Page 145 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
Editor: Nicole Bailey at Proof Before You Publish
Cover Art: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design
TAKE A CHANCE ON ME
Description
Not all alpha males are assholes.
But the guy that messed up Tiffany’s self-image sure as hell was.
This beautiful, curvy woman has held my imagination captive since the day she started working with me.
She has no idea how gorgeous, powerful, and intelligent she is.
But that ruse is up.
I’m going to tell her. Show her. Press that truth upon her until she sees herself like I do.
I haven’t been with a woman since losing my wife around the holidays, but it’s time to give love a second chance. My son and I are ready to have a family again.
Now I just need to convince her to take a chance on me.
It’ll be the best decision of her life.
I’ll make sure of it.
PROLOGUE
TIFFANY
One Year Ago
I shouldn’t have been marrying a guy like the one across from me, but I couldn’t help myself. I had been in love with him too long, and maybe I had a shot at changing him if I tried hard enough. Maybe.
“What kind of cake do you think we should have at the wedding?” I asked my fiancé Brad. Although we had not set a date yet, I was eager to plan our big day. My feelings could fuck off. My wedding was something I had dreamt of ever since I was a little girl.
Brad ignored me and picked up his beer.
He looked straight past me to the Miami Dolphins game on one of the bar’s gigantic televisions. I took a sip of my white wine, wondering if he hadn’t heard me the first time. The sinking feeling in my gut let me know he’d heard.
“Brad,” I said, a little louder. “What kind of cake do you think we should serve at the wedding?”
“Really, Tiffany?” He shot me a disgusted look for a quick second before his eyes went back to the game. “I don’t think you should be worrying about cake. Don’t you have a dress to fit into?”
My cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Over the past several weeks, Brad had become more vocal about my weight. It had never seemed to be an issue until recently. He did have a point, though. I should be worrying about a new diet and workout plan for the wedding, not what kind of cake I was going to devour.
“Are you ready to order?” The young waiter approached our table nervously. He had to have only been eighteen, although he looked much younger. Brad flipped the two-sided menu over, barely looking at it.
“Double cheeseburger, well done, with fries,” he said. The waiter scribbled down Brad’s order and turned his attention to me.
“And for you, ma’am?”
Truthfully, I didn’t have a chance to look over the menu. I wanted to have a cheeseburger as well, but with Brad’s awful mood, I was afraid of what he would say. It felt like I needed his permission to order food. What had our relationship become? Was I signing up to spend the rest of my life with my overbearing mother?
“Should I have the Miami salad or the cobb salad?” I asked Brad.
