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๐๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ ๐๐ช๐ด๐ต๐ณ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด ๐๐ถ๐ญ๐ช๐ฆ,
๐ ๐ธ๐ข๐ฏ๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฐ๐จ๐ช๐ป๐ฆ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ข๐ฏ๐บ ๐ง๐ณ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ฅ๐ช๐ด๐ต๐ณ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด ๐ ๐ฎ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ข๐ฅ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ญ๐บ ๐ค๐ข๐ถ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ. ๐ ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ฏโ๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฌ ๐ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ, ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต ๐ซ๐ถ๐ด๐ต ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ค๐ข๐ด๐ฆ. ๐ ๐ฅ๐ช๐ฅ๐ฏโ๐ต ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ณ๐บ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐จ๐ช๐ง๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ด๐ฆ.
๐๐ง ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถโ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ช๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฐ ๐ ๐ข๐ฎ, ๐ ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ธ๐ช๐ญ๐ญ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ต.
๐ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ๐ฏโ๐ต ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ข๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฎ๐บ๐ด๐ฆ๐ญ๐ง ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ค๐ข๐ถ๐ด๐ฆ ๐โ๐ท๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ด๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฌ. ๐๐ง ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฌ. ๐๐ถ๐ต ๐โ๐ฎ ๐ต๐ช๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฉ๐ช๐ฅ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ.
๐โ๐ญ๐ญ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ต ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ช๐ด ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐น๐ต ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ฅ๐ข๐บ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ข ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ ๐ฃ๐บ ๐ฎ๐บ๐ด๐ฆ๐ญ๐ง. ๐โ๐ญ๐ญ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ข ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ฆ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ๐ด ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ. ๐๐ง ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ซ๐ฐ๐ช๐ฏ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฎ๐ฆ, ๐ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ต๐ณ๐บ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ณ๐ท๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ. ๐๐ง ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต, ๐ ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ. ๐ ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฆ, ๐ข๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ข๐ด๐ต, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐โ๐ท๐ฆ ๐จ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ข๐ด๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ข๐ด๐ต ๐บ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ.
๐ ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ๐ด, ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฎ๐ช๐ณ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ.
Bracing his elbows on the table, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eye sockets, taking several deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down. This was feeling more and more like a mistake every second. Why hadnโt he thought through all the possible repercussions before walking in here?
Because I was too focused on how Mistress Julie, I forgot to think about everyone else.
Maybe not forgot so much as pushed it out of his mind. Because heโd wanted to roll the dice and see what happened if he revealed himself. See if the fantasies he had in his head matched up with reality.
He should go.
Dropping his hands down he lifted his headโฆ and found himself looking at the woman herself, standing on the other side of the table. She looked stunning, in a blue shirt and black skirt, her long hair pulled back up way from her face in a bun, with two sticks that had little dangly decorations hanging from them stuck through it. With him sitting down in the booth, they were about the same height, and her gaze pierced him as she tilted her head, like she was wondering what he was doing thereโฆ or maybe just wondering why he appeared to be having a meltdown.
He felt a moment of panic.
She did realize he was there to meet her, right?
Or would it be better if she didnโt, and he could just pretend all of this never happened?
Read the FIRST CHAPTER today!
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Golden Angel is a USA Today best-selling author and self-described bibliophile with a "kinky" bent who loves to write stories for the characters in her head. If she didn't get them out, she's pretty sure she'd go just a little crazy.
She is happily married, old enough to know better but still too young to care, and a big fan of happily-ever-afters, strong heroes and heroines, and sizzling chemistry.
When she's not writing, she can often be found on the couch reading, in front of her sewing machine making a new cosplay, hanging out with her friends, or wandering the Maryland Renaissance Fair.
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