Sarah Ziemann

12%
Flag icon
My head snaps up when a bulky ass bag is slowly set onto the tabletop. I follow the pasty hand that hesitates to let the thing go to find a pale-skinned brunette with bed head and that oversized sweater I remembered sliding into the seat across from me. Ever the patient guy, I wait for her to say hi, make eye contact or acknowledge my presence in some way, but she doesn’t.
Dirty Curve
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview