Her So-Called Fiance
Sabrina Merritt counted at least a dozen photographers waiting for her to exit the gate area at Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson Airport. They all had their lenses trained on her legs, which two days ago had been labeled "chunky" by beauty pageant pundits.
Great. It had been humiliating enough seeing close-ups of her thighs on national television. Now the local media, the papers read by everyone who mattered to her, were about to jump on the bandwagon.
"Sabrina, this way," one of the photographers called.
She ignored him, certain that if she so much as met anyone's eyes, the smile she'd rehearsed in her compact mirror as the plane taxied to the gate would fall off her face. Seven months as Miss Georgia had made her thick-skinned about personal criticism. But to be slammed so publicly, just when she needed people to take her seriously, and over something so meaningless to anyone but herself as her legs…
Glassy-eyed, she scanned the crowd, in search of her good friend Tyler, who'd said he would meet her. Darn it, he'd promised.
Then she saw the lone man beyond the media group. Not Tyler.
Jake Warrington.
The way he leaned h ... read full excerpt from: Her So-Called Fiance ebook
