![]() ![]() Who was I kidding? Everything about him worked for me, and I’d spent two weeks fantasizing about getting him to work for me in my king-sized bed, or possibly up against a wall. Ditto the old blue t-shirt stretched over his broad chest and his wavy, rumpled dark brown hair. The unshaven cheeks and chin worked for him too. Somehow they worked for him, along with the black jacket that made his shoulders look freaking enormous. Who even wore jeans like that? Where did you buy them, lacking a time machine? I had no idea. Such long, muscular legs, encased in unfashionable medium-blue jeans. I only had eyes for the guy I’d been checking out for a couple of weeks now. ![]() ![]() ![]() But my usual section, science, didn’t have a good view of true crime.Īnd the book didn’t matter anyway. I watched him from the shelter of world religions, peeking over the top of a book that might or might not be about Buddhism. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.įor the third time that week, Hot Scruffy Leather Jacket Dude stood by the true crime shelf, holding the latest bestseller in the genre and shaking his head slowly as he leafed through it. It is an original work that is published by Heart Eyes Press LLC. This book was inspired by the True North Series written by Sarina Bowen. ![]()
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