Gabrielle Albasini

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I’m scrolling through my phone when I feel a hand land on my waist. I squeeze the handles of my bag and turn around, ready to smash the idiot in his head with it, but I find Mikhail standing before me. “I guess I should announce myself next time, or risk bodily harm.” His mouth curves up slightly.
Broken Whispers (Perfectly Imperfect, #2)
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