Olga

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“Apologies, ma’am. I seem to have misplaced my alarm clock.” Her broad face scrunches up. “Your what?” “My…” I cough. “My, um…” How do Victorians wake up, if they haven’t invented alarm clocks? “Apologies, ma’am,” I repeat. “’Twill not happen again.”
A Rip Through Time (A Rip Through Time #1)
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