Mac Rose

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I blink, and a tall brunette walks into the kitchen with purposeful strides. When she looks up from the stack of napkins she’s holding, she stops in her tracks. Her eyes meet mine, and I swallow. “Hi,” I say. “Hello,” she answers, and I take a good look at her. I swear I haven’t seen her before. I’d remember her if I did.
Slap Shot (D.C. Stars, #3)
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