Borrowed Veil, Stolen Kiss
Sapphic Wedding Romance
by Riley Kendra
Free with Kindle Unlimited
Pairing: FF (Sapphic)
Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno
Tropes: Maid of Honor × Wedding Planner, Fake Dating, Bi Awakening, Forced Proximity, Praise Kink, Body Worship, Semi-Public, Wedding Romance
She came to save her best friend’s wedding. She didn’t plan on the wedding planner.
Harper Lane is the maid of honor who holds everything together — her best friend’s nerves, the feuding parents, the DIY centerpieces she built by hand. She’s been the responsible one since she was twelve, and she’s exhausted, and nobody’s asking how she is doing.
Sloane Rivera is the terrifyingly competent wedding planner who runs the weekend like a four-star general in heels. She’s built her business on discipline and distance — especially from anyone in the wedding party. She has a rule. The rule exists for a reason. The reason involves a coat room and a catastrophe she’s spent three years recovering from.
When the bride gets cold feet and the wedding starts to implode, Harper and Sloane stop fighting each other and start fighting for the event — late-night planning sessions, emergency timeline rewrites, and a closet conversation that turns into the kiss neither of them planned. Then the closet becomes a kitchen. The kitchen becomes a bridal suite. The bridal suite becomes a dance floor at two a.m., and the rule becomes a memory, and the only question left is whether what they’ve built in a week can survive in the real world.
They fake a relationship to shock the bride into choosing her own wedding — but the performance was never the point. The truth underneath it was.
Borrowed Veil, Stolen Kiss is an ~79,000-word sapphic wedding romance with a guaranteed HEA, inferno-level heat, and sex in places they absolutely should not be hooking up. Maid of honor meets wedding planner. Fake dating becomes real everything. Bodies worshipped. Veils borrowed. Rules broken. Hearts earned.
You’ll love this book if you enjoy:
✅ FF sapphic romance with bi awakening
✅ Maid of honor × wedding planner forced proximity
✅ Fake dating that becomes devastatingly real
✅ Body worship, praise kink, semi-public heat
✅ “She was the first person who made me feel like I don’t have to earn being wanted”
✅ A caretaker who finally lets someone take care of her
✅ Inferno heat (🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ — graphic, explicit, emotional)
✅ HEA guaranteed
⚠️ Content Warning: This novel contains explicit sexual content (graphic FF scenes), strong language, semi-public sexual situations, involuntary outing, homophobic remarks from a secondary character (addressed and resolved), and themes of caretaker burnout and self-worth. Intended for readers 18+.
📖 Read Chapter One Free
Not sure yet? Read the full first chapter right here.
Chapter One: Welcome to the Weekend from Hell
The centerpiece in the back seat was trying to kill her.
Harper Lane took the curve at the vineyard entrance doing maybe fifteen over the posted limit, and the tower of hydrangeas, eucalyptus, and hand-wired fairy lights she’d spent six hours assembling on her kitchen floor lurched sideways like a drunk at last call. She grabbed for it with one hand, steering with the other, and felt the entire arrangement crunch against the passenger headrest.
“No. No, no, no—”
She jerked the wheel, and her twelve-year-old Corolla fishtailed on the gravel drive before shuddering to a stop in front of a sign that read Ridgemont Vineyard & Estate — Private Event.
Harper sat there for three full seconds, both hands on the wheel, eyes closed, breathing like a woman who had not slept more than four hours in any of the last six nights.
Then she looked at the centerpiece.
One side was crushed. The fairy lights dangled from a broken wire like a strand of spaghetti. A hydrangea bloom had decapitated itself and was sitting on the floor mat, looking up at her with quiet judgment.
“Cool,” Harper said. “Great. Love this for me.”
Her phone buzzed before she could assess the rest of the damage.
Camille: Where are you??? My mom just told my dad she’s not sitting at the same table as “that woman” and by “that woman” she means his girlfriend who is 26 and named Brittany and I cannot deal with this right now Harper I literally cannot
Harper typed back one-handed while popping her trunk with the other.
Harper: Just pulled in. Deep breaths. I’ll handle your parents. Derek will be there. Everything is going to be perfect.
She didn’t believe a single word of that, but she’d been telling Camille everything would be perfect since sixth grade, when Camille had cried in the girls’ bathroom because Tommy Delacruz called her braces ugly, and Harper had marched across the cafeteria and dumped chocolate milk on Tommy’s head. Some roles you didn’t audition for. You just showed up one day and never left the stage.
She climbed out of the car and was hit by a wall of late-June heat that immediately plastered her cotton sundress to her lower back. The vineyard sprawled in every direction — green rows climbing gentle hills toward a tree line, a stone-and-timber reception barn glowing in the afternoon light. It was beautiful. It was the kind of place where people paid five figures to promise each other forever surrounded by pinot noir grapes and artisanal cheese boards.
She hauled the first load out of the trunk — the damaged centerpiece, two garment bags, and a tote full of hand-calligraphed place cards she’d spent her spring break lettering — and started toward the main building.
That was when she heard the voice.
It carried across the gravel drive like a blade wrapped in silk — low, precise, and absolutely furious in a way that sounded perfectly calm.
“I understand that the truck is in Seneca Falls. What I need you to understand is that the truck was supposed to be here three hours ago, and ‘here’ and ‘Seneca Falls’ are not the same location. So what I’d like you to do — and I’m going to be very specific because I think specificity is where we lost each other — is get the truck from Seneca Falls to Ridgemont Vineyard by five o’clock today, or I will find a new caterer for this event and every future event I book in this region. Are we aligned?”
Harper stopped walking.
The woman standing near the service entrance had her back half-turned, one hand holding a phone to her ear and the other resting on her hip in a way that suggested the hip was load-bearing for her entire emotional state. She was tall — five-eight, maybe five-nine in the low heels she was wearing — and built like someone who did something precise and punishing for exercise.
She was, objectively, the most put-together human being Harper had ever seen in person.
Dark brown eyes landed on Harper like a spotlight.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked.
“I’m the maid of honor.”
“Sloane Rivera. I’m the wedding planner.”
Her handshake was firm, warm, and exactly the right duration. Harper had never in her life thought about handshake duration before, and she didn’t love that she was thinking about it now.
They stood there for a beat too long. The late sun was doing something golden to the vineyard behind Sloane’s head, and Harper could smell her — something clean and expensive with a warm base note, like cedar and bergamot and the certainty of someone who had never in her life arrived somewhere with hot glue on her arm.
Sloane’s expression gave away nothing. But she held the look for one second, then two, and something in the pause felt like a question neither of them had asked yet.
Harper looked away first. She reached for her wine, took a long sip, and told herself the flush on her neck was from the rosé.
It was going to be a long weekend.
Want to keep reading? The full novel is available now.
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Glass Ceiling — A scene TOO HOT for Amazon
One year later. The greenhouse. String lights and candles and an olive tree. Sloane has a ring. Harper has an answer. And after the question is asked and the tears are wiped and the sapphire is on her finger… they christen their wedding venue.
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Borrowed Veil, Stolen Kiss
She came to save her best friend's wedding. She didn't plan on the wedding planner.
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