Parent Trap Wedding Dress Novels & Stories

“Happy birthday, Nev!” Brit hands me a gift bag. “This is from all of us.” I smile and take the box while the girls back up, excitedly waiting for me to open it. Reaching into the bag, I pull out the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. It’s a Nasty Gatsby girl dress. The dress looks like a vintage-inspired 1940’s dress. It has a drop waist with a box pleated hem, a wrapped neckline, and a strappy back. Kayla Mathews, the flyer of our group, steps forward with another box. “You can’t wear this dress without a fresh pair of shoes.”

________________________ . . . I sniffed as I cried into my handkerchief. The pregnancy hormones were making it impossible for me to keep in the waterworks. Zoe's wedding dress was her mother's. A gown of timeless elegance and grace with a fitted bodice and a sweetheart neck that cascade down the waistline onto a tulle skirt. The back of the dress was a work of art, with intricate lace detailing and a row of covered buttons trailing down to the hem. Completing the look was a sweeping train that trailed behind Zoe as she walked, adding a touch of drama to her ensemble.

Not that I was marrying a stranger, or that my wedding was a business transaction dressed up in white silk and lies. A soft knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts. "Celeste?" Mom's voice, thin and fragile, came through the door. "Come in." She entered slowly, Dad and Lily trailing behind her. All three of them looked wrong in their formal attire—like children playing dress-up in borrowed clothes. Dad's suit was nice, probably the nicest he'd ever worn, but he kept tugging at the collar as if it were choking him. Lily's bridesmaid dress—another of Killian's selections—made her look older, sadder.

Estrella “Thank you,” I murmur as one of the Dun’s Crossing seamstresses pins another fold of my skirt in place. After a few days of what Tess deemed arguing, though I would more rightly call it standing my ground, the flock of women assigned to make my wedding dress have finally understood that I will not be—at least exclusively—wearing the dull neutrals so common in this kingdom. The head seamstress, ironically named Bright, in particular tried to put her foot down on a traditional charcoal-colored wedding gown. She now stands in the corner of the room with her arms crossed, eying the one pinning the swath of charcoal-shot purple and blue fabric of my skirt like a traitor.

The original guest list had been carefully vetted after Cole's betrayal, with additional security measures that were invisible but comprehensive. Tara pov I stood in the pack house's main bedroom, surrounded by the women who had become my chosen family. My wedding dress was simple but elegant—ivory silk that flowed like water, with delicate lace sleeves that covered the faint scars from my various battles. My dark hair was arranged in an intricate updo that my mother would have loved, adorned with small white flowers that dad had picked from the pack's memorial garden. "You look beautiful," said Luna Catherine, Alpha Marcus's mate, as she fastened the pearl necklace that had belonged to Hunt

Now she wanted to go through them one by one. Number 1 was a complete failure because Keyla saw at first glance that they didn't have what she was looking for. She didn't even know what she was looking for herself, but her gut told her that she wouldn't find her dress there and so far she could rely on her gut. Arrived at the 2nd store, she saw it from afar. A beautiful strapless wedding dress with dark red roses, a wide gathered skirt and a long train. It was tied at the sides with rose-red ribbons and a vine pattern ran up from the waist to the chest, also the deep red of the roses.

Chapter 4 My father tensed his jaw. Hayden continued, “and since I’ll marry your daughter, you’ll be part of the family. It won’t be a disadvantage. Just give the power to the right hands.” My hands curled into fists under the table. My mom is still in the hospital, and her condition is critical, we have to agree. The Pierro wanted to “fix everything fast,” so they set the wedding for tomorrow. The day of the wedding, I stood in front of the mirror wearing a white satin A-line dress. Deep V-neck, a big bow at the back and a long, flowing skirt.

"Well, sweetheart, you're getting married again, Tameka; I'm going to do right this time. And since we are technically married. I wanted to see you before everyone else saw my beautiful wife. So how can you be transformed into something even more gorgeous than you already are?" Tameka softly smiles in a beautiful white vintage strapless lace-fitted wedding dress. Unlike the princess style, she wore the first time at her wedding. Her dress was Paris-inspired, with a wide champagne sash at the waist that accented her slim, curvy womanly figure.

Dora asked, but her husband didn't answer, as if he had tried telling her what was happening, Dora might have tried to cause a scene. Suddenly, the bride’s song was being played. Cathleen walked down the aisle with her head held high and a proud smile on her face. Despite being surrounded by guests in fancy attire, she stood out like a masterpiece in a room full of sketches. The strapless wedding dress hugged her slim frame perfectly, highlighting her alluring collarbones and curves. Every step she took exuded confidence and beauty, making it clear that she didn't need anyone to give her hand in marriage—she was already a masterpiece created by God.

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the calendar on my phone. Wedding Day: 14 Days. "You're thinking too loud," Alex murmurs, walking in from the bathroom. He’s drying his hair with a towel, water droplets running down his chest. He looks tired—the deep, bone-weary exhaustion of new parenthood—but happy. "I'm thinking about the dress," I lie. "And the seating chart. Putting Harlan next to your mom feels like a diplomatic incident waiting to happen." "Harlan can handle Martha," Alex grins. He sits next to me, his hand resting on my thigh. "And the dress is perfect. White silk. High neck. Backless. Just enough to hide the collar until the reception."