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... ly.”
The woman sitting across from her responded, “Emily Taylor must be fuming right now. I’d love to see the look on her arrogant and disdainful face. It’s probably as colorful as a dropped spice rack.”
The woman talking was on the verge of fifty, but she looked more or less in her thirties.
Her face was as young as a girl’s, her skin delicate, smooth, and translucent.
Every frown, every smile carried the charm of a woman.
If Emily Taylor was here now, sh ...
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