theresa goodwin

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“We might have to invite them to our wedding.” My heart thumped hard as my feet hit the ground. “Our what?” He pointed to the sky, and I followed the line of his finger. And gasped—there in the sky was a small airplane with a banner behind it that read Felicity, will you marry me? Stunned, I looked at Hutton, who’d gone down on one knee.
Tease (Cloverleigh Farms, #8)
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