Boomerang Bride Read online

  BOOMERANG BRIDE

  FIONA LOWE

  CONTENTS

  Boomerang Bride

  Praise For Fiona Lowe

  Join my newsletter

  Also by Fiona Lowe

  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

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  Saved by the Bride

  About the Author

  BOOMERANG BRIDE

  BY FIONA LOWE

  Dear Reader,

  I’m so excited to introduce you to this updated edition of Boomerang Bride, my Rita award-wining book first published in 2011. Back in the day, this story grew out of a collision of ideas sparked by moments in time starting with me riding a ski lift on my own. As I gazed out at the Australian snow gums and the pristine snow, an image of a bride holding a wedding cake and staring into a shop window pinged into my mind. I had no clue why, but the image wouldn’t budge.

  Two days later I heard a TV snippet about a con man scamming a European heiress and I got an email from a man in Nigeria telling me I had won the lottery.

  Three weeks after that I heard the song Bridal Train by The Waifs. It’s the story of their grandmother who married a US sailor during WWII. At the end of the war, the US Navy commissioned a train to collect all the Australian war brides from around the country and gathered them all in Sydney before they set sail for the USA.

  It got me thinking, what if you’d grown up hearing the great romantic adventure-cum-love story of your grandmother, and your own mother’s as well. Stories like that become family folklore and set up expectations.

  Suddenly I had a reason for my heroine, Matilda, to be standing in an ancient wedding dress, holding a cake and staring into an empty shop window ready for her great adventure. Of course, absolutely nothing goes to plan!

  I spent over two years living in Wisconsin, and every cross-cultural confusion that happens to Matilda happened to me! Although Australians and Americans speak English, it often feels as if we’re speaking a different language, which leads to some very funny misunderstandings.

  I hope you enjoy this 2023 edition of Boomerang Bride. If you do, the good news is, there are three more fun bride books in my Wedding Fever series: Saved by the Bride, Picture Perfect Wedding and Runaway Groom.

  These days I’m writing women’s fiction, but the same humor and romantic elements are found between the pages despite the more serious undertones. I like to think my wedding books are more of a romp!

  If you’d like to hear the song Bridal Train and see photos of the real towns that inspired Hobin, then head over to my website, www.fionalowe.com.

  Happy reading!

  Fiona x

  PRAISE FOR FIONA LOWE

  “With the perfect mixture of romance, sadness and Australian/American wise-cracking, Boomerang Bride is one of the best romance novels this reviewer has read in a long time. Top Pick” RT Book Reviews

  “With Boomerang Bride I got a Kristan Higgins and Nora Roberts feel. You get the fun sharp wit with very likable characters like Kristan Higgins and then the hot and steamy scenes like Nora Roberts. There are no negative words to say when it comes to this book. I mean, come on, if you read a book and you wish you were the characters best friend then you know it’s good.” 5♥. Chick Lit = The New Black

  “Oh guys! How much did I love this book? The answer? A lot. A lot. So much!” Kate Cuthbert

  WEDDING FEVER SERIES

  Saved by the Bride, Picture Perfect Wedding

  & Runaway Groom

  “Saved By The Bride, the first in the Wedding Fever series, is a fun, romantic romp in a quirky small town. Anni and Finn are well matched in both wits and stubbornness. Their journey from enemies to friends to lovers is one that will keep readers turning pages.” 4* RT Review

  “Saved by the Bride has such a wonderful humor and sense of fun about it. Fiona Lowe, you have created a couple, and a town, that you just can’t help but cheer for.” 5/5 My Written Romance

  “If you like small-town contemporary romances with heat, humor, and heart-winning characters, I think you will enjoy it as much as I did. I recommend Picture Perfect Wedding.” Just Janga

  “Oh my. Ms. Lowe writes a charming, entertaining, and sometimes wrenching story in Picture Perfect Wedding.” Fedora Chen Goodreads Reviewer.

  “Fiona Lowe has a way of mixing comedy with a sweet, hot, romance, Runaway Groom was no exception.” Kristen Johnson Goodreads Reviewer

  “If you’re a fan of well-written contemporary romance, I would suggest Runaway Groom. You get THREE HEA’s in one novel!” Harlequin Junkies.

  JOIN MY NEWSLETTER

  Thank you for buying Boomerang Bride.

  For a free novella, Summer of Mine; the prequel of Daughter of Mine, please join my VIP Readers newsletter. You’ll also be the first to hear about new releases, book sales, competitions and giveaways. Click here to register or go to fionalowe.com

  ALSO BY FIONA LOWE

  The Wedding Fever Series

  (Romance Fiction)

  Saved by the Bride

  Picture Perfect Wedding

  Runaway Groom

  Women’s Fiction Novels

  Daughter of Mine

  Birthright

  Home Fires

  Just an Ordinary Family

  A Home Like Ours

  A Family of Strangers

  Coming in 2023

  The Money Club

  Did you know BookBub has a new release alert? You can check out the latest deals and get an email when I release my next book by following me at

  www.bookbub.com/authors/fiona-lowe

  Romance Novels 2006-2018

  Fiona has an extensive backlist of Australian-set romances. For a full list head to http://www.fionalowe.com

  BOOMERANG BRIDE

  First Published by Carina Press in 2011

  This revised edition published in 2023 by Fiona Lowe

  Copyright © 2011 by Fiona Lowe.

  All rights reserved.

  www.fionalowe.com

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  This publication (or any part of it) may not reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organizations), in any form, in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means, (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  BOOMERANG BRIDE

  Cover Design By Barton Lowe

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Fiona Lowe

  To Jude, Doris, Libbey, Cindy, Elizabeth and Maureen for making an Aussie so welcome in Wisconsin.

  Special thanks for this updated 2022 edition go to Barton Lowe for the perfect cover, Vicki Nelson for a final read and to Norm who runs the business side of things.

  I couldn’t do it all without you!

  CHAPTER ONE

  The petite bride stood stock-still, her chapel-length beaded train sagging in the damp gutter while her white fingers clutched a two-tiered wedding cake. She stared long and hard into a vacant store window.

  It wasn’t a usual fall sight in Hobin, Wisconsin. Brides tended to marry in spring. Even then, Hobin was hardly the bride capital of the state or the United States. Hawaii took that prize with its tropical sandy beaches and swaying palm trees, unsurprisingly acing Hobin’s snowbound winters and late-spring flowerings.

  Still, in the last one hundred and fifty years, many a local bride had stood in the old log church but none that Marc Olsen could remember had stood alone on an almost deserted Main Street, late on a Sunday afternoon. But then again, apart from his annual Thanksgiving visit he’d been gone from Hobin a long time and things might have changed.

  He glanced up and down the familiar wide and empty road with the same shop fronts he’d known as a kid. Nope, nothing had changed. The realization both annoyed and soothed him. He took a second look, this time casting his gaze around trying to locate the groom. A stray bridesmaid or ring bearer. Anyone?

  No one. br />
  He was used to oddities—he’d shed his small-town boyhood years ago, moving to New York City where a bride alone on a street wouldn’t even make a ripple in the bustling Broadway crowd. But in Hobin it was more than odd. The bride wasn’t moving. Perhaps it was performance art. In Hobin? Nah.

  Completely intrigued, he gave his curiosity free rein. It was all about curiosity and had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that investigating the lone bride would further delay his cross-six-state journey and postpone his arrival at his sister’s house. He knew that once he stepped over Lori’s front stoop the snare of family would clamp on to him like the grip of a Denver boot. It was the reason he always arrived with a set departure date.

  He crossed the street in a few brisk strides, the chill of the air easily penetrating his light cotton shirt. He regretted not grabbing his cashmere sweater from his Porsche. The bride had her back to him and as he got closer he realized the wedding dress hadn’t come off the rack, but nor was it a Vera Wang creation.

  The faint sepia color hinted that many years had passed since it had first elegantly draped itself over a bride. Now it hung from sharp and narrow shoulders, which seemed undecided about their posture, hovering between rigid and rolled back, and decidedly slumped. On hearing his footsteps, the bride swung around. The unusual cake with its delicate lace icing wobbled precariously on its sugar pillars.

  He grinned, deciding she was a cross between the bride in The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Miss Havisham. The round neckline of the dress sat flat and puckered as if seeking breasts to give it the form it deserved and a strand of uneven-sized pearls graced a slender neck which moved into a pointed chin. Stray wisps of wayward auburn hair stuck to hollow cheeks and a smattering of freckles trailed across a snub nose that some might at a pinch call cute. Black smudges hovered at the top of her cheeks but it was hard to tell if they were caused by fatigue or the remnants of day-old mascara.

  He’d never seen a more homely bride in need of a makeover. This was definitely performance art. It seemed a shame that she’d gone to all this trouble on the one day of the week that country people spent at home with their families.

  “You seem to have lost the chapel.” He extended his arm indicating the direction. “It’s another mile down the road.”

  Marc was used to a wide-eyed reaction from women, often followed by a come-hither smile. He knew this was nothing to do with him per se, and everything to do with the random collision of DNA combined with his Nordic heritage. He often wished he wasn’t the walking cliché of blond hair and blue eyes, but he wouldn’t trade his height for anything. However, this woman’s vivid turquoise gaze hit him with a clear and uncompromising stare combining irony with hovering hints of bewilderment.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Thanks for the tip.” Flat, elongated vowels clanged against the crisp fall air, falling from a mouth that on second glance was surprisingly plump given all the other sharp angles on her body. “I didn’t think men did directions.”

  The truism made him laugh. “We happily give them. We just don’t take them.” Her accent intrigued him. “You’re not from around here?”

  “I guess that depends on your definition. If ten thousand kilometers is outside the county limits then no, I’m not from round here.” She held the hexagonal iced cake out toward him. “Hold the cake for me.”

  As an award-winning architect and property developer, Marc was more used to giving orders to his staff and contractors rather than taking them. But this situation was completely bizarre and he found himself receiving the cake without a murmur, his fingers gripping the gold-embossed foil board.

  “Don’t drop it.”

  The comment reminded him of growing up in a houseful of organizing women. “Are the English always this bossy?”

  Surprisingly well-shaped eyebrows shot skyward. “The English are far too polite for their own good. Australians on the other hand call a spade a spade.” She fisted a large amount of material into both hands and lifted the skirt free of the sidewalk, the action exposing slender ankles as she marched up to the shop window.

  Surprise jolted him. Given the state of her hair and makeup and the whole “disarray bride” look she had going, he’d expected to see heavy work books on her feet. Instead, a tiny strap of golden leather, sparkling with rhinestones, daintily caressed her slender foot and coiled up past a shapely ankle before disappearing tauntingly underneath the satin dress. He idly wondered what the rest of her legs looked like.

  “So you’re a Down-Under bride?” he asked.

  “I’m definitely down.”

  The muttered words seemed more for herself than him as she pressed her face to the glass and peered into the empty store. She spun back toward him, confusion bright in her eyes. “This is 110 West Main Street?”

  He tilted his head to the faded numbers above the door. “That’s what I’m reading.”

  White teeth tugged on her plump bottom lip as she firmly shook the door handle with her ringless left hand.

  “Are you lost?” he asked.

  “I didn’t think I was. This is Hobin, Wisconsin isn’t it?”

  “Since 1856.”

  “I expected it to be bigger.”

  He gave a wry grin. “Most people do but not a lot has changed in over one hundred and sixty-odd years.”

  She took another look through the window. “And I expected this building to be a house not an empty shop.”

  The cake surprisingly weighed as much as two house bricks and he readjusted his grip. “This building’s always been a store, but it’s been empty since old Mr. Erickson passed away more than a year ago.”

  “So where’s Barry?” She visibly sagged and the material of her dress rose up as if trying to envelope her. “I can’t believe I’ve been up thirty hours, flown halfway around the world safeguarding Nana’s cake, and driven hours only to arrive and have the wrong address. This didn’t happen to Nana.” The words poured out on a rising inflection, ending on the hint of a wail.

  Her general dishevelment suddenly made a bizarre sort of sense. Marc had three sisters and although he knew their brains were equally intelligent to his, he also knew theirs ran along a completely different track—one that never ran straight. Australian women were obviously no different. “Don’t tell me you’ve flown all the way from Australia in a wedding dress?”

  She rolled her sea-green eyes and shot him a look that severely questioned his intelligence. “No, Blondie, I haven’t. I put it on at the service station in the last town to surprise Barry.”

  Blondie? No one had given him a nickname since high school. He matched her eye roll with one raised brow. “Surprise him or scare him?”

  “Hah. And to think I’ve been told the Yanks didn’t have a sense of humor.” She crossed her arms against the cold and tossed her head. “I was going to bring my personal hairstylist and makeup artist with me but I thought Meghan Markle needed them more.”