Falling for my half-sister’s fiancé is the ultimate cliché. Yet here I am, swooning like a rom-com heroine over his model-worthy hair and his scruffy-beard-covered jawline.
It’s not like I’m actively trying to steal him away. And she’s not the type to give up easily. But I’m pretty sure we’re on the fast-track to knock-down, drag-out family dinners.
Wrong place, wrong time? No good deed goes unpunished? How else can I describe being blackmailed into popping the question?
Oh, yeah: I’m a sucker.
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