“Hi!” a pretty blonde said as she passed me her copy of Like Whiskey. “I’m Darcy.” My attention was captured by the two unfairly gorgeous men bracketing her on each side. The one on her right, a ripped man with piercing eyes, had his hand on the small of her back. The man on the left had straps of muscle and a powerful presence. His hand was in her hair, mindlessly playing with it as they stood in line. Oh my god. Were all three of them together? I tamped down the desire to grab the little notebook Miles kept in the Annie Pack to scribble out ideas. I wanted to write this. “I see you brought
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