Tuesday, March 6, 2018

Blog Tour: Hard to Let Go by Jaclyn Quinn

Title: Hard to Let Go
Author: Jaclyn Quinn
Series: Haven's Cove
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: February 19, 2018
Cover Design: Cate Ashwood Designs
Interior Design and Formatting: Flawless Touch Formatting
Summary:
Owen Richards lives a quiet life in his small hometown of Haven’s Cove. He has a rewarding life consisting of three very supportive—not to mention feisty—women, and a successful bakery that he owns and absolutely loves. Yet, Owen can't seem to shake this emptiness inside or the intense feeling that something is missing. A sudden encounter with a man from his past, one he despises, turns his entire world upside down. When Owen finds himself attracted to that sexy man, he questions everything, including his sanity. After all, only an incredibly disturbed person would find that he can’t stop thinking about his high school bully.

Brody Walker never expected to return to Haven’s Cove. He’s made a life for himself in Boston where he can truly be the person he was always meant to be. But an unexpected call has Brody facing all the demons he’d left behind so long ago. Now, he’s faced with not only a difficult goodbye, but one long overdue apology to a man who is no longer that lanky kid from high school. The challenge is to convince the guy he’s changed—and also prove he’s worth taking a chance on.

When passions ignite, truths are exposed, changing beliefs these men have held on to for years. Faced with the knowledge that things aren’t always what they seem, will they choose to hold on to the incredible thing they’ve found…or is it easier to give in to the fear and let go?


Brody nodded his head and let his aunt Nora lead him down the hall. Had this hallway always been so damn long? The walls were lined with pictures. There were Brody’s school pictures, holidays, and family photos of the three of them smiling.

It was a hall full of lies.

As he crossed the threshold into the room, it was like breaking through a thick wall. His chest hurt and every muscle in his body tensed. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. A hospital bed was against the soft blue wall to his right; an IV stand with a bag hanging from a hook at the top blocked his view of his mother’s face. The room had the same beige carpet he remembered, but his father’s desk was replaced with a big reclining chair. There was another chair in the room on the far side of the bed. A small table on wheels sat next to it and on it were tissues, a pair of glasses, and the last thing he expected to see—a framed picture of him from when he was little. Next to that was an oxygen tank with tubing connected to it. The tubing led up to where it hooked around her ears to hold the small prongs in place in her nose. There were no big machines, no sounds of incessant beeping.

Then it really hit him. She wasn’t there to get better; she was there to let go. Brody stepped softly into the room, afraid to disturb her, afraid to breathe too heavily and throw off the serenity of her room.

Brody’s heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. He felt a light touch from his aunt on his back, as if she was telling him it was going to be okay—even though they both knew it wouldn’t be. He walked to the side of the bed cautiously, praying he didn’t upset her if she didn’t want him there. As he lowered himself into the chair, his breath caught, and he looked into his mom’s eyes for the first time in too long. Oh God, was that panic in her eyes? Pain? He didn’t want to cause her either in her final days.

“Brody? Honey, is it really you?” Her voice was so soft, but there was no mistaking the words as a tear slid down her cheek, and her eyes had a sudden light.

Just like that, Brody released the breath he’d been holding and let the tears fall down his face. “Yeah, Mom. It’s me. I’m here.” 

What is the biggest influence/interest that brought you to this genre?
Several years back, I was reading the Black Dagger Brotherhood by J.R. Ward. When she started to build up the storyline for Qhuinn and Blay, I found myself wanting their HEA more than any other couple in the series. I’d never read M/M before, but I was absolutely drawn in.  

When writing a book, what is your favorite part of the creative process(outline, plot, character names, editing, etc)?
I love creating characters. You get to be someone different; get inside their head. I love giving them little quirks or habits. Picking out the names is fun too. Once I start creating a character in my mind, I know what names will work and what names won’t. 

When reading a book, what genre do you find most interesting/intriguing?
Definitely M/M. There are so many amazing M/M authors out there, and I read anything from paranormal to contemporary. 

If you could co-author with any author, past or present, who would you choose?
I don’t know if anyone would like my writing style as a co-author, simply because I can’t just sit down and write every day. Sometimes it can take an hour or sometimes it can take a few days for the story to come to me. Ha ha I think if I were to choose, though, it would be Annabella Michaels. I love her books and style of writing, but she also happens to a good friend that I can completely be myself with. I’m an incredibly shy person, so that’s a must for me.

Have you always wanted to write or did it come to you "later in life"?
Definitely later in life. I’ve always written poetry or in journals, but I never would’ve imagined that I would write a book. Now, I have written a few novellas and four novels. The first idea didn’t even come to me until six years ago. That was a novella called Release Me. It was this idea, out of nowhere, and I just knew I had to get it out. Even if no one ever saw it. By the time I was done, I was completely blown away that I had accomplished something like that, and surprised by how much I loved doing it. When I wrote Hard to Let Go four years ago, I never imagined I would publish it, but here we are!

Author Bio:
I have been an artist from a very young age. From drawing cartoon characters and evolving into portraits, making jewelry, photography, and now writing. I have an amazing support system in my family and friends and couldn’t be more grateful.

I live in central New Jersey, love summers at the Jersey Shore, rock music, wine, sexy men, and laughing a lot with my amazing friends and family. Sunday dinners at my parents’ house are crazy, hysterical and you can count on a movie quote…or ten…being thrown out. Insults between siblings is how we show our love for each other!

When I’m not creating, you can find me reading books from my favorite authors. I’m a hopeless romantic, starving for passionate characters and always craving that happy ending, whether in reading or in writing my own books.










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Release Tour: Touch Me When We're Dancing by Suzanne Jenkins

Title: Touch Me When We're Dancing
Author: Suzanne Jenkins
Series: Pam of Babylon #1
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Women's Fiction
Release Date: February 27, 2018
Summary:
#17 of the beloved series, Pam of Babylon. The theme of life after a snowstorm is slow dancing, couples falling in love, or out. A new neighbor moves in next door to Pam, Lisa discovers love in an unexpected place, Tim finds comfort in someone who has always been there, and Sandra decides to appreciate what she has in her hands. In the city, a major shake up at Lang, Smith and Romney leads to the proverbial pot of gold for Sandra. Randy has a shocking visit, and in return, takes back a promise he made to Pam in Greece. In the background, Karen Carpenter sings. ๐Ÿ˜Š


Chapter 1
Stuffing his billfold and money clip in his back pocket, Michael Bennett could think of only one thing that morning – getting to work and tying up the loose ends that had dangled for weeks.

“I’ll call you when I get in,” he said, bending over to kiss Sandra. “Don’t forget, the window washers are coming today.”

“Oh yuck, I hate it when they’re here,” she said. “Can I cancel?”

“No. They’re so dirty, they look muddy.”

“Whatever,” she said, pulling the covers up to her chin. “I have a meeting downtown at two so I might be late tonight.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

He left the bedroom, walking down the long, dark hallway. It was so dreary out, gray light on the gray carpet and gray walls. Everything looked dated, cold and uncomfortable. It might be time for a change. Pouring coffee into a thermos, he thought he’d keep his plans to himself. Sandra’s apartment was the most uninspired space. He wouldn’t ask for her decorating advice.

“I’m glad I caught you before you left,” she called from the living room, pulling a white silk kimono around her. “I forgot to tell you that Lang is giving me the Dutch house to finish.”

“They are? Wow, that’s an impressive coup, Sandra.”

“Like you didn’t know,” she said, smirking.

The Dutch house on First Avenue was owned by the medical center and housed their psychiatric offices, one of the few remaining structures left standing after the fire of 1845. Michael had come to Lang, Smith and Romney for help in its restoration. Sandra started the process, and although a silent partner bought her out, she was still doing work for the firm.

“I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it. But it makes perfect sense when you think of it. You started it, you should finish it.”

She threaded her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I’ll miss you today.”

Reaching into her robe, he ran his hands over her bare skin. “I’ll miss you, too. I can’t wait to get home tonight.”

His phone beeped. “My driver is here,” he said. “Goodbye.”

They kissed again, and he stepped through the elevator door while she stood watching. He willed her to open her robe but she didn’t, aware of the security camera that might catch a glimpse. After the doors closed, she went into the spare room she used for an office and leafed through papers, making notes and organizing. It hadn’t taken her long to win back the trust of her few customers she’d taken on before the arrest. It appeared she’d be busy for the next six months. A decision she had to make – should she open an office of her own and become a truly formidable competitor to Lang, or stay there, using their resources, and taking their cast-off business?

Bigger and more difficult was deciding how hard she should fight for custody of her son Brent. The attorney had arranged the first supervised meeting. Tim’s address was still being kept a secret from Sandra, which further infuriated her.

Compounding the anxiety, neither Pam nor Lisa returned her last telephone calls, convincing Sandra they were in cahoots with Tim.

The doorman buzzing interrupted her thoughts and she picked up the phone. The cleaning people were on their way up. She went back into the master suite and locked the door. The view from the door was straight shot to the Williamsburg Bridge, a beautiful structure, but leading to Brooklyn, a place she loathed. It reminded her of another project she was hell bent on acquiring.

Quickly dressing, she’d go downtown and work from the Lang office until her appointment at two. She sent a text to her driver, Damon, to pick her up at nine if he was available. It would be like any other work day for her, with the nagging worry about Brent in the back of her mind. Dressing for the weather with tall boots and a long wool coat, she was past the age of caring how she looked in the cold, and somehow pulled it off, like a model doing a nonchalant stroll on an arctic catwalk.

Ignoring the other tenants who got on the elevator after she did, they were curious about the beautiful young woman who stayed in the penthouse. But her head was down, looking at her phone with a frown. Texting her attorney to find out if there was any news, he replied that he was just about to call her with information for her.

Hold off, she wrote. I’m in an elevator.

He asked her to call him as soon as she was able.

Damon was at the curb holding the door for her. Nodding at him, she pointed further downtown.

“Exchange Place,” she said, when she was inside.
Dialing her attorney’s number, it angered her that she had to go through the switchboard instead of getting his direct number. She’d make a point of letting him know her dissatisfaction.

“What’s happening?” she asked when he finally got on the line.

“Your husband is holed up in Smithtown with your son’s aunt.”

It took a minute to sink in. “He’s living with Lisa Smith?” she said astonished, leaning forward to shut the divider between her and Damon.

“It appears that he’s in the guest house,” he replied. “Do you want the whole rundown?”

“Yes, what are you waiting for?”

“He’s dating his literary agent.”

“That prick!”

“Yes, well since you’re not divorced or even legally separated, that will definitely work in your favor.”

“What about my son?”

“Brent is in preschool at the public school. He appears to be happy and well-adjusted according to the investigator.”

“I don’t know what to do now,” she said. “Does he have a restraining order out? I’d like to just show up there.”

“Why would he have a restraining order? You haven’t even seen the man in a month.”

“Just answer my question.”
“You know I’m lining up supervised visitation. It would probably be better if you stayed away for now. Don’t even let him know that you’re aware of his location. I’d limit your contact with any of your in-laws for now.”

“I wasn’t married to my son’s father,” she reminded him. “Those people that Tim is living with are Brent’s father’s family, not Tim’s.”

“Is that right,” the lawyer said. “That is even more problematic for him. Why would he be in collusion with your son’s family unless he was trying to purposely hurt you? I think I will be able to do something with this information.”

“Well hurry up, please,” she said. “I’m getting tired of waiting.”

The truth was it was easier not having Brent around. It also gave her and Michael a chance to get reacquainted. There was a little angst about Tim, however, that she was working around. He wouldn’t answer her calls or text messages, she even sent a messenger around to his agent’s office. They wouldn’t take the package which confused her at the time, but now it made perfect sense. He was screwing that pig face Elizabeth, pretending she was just going to Paris because of the available ticket. Bullshit. It certainly made things easier for Sandra if he was having an affair with Elizabeth before the police saw Michael leaving her apartment on the night Tim went to Paris.

For being less that a two mile ride, it was taking them long enough. “What’s going on Damon?” Sandra asked, sliding the window back open.

“Usual traffic,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

“I should have walked.”

“It’s ten degrees out there,” he said, frowning.

Traffic finally started to move and he pulled up at Exchange Place.

“Don’t get out,” she said. “I’ll text you later.”

“Be careful. It looks icy. I’ll be around until eight tonight. I have an airport run at nine.”

“Okay, talk to you later,” she said, slamming the door.

After sliding through a two foot high snowbank with a narrow opening of solid ice, she was at the office. As she walked through the familiar brass framed door, for the first time she didn’t think of Jack. His importance in her life had diminished with the buyout. She no longer sat at his desk, or looked at his black silk umbrella hanging on the coat rack. There was really little of him left in her life, apart from Brent. Suddenly, she missed her son. Moving off to the side of the foyer, she dialed her attorney again.

“What can I do to get my son back as fast as possible? I’m getting anxious.”

“You’re already doing everything,” he said. “I’ll make a notation that you’re starting to despair. I take back my warning about contacting your child’s family. Go ahead and call and tell them how anxious you’re getting but don’t let on that you know he’s there.”

“I’ve been leaving messages and they don’t return them.”

“That’s what voice mail is for. Use that to your best advantage then,” he said. “I trust you to be discreet.”

“Okay, thanks,” she said, the wheels turning.

When she reached the office, she didn’t go in back like she owned the place, but stood in line at the receptionist desk. When it was her turn, Jennifer gave her a big, false smile.

“Mrs. Hornby! How nice to see you.”

“Knock it off, Jen. Please ask Peter if he has a desk I can use today.”

“Sure,” she said, giggling, “Come on back.”

Sandra followed her and waited off to the side while she checked with Peter. He came out with a cat-that-ate-the-canary look on his face.

“You can use Ryan’s old office,” he said.

“My old office, you mean,” Sandra said. “Thanks. I’d better see about renting a space.”

“There’s no need,” Peter said. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

Not when you find out what I’m up to, thinking of her plan to compete with him.

“I thought I heard a familiar voice.”

She looked back at Peter’s office door and who walks out but Randy Braddock.

She sifted through reasons that he would be there, forgetting the television program Randy was doing about saving old New York architecture. Pulling out all her energy to be gracious, she smiled and extended her hand to the guy who didn’t try to hide his animosity to her. Sandra figured he was taking sides in her battle with Tim that had not yet started. If that was the case, she was going to prepare herself.

Who was Randy Braddock? Nothing but a reality TV host. She didn’t care how much money he had, she would make sure he didn’t interfere with the outcome of the impending custody battle. It was at the moment that she walked past Jack’s old office now occupied by Ryan, that their subterfuge became clear to Sandra. She spun around the looked at Randy, lurking in the doorway of Peter’s office.

“You bought me out,” she said, a triumphant smile on her face, pointing at him. “Ha! You spent all of that money to get rid of me, and I’m still here! Loser.”

“It’s not over yet,” Randy snarled.

“You threatening me?” she asked, walking toward him. “You have no idea who you’re messing with. I’ve already got a bald spot because of that goon, Clint. You know Pam refers to him as a goon, right? Ask her.

“Let me tell you something, Randolph. I don’t scare easily, in case you didn’t know that. You’ll have to kill me to get rid of me. Tell your step-daughter that, too. Tell Lisa that if she doesn’t want me to see Brent again, she’ll have to kill me. I’m not gotten rid of that easily.”

“You’re a lunatic,” he said, but she noticed a tremor in his lower lip. She was on to him, the knowledge filling her with energy, and she laughed out loud.

“Maybe. But crazy people don’t stop. Test me, if you’d like. Ask Peter,” she said. “It’ll take more than what you’re willing to dish out to get rid of me. I’d love to show you how we do things downtown.”

Peter put his hand on her shoulder. “Enough drama,” he whispered, following her back to her old office. “We don’t want this to get ugly.”

“It’s too late Peter. That small time punk just declared war. I don’t care how much money he has.”

“You have a lot to lose,” Peter said, standing in the doorway.

“No, I really don’t. I’m taking advantage of what you’re offering me here, Peter. But if it gets rough, I’ll go out on my own. Finally, you’ll have the competition you’ve missed.”

“There’s enough business for both of us,” he said, but the words lacked that confidence Peter usually blabbed. He felt the threat.

“Are you in on the two o’clock meeting?” she asked, unbuttoning her coat.

“Do I need to be?” he asked.

“Don’t trust me, Peter. I’m telling you right now, I’m not watching out for you. If you’ve invited that snake into this company, it won’t end well. You’d better stay on your toes.”

He shook his head and snickered. “Sandra, your arrogance is astounding.”

“Just wait,” she said, smiling, self-confidence surging. “You have no idea.”

She went behind him, shutting the door, and then got up in his face. He took a step back, not expecting the intrusion. He saw the whites of her eyes, how clear they were, her left eye had a green dot in the iris, surrounded by a pool of dark brown. Her eyelashes were so long, her skin ivory and clear.

“Peter, I won’t stop,” she whispered. He could smell her breath. Taking it in, the sensation skipped from his olfactory nerve and traveled to his balls and he felt for the doorknob behind him, scared to death.

“I’m not trying to stop you from doing anything,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re fucking with me,” she said. “Stop it.”

It pleased her, seeing him fumbling to get away from her.

“How much is Braddock into this?” she asked. “Did you sell out to him, too?”

“No. He wanted you out for Pam’s sake,” Peter admitted.

“I don’t get it. She said she loved me,” she replied, staring out the window. Then she turned back to her desk. “Well, he wasted his money. Are you in at two or not? If I’m doing this alone, I’d like to know.”

“I’ll attend the meeting,” he said, finally turning the door knob.

Trying to get out of the office, he backed into Betty, Sandra’s old secretary.

“Oops, pardon me,” she said, stepping around Peter. “Here are your files, Sandra.”

While Peter ran off, Sandra reached for the stack of paper. “I guess I lost you to Ryan,” she said. 
“I can still work for you,” Betty replied.

“I’ll check with Peter about that. Thank you,” Sandra said, dismissing her.

Her heart still beat wildly in her chest. As much as she acted like she was in charge, that kind of confrontation with Peter frightened Sandra. Their yelling arguments were legendary at Lang. But no one expected them to be at each other’s throats now, after the buyout.

A tap at the door increased her heart rate. “Damn it,” she hissed. “Come in!”

It was Ryan.

“Close the door,” she mumbled.

“Jeesh, what’s going on?”

“Did you know it was Randy who bought me out?”

“No! No way. Are you sure?”

“Positive. Peter just admitted that he was did it purposely to get me out of Pam’s hair. Frankly, I’m stunned. It feels like such a betrayal.”

“Look, fuck Braddock. He’s a nothing. You have to remember that Jack brought you in because he trusted you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening. The notion that she was finished with Jack just flew out the door.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with him anymore. At least not for me.”

“Are we still on for the weekend?”

They’d made a tentative plan to get together for a meal.

“No. I’m back at Michael’s. He wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“Okay, no problem. I guess I have to make amends to Jennifer.”

“Ryan, she’s a nice girl.”

“Yeah, but she won’t want to deal with the baby mamas.”

“Ugh, gotcha. Well, Ryan, you sort of brought that on yourself. Didn’t you ever hear of a condom?”

“Are you going to marry this dude?” he asked, ignoring the comment.

“No. I’m not getting married again. Actually, I’m still married to Tim, but as soon as that’s resolved, I’m finished. Michael is my equal in many ways. I can make some sacrifices for him.”

“Like monogamy?”

“Yes,” Sandra said. “That’s a starter.

She rifled through files on the desk for a moment. “I’m not supposed to bring this up, but you know Brent’s at Lisa’s, correct?”

“I don’t know that,” Ryan lied.

Sandra looked up at him, and he had no expression on his face. “You’re as bad as Pam with your damn poker face. Well, it doesn’t make any difference. My attorney found out he’s there. Don’t run and tell Lisa now.”

“I won’t. She’ll barely talk to me.”

“Is she sleeping with Tim?”

“No. Tim made the biggest mistake of his life. He’s sleeping with his literary agent.”



Pam of Babylon Series
If you like romance series with twists and turns, then you'll love the Pam of Babylon Series. When Jack has a heart attack on the train from Manhattan, Pam and Jack's two lovers discover secrets and lies, and each other,in this contemporary romance with a touch of noir.

In a tale of marriage and betrayal, Pam's friendships and sisterly love are stretched to the limit. At what point does a relationship cross over from abuse to choice? And does forgiveness always come with exceptions?


















Author Bio:
Suzanne Jenkins Bio Suzanne writes page-turning contemporary romance, mystery, and women's fiction with passionately gripping characters that stay with readers long after they turn the last page. The Detroit Detective Stories, beginning with The Greeks of Beaubien Street are a reflection of American fantasy with historical reality. Pam of Babylon books consistently rank in the Top 100 Best Sellers in American Drama with over 500,000 downloads. A retired operating room nurse, Jenkins lives in Southern California.


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Touch Me When We're Dancing #17

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Release Day Blitz: Livingston by JM Dabney

Title: Livingston
Author: JM Dabney
Series: Trenton Security #1
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: March 6, 2018
Cover Design: Reese Dante
Summary:
He was the Beast without the escape clause.

Francis “Liv” Livingston was a beast. No matter if he wore a perfectly tailored suit or if he was in his tactical gear, people avoided looking at him. He was always first to volunteer for the jobs only a person with a death wish wanted. Tomorrows weren’t guaranteed. His boss had come to him and told him he needed him for a job. Linus knew the jobs he liked, but when he opened the file, it all went to hell.

Beauty was only skin deep.

Fielding Haskell made his way in the world on his looks. He’d earned his first film role before he could read a script. He didn’t want the fame. He wanted to go to college. He wanted a man who didn’t look at him and see how pretty he was. Unfortunately, a so-called fan only cared how attractive he was, and it earned him a personal bodyguard and a vacation. He looked forward to the break until he met the man in charge of his safety and wondered if the danger he left was worth dealing with a sudden attraction to a man who was colder than ice.


He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew the bounce of the SUV knocked his head against the window. He straightened and rubbed at his eyes, but he didn't see anything other than trees in the headlights. There wasn't anything else.

“Where are we?”

Nervousness twisted his stomach as Livingston simply grunted. He wrung his hands on his lap and started to fidget on the seat. Suddenly the trees broke into a clearing, and a small cabin stood in the center. As Livingston pulled up, security lights illuminated the yard. Spotlights shined from trees around the perimeter. The vehicle came to a stop.

The man said nothing to him as Livingston opened the door and got out. He followed the man's lead and exited. By the time his feet touched the ground, Livingston already had his bag and was headed toward the house.

He practically jogged to catch up. Lights came on inside.

“Go inside. I have to grab the groceries.”

Before he could get a look at the huge man, he was gone again. He left his bag where Livingston had dropped it beside the door. The interior was one big room. A king-sized bed sat angled in the far corner with simple nightstands on either side. A living room area was on the opposite side. The place was masculine, not many personal touches. There wasn't any clutter to be seen. He wondered if the man was just obsessively neat.

He jumped when the door slammed behind him. Livingston passed him and headed toward the small kitchen area. Black cotton stretched across broad shoulders and back. He backed up until the door stopped him, he'd seen big men before. Studios had security guys, but he'd never seen a man this...massive. One of Livingston's thighs was probably as big around as him. This wasn't a good idea. He wanted to go home.

That's when the worst mistake of his life happened, Livingston turned toward him, and he gasped. The exposed skin on Livingston's right side was mottled with discolored scar tissue, and the damage was less severe on his face. Faded somewhat but still noticeable, the worst of them covered his neck and the skin exposed by the short sleeve of the man’s t-shirt. The man's eyes filled with rage and Livingston's strong jaw, even covered with a thick beard, he could see it clench in an agitated rhythm. He was caught between horror and pity, the man was...

“Better get used to it now, boy, you're looking at it for the next four months.”

Author Bio:
J.M. Dabney is a multi-genre author who writes mainly LGBT romance and fiction. She lives with a constant diverse cast of characters in her head. No matter their size, shape, race, etc. she lives for one purpose alone, and that’s to make sure she does them justice and give them the happily ever after they deserve. J.M. is dysfunction at its finest and she makes sure her characters are a beautiful kaleidoscope of crazy. There is nothing more she wants from telling her stories than to show that no matter the package the characters come in or the damage their pasts have done, that love is love. That normal is never normal and sometimes the so-called broken can still be amazing.


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