Method Acting: An opposites attract, found family romance (Center Stage Book 2) Adele Buck (e novels to read .TXT) 📖

sister Ellie escorted her. Ellie’s dark auburn hair was pulled into a smooth chignon, and her large, brown eyes were bright with unshed tears.

As the two moved down toward a stunned looking Brandon, stiff in his tuxedo and supported by Ellie’s husband Ed, Alicia felt Colin’s large, warm hand wrap around her own. The wedding guests turned as a group and settled to their seats again as Mari reached Brandon’s side, handing her bouquet off to her sister so she could clasp his fingers in her own.

The service was brief and unusual. Alicia was sure she had never seen a wedding that had a reference to the television show Ted Lasso in it, but it seemed to suit the pair somehow. When it was done, the couple kissed and surged back up the aisle hand in hand to a string quartet playing the closing theme from The Return of the King in place of the usual recessional music.

Alicia pulled her wrap around her shoulders as the guests stood again, wending their way over toward the tent that covered a dance floor and dinner tables. White lights wrapped in ivory tulle wound around the supports of the tent, ethereal and twinkling in the cool early evening.

“Chilly?” Colin asked, tucking her fingers into his arm and walking her across the wide green lawn.

“Not so much,” she replied, leaning into his solid, warm bulk. They paused as a waiter approached them with a tray of champagne flutes. Colin handed her one then took another for himself.

“To Mari and Brandon. And us.” Tapping his glass gently against hers, they each sipped a bit of the wine.

“Oh, Colin…there you are.” Alicia stiffened at the sickly-sweet tones of Mrs. Lloyd-Hudson. Colin winked at Alicia before he addressed the older woman who had arrived with her husband in tow.

“Hello Mrs. L-H, hello Will. You remember my fiancée? Alicia Johnson.” His voice had a forced heartiness, but his large, warm hand pressed reassuringly against Alicia’s back and she managed to direct a smile at the other couple.

“Fiancée?” Mr. Lloyd-Hudson faltered for a moment, then directed a false, cheery smile at Alicia. “That’s fantastic. Congratulations.”

His wife looked like she had swallowed a bee. “How lovely.”

“Thank you.” Alicia smiled without letting it reach her eyes, mirroring the older woman’s expression. Then Alicia let her eyes drop to the sandals she wore—shiny red straps around her toes sporting a black pedicure. When she lifted her eyes again, Alicia thought that the older woman now looked like she had swallowed an entire hive.

Mr. Lloyd-Hudson seemed to recognize the tension between the two women. “Let’s get you some champagne, my dear. Colin, Miss Johnson. Congratulations again.” Tugging at his wife’s elbow, he moved away toward the nearest waiter.

“I told you there was nothing to worry about.” Colin’s voice rumbled low, and he took her hand, rubbing his fingertips across the sapphire and platinum band on her ring finger. “You okay?”

“I admit, I was dreading seeing them.”

“And now?”

“What did Mari say at the gala? ‘Ding dong, the witch is dead.’”

“Not dead, but I think she’ll be checking the weather report for her own personal housing forecast. Tornadoes ahoy.”

Alicia laughed and looked out across the rolling expanse of the country club’s golf course and shook her head. “I can’t imagine what this must have cost.”

Colin’s hand moved to her waist, pulling her close. “Don’t even try. Unless you want something like it. Then we’ll have to face those budget numbers together.”

“God, no. It’s beautiful, but it’s not my style.”

“What would you like?” he asked.

“What would you like?” she retorted.

“I asked you first.”

She looked at him. “I just want…you.”

“Well, that’s easy then. You have me. Forever.”

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Acknowledgments

Many, if not most, authors will tell you that they had a long road to publication. I am no different. There are so many people who believed in me, gave me critique, and just flat-out loved me in this long journey of mine and I apologize up front if I have left anyone out.

This book is dedicated to my Miss Fisher fandom gang, especially Rosemary Quinsey. It’s your fault that Alicia’s book came next. I had no plans to even write a book about her until you said, “I think she’s up to something” after I finished Acting Up.

Mr. B: Always.

Mom: my fondest critic and fiercest ally. I love you, Marmee.

Pamella Pearl: you were ready to answer any and all questions about tv production at the drop of a Facebook messenger query and you’re a goddess for it.

My editor, Jennifer Johnson-Blalock: thank you for your keen eye, humor, and insight.

My writing sisters: Diana Biller, Rachel Kellis, and June Hur. You are all rockstars and I adore you. Amy Bishop, who brought us into each others’ orbit: you know I owe you for far more than that.

Ainslie Paton, queen of blurbs, dispenser of knowledge, source of wry wisdom and humor—and all from the other side of the planet. Thank you.

Jayce Ellis. Oh. My. God. My once and future co-writer, my friend and fierce ally, I adore you.

The Lisas: Lisa Lin and Lisa Catto. My writing commiserator and my conference roommate. You are both incredible, incendiary minds and talents.

Lynn Turner: you’ve been such a wonderful friend ever since I first wrote this book. Thank you.

Lucy Parker and Suzanne Brockmann, you’ve both been incredibly supportive and fantastic and I can’t thank you enough.

To the entire Twitter crew I call pocket friends: you helped me do this. Thank you so much. I owe you more than I can express.

Author’s Note

While the Folger Theater is a real place in Washington, D.C. where Mr. B. and