The ultimate prize this Christmas...
Former beauty queen Waverly Leverve can barely show her face in public after an embarrassing meme goes viral. But now fate and a misdelivered pizza have brought her dreams back to life. Gorgeous bad boy turned business mogul Dominic Crowne wants to sponsor Waverly in a pageant scheduled for Christmas Eve. Waverly vows to keep their arrangement purely professionalâbut soon their arrangement quickly takes a sensual turn...
Dominic knows that his golden touch can fix almost anythingâincluding Waverlyâs tilted tiara. Against his own will, Dominic is mesmerized with his stunning new client. Heâs falling for the pageant princess and the vulnerable yet sexy woman within. But when Waverlyâs ultimate goal finally comes within reach, can he help her achieve professional redemption and find his Princess Charming under the mistletoe?
Pine needles were scattered across the top of the car. From the incident, the road rash had resulted in a half-bare tree.
Standing, Dominic wiped his hands on the back of his jeans. His six-pack abs flexed and Waverly averted her eyes toward the tree. The timber was safe from getting run over, thanks to the abandoned road Dominic had thought to take. His eyes followed hers. âIâm getting you another tree. Weâre tossing this.â
Before he took another step toward the road, Waverly reached for Dominicâs arm. His bicep twitched beneath her palm. âI donât need a tree.â
Dominic paused for a moment. Their eyes locked. Suddenly the tree was no longer in question. Waverlyâs heart raced. Her feelings, jumbled with the longing for what the Harveys had and wanting it with Dominic, came into mind.
âWhat is it you need, Waverly?â
âIâ Iââ The words were lost but the action was not. Waverly leaped forward and threw herself into Dominicâs arms. He caught her and spun her body around, placing her back against the hood.
Dear Reader,
Waverly Leverve has always had a passion for beauty pageants and bad boys. At one point in her life, her mother feared the latter would ruin her chances for the ultimate tiara. Eventually, Waverlyâs mouth got her in trouble. Can you imagine having your ugly-cry face captured and placed on a viral meme for the world to see and use for their entertainment? Welcome to Waverlyâs new world. Whatâs a dethroned pageant gal to do? Step back into the tiara of course.
I had a blast imagining all the memes of Waverlyâs ugly cry. A lot of my inspiration came from a particular âcrying memeâ of a legendary basketball player.
Until the next pageant...happy reading!
Carolyn Hector
Having your story read out loud as a teen by your brother in Julia Childâs voice might scare some folks from ever sharing their work. But CAROLYN HECTOR rose above her fear. She currently resides in Tallahassee, Florida, where there is never a dull moment. School functions, politics, football, Southern charm and sizzling heat help fuel her knack for putting a romantic spin on everything she comes across. Find out what sheâs up to on Twitter: @Carolyn32303.
I would like to dedicate and acknowledge my editor, Carly Silver, and her magical editing squad. I say this with my most sincere pageant wave and ugly cryâTHANK YOU.
Acknowledgments
I would like to acknowledge my Destin Divas for their entertainment, friendship and wisdom.
Chapter 1
Death by chocolate. Waverly Leverve licked the dark, shiny ganache off her fingertip until she cleaned her finger down to her chipped French manicure. Biting her bottom lip, Waverly glanced over the double cupcakes standing proudly on the crisp white china plate and settled on a Slow Torture Southern Peach Cobbler Cupcake.
For the last week Waverly had tried to wallow in self-pity and fatty foods. Why not? Any career as the future Miss Georgia and eventually Miss USA disappeared the moment officials forced her to give up her Miss South Georgia crown. So what if sheâd colorfully told off a reporter? The journalist deserved her outburst. Heâd propositioned her, assuming she was a naive pageant girl and when Waverly reacted, no one wanted to hear her side. He was the one with the recording. In hindsight, Waverlyâs idea wasnât a bright one, to tell a mic-ed reporter that the pageant establishment did not offer her enough money to sit around and smile in his face. There were a few f words dropped, along with her telling the man to self-fornicate. She should have just explained she was tired. Now here she sat in a bakery, shoveling carbs into her body.
The pink bejeweled cell phone rattled against the silver two-top table in the corner of The Cupcakery. Waverly flipped the gadget over and blinked back at the turquoise-blue screen and fat black letters.