Kayla Driscoll

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When she comes stomping out, she’s got an armful of clothes that she shoves into my chest. “I need a bag.” I glance down at the huge pile and start counting all the pieces. “This is too much shit, woman.” She gives me a look so chilling it might actually make my balls shrivel. I clear my throat. “I meant, I’ll make this shit fit.”
Goldfinch (The Plated Prisoner, #6)
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