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Yours, Mine...or Ours?

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2019
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And what if he couldn’t turn the inn around, make a go of it? Enthusiasm was all well and good, but the fact remained that he’d gone into this more or less blind. Oh, he’d taken a few courses and read everything he could get his hands on about running a bed-and-breakfast, but—

“Rudy?”

He blinked, then looked down into Violet’s round, flushed face, freckled in the unforgiving daylight, framed by a zillion coppery coils that skated and slid across the shoulders of that shapeless down coat. In the sunshine, she was…incredible, a Technicolor marvel of pale cream and deep pink and underside-of-the-leaf-green and a thousand shades of fire, and he had to literally order his hand not to lift to her face. Just long enough to ground him again, to remind him what it was like, to touch a woman. To yearn.


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