Badd Motherfcker – Jasinda Wilder.pdf

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Contents
BADD MOTHERF*CKER
COPYRIGHT
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
EPILOGUE
ALSO BY
BADD MOTHERF*CKER
A Badd Brothers novel
BY
Jasinda Wilder
Copyright © 2016 by Jasinda Wilder
BADD MOTHERF*CKER: A BADD BROTHERS NOVEL
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express
written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or
used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover art by Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations. Cover art copyright © 2016 Sarah Hansen.
1
Dru
I smoothed the ruched white fabric over my hips and sucked in a breath; the dress was crazy tight
around my chest, which did wonders for my cleavage, but left me unable to draw a full breath.
“I can’t really breathe,” I said, once again attempting to fully expand my lungs.
“It’s only for, like, an hour,” Annie said. “Soon as the service is over, you can change into your
party dress for the reception.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “Who breathes on their wedding day, anyway?” I joked.
Lisa, another of my three bridesmaids, put the finishing touches on my hair, tucking a few strands
into bobby pins and leaving a few strands loose around my face. “My wedding dress was so tight I
nearly passed out during the service,” she said. “Not breathing on your wedding day is a time-
honored tradition.”
“Well…fuck that tradition,” I said. “I like breathing. Breathing is nice.”
Annie was in front of me, touching up my makeup. “That cleavage is nice. Looking hot on your
wedding day is also nice. Breathing? Meh, it’s overrated.”
I tried another breath, feeling my breasts swell against the constraining material. My head spun,
and I was glad I was sitting down. I was just dizzy from nerves, that’s all. I was nervous, that much was
true. But I also legitimately couldn’t breathe. I was scared out of my mind. I loved Michael, I really,
really did. I loved him. I was ready to get married. I was ready to become Dru Connolly-Morrison.
Mrs. Michael Morrison. Dru Morrison.
God, none of those sound right.
But Michael insisted I take his name, even if it was hyphenated. “I’m traditional that way,” he had
grumbled.
I liked my name, though, and I didn’t want to change it. Dru Connolly: it had a ring to it. It was a
strong name and, more importantly, it was my name.
Breathing was becoming harder and harder with every passing moment—or maybe it was just the
fact that I was close to hyperventilating. I tried to slow my breathing down, but my lungs didn’t seem
to be getting the message.
“I need to see Michael,” I said.
He always had a way of calming me down when I started panicking and overthinking things. He’d
kiss me and hold me and tell me it would be okay and, somehow, things always worked out. Not
always how I wanted them to, or how I expected them to, but…they worked out.
This wedding would work out, and the marriage would, too.
But…I wanted more than just for my marriage to WORK OUT. I wanted it to be amazing.
Annie and Lisa exchanged glances. “Um…well...you know it’s bad luck for him to see you in your
dress.”
“I’ll cover up or something. Can you just go get him?”
Another glance between the two ladies.
“It’s just nerves, hon,” Lisa said.
Annie zipped her makeup bag closed. “Just take lots of shallow breaths and focus on walking
down the aisle. You’ll be fine.”
I looked from Annie to Lisa and back, feeling, perhaps unfairly, like they were hiding something,

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