Diana Kalaf

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Gemma took three steps out into the hall before she turned on her heel. “Hey, Tansy?” “Hmm?” “You have nice shoulders.” Gemma’s eyes danced over Tansy’s exposed collarbone, lingering on her décolletage. “You should show ’em off more often.” Tansy smothered a smile as she shut the door. Maybe she would.
The Fiancée Farce
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