Paytyn Wilcomb

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“You’re not at the bar tonight, or at the Barn? Won’t all your adoring fans—and by fans I mean girls—miss you?” “I’m sure they’ll survive,” he said dryly. It only made me smile wider. Cromwell pulled out onto the freeway. I frowned, wondering where we were going. “Can I put your radio on?” I asked.
A Wish for Us
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