Julia

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This is getting real, so I scramble for an excuse. “I’m not going to pull my laptop out at the bar like a dork.” Hayden holds my gaze as his hand drifts toward his jacket zip, and I cough out a laugh. He grins, wiggling his eyebrows, making the message clear. Show us the models or I’ll show them the picture of you on my shirt.
The Wingman (Vancouver Storm, #3)
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