Kalli Kimble

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I had forgotten what it was like to be watched when speaking—not stared at, not looked at, but regarded. From the way his chin dipped to fully consume my vocalized thoughts to the precise manner of his gaze never leaving my lips in order to catch every word. It almost made me trip on the smooth pavement.
Picking Daisies on Sundays (Picking Daisies on Sundays, #1)
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