Loved by You Read Online Free

guys. I’m really appreciative that you want to spend all this time working with me, but I don’t necessarily think my image needs fixing. Why not let the playing speak for itself? I mean, I’ve been doing fine and working hard. Isn’t that enough to get people on board with me?”
    The guys exchanged glances before Mickey tilted his head at me. “You’re right. Your skills are amazing—”
    “But your skills are only part of the equation,” Rich said. Why did this guy keep cutting in on what Mickey was saying? “We’ll get you the other part. This is maybe even the most valuable part. People need to see you. Know you. The best players have the skills yes, but they also got the people’s favor. How a player does that, gets people to root for them, is by making the people feel like they know them. In this case, we want people to feel like they know you. That you’re touchable. Not so far away. This is why we need to get you out there in front of them. On their T.V.s and in their magazines.”
    He patted my shoulder. “By the time I’m done, everyone will want a piece of Griffin Chandler.”
    I completely got what they were saying, and I wanted to be a successful player. I really did, but in the back of my mind I knew that would take even more hours than I was putting in already. And more hours, meant more balancing of my personal life.
    In other words, more complications placed on my time Roxie.
     

 

    “Zo, as you can zee, we can make your day bootiful!” said the planner, giving me her most toothy grin.
    She also happened to be very French.
    Tugging on my ear, I let the restaurant owner know I was done. He told me to do that when I was ready for the next wedding planner to come in. Originally, the tug communication signaled a time check between the owner and me. Each presenter was allotted thirty minutes with me and I feared their time running into each other. The awesome host that he was, the owner instructed me to tug my ear and he’d raise his fingers to give me a time update, but after seeing how well (I was using that term loosely) the interviewers had been panning out he said to just give a tug when I needed an out.
    His rescue went a little something like this…
    The man with graying hair and wire-framed spectacles swept into the room. Clasping his hands together, he said, “Time for the next presenter, Ms. Peterson.”
    Thank God for this man.
    Genuine took on a new definition with my smile to the French woman. I made sure of it. This woman no doubt took lots of time with her presentation and she deserved respect. “Griffin and I will be in contact,” I told her. We probably wouldn’t, but I didn’t want to be rude.
    Her attendant didn’t come fast enough to collect the six-foot wide presentation boards surrounding me like a cage. A card embossed with white writing pressed into my hand when she shook it in departure, replacing her in her wake.
    Fleur de Le Event Planning , the card said just as French and elegant as she.
    After pocketing it, I threw my head back, my eyes closed as I took a much-needed breath. I didn’t like this. Already I didn’t and I’d only been planning for this wedding a day. Griffin and I still had at least a year of all this planning business, or I guess me since I told him this could be my project. I said I could handle it, and I still believed I could but…
    These people had their own thoughts, their own plans for our big day. I really wasn’t asked my opinion on anything, but told what they’d be doing and how. One woman even said if I chose her service Griffin and my wedding would be guaranteed the cover of US Weekly. Their agendas started to bleed through like heavy ink to paper. I didn’t really feel like these people were on my team. They were supposed to help me plan , not make me dizzy with ice sculptures, numbers, and names of decorative flowers I couldn’t even pronounce let alone make a decision about.
    My eyes popped open to the sounds