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The Dark Elf Trilogy: Homeland (The Dark Elf Trilogy #1) The Notebook (The Notebook #1)

She rolled her eyes, but he reached for her hand and pulled her into him. Talk to me, he said.

Pita just stared at him censurably with those deep blue eyes.Finding a can opener took a while, making him realize something a little startling. He’d lived here for going on six months now and though it was by far his favorite property he’d ever owned . . . he’d not ever really moved in. Yes, he had all his stuff here but that wasn’t much. He’d moved around frequently over the years, from one property to the next as he fixed them up and sold them, so he’d gotten good at traveling light.

Fierce Obsessions (The Phoenix Pack #6)

Once he got his hands on a can opener, he waved it triumphantly at Pita, who looked distinctly unimpressed. He opened the can and dumped it into another bowl and set it in front of her.She froze and then sniffed it with the caution of a royal food-taster.It’s albacore, he said. The good stuff.

Dread Nemesis of Mine (Overworld Chronicles #4)

She gave it another brief sniff and then turned and walked away.He stared after her. Seriously? You lick your own ass but turn your nose up at fucking tuna?

He was still staring after her in disbelief when his cell phone rang. Keane Winters, he snapped, not reading the display. Cat for sale.

There was a long pause.Of course they do.

He leans back and takes a bite of his muffin. So, Ms. Observant, what was your first impression of me?When you came into the store?

Crescendo (Hush, Hush #2)

That’s easy. Arrogant.Really? What made you think that?

Does that surprise him? I thought it was my turn to ask a question.Isn’t that how the game works? We each get a question?

He looks at me expectantly. I realize I have no question. Or maybe I have too many. Like why is he really here? When will he realize I don’t play with his crowd? What exactly made him interested in the first place? . . . If that’s what this is. Can I go finish getting ready?No. Okay, my turn. What made me come off as arrogant?

I stare at the crease on the sleeve of his T-shirt—a clear indication it had been ironed. Who irons T-shirts? You beckoned me, I say, remembering that first day.His brown eyes flash to mine. Even his eyes with their gold flecks remind me of his wealth. I what?

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