Rebeca Ortiz

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“Get out of his bed!” I hiss, but the damn things are strong. I try to get them off, but they pull right out of my grasp again and continue doing barrel rolls. With an exasperated sigh, I lean over and shove my hands beneath the blankets, grabbing hold of the ribbons like a twenty-four stranded rope. 
Rebeca Ortiz
Ribbons have more sense than she does
Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)
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