Bookomaniac

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Some part of her had managed to block the memory of how his voice sounded. Deep, the slightest bit gravelly, but the real killer was the soulful aspect to the way he spoke. Slow, focused—as if each word was intended for only you in the most intimate way possible. His voice moved through you, tugged at you . .
Deeper Than the Dead (Vera Boyett, #1)
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