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.