But He's My Fake Fiancé (But He's a Carter Brother #3)

by Annah Conwell

I do, big time. But if she likes the marshmallows, I’ll eat the mushy cardboard-tasting bits.

Her hazel eyes are a kaleidoscope of green, gold and brown, shining bright with excitement. The wind has tousled her hair into something wild that begs for my fingers to be tangled in it. And her smile–wow her smile. It’s the kind of thing poets spend their whole lives trying to capture into words. But their efforts are in vain. No words could ever do this–do her–justice.