Most happily-ever-after tales end with the couple at their wedding.

An embellished shindig in front of family and friends who collectively ooh and aah—eyes stuck on a too-gorgeous-for-words bride as she sashays down the aisle.

​

Yet that, my friends, is precisely where this story begins.

It’s worth mentioning—those close to me understand my propensity to do things backward.

​

I read magazines and newspapers from back to front.

Eat dessert before dinner.

​

Hell, the fact I was born feet first should have been a telltale sign.

So in true to Jameson Wright form, it only makes sense I begin this story at the end…

​

I’m about to marry the woman of my dreams.

​

Chloe York.

​

My snarky, smart, and hot-as-fire fiancée who almost got away.

I say almost because it was a classic case of loathe at first sight when we met.

​

God, how she irked the hell out of me, made my blood boil over—as my traitorous package jumped in excitement whenever she came near.

Never did I imagine I’d be here, gaze pinned to her—my flawless, exquisite bride—as she floats down the aisle toward me, the guy eager to promise her a forever-after.

 

So how did two enemies hop on the And They Lived Happily Ever After express train to bliss?

​

Well, since you know how our story ends, let’s go back to the beginning.

To how we became an us.

​

The flirty, steamy, short, and romantic tale of…

​

When Jameson Met Chloe.