Kaja Salsman

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“I’m going to open up the store,” she told me as we stepped inside the house. I started to protest but she held up a hand. “If my head hurts, I’ll come home. I promise.” I nodded, my mouth set in a firm line. She had referred to my place as home, and that might have been the only reason I let it go.
The Wrong Mr. Right (Queen's Cove, #2)
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