Deborah Gutteridge

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“No worries. Just make sure you tell your friend. I wouldn’t want to kill her over a misunderstanding.” I chuckle. Don scrunches up his nose and tilts his head to the side. “You’re remarkably straightforward, and a little strange,” he comments hesitantly. “Astute observation. We have to run along now.
Some Kind of Monster (Friends with the Monsters, #2)
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