Fear and Desire
-- EXCERPT: “Laura, I am so sorry you got mixed up with this. You know I’m undercover, right? Please tell me you don’t think I’d actually do this kind of thing?” He let out a relieved breath. “But I can’t let you go, and I can’t treat you any different from the others.” “Dan, please, get me out of here!” She was shaking. She’d wanted to be brave, but her fear was rapidly overtaking her resolve. “I know you’re scared. But I can’t get you out of here. This place is crawling with guards who are absolutely loyal to DeLeo. They’ll shoot us if they suspect anything. But in a little less than a month there’s going to be an auction, and this will all be over,” he said. “You’ll have to stay until then, but if you don’t ever want to see me again after that, I understand.” “Don’t say that! You can’t do anything that would make me hate you!” “Laura… you have no idea how bad this is going to get. I’m going to have to punish you harder than I would punish the others, to prove that I’m not affected by your presence here.” The small hope she’d still carried was crushed. She had no choice but to remain here, and she wept silently as she struggled with the words she needed to say, that he needed to hear. “If I have to stay,” she stuttered, “then I need you to do whatever it takes to get through this, and I don’t want you to feel guilty about it later. If you have to hurt me, do it.” She couldn’t put any more burden on him than he already bore. “Laura, you don’t know what I’m going to have to do.” “It doesn’t matter. I’m giving you consent.”
Bachelor Beast
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: I took a step closer, careful of the thick cords across the floor while remaining behind the cameras. Wulf’s hands gripped the arms of his chair as if they were keeping him from flying away. Maybe because I looked at people’s faces all the time, I could often tell what they were feeling, or maybe Wulf was equally bad at hiding his emotions. I’d lusted after him. Drooled over him. Dreamed of him. I hadn’t really thought of the toll this show was taking on him. Had he truly volunteered for this? He looked about as enthused to be sitting here as someone in the waiting room before a colonoscopy. Was what Chet had said true? Would he die if he didn’t pick Genevieve or Willow? Was he really going to be executed? Was his life so bad that he’d choose execution over the women? Not once in the three weeks of taping had Chet asked him what he was looking for in a mate. Everyone assumed, including me, that Wulf was whittling down the ladies to his favorites, to the one he’d give his cuffs. Now I wasn’t so sure. The show dragged on, as they had a one-hour time slot, with plenty of commercial breaks to heighten the anticipation. I was ready to scream by the time Chet stopped his inane questions and finally got down to the business at hand. The choice. Wulf’s choice. “It’s finally time. Genevieve, Willow…” Chet spoke and the ladies took a step closer. The lights dimmed except for a focused beam on the gleaming cuffs in the glass case. I moved around another camera to be as close as I could but remain behind the scenes. We were all in shadows, the large set being lit only by the stage. “Warlord Wulf. It is time.” Wulf slowly rose to his feet. “Who is going to be your bride? Genevieve or Willow?” Mary, a wardrobe tech, moved to stand beside me but bumped my shoulder, pushing me forward. I gasped and stopped my forward momentum out of sheer panic. I didn’t get in the way, but my heart was in my throat. Mary’s hand settled on my shoulder, and she mouthed a sorry along with a small smile. I looked back at the stage, at what I’d been waiting for since the first episode. But Wulf wasn’t looking at the final contestants. He was looking at me. Me. Oh. My. God. Had I gotten in front of the camera? Had I distracted Wulf at a time like this? Oh shit, I was going to be fired. I took a small step back, but Mary stopped me. Genevieve turned to look my way. Willow narrowed her eyes in my direction as if trying to peer into the shadows. Chet even broke his perfect facade to glance past the cameras. At me. Although I wasn’t sure if they could actually see me, or if they were trying to determine what held Wulf’s attention. A rumbling came from the stage. Chet, Genevieve and Willow whipped their gazes back toward Wulf. Then came a growl that practically made the floor shake. I felt it deep inside me and I gasped. Wulf’s eyes were still on me, and I couldn’t look away. Not when he was growing. Actually growing. The audience gasped, murmured. Backstage whispering kicked in. Chet stepped back. Genevieve took hold of Willow’s hand, and their eyes widened. The tuxedo jacket ripped at the seams on Wulf’s body. He wasn’t seven feet of alien any longer. He had to be eight feet and all beast. Angled features, ragged breathing, taut muscles. A gaze laser sharp. Intense, as if he was ready to pounce. “Mine.” The one word was low and deep, and it silenced the entire set. Find out what happens to Olivia and her beast in
GIVEAWAY! The Scoundrel
-- EXCERPT: His mouth plundered hers, his tongue surging in over and over to tangle with hers. Samantha had never been one to drink heavily and had never done drugs. The way Coltraine kissed her made her understand why people were attracted to both and found it hard to give them up. As she yielded and focused on Coltraine, his kisses morphed from seductive to dominating in the space of a heartbeat. Samantha understood this wasn’t just some random kiss, this was a declaration of intention to possess her in a way no man had done before. She put her hands on his chest and pushed, but he didn’t yield. She fought to free her mouth, but he continued to kiss her breathless. “Stop it,” she managed to whisper. “No. If you really want me to stop either use your safeword…” “You don’t know my safeword…” “It’s check.” He hesitated a moment and when she said nothing, he grinned in a way that reminded her of the way dragons must have looked at their virginal sacrifices. Only he was no dragon and she sure as hell wasn’t a virgin.
GIVEAWAY! The Second Time Around
-- EXCERPT: She leaned on the suitcase. Even in the moonlight, and despite her frown, she still had the most beautiful blue eyes. Eyes as blue as the bay. The Texas coast wasn’t known for its clear waters. It didn’t have the blue of the Caribbean, but the way the reef protected the shore gave it a unique environment, and it had the bluest water. He’d forgotten how he’d thought of the bay as Brie blue, and paired with her chestnut hair, she was one of the prettiest girls in Texas. He raced toward her. “How much of that bottle did you drink?” She looked at it and shrugged. “Not sure. Four or five.” “Four or five what? Sips? Gulps? Gallons?” She rose and tottered back and forth. Her back end was high in the air. All these years later, she still had the finest derriere he’d ever seen. “Let me help before you hurt yourself.” She wagged a finger behind her. “Stay away from me.” She shifted and grunted and righted her suitcase, only to lose her balance again. This time she landed on top of it like it was a lounger. She squeaked, then smiled and let out an “Oh, this isn’t so bad.” She opened the bottle for another drink. “Is that wise?” “What do you care?” She laid back and looked up at the twinkling lights of the willow tree. “Did you know when I woke that morning, Mama got me ready? She used an entire can of Aqua Net. I smelled like Ms. Cricket but looked like Miss America.” She ran her hands through her hair and sighed. “I had the prettiest braids going in every direction, but they all came together in the back.” The whiskey bottle fell into the sand, which was probably a good thing. “So pretty.” “You were always beautiful, Brie.” “Oh, what would you know? You didn’t even show up.” She blindly searched around for the bottle but gave up quickly. He sat a few feet away from her. He had a lot to say, but all he’d do was listen. “You know what the funniest thing of all was?” “Tell me.” He scooped up sand and let it sift through his fingers. It kind of felt like how life was. It just got away from you. “Mama wanted me to wear those fancy jeweled shoes. Those heels were four inches high and pinched my toes. I’m telling you, she had me practicing for days, and I was in pure agony. I refused to wear them and hid them at Tiff’s house, because I knew with the humidity, my feet would swell, and I wanted to dance under this tree with you. I didn’t want to have achy feet on my wedding day, so I bedazzled my Keds. I had the perfect shoes for running, and I wasn’t the one who ran.” She turned on her side, showing her back to him. He thought about how he’d apologize. He wasn’t sure what she knew or didn’t know. It had been so long, and both her parents were gone. Did she know her mother had been unfaithful? Did she believe until their dying days that they’d been hopelessly devoted to one another? Her father had died of a heart attack on a yacht filled with half-naked drunk coeds. Though he’d been gone, gossip traveled fast, and he’d gotten the condensed version every time his mother talked to someone from town. “Look, Brie, I did what I did for a lot of reasons, but mostly it was to spare you pain and embarrassment.” “Mm-hm.” This was going far better than expected. “I’m sorry for hurting you, but if you’d known what I did, you would have been hurt so much more. I was a coward for many reasons. I should have stayed and let the grenade explode. At least then, maybe we could have worked it out, but I didn’t have the maturity to face them or you.” A loud sound startled him, and he scooted closer. “Brie.” He reached out and touched her leg, only to realize she was snoring.
GIVEAWAY! Hearthstone Alpha
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo -- EXCERPT: “I’m not going to stay locked up in that house forever, Corbyn,” she stated firmly. He actually snarled at her. Like she’d seen Breton do to Shayd her first night back. To her surprise, it did nothing but heighten the lust still churning wildly in her gut. “Do you have any idea the things that went through my head when your brother called, scared to death to find you gone?” he demanded. Okay. That snuffed the lust like a lid slamming down on a flame. Reyna swallowed hard, but she wasn’t about to back down. “I know how to handle myself,” she stated stubbornly. “I’m from Chicago—” “This isn’t the same, Reyna, and you know it,” he cut her off viciously. “How am I supposed to know anything?” she shot back. “No one will talk to me. You all keep your mouths shut, expecting Serena and me to just follow orders without question yet never give us a reason why. I’m not going to stop, Corbyn. I haven’t answered to anyone in over seven years. I’m certainly not going to start now. So, if you’re going to sit there and tell me that I’m going to be treated like a damn prisoner, I will pack my things today and be done with it.” Corbyn tensed, his gaze boring into hers as if he wanted nothing more than to call her bluff. But Reyna wasn’t bluffing. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands and glowered out the windshield. His knuckles whitened before he grabbed the gear shift and put it in first. Just as quickly, he changed his mind and put it back into neutral, spinning on her. “Dammit, Reyna, there’s got to be a compromise here, somewhere.” Crap, really? “What kind of compromise?” she asked suspiciously. “No sneaking out at five in the morning for starters,” he stated heatedly, obviously needing to highlight that little tidbit first. “I like to jog.” He didn’t budge. She rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Fine, I’ll wait until after breakfast, happy?” “No. Sneaking. Out. Period,” he reiterated. “Tell someone. You’ll also be exchanging numbers with everyone today, and start carrying your phone with you at all times.” Reasonable. It’s reasonable. There’s no need to throw a tantrum. “Is that all?” she ground out. “Hardly,” he answered. “Starting today, we will be taking turns staying with you, Serena, and Justin until we feel it’s safe enough not to.” “And how is that not making us feel like prisoners, again?” Reyna balked. Forget tantrum; she was going to deck him right in that perfectly sculpted jaw! “It’s going to happen whether you like it or not,” he informed her. “We can’t focus on what needs to be done if we’re worried about the three of you. Even you pointed that out yesterday while avoiding the real subject.” Reyna fumed. Damn him for turning her words against her and knowing why she’d used them. “Sounds to me like your idea of compromising is all one-sided,” she pointed out heatedly. “I have things to do. Can I go now?” The automatic locks engaged as he continued staring at her. “You’re on vacation—” “Not anymore,” she cut him off. “My boss is expecting me downtown this morning, and I have to go unless I want to lose my job—which I don’t.” “Then, Breton will take you,” Corbyn replied, his tone strained as if he were holding back a completely different reply. “And pick you up when you’re finished.” Reyna’s jaw dropped as she glared holes into his profile. “You can’t be serious.” “Very,” he deadpanned, though his tone was somewhat calmer. He looked at her, his eyes roaming her freely again rather than trying to penetrate her bones. “Won’t that leave Serena and Justin alone?” “No,” he answered, leveling her with a stern look. “You’re not going to win this argument, Reyna. There’s no way in hell we’re leaving anything to chance, not with those who matter most to us. Now, get over here.” She scoffed. As if. “Please?” he added gently. It took Reyna about ten seconds to reluctantly scoot across the bench seat, leaving a good arm’s length between them because it appeared he wasn’t going to drive anywhere until she did. If Corbyn thought she was done with her side of their little compromising barter, though, he was in for a big surprise. Reyna inhaled sharply when he hooked his arm around her waist, lifted her, and set her down across his lap. With her feet facing the passenger door across the bench seat, her back was cradled in the crook of Corbyn’s left arm, though he still clutched the steering wheel. Desire unraveled in Reyna’s veins, starting in her toes and working up to the roots of her hair. Every inch of her was once again hyper-aware of every inch of him, and she fought hard to keep her composure intact. “Do you really think distance keeps you safe, falleg?” Corbyn asked softly, tugging her ponytail out from between the back of her head and his shoulder. Fawk…what? “Did you just call me fugly?” she snapped. “Not even close,” he replied. “Answer the question, Reyna. I’m on to your evasion tactics.” Well, aren’t we clever?
GIVEAWAY! Wedding Tails: A Limited Edition Romance Anthology
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Entangle You by Diana A.Hicks #Contemporary Romance #Suspense @Xpresso Book Tours16/2/2023
Entangle You
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: “I dropped my key.” God, I sounded like an idiot. She nodded and scooted her chair back. I had an odd urge to grab her leg to stop her. Women normally didn’t run away from me. What the hell? I rose to my feet. Her eyes followed mine until her long neck and smooth collarbone were exposed. Sexy. Now it was my turn to take a step back. Distance felt like a good idea. I smiled at her and placed my hands on my hips to keep myself in check. Our gazes locked, and I swallowed, feet glued to the wooden planks. “Hi, I’m Cole.” I offered her my hand. “Derek Cole.” Valentina arched a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. She wore no makeup, but her skin was soft and radiant. My fingers itched to touch her, to give in, and… “I mean, my name is Derek, but my friends call me Cole.” That usually came out a lot smoother. “Nice to meet you.” She placed her hand in mine. Gardenias. She smelled like gardenias. “I’m Valentina.” Her hand was small, but she had a firm shake. Here was a woman who knew what she wanted, who wasn’t afraid of anything. Why was she crying then? Like the first day I saw her, a smile pulled at the corner of my mouth, and a blast of adrenaline rushed through me. A feeling I only got when I wrote code. Suddenly, I released her hand as if it had turned into a piece of hot coal. “Well, I gotta go.” I showed her my key. The universal sign for this is the only reason I came back. I had to go before I made a complete ass of myself and broke the only rule keeping my head above water right now—no attachments, especially of the female kind. “Good luck with your list.” I turned to leave. “I’ll need a little more than luck to get my house back,” she muttered, eyes brimming with tears again. Damn it. Through the window, a cloud rushed across the sky, covering the sun for a moment. The shift in lighting stopped me in my tracks. Shit. This was a bad idea. Just then I chucked any fantasy I’d ever had about Valentina from my mind before I walked to the condiment bar and grabbed a couple of napkins. When I walked back to her, I forced a slow gait, taking my time pulling out the chair next to her. I kept waiting for her to send me away, but she never did. Instead, she gawked at me as if I had suddenly grown an extra head. “What happened?” I offered her the bunch of napkins. I couldn’t get involved with her or drag her down with me into this never-ending divorce, but that didn’t mean I had to be an asshole. Five minutes, I could give her five minutes of my time. “It doesn’t matter.” The unshed tears made her eyes look like a perfectly-brewed espresso. She reached for the napkins, keeping her gaze on my fingers, as if she were afraid I’d yank the napkins away. “I’ll find another one.” The fake bravado tugged at something in my chest. I understood the desolation I found in her expression well. But as much as I wanted to help her, I wouldn’t know how. She’d be better off calling her mom back. Tears rolled down her face again. When she tipped her head down to hide them, she disarmed me. A few drops had fallen on her flower skirt. Please don’t cry, I wanted to say, but instead, I glanced toward the door. “I have to go.” She tore the page off her notebook and folded it. The creases on the paper were even and neat. You could tell a lot about a person by how they handled their personal effects. Everything about her was tidy and organized. She was driven. She rose to her feet and then stuffed her list in one of the outer pockets. “It was nice meeting you, Derek.” “Please call me Cole.” I jerked to my feet, then winced. I shouldn’t have said that. We weren’t friends. We couldn’t be. A year ago, maybe. But now I would just hurt her. And she obviously didn’t deserve that. I rubbed my jaw, tapping my fingers on my lips. Valentina spun and headed for the door. My pulse raced, and something heavy settled in my stomach. She was leaving. If she lost her home, who knew when she’d be back at Cafe Triste? And I needed her here. I needed her to break up the days, to give me a reason to get up in the morning and leave the house. But she didn’t know that. To her, I was a stranger. We were strangers. She didn’t owe me shit, and vice versa. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Let her go. Biting my lip, I rubbed the back of my neck. “I have a rental you might be interested in,” I blurted out. She spun around, frowning, mouth slightly opened.
GIVEAWAY! Teach Me
-- EXCERPT: Writing was my life. And I’m not joking about that. If I couldn’t write, I would be absolutely useless to society. Some people take antidepressants, or do yoga or hike, or eat really good chocolate ice cream. For me, I write. It’s my therapy, if you will. So, to say that my creative writing class was my favorite my first year of college was a bit of an understatement. I mean, I’d taken it every year since I started college. When I became knowledgeable enough to become the class’s TA, oh my God, it was like a dream come true. Sure, being a teaching assistant was mostly just correcting tests, reading papers and doing the grunt work that my professor didn’t have time to do, but I didn’t care. I was going to be learning from some of the best, and my writing was going to benefit. Hell, maybe I’d even try to publish! Now, the big obstacle ahead of me was getting the job. I stood outside my professor’s office door, waiting for time to tick by because I was ten minutes early. “Goddamnit!” I heard from behind the office door and my eyes widened. Professor Harlo was new, replacing my recently retired professor. A spike of worry shot through me, wondering if the man had a temper. The door swung open and there Professor Harlo was, over six feet tall, in slacks and a white shirt, deft fingers ripping off his tie. “Oh, shit,” he whispered, jumping a little when he saw me there outside his door. “You here for the TA job?” I nodded dumbly, my head bobbing up and down while he dabbed at his shirt. The big brown coffee stain on the front of his shirt finally grabbed my attention. “Are you ok?” I finally bumbled, grabbing the tissue out of his hand so I could vigorously rub at the stain. “Did it burn you?” Professor Harlo raised an eyebrow at me and watched me make a bloody fool of myself while I cleaned off my professor. Oh God… I finally blinked, realizing what I was doing, and shoved the napkin back at him. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was…” “Know how to get this out?” he asked, pointing to the spot and interrupting my apology. I nodded. “Good,” he said, waving me into his office as he wandered back in himself. Those fingers, long and dexterous, started unbuttoning his shirt, starting from the neck down. I watched slack-jawed while he didn’t even bother glancing at me. “Consider this a trial run,” he said finally, sliding his shirt off his arms before he bunched it against his bare chest. Uh, yes, bare chest. And what a chest it was! His skin was pale, but there were muscles there that many academic men never bothered to develop. A dusting of freckles sprinkled across his pecs, and a peppering of dark hair trailed down into the band of his slacks. “Hey,” he called, making the ‘I’m watching you’ motion with his fingers and eyes. “Get this all cleaned up and you’ve got the job.” I blinked, clearing my mind as he shoved the shirt at me and pulled on an old man cardigan that fit him so well; the horn rimmed glasses on his face accentuating his dark, carmel colored eyes. “What’s your name, by the way?” he asked once he was dressed again. I drew my eyes away from the little triangle of chest and neck I was staring at and looked him in the face. “Mia,” I stammered. “Mia Miller.” “That’s fun enunciation,” he said with a grunt. “Ok, Miss Mia Miller. I want that back by tomorrow. Can you handle it?” I lifted my eyebrows and nodded. “Good,” was all he said before grabbing his leather briefcase bag and moving past me through the door, locking it on the way out. “By lunch tomorrow!” I watched him saunter off after locking his office door behind us, and felt like my entire world had just imploded in that tiny room. Once he was gone though, it was easier to breathe, and when I got some oxygen into my brain, I was able to finally convince myself of how idiotic my little instant crush was. Not only was my professor likely ‘over the hill’ and in his forties, but he was going to be my boss. Because yeah, I was getting the darn job, and no amount of coffee stained shirts were going to get in my way. Shutting off the blood flow to my little love button, I stuffed the shirt into my backpack and hurried to my next class. Math. Yuck.
GIVEAWAY! Lipstick Diaries: Chemical Reaction
-- EXCERPT: “What do you want?” “I don’t know,” I answered quickly. Chris sighed. “You know what you want. Still the same frustrating Simone. Too afraid to live. To enjoy the here and now. It’s a Friday afternoon, and I’m here for the weekend. Can we be real for once?” Incensed at his bite, I hit back. “Really? From what I remember, I was always real. You were the one pretending.” I pushed my chair back. “If I’m so frustrating, you can take your tired ass back to New York. Sorry for wasting your time.” He quickly put his hands up. “Simone, calm down. Please. Sorry. Guess I’ve been wishing so long to talk to you, I’m about to blow it because I am demanding and determined when I want something.” Chris admitted sheepishly, “Might even be a little aggressive when it comes to wanting you.” I ducked my head slightly to hide my blush at his honest admission about still wanting me. “Let’s not forget impatient.” “Oh no, that’s you.” He pointed with his fantastic smile, softening his retort. “I would’ve waited forever to be with you.” Not quite able to meet his eyes, I replied quietly, “Sometimes I wonder if we confused lust for love. Everything escalated so fast for us.” “Never for me. I wanted you since that first day of class. I’ve been with women, been in love a time or two, even had a wife, but you affect me like no one ever has.” He placed his hands under the table but not before I caught the trembling. “Affect? Not affected? Not past tense?” I shook my head and moved my cup to the side. “After all these years, you can’t possibly still feel the same?” He searched my face earnestly. “Why is that hard for you to believe? You wouldn’t have asked to see me if you didn’t feel something for me. Like you said, it’s been years.” “Do you have a girlfriend?” Chris grinned. “I plan to after this weekend.” I wagged my finger. “You’re not going to get me caught up anymore.” “Then why am I here?” Thinking of the Lipstick Diaries and what they would tell me to do, I inhaled deeply and glanced around the half-empty coffee shop. I knew exactly what I wanted when I noticed he liked my pic. “Why am I here, Simone?” His brow furrowed deeply. “Did you ask me here to tell me you’re getting married or some crazy shit? If that’s the reason, you didn’t have to bother. Figured that would happen for you sooner or later since that’s all that seems to fucking matter to you.” “Who’s the one still mad, now?” I leaned closer, his anger making me even hotter for him. “I want you one last time. This weekend. You and me. Nothing but sex.”
GIVEAWAY! Acing the Game
-- EXCERPT: “Can I tell you something? Please don’t tell anyone else?” He nodded. “I don’t like—well, sex is complicated for me,” I informed him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to have sex with other people. I’ve done it, and everything works fine, but I don’t get urges to do it with others.” I cringed at how strange it all sounded. At that time, I’d no concept of asexuality. I knew that I didn’t experience sexual attraction, and I didn’t enjoy sex with people. Orgasms felt great. Yet, it was more natural to masturbate or maybe have someone give me a hand job. The kissing, the touching, and the intercourse part sometimes made me grimace. It wasn’t my thing. I scoured his face, seeing his brows bent in deep thought—or confusion. I held my breath as I waited for him to say something. “Are you not attracted to men?” he inquired. I smirked a little. I got this same question every time I tried to talk to anyone about my sexuality. “I’m not gay. I mean, I’m bisexual in the sense that I’m willing to have sex with men or women. But this isn’t about me not being attracted to men. I prefer not to do it with another person.” I started cracking my knuckles. After Tank shared that he had a physical impairment, I figured he’d accept it and move on. “So are you not into relationships?” he asked. His eyes darted all over as he gazed at me. “Yes!” I exclaimed. “I very much want a relationship. Sex is part of that for many people. It isn’t the whole thing. I’d be extremely interested in having a relationship with you.” I smiled, offering him my hand. He wrapped his fingers around mine and pulled his body closer to me. “Does that mean that we can’t have sex in other ways? Like other than intercourse?” he asked, slowly caressing my palm. I placed my head on his shoulder. “I think we can work out anything we want to. Something that works for both of us.” He glanced away. “You’re not attracted to me then,” he stated somberly. I pulled his face up and kissed him. His body shivered against mine. He slid his arm around me, squeezing me tight. “I’m very much attracted to you as a person,” I whispered in his ear. “That’s what’s important. I find you pleasing to look at. It’s just not sexual.” “I guess you won’t be cheating on me, then,” he joked and gave a little chuckle. His face still looked confused, but we changed the subject and passed out on my couch, snuggling under a blanket. There would be many conversations, but from that moment on, Tank accepted me. About a year later, we got married.
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