Perfectly Imperfect

Mirror, mirror, who's the fairest of them all?

I still cringe when I hear that line. A fairy tale that had girls pretending they were the fairest, the most beautiful, and the most entitled. A fairy tale most couldn't grow out of turned my haunted childhood memories into a living nightmare. Girls who grew up believing that pile of garbage became the meanest of all "mean girls." And those mean girls were right. It was a line meant for all the beautiful people in the world, and I knew the answer would never be me.

The answer would always be the women with long legs, flat stomachs, and perfect chests—the type of women Kane Masters gravitated toward. Well, that's definitely not Willow Tate. No. That will never be me, because I'm completely imperfect. I have no idea what Kane could possibly see in someone like me when he could have them.

© 2016 Tantor Media (Hljóðbók): 9781515971696

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Hljóðbók: 9 februari 2016