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I’m sick of being the good girl.
I was blindsided. The man in front of me was a stranger and not the person who’d been my rock and best friend for almost a quarter of a century. The only certainty I’d had in life was Dave.
She’ll be eighteen in December, officially an adult, but to me she looks like a lost little girl.
It’s not just his looks or that he exudes sex; it’s his allure.
He gets off on overpowering vulnerable women desperate to be desired.
There’s no guarantee of tomorrow. We never know when our last conversation with someone might be.
Revenge isn’t in my blood. Justice is.
Twin flames might smolder, but they never extinguish.

