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Spurlock grew cold. But Spurlock was ever on guard, even when she fussed over his hair. It probably still wouldn’t help. gutenberg. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud.
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