Abi Dunklin

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Whenever Bishop walked into a room, I gravitated toward him, keenly aware of his every move. If he glanced my way in a crowd, I felt his gaze like static skittering along my skin. It was something I’d shrugged off as an annoyance. Of course, I knew where the most aggravating person I’d ever met was.
Through the Dust (Black Springs Ranch, #2)
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