Prologue

Don't read this book.

It's embarrassing.

And private.

I have a feeling my youngest sister has paid some sort of homage to the Hallmark pixies and they've turned my world into an ooey gooey, magical snow globe of romantic tropes.

Argh. Even my sentences are starting to sound like mush.

The whole situation is disgusting.

Well, not all of it.

The architecture was nice. And the work, which was mostly distraction-free.

Until it wasn't.

And there were some cute kids around.

And an actual ball. Not the March Madness kind!

I'm surrounded by pixie dust and romance and no amount of Rambo quotes will help.

And then there's this woman who is annoying... until she's not.

But she IS impossible.

I'm doomed.

Luke

PS: Send high levels of testosterone my way to combat the romance. Or send a gunship.

PPS: Help me, Obi-Wan—you're my only hope.