Savannah Sauls

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“Do me a favor,” he says, his voice sounding low and husky, though I’m sure he’s practically shouting to be heard. Maybe it’s the wild look in his eyes that seems to color how his words hit me. “Turn around.” “What?” His smile melts away, his eyes blue flames as he stares. “I want to see you wearing my name.”
A Groom of One's Own (Appies, #3)
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