,
Fee Bianchi."
Fee set the tray down at the center of the table, wiped
both palms on her apron, and extended a hand toward
Sherilyn. "Let me shake the hand of the woman who set the
bar on friendship with Emma Rae Travis."
Sherilyn giggled. "It's not easy, is it?"
Fee squeezed her hand. "You said a mouthful."
"Hey!" Emma cried playfully. "That's enough of that."
Fee snickered. "Who's the honey?" she asked,
nodding toward the laptop screen.
"Sher's fiancé."
"He looks like McDreamy."
"Well, he is pretty McDreamy," Sherilyn returned with a
giggle.
"Way to pick 'em," Fee congratulated Sherilyn. Gazing at
her over the top of her glasses, she said, "Emma says
you're a shoo-in as Madeline's replacement."
"Madeline?"
"Oh, that's Jackson's sister. She's been coordinating
all of the weddings since we opened," Emma explained. "But
she's ready to get back to her life now. When Jackson said
we needed some- one superhuman to replace her, I thought of
you right away." She turned toward Fee and grinned. "Sher
is David Tutera and Colin Cowie all rolled into one. She's
a phenomenon."
Sherilyn felt her confidence shrink back a step. "I hope
you didn't tell Jackson all that."
"I did."
"And more," Fee added. "Oh my."
"She's the Queen of the Themed Wedding," Emma
explained. "This one time, she—"
"All right, all right," Sherilyn cried, poking Emma in
the arm with her finger. "Cut it out."
Emma chuckled and puckered up her lips to toss Sherilyn
an animated little kiss.
"I've got crumb coat calling my name," Fee
announced. "You two enjoy your lunch. It was great to meet
you, Sherilyn."
"You too, Fee."
Sherilyn waited for Fee to go before she turned to
Emma. "Crumb coat?"
"Oh, yeah," she said with a chuckle. "You know how, when
you bake a cake, sometimes crumbs get all jumbled up in the
frosting?"
"And that's a bad thing?"
Emma shot her a look before continuing. "When you bake
something that doesn't come in a mix from Betty Crocker,
and especially when you're baking it for someone else, you
try to make it as pretty and tasty as possible."
Sherilyn giggled before nodding. "Oh. I see."
"Crumb coating is when we apply a thin layer of icing to
the cake just after it's cooled to seal in the moisture."
"Mmm. Moist cake. Got any of that here?"
Emma chuckled as she set about the business of filling
two plates with little finger sandwiches, and she added two
flower- shaped butter cookies from the tiered tray to
Sherilyn's plate as she prodded, "Let's get back to Andy.
Tell me all about him."
"Well, he's fabulous," she replied, accepting the
plate. "He's beautiful and brilliant. He loves the
Falcons—
"Of course!"
"—and the Blackhawks—"
Emma turned up her nose and shrugged. "Hockey? Okay. I
guess."
"—and he's an orthopedic specialist."
"Wait! You're marrying . . . You never told me that.
You're going to be Dr. and Mrs. Andy—" She paused,
waiting for Sherilyn to fill in the blank.
"Drummond."
"Dr. and Mrs. Andy Drummond?" Sherilyn beamed and
nodded. "Yep."
Emma raised her hand above the center of the table, and
Sherilyn clapped one time hard against it with her
own. "And you're sure?"
"Not a doubt in the sky."
"After just a few weeks," Emma stated, and she shook her
head. "For a planner like you, that's a little bit of a
miracle."
"Tell me about it, but no doubts at all. He's absolutely
the one for me."
"After everything you went through—"
"No," Sherilyn snapped, holding up her hand. "No talk of
the past."
"I didn't mean anything by it. I just think it's so
great, after what happened—"
"Em, please. I don't want to talk about past
relationships. In fact, I don't want to even think about
anything or anyone that came before Andy."
"Even me?"
"You know what I mean."
"All right," Emma said with a nod, passing her a
steaming cup. "Orange pekoe. Try it with cream."
"What about you and Jackson? How are things on that
front?"
"Smooth sailing," Emma replied, and she glanced up at
Sherilyn with a timid smile. "I've never known anyone like
him."
The two of them exchanged contented grins.
"Check us out," Emma said on a sigh. "Happy. Who
knew?"
"Hey, Susannah," Emma greeted the sixtyish woman with
the salt-and-pepper bun who poured coffee into a large
black mug. When she looked up at them over wire glasses,
she reminded Sherilyn of a coiffed version of Mrs.
Butterworth.
"Good morning, Emma."
"Susannah Littlefield, meet Sherilyn Caine." Turning
toward Sherilyn, she added, "Susannah is Jackson's
executive assistant. Translation: She runs the place."
Susannah popped with a chuckle. "You and I both know it's
Georgiann who runs this place." Emma laughed. "Too true."
"Welcome to The Tanglewood, Sherilyn. Emma's been sing-
ing your praises for weeks."
"Is Jackson in his office?" Emma asked. "I was just
bringing him his coffee."
Emma took the mug from Susannah's hands and gave
Sherilyn a quick nod to follow her through the door into
the main office.
Jackson Drake was far more handsome in person than in
his photographs. She remembered Emma relating her first
impression of him the day that he walked into The
Backstreet Bakery where she used to work.
"He was wearing a fine Italian suit, polka-dotted with
rain- drops," she'd said, "but he still looked like he'd
just stepped off the front cover of GQ."
Minus the raindrops, Sherilyn thought he still did.
When he spotted Emma, his smile lit up the room. She set
the coffee down in front of him, and they exchanged a
quick, modest brush of hands.
"How's your day going?" she asked him. "Much improved
right now," he replied.
"Well, I'm about to make it even better. I want you to
meet
The Tanglewood's next wedding planner."
When he stood up from his chair, he unfolded into more
than six feet of handsome leanness. "You must be Sherilyn."
"And you're Jackson," she returned, extending her hand
to meet his.
"Welcome back to Atlanta."
Sherilyn grinned. "Thank you. It's good to be back. Your
hotel is gorgeous."
"I'm going to give her the grand tour," Emma told
him. "You'll have your official interview with her
tomorrow. I just wanted to give you a chance to say hello."
"I'm glad you did," he said, and his dark chocolate eyes
glistened.
Emma leaned in toward him. "I've got brownies cool-
ing downstairs. There's a couple of them with your name on
them."
"Promise?"
"I'll bring them up after I get Sherilyn settled in her
room." Jackson beamed.
"Do you want to join us for dinner?" she asked him. "I
thought I'd introduce her to the culinary artistry of
Anton Morelli."
"I've got men's group tonight with Miguel." Emma
nodded. "I forgot. I'll see you later then." "With
brownies."
"With brownies."
"Sherilyn, we're really happy to have you here," Jackson
told her. "I look forward to talking to you more tomorrow."
"Me too, Jackson. Have a good afternoon."
They crossed through Susannah's empty office and
strolled down the hall toward the elevator. Emma pressed
the call but- ton, and they both faced front, staring at
the closed door until Sherilyn finally broke the silence.
"So that's Jackson." "Mm-hmm."
"Well, no wonder." "Yeah. I know." "He's—"
"Hot, yes?" "Oh, yeah."
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