Remember going to a bachelor charity auction and bidding on the sexy Scottish bad boy of soccer for your supermodel boss from hell? But the press got it wrong and think you're the one who spending a ridiculous amount of money to go on a date with him?
No? Right, that was me. Seriously, how is this my life?
Now because of some PR nightmare he's in, Abbott and I are stuck going on a date of convenience. Because who doesn't want to root for the hot jock and the awkward chubby girl? My boss is so angry she's threatening to actually chew celery instead of simply drinking it, and I'm convinced there is not enough coffee in the world to make Mr. Grumpy Pants smile.
But something suspicious and confusing happens on our date...we have fun. And we kiss. A lot. That brogue of his talks me right out of my knickers, so do I believe him when he says this is real? Or is this all one big publicity stunt?
