Blue Beaver

I'm Charlotte, a fashion blogging, endo warrior (if you know, you know. If you don't, buckle up). If devoting my life to fashion has taught me anything, it's that flannel was never a good choice. But it turns out, I was wrong. Very wrong.

The first time I met Elijah he told me I was insane and I called him a lunatic. Then he came to my rescue, like a knight dressed in flannel, and I had to eat my words. Apparently, not all country folk are serial killers intent on feeding you to their pigs. Who knew?

Never in a million years did I imagine myself lusting after a dead sexy, flannel-clad, llama farmer. There's no way it would ever happen. Me, flannel, and llamas, do not mesh. But the guy is basically perfect. He’s tall, built like a greek god, and kisses me like he was born to do it.

Too bad he’s currently sharing his bed with Satan’s Mistress—I mean—Delilah, his baby rescue llama. And she hates my guts.