Their name? The objectors.
Their job? To break off weddings as hired.
Their dilemma? They might just be in love with each other.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Lynn Painter’s Happily Never After, which releases on March 12th 2024.
When Sophie Steinbeck finds out just before her nuptials that her fiancé has cheated yet again, she desperately wants to call it off. But because her future father-in-law is her dad’s cutthroat boss, she doesn’t want to be the one to do it. Her savior comes in the form of a professional objector, whose purpose is to show up at weddings and proclaim the words no couple (usually) wants to hear at their ceremony: “I object!”
During anti-wedding festivities that night, Sophie learns more about Max the Objector’s job. It makes perfect sense to her: he saves people from wasting their lives, from hurting each other. He’s a modern-day hero. And Sophie wants in.
The two love cynics start working together, going from wedding to wedding, and Sophie’s having more fun than she’s had in ages. She looks forward to every nerve-racking ceremony saving the lovesick souls of the betrothed masses. As Sophie and Max spend more time together, however, they realize that their physical chemistry is off the charts, leading them to dabble in a little hookup session or two—but it’s totally fine, because they definitely do not have feelings for each other. Love doesn’t exist, after all.
And then everything changes. A groom-to-be hires Sophie to object, but his fiancée is the woman who broke Max’s heart. As Max wrestles with whether he can be a party to his ex’s getting hurt, Sophie grapples with the sudden realization that she may have fallen hard for her partner in crime.
Sophie
The music stopped and the pastor started speaking. Everything he said sounded just as flat and ridiculous as the words my pastor had uttered at my wedding. Join together these two in love blahblahblah. My breath caught in my throat as I waited for the passage.
“If any—”
“I do!” I yelled.
“Too early,” Max muttered from my right.
“Miss?” the pastor said, his eyebrows crinkled together. “I’m sorry . . . ?”
“You said if anyone here knows any reason—well, I do,” I said, heat flooding my cheeks. “These two should absolutely not get married.”
A loud murmur rolled through the crowd, and I trained my eyes on the preacher’s face. I didn’t dare look at the bride or her black-hatted backups. “Callie has been having an affair with Ronnie for years, and everyone but TJ knows it. He deserves better.”
I heard multiple gasps, and the bride said, “What the hell? She’s a liar!”
“Nope,” I said, my stomach knotting as the woman seated in front of me whipped around and pinned me with a lethal glare.
“Are you done, liar?” the bride yelled at me, her eyes scary mean. “I don’t even know who the hell—”
“Is it true?” TJ interrupted. Thank you, TJ.
“No, it’s not true,” Callie said, looking downright pissed as she waved a hand in my direction. “I’ve never seen that knockoff Barbie chick in my life.”
“Still true, though,” I said, getting pissed in my own right. Knockoff Barbie? What the hell. “You don’t know me, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t cheat.”
“Listen, Skipper—”
“Callie,” TJ interrupted, sounding a little angry, too. “Did you or did you not continue with Ronnie? Answer me.”
For the first time, she looked caught. Callie opened her mouth but just made a few stammering noises and said no multiple times.
Max nudged my side and I turned, ready to make our breakaway.
“I did not, TJ,” the bride said, “I would never.”
“Then show him your phone or the Ring doorbell footage of when Ronnie came over every day.” I channeled the calm facade Max had brought to my wedding. “If you’re innocent, hand it over.”
“How dare you—”
“Give me your phone, Cal,” TJ said in a booming voice, and that was our cue to leave. I stepped out of our row, with Max beside me, and we headed for the back of the church as Callie and TJ argued.
My job was done.
And it’d gone perfectly.
“Holy shit, I did it,” I whispered, looking over at Max, feeling like a damn superhero. I saved TJ, saved the world from another bout of heartbroken lovesickness. I was like the Marie Curie of lovelornitis or something.
“You did it,” he replied with a smile, but then he looked behind me and his face changed. “Soph!”
I started to turn around, but there wasn’t time before a body hit mine from behind, a palm over my face as someone yelled, “You bitch!”
I was pretty sure it was the bride.
On my back like I was her fucking pony.
Shocked, I stumbled a little before pure rage shot through me.
Oh, hell no.
I was good at conflict avoidance—it was a big part of my job, in fact—but I’d be damned if I’d let some Miranda Lambert wannabe take me down in front of hundreds of people like she had the upper hand.
Oh, hell no.
Max
Shit, shit, shit.
I promised Sophie that everything would be okay.
I stepped forward to break it up, but Sophie straightened to her full height, threw back her elbows, and knocked the bride off her back. Callie stumbled backward in her boots as Sophie turned around and held out a hand.
“Just stop,” she said calmly, sounding like this was a normal occurrence and not at all something out of a reality TV episode. “This is between you and TJ, not me.”
“The hell it is!” the bride yelled, lunging for Sophie.
I stepped in front of her, causing Callie to stumble into me instead of Soph.
But then Sophie pushed me out of the way. Sophie pushed me out of the way, and as Callie came at her again, Sophie grabbed an arm and managed to turn the bride around and get her into a headlock.
A fucking perfect headlock.
“Settle down,” Sophie said through gritted teeth, looking like an undercover cop on a TV show. “And leave me alone.”
“Fucking bitch!” Callie squealed as her face turned very red and she squirmed to get free.
“You are in a church, for God’s sake,” Sophie said, sounding remarkably relaxed. “Watch your language.”
The bridal party was frozen and looked unsure if they should assist the bride or back down.
The pastor appeared to be crossing himself.
“Listen, ah, we’re going to take off,” I said, hoping a little calm sarcasm might defuse the situation, “and let Callie and TJ work this out. Can someone please assist in the bridal handoff here?”
Everyone looked shell-shocked and unable to move—rightly so—but then the bride’s father stood. I watched him walk toward us in his cowboy hat and boots with spurs—oh, shit—and wondered if he was going to help me or murder me; his tough, weathered face made it hard to tell.
My worldview narrowed to the ominous jingle of those ridiculous spurs.
“Cut the shit, Cal,” he said in a low Clint Eastwood kind of voice as he approached his daughter. “No fighting in church.”
Thank God.
The man gave Sophie a nod and she released the bride, who was now a bit purple faced. She didn’t try to physically attack Sophie again, but that was probably because TJ came over immediately, still demanding answers.
As we exited the chapel, though, she did manage to yell, “That’s right, get the hell out of here!”
We damn near sprinted to my truck when we got outside, neither of us talking as we focused on getting the hell out of there. But once we were buckled and the engine was running, I looked over at her.
The back of her hair was sticking up, and without thinking, I reached over and patted it down.
Which made her laugh, eyes crinkled at the corners, which made me laugh, too. A second later we were both cackling at the absurdity of what’d just happened, the kind of full-on belly laughing that put tears in both of our eyes.
When she finally got herself together, Sophie said, “Let’s never do a redneck wedding again.”
I wiped at my eyes and put the truck in drive. “Agreed.”
Excerpted from Happily Never After by Lynn Painter. Copyright © 2024 by Lynn Painter. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
