Sherrey Smith

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“Attaaaa,” she sang. “Oh, Ariatne, dearest!” Emmy’s head popped in Atta’s doorway, her face set in theatrical despair. “The rain is absolutely gushing from the clouds. If I go to the library to study on my own, I’ll die. Please join me.”
The Exorcism of Faeries (Morbid Realities, #1)
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