Fairytale Come Alive

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“You’re a fisherman,” Carver Austin said, his voice filled with derision, even his lip was curled.

Prentice Cameron could not believe this bloke.

His eyes moved from Austin to Elle.

The minute he’d walked into Fergus McFadden’s home in answer to Elle’s father’s summons and laid eyes on Elle, Prentice knew something was wrong.

She wasn’t wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Her lustrous, light brown hair wasn’t falling free down her back or pulled to the top of her head in a haphazard knot. Her hazel eyes weren’t shining with mischief or humor or happiness.

Instead, her usually thick, wavy hair was smoothed back in a neat ponytail at the nape of her neck and falling in a long sleek column down her back. Not a wild, riotous wave in sight.

Prentice loved her soft, beautiful, unruly hair; he thought it defined her perfectly.

She was also, he had noticed immediately, wearing makeup, which she never did because she didn’t need it.

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