Accidentally married? Impossible, right? Have I got tea to spill.
I mean, who wouldn’t take the opportunity to go on a safari in the Serengeti? Wait—I’m getting ahead of myself.
To sum up: With things going wrong at home, I needed a change. A break to figure out my life. So naturally, I’d quit my job, emptied my bank account, and set off on an adventure of a lifetime. On my first day in Paris, I met Blake. A charming, handsome, and as it turned out, unbelievably wealthy man who’d swept me off my feet. We’d toured the continent together and before I knew it, I’d fallen for him. Fallen hard.
After Europe, we’d decided to keep the fun going by making a spur-of-the-moment trip to Africa. Safari? Yes, please.
A family emergency called him back to the States, and that was when things changed. Three months passed before I’d heard from him. When I did, it was to tell me that we’d accidentally gotten married during a ceremony involving a semi-nomadic tribe and that he’d stayed away because of family issues. But his grandfather’s will had a no-divorce clause. Blake didn’t want a divorce. He’d fallen for me, too. And if I decided to stay married, I’d be entitled to half his inheritance which would make me an incredibly wealthy woman.
The problem: Blake’s older brother was running for president and I was a middle-class Detroit girl. We didn’t run in the same circles, and because of that, his mother was determined to break us up. Oh—and I’d found out I was pregnant. Talk about terrible timing with Blake stuck out on the campaign trail all because of a scandal his mother had orchestrated.
So I find myself in need of another fresh start. But do I want my baby raised in a broken home? Now I have money. Blake still has my heart. His family won’t change. Do I have it in me to fight for us? For our family? For our future? Welcome to my marriage (red, white ) blues.
