Monday, September 26, 2016

An Artist's Kiss - Dark Desires series $DarkDesires #EroticRomance #BDSM

Please welcome back Suzy! She's here to tell us about her latest Dark Desires book An Artist's Kiss. Wow, what a gorgeous cover.

Give her a warm welcome, and be sure to leave a comment to show your love...

_________



An Artist’s Kiss
by Suzy Shearer


When artist Gabriel Milford, 47 wanted a plus-sized mature model he never expected to find the love of his life. Now he just needs to convince Isabella Coburn, 50 that they were meant to be together.

But Isabella has a terrible secret, a secret dark desire that she’s spent her life trying to ignore.


BLURB

Isabella Coburn, 50 left the nude modelling world years ago but Gabriel Milford, 47, needs a rubinesque older woman to pose for him. He's determined Issie will pose for him but she's equally determined not to.

Determined to win her over Gabriel does it the wrong way - he attempts blackmail then by forces his attentions on her. It’s only when she tries to sneak into his property that she finally agrees.

Isabella has had a secret since she was 19. One that she's only shared with one other person who treated her like she had the plague when she confessed it. Since then she considers herself perverted, sick, swearing off any involvement.

Now she’s running scared - she’s met the one man who makes her dark desires clamour to be free - desires that Gabriel would be only too willing to satisfy.

Can Gabriel convince her that she isn’t perverted? Will she finally accept who she is or will she continue to shun happiness the way she has for the past twenty years?

 [Siren Sensations: Erotic Consensual BDSM Romance, HEA]

A Siren Erotic Romance



STORY EXCERPT:  
Grimacing, Gabriel looked at the brush in his very paint-stained hands then angrily turned back to glare ferociously at Ian.
“What do you mean, you haven’t been able to get a model? There’s got to be thousands of women out there who pose,” he growled.
“True, but you said you wanted an older woman and most women models that age are just not plus-sized.”
Furiously Gabriel snarled loudly, “Well, find one!”
“Calm down, Gabriel. I’ve contacted Erica Jones’ agency. We’ve used her agency before although I’ve never actually met her. She’s got plus-sized models on her books but I think they’re in their twenties and thirties. Still, she said she might have or might know someone.”
“I don’t want someone young, Ian,” Gabriel snapped, sick of telling Ian the same thing over and over. “I told you I want someone in their forties or even older. I don’t care if she’s in her late sixties or seventies. I want a woman with character, a woman who’s lived.”
“Okay, okay. I get the picture!”
Gabriel threw down the paintbrush and, stomping angrily across to his easel, he tried to look critically at the painting as he fumed on Ian’s unsuccessful search. Surely it shouldn’t be this hard to find one damn model! Ignoring Ian for the moment, he turned his attention back to the huge canvas in front of him.
A foreshortened figure of a gaunt naked man, lying on his back with his head toward the viewer, filled the painting. Even though the strokes were broad and heavy there was still a slight softness about the work that created a sympathetic feel. The haunted face appeared as if the man were in pain. Maybe from being stretched out or maybe he was ill or tortured. Whatever the reason, it drew the viewer immediately and they felt the same hurt, the same agony. It was an uncomfortable piece but it certainly demanded attention.
There wasn’t much work left to do on it and he really wanted to get started on the female nude. He took a deep breath, inhaling the aromas of paint, linseed oil, and turpentine.
Without turning, Gabriel said gruffly, “Just find someone, Ian.”
“I will. For goodness’ sake, Gabe, relax,” Ian snapped a retort.
Surprised at the exasperated tone in Ian’s voice, Gabriel turned back and really looked at the man who was both friend and agent. Gabriel saw with surprise that Ian looked very upset but was still trying to calm Gabriel down. Ruefully he realised at once Ian would be doing everything he could to satisfy Gabriel’s request.
They’d been friends for so long, ever since Gabriel started making his name in the art world. It was then he’d realised he’d need an agent and found Ian’s agency. Ian worked with the three “As”—artists, actors, and authors. Gabriel knew how hard Ian worked to satisfy his clients. Now Gabriel felt awful for yelling and complaining.
“I’m sorry. It’s just I get caught up and…”
Ian sighed loudly.
“I know, Gabriel. Believe it or not, I do understand. Let’s face it, I’ve seen you working for years so I know a little of what goes on inside that thick head of yours.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words. “Just when were you planning on starting the nude?”
Gabriel looked back at the vast painting.
“This…” He pointed to the canvas. “It’s really finished. I just want to touch up a few areas so maybe next week. The client wants this ready in three weeks so I’m ahead of time. Anyway, I want to get plenty of sketches down on the female nude so I can decide exactly on the pose and size. Until I have a model, I really don’t know the pose.”
He hoped Ian could understand the frustration he felt. His mind was filled with dozens of ideas but until he had an actual woman in front of him he wouldn’t be able to decide. The pose would really depend on the woman, how the play of light and shadows affected her body, even the woman’s personality would play into his ideas.
“I’m meeting Erica Saturday night, a party with a few million people, anyway hopefully she tells me she’s found someone.”
“Thanks, Ian.”
“If she doesn’t have a model then there’s a good chance she’ll know an agency that might be able to help. Don’t worry, Gabe, I’ll find her for you.”
“Sorry I got angry. I know you’re doing your best.”
Gabriel reached out a hand to Ian as a peace offering.
© Suzy Shearer 2016

ADULT EXCERPT:

“Bedroom.”
She almost staggered up the stairs and led him along until turning into her bedroom. Making her stand still, he undid a few more buttons on her dress and then untied one hand so he could remove it and her bra. Once she was naked he looked around the room. There was another scarf hanging behind the door.
“Bend over.”
When she complied he moved her until she could rest her head and shoulders on the bed then he tied one hand to her ankle with the shawl then took the other scarf to do the same with the other side.
“Mmm, what a delightful view.”
Her wet shiny cunt beckoned him as he forced her legs apart. Before she could react he slapped her arse hard. Her quick intake of breath showed him it was exciting to her. With another slap to the other cheek she wriggled into it. Gabriel felt he could hit harder with the next couple and was rewarded with her moans of pleasure.
A ragged “more” was all she could manage.
Once her arse was nicely pinked from a dozen or so slaps he bent forward and bit.
“Argh… yes!” she shouted out with pleasure.
Using his fingers he reached under and pinched her breasts while biting down on her cheeks. She moaned, moving against his mouth, wanting more. Gabriel was over the moon. To meet this beautiful woman who liked things dark and hard like he did. He hoped she would let him show her more.
“What’s the word to make me stop, Issie?” he whispered in her ear.
“Red,” she gasped.
Smacking her bottom a few more times, he knelt then worked his fingers up and down her slit, spreading her hot juices between her clit and her rosy arsehole. With one hand he pinched her clit while the other began rubbing her rosette. He pushed a couple of fingers into her cunt while his thumb kept teasing at the hard nub of her clit.
When he felt her press against his hand he pushed his thumb into her arsehole. She gave a little groan of pain but he didn’t stop as he pushed it deep. Continuing to fuck her with his fingers, he kept moving his thumb in and out. With his face against her arse cheek, he bit down when he felt her muscles begin to contract.
Fucking her arse, her cunt and biting was all she needed. She screamed loud and he felt her orgasm pulsate through his fingers. It got him hard again so he withdrew his hands and pulled off his shoes, socks, and pants. Rummaging in his pocket, he got another condom then tore off his shirt. After rolling the condom on he gave her arse another hard smack then put his palm down on her back.
Roughly he pushed his cock into her cunt. Pumping in and out, he put one hand around her body so he could pull and press against her clit.
“Push against me, Issie, push hard.”
His cock felt so snug inside her. It felt like his dick was wrapped in a tight velvet glove as he felt her move back against him as he thrust in. He slammed forward, his balls slapping against her skin. Soon they were dancing together as he fucked that sexy cunt of hers.
“When you come I’m going to bite very hard,” he warned.
She grunted. He tweaked her clit and thrust in roughly and could feel her begin to tighten her muscles as her climax grew near. As soon as he felt it start he bit down hard on one rosy cheek at the same time he pressed her clit between his fingers.
Her screams echoed around the room. They echoed in Gabriel’s head. How could he explain what it did to him? The sight of her writhing in pleasure, her screams, they excited him. They took his own pleasure into the stratosphere. The knowledge that it was the things he had done to her that had her this way. More than just a huge ego-boost, it was almost overpowering.
 As he continued pumping in and out Gabriel felt himself ready to burst so he thrust in as deep and hard as he could, holding her against his cock until he came. Her tight channel milked him dry as the last reverberation of her orgasm began to fade.
Spent, he pulled out and quickly untied her, lifting her so she was lying on the bed. There was a bathroom attached to the bedroom so he used it and found a cloth to clean Isabella with.
She lay curled up on the bed and let him wash her. When he returned from the bathroom the second time he gathered her in his arms and settled them in the bed, pulling the warm quilt over them both.
“Beautiful Issie,” he murmured. “You’re so wonderful.”
© Suzy Shearer 2016



An Artist’s Kiss is book 4 in the Dark Desires series.

This series is about the secret cravings we have, the things that go on behind closed doors. Those dark desires we harbour and crave but sometimes afraid to ask for.

Each book in the series is a stand-alone so the books can be read in any order.


E-BOOKS OUT NOW
The Club series
The Club: Bound
The Club 2: Uncollared  
The Club 3: Waxed
The Club 4: Displayed
The Club 5: Submit
The Club 6: Unmasked

The Hunters series
A Hunter's Heart - Book 1
A Hunter’s Choice - Book 2
A Hunter’s Challenge - Book 3

Dark Desires series
(each book is a standalone)
Whipped Delights           
Craving Her Master        
Melting Her Dom’s Heart
An Artist’s Kiss

Single Titles
Daemons Are Forever
Build a Love
Perfect Three                                                   
PAPERBACKS OUT NOW
Vol 1 - The Club (Bound and Uncollared)
A Hunter’s Heart
A Hunter’s Choice
A Hunter’s Challenge
Perfect Three
Daemons Are Forever
Build A Love
Whipped Delights Craving Her Master

LINKS - WHERE TO FIND SUZY:                                                                  


LINKS WHERE TO BUY:
Angus & Robertson (Aust): http://ow.ly/CxcGa
Bookworld (Aust): Bookworld






BIO:
Best-selling and Award winning author Suzy Shearer writes contemporary and paranormal erotic romances filled with mature and interesting characters. Her books have consistently reached her publisher's Best Seller list with several reaching # 1.  Her book Build A Love was runner-up in the Ménage category in the Easy Chair Bookshop's Fiction competition 2015 and A Hunter's Heart was runner-up in the Series Category.
Single, Suzy lives in the Western Suburbs of Sydney Australia with one very spoilt dog and two equally spoilt cats keeping her company.
She is a Buddhist, an Author, an Artist, a computer nerd and a voracious reader. Suzy has a penchant for crazy coloured hair - pinks, purples blues even rainbowed.... it changes every month - oh yes, also a penchant for tattoos!
Her books always feature older heroes and heroines; ranging from mid-40s to 60s. The heroines are usually confident plus-sized women who are proud of their curves. Suzy feels it's important for readers to connect. 
When she discovered many romance books seemed to cater for younger readers with their heroines and heroes in the 20s she decided to write about characters who were older but maybe not always wiser.  As she is in her 60s Suzy feels she can relate to her characters desires, fears and hopes and hopes her readers can as well.
Suzy also wants her readers to understand just because people are older doesn't mean they aren't intriguing, desirable, open to challenges and willing to experiment. Sexy isn't just for the under 30s.
When Suzy is not writing, she is usually painting - an accomplished watercolour Artist her subjects range from portraits and animals to nudes and landscapes. Check out her artwork at: http://sooziiiart.blogspot.com/


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Sunday, September 25, 2016

99¢ each - Wicked Whispers & Passionate Pursuit - full length historical romances #TinaDonahue #HistoricalRomance #99¢Sale

September 25 - November 6

Wicked Whispers & Passionate Pursuit 99¢ Each

Dangerous Desires series - warrior knights & the women they simply can't tame


AMAZON - AMAZON UK - BN - KOBO - iTUNES - GOOGLE PLAY

Blurb:

Follow the heart through darkness…

As the Inquisition gains force, even the faintest rumor can brand one a heretic. In this world it is Sancha's gift--or curse--to be blessed with the gift of healing. But the villagers are in need of her arts more than ever, and she feels it is her duty to help them at the risk of losing her life. And at the sacrifice of her heart…

Enrique has never wanted a woman as he does Sancha. Determined to have her love, he woos her with exquisite passion, giving her refuge to pursue her healing in secret. But their very desire and escape from the ruthless forces of the world may be their undoing. And together, they must pit themselves against a jealous rival and archaic tradition to secure their place in a hopeful new dawn…


Excerpt:

He looked at her. “Never have I met women like you.”
She inclined her head slightly to concede his point. “Now you understand why I said you must find another more in accord with your needs.”
“I want no one but you.”
“Enrique.”
He’d cupped her face, his thumb skimming her bottom lip. Her mouth tingled. Her breath spilled out on a wanting sigh at the tenderness and desire in his expression.
He reined in his gelding and lowered his mouth to hers.
She couldn’t fight him. Didn’t want to. The night was perfect for love, their attraction too intense, his kiss soft and searching at first then filled with raw male need, his tongue slipping into her mouth.
Sancha sagged against him, suckling his tongue as though she’d been born for the task, loving his clean flavor, his strong caress.
With the reins in one hand, he eased his other beneath her shirt, fingertips grazing her skin, hand cupping her naked breast.
She should have pulled away, told him to stop. Trembling with unbearable need, she opened her mouth even more to his tongue, inviting him to invade her deeply, intoxicated by his scent and strength.
Emboldened by her willing surrender, he dragged his thumb over her nipple, making the tip even harder. She ached for him in a way she couldn’t deny. All her life others had told her how sinful lust was. For her to avoid it at all cost. A woman’s purity was worth more than love. Passion could fade in a moment. Chastity alone proved a female’s honor the same as valor did with a man.
She’d never doubted those truths, having rarely thought of them until now.
Within Enrique’s embrace, she was complete for the first time, even though they had no future. Somehow, this moment and a few others seemed enough. On some level, she knew her sentiments were wrong. A better woman would fight for what was right, denying herself and him.
She gripped Enrique’s thigh, not wanting him to stop. Her touch seemed to excite him even more. He tore his mouth free and lifted her shirt, exposing her breasts to the ebbing moon and night air. The cool breeze skipped lightly against her feverish skin. His mouth was hot and damp on her throat.



_________




Blurb:


Is their passion strong enough to break her chains?

Andalucía Spain, 1489: Innocent Beatriz is desperate to escape the threat of a miserable marriage to a cruel Marquis. Forced into the betrothal by her ruthless merchant papá, her only hope is to conceal her identity and become a servant in a nearby castlea life drastically different from her comfortable upbringing.

Tomás doesn’t know what to make of his well-spoken new servant girl. Her beauty and charm captivates the military hero; her mysterious nature intrigues himAnd the desire she ignites burns brighter with each glance, as does his longing to claim her for his own.

Beatriz can’t resist Tomás’ passion nor deny the heat of her own. But neither the lush countryside nor the walls of the opulent Moorish castle can entirely protect her—and if he were to discover her secret, she could be torn away from him forever. Yet how can she sustain his love if she’s living a lie?


Excerpt:

Tomás slumped in his chair. A lone candle barely illuminated his desk, leaving his study in shadows. The hour was late, moon high, silvery rays bleeding around the window screen. His guests were finally in their bedchambers, asleep or devising plans to trap him.

He hardly cared anymore. To have these few seconds without them was a relief, though he didn’t want to be alone, and wouldn’t be for long if history proved him correct.

He relaxed as much as he could, waiting, wanting.

Light tapping sounded in the hall. Beatriz’s footfalls, as he’d expected.

Each workday before retiring, she came to his study to dust and straighten up. At least he supposed that’s what she did in here. He’d always waited in another chamber to hear her leave. Once she had, he’d return, hoping to catch her clean scent.

Sometimes he did. Most often, he did not.

Knowing her schedule, he took to straightening up before she arrived, hoping to ease her burden so she could go to bed sooner. Even with his efforts, she often spent close to an hour in here. Perhaps curled up in his chair, napping, because she preferred his study to the servant quarters or she might have simply roamed the room, touching the fine leather, books, and other items she’d never have.

The silver door handle lowered. Tomás sat up. She slipped inside and closed them in, secluded from everyone else on earth.

He held his breath.

Candle and dust cloth in hand, she crossed the space, glanced his way, and stopped abruptly.

He smiled, aching to see her return his greeting the same as she had earlier at the window. What a moment. No riches or position could replace the desire, acceptance, and pure joy he’d seen on her lovely face then.

Gone now. She was back to being a servant, curious or cautious as to why he was in his own study at such an odd hour.

“Forgive me for startling you. I had things to do in here.” He wasn’t about to explain what they might be.

For him to admit he wanted to be her friend, as he’d considered earlier, would be reckless. She might laugh or think him mad. Best he approached the subject carefully. “Go on, tend to your duties.” He lit five more candles so she could see easily. “If you need me to move from my desk, say the word. I shall obey your command immediately.”

She lowered her face, though not before he caught her smile. His mood soared.

“I can return later.” She pivoted.

He stood. “If you leave, so will I. Do you want to drive me from my work?”

She stopped, but didn’t face him. “Never.” After putting down her candle, she hurried to the bookcase and swiped at the shelves. “If you want me to stay, I will. Whatever you wish.”
Ah, more wishes. Tomás sank back to his chair. If only she knew what he had in mind for them, past friendship, of course. Evenings, afternoons, and every morning filled with the most wanton delights, them naked, laughing, loving.

She looked over.

He grabbed a book from his desk and flipped a page. The moment she resumed her work, he turned the book right side up. He read the first line several times, not understanding a word, and gave up.

She dusted the bookshelf, removed a volume, scanned the other spines, then inserted the book she held in another location.

Where the text should have been from the start.

She’d done so effortlessly, without pause or forethought. The same as him, not an illiterate servant.

He considered the titles he had on the shelves. “You come in here every night you work, no?”

She nodded, her back still to him.

“I seem to have lost one of my volumes.” He stated the title. “Have you seen the book in here? I looked earlier, but have yet to find the thing anywhere.”

“Here it is.” She pulled the edition off the shelf and had nearly reached him when she stopped, her face horrified at what she’d revealed.

Tomás wagged a finger playfully. “You can read. I thought so.”

She put the book on his desk and backed away. “Only a few words. Titles mainly.”
“Of Spanish history?” He gestured to the volume she’d brought to him. “And agriculture?” He pointed to the book she’d relocated on the shelf. “How odd you learned those things, not merely a few passages from the Bible as most would.”

“I must return to my work.”

“Wait. I insist.”

She faced him but squared her shoulders, her stance surprisingly defiant.

He had no idea why. He wanted to talk to her, hopefully kiss her, not fight. “Who taught you to read? Your secret is safe. I promise never to tell anyone.”

She certainly hadn’t. At least not in this castle, since he would have heard about her skill from Nuncio in the most negative way possible. Odd that she’d keep such an ability hidden. Not that Tomás intended to question her. With her previous fight gone, she reminded him of a frightened doe, ready to dart away.

“Come.” He pulled a box chair over and patted the leather seat. “Sit. Tell me about your teacher.”

“I have nothing to tell. My father taught me before he passed.”

“Your father from the same village where your mother resides?” All of them supposedly peasants, yet they knew how to read.

She twisted her cloth. “He was a baker with a small amount of money to his name. He loved to read and taught me the skill, even though I have no use for such things.”

“Do you read in here after you dust?” Surely, books were what had kept her inside the room so long. “Tell me which volume you like best.”

She made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan.

“I promise never to tell anyone. Come, sit. Talk to me.”

“Will I still have my position here if I do?”

“Of course. Dust never goes away for long as you well know.”

She laughed softly and sank into the chair, but remained perched on the edge.

“Go on and lean back.” He gestured encouragement.

She remained where she was. “Señor Nuncio would rail at me if he saw this.”

“Saw what?”

“Me sitting in one of your chairs.”

“Better than the floor, no?”

She worked her mouth trying hard not to smile.

He wished she would. “I have no plans to tell Nuncio anything that might give him another gray hair, wrinkle, or push him closer to the grave. Do you?”

She laughed. “I think not. The volume I enjoy most is Cantar del Mio Cid.”

Tomás couldn’t have been more delighted. The epic poem detailed Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar’s exploits during the early days of Spain’s Reconquista. “The book is my favorite too. We can share his adventures together. Where did you stop in his tale? Wait. Have you finished the story?”

“Not at all. I was about to begin the part where El Cid plans to conquer Valencia.”

“We shall do so together.” He fetched the poem and offered the volume to her. “Read to me, please.”

She took the book reluctantly. “I can only manage titles.”

He laughed at her teasing, liking her ready wit, the way she already treated him as a friend. He brought over two candles to give her enough light. “Pretend every line is a title. Your duty now is to read to me.”

“For how long? I still have to dust.”

“After we finish with El Cid, I can help.”

She laughed throatily.

“You doubt my ability?” He feigned insult. “How can you? I have the combined skill of three dozen servants, the stamina of twenty men, and the dedication of every zealot on earth.”
“Someone should write an epic poem about you.”

He laughed so hard his belly hurt, tears stinging his eyes. “Go on.” He gestured. “Read.”

She did, flawlessly, her skill as great as his, a nobleman. Or her father’s, the baker.

Tomás had never met one educated in anything other than making bread, cakes, and such, along with having the most elementary knowledge of reading and mathematics to operate a business.

However, since he’d spent most of his days battling Moors, his understanding of those who lived in the villages was limited, even the ones he now owned. In years past, the only time he’d stepped foot in those places was after the Moors had raided them. With the destruction he and his soldiers had faced, there hadn’t been time to get to know the people.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake with Beatriz.

Her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks from the candlelight, the glow adding a touch of gold to her complexion. Her lips caressed the words she read, the movement bewitching, beckoning him to taste her mouth.

He resisted.

She turned the page. Her hands were lovely and quite pale, despite the work she did here. She bore no healed burns from hot pans in her father’s bakeshop, nor had washing pots there left her skin red and raw. Tending a feeble mother hadn’t harmed her beauty, either.
With Beatriz here, her mamá had no one to care for her, unless another relative handled the task or Beatriz paid someone. Given her reading skills, she should have gone to one of the large cities, rather than staying in the countryside. In a more populated area, she might have found work as a tutor for a prosperous family, earning far more.

He might never have met her.

She was here now, tending to him, reading a story they both loved, sitting close. He touched her arm.

She stopped reading.

He smiled softly, unable to help himself, his soul and heart bared to her. Although she was one of the loveliest women he’d ever known, he liked her as a person, enjoying her voice and laugh, how she looked at him with wonder and desire, no different than his passion for her.

He cupped her face. The book slipped from her grasp and hit the floor. He brushed his mouth over hers. She inhaled sharply, her hand on his chest.

He slanted his mouth over hers and parted her lips with his tongue, entering her, tasting sweet moisture, reveling in the clean, fresh flavor. The finest food had never been better. He had to have more and angled his mouth for greater penetration, his tongue probing deeper.
Beatriz suckled him.

They tried to get closer to each other, their chair legs scraping the floor. Tomás cupped her breast. She moaned around his tongue and wreathed her arm over his shoulder. Her tunic and gown were frustrating barriers, her erect nipple covered by too much cloth. He ran his thumb over the tightened tip, wanting the garments off, her bared to him.

His kiss grew heated and uncontrolled. He pulled off her cap to little avail. She’d coiled her hair in a braid, the style difficult for him to take down.

He had to try, and fumbled for the first pin.

She pulled her mouth free, desire and shock on her face.

“Beatriz.”

On her feet, she backed away, then returned and swiped her cap off the floor. “I have to go.”

He stood. “I meant no harm.”

“I know.” She shoved the cap on her head.

The silly thing was askew. He set about straightening it. She twisted away and grabbed her cloth.

“Wait.” He stood between her and the door. “Was our kiss so awful?”

Tears shone in her eyes. “How can you ask such a thing?”

“I want to know if you enjoyed me as much as I did you.”

“You know I did.” She approached so quickly, he took an instinctive step back. “How could I not?”

He grinned.

She moaned. “I have to go.”

“When will I see you again?”

“Like this?” She gestured to the room, her eyes wide and wild. “Never. If Nuncio caught me here, he would make me pay dearly for my indiscretion.”

“Our kiss was hardly your indiscretion. It was our shared pleasure. You seem to have forgotten this is my castle, not his. Ignore him. I want to see you again and have you read to me every night.”

She frowned. “No. Never ask again.”

“Ask? As I said, this is my castle. I give the orders.”

“Not to me.” She pushed past him, opened the door, and ran down the hall.








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