Marry in Vegas…repent in a Scottish castle. In a snow storm. At Christmas. Lucy I work on weddings with a professional smile on my face while secretly congratulating myself on knowing that happy ever afters don’t exist. Jamie Ross was a kindred spirit and he was also the hottest man I’d ever met at a wedding. Ripped body, brown eyes to drown in and a Scottish accent that made my toes curl. Not to mention the kilt, and what was underneath. For two days and nights in Las Vegas, against the backdrop of a fake Eiffel tower and the Bellagio fountain, we were locked in a white-hot sensual bubble. When Jamie dared me to marry him in a quickie White Chapel wedding to prove it’s all nonsense, I called his bluff, all the way to the altar in front of Elvis. (Alcohol may have been involved.) But three years after going our separate ways, the morning after regret is still strong and it’s time to find closure so we can both move on. When I track Jamie down to his Scottish castle at Christmas, I’m going with one aim in Divorce the sexy Scot and move on.