theresa goodwin

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Without thinking, I race into his arms, flinging my arms around his neck. “I’ve been worried sick,” I tell him. He gently lifts my chin, urging me to meet his gaze. “I could get used to this kind of welcome.” He chuckles, pulling back from our embrace and pressing a kiss to my lips. “I missed you, Presley.”
If You Give a Grump a Holiday Wishlist (Aspen Grove #0.5)
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