Meet Willow and Kane in the newest stand alone by Harper
Sloan!
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 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.
And ... I hate myself.
I have no idea what Kane could possibly
see in someone like me when he could have them.
“Are you nervous right now?”
I nod.
“Tell me why.” His demand, steady and calm, gives me the
courage I need to tell him. To open a
vein and bleed my insecurities.
“I’m not perfect,” I whisper.
“And neither am I, Willow. I don’t want perfect. What so many see as perfect, to me, is
fake. Perfect isn’t achievable
naturally. No one, and I mean no one, is
perfect.”
I’m shaking my head before he’s even done
speaking, but one long finger comes up and presses against my lips before I can
speak.
“No, let me finish. There isn’t beauty in perfection. It’s as fake as the image the word
projects. Beauty is found in
imperfection, Willow, because to admit you’re not perfect means you’re
admitting you’re not whole and absolute.
When I think of myself, I see someone willing to admit he’s as far from
complete as it gets because, in order to get to that perfection, I need to find
the other part of me who will make my
life better. To take all the faults I have
and fill them, and only then will I be there.
You see, the way I see it, the only way to become perfect is to find
that perfectly imperfect person who brings it out of you.”
When he stops, I swear I might have
stopped breathing. How am I supposed to
respond to that?
“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice
strong and sure.
“Yes, Kane. Nerves or not, I do.”
“Then let me show you what I see when I
look at you.”
He brings his hands up, framing my face
once again in a way I’m quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of. His warm eyes implore, begging me without
words to let him continue. I do not
intend to stop him, regardless of the butterflies currently taking over my
system. I’m all in.
About the Author
Harper lives
in small town Georgia just a short drive from her hometown of Peachtree City.
She (and her 3 daughters) enjoy ruling the house they dubbed 'Estrogen Ocean',
much to her husband’s chagrin. Harper has a borderline unhealthy obsession with
books; you can almost ALWAYS find her with her eReader attached. She enjoys bad
reality TV and cheesy romantic flicks. Her favorite kind of hero--the super
alpha kind!
Harper
started using writing as a way to unwind when the house went to sleep at night;
and with a house full of crazy it was the perfect way to just relax. It didn't
take long before a head full of very demanding alphas would stop at nothing to
have their story told.
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