Stephanie Sutherland

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“Honey, I’m home,” I whisper, but it’s pointless. Daisy bounds across the hardwood floor, her paws—which seem like they’re growing an inch a day—clapping loudly against the floor. I close the door behind me, then lift the spoiled princess up, hugging her close. “How was your night? Were you good for Momma?”
Face Off (Seattle Serpents, #2)
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