jen

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Fuck, I loved him. I loved him so much and he didn’t even have the decency to tell me straight up I wasn’t his fated mate. “What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from breaking. Finally, he looked up from his book. “Brie.” Brie, not Lamb.
That Time I Got Drunk and Yeeted a Love Potion at a Werewolf (Mead Mishaps, #2)
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