Teen and YA, Westerns

Date Published: 03-03-2025

Publisher: Adventure & Quest, LLC

Excerpt

A week on the ranch had really transformed me. I looked the part, like I’d lived here all my life. Before jetting from Seattle, I had an expectation of riding a fast horse over a wide prairie, the wind whipping my hair. Never had I imagined myself in baggy-butt jeans with pockets that sunk to my knees. They were heavier than any I’d ever owned, and fastened high on my waist, as if pulled up with suspenders. The shirt tail draped my back, and I had to roll the sleeves five times.
But the boots! Oh, I loved how they made me taller. They fit like clamps, as if my feet were growing in bark.
I clomped to the large picture window, plunked the sombrero Sabion gave me on my head. “Eesh.”
I look like a mushroom.
If Mom had told me from the beginning that Pap didn’t have horses, maybe I wouldn’t have thought twice about coming. I had the idea of wearing the giddy-up home—I would walk right past her at the airport and she wouldn’t even know me. But then, what would’ve happened to Radar?
No. Destiny had brought me here.
Pap’s boots stammered on the porch. I couldn’t resist a cocky stroll past him—long, lanky strides that thunked my foot heel to toe. He sipped smugly from his coffee mug. Well, of course—nothing unusual to him. Just a set of sensible clothes.
Oh, well…as long as he’s happy—

Sabion’s smirk held a snicker. “Ah, si. You look…now you look right.”
I rolled my eyes. “Glug—”
Radar was pungent with horse sweat. Was it his timid nature that made me brave for him? A fearless front to give us both courage, like a parent protecting their child? Well, some parents. He sniffed my pant leg, and blew a snort that spewed junk on my knee. Now they’re broken in…
“How much time do I have today?” I asked. Sabion had honored his agreement to let me use Jennie half a day for training, but I’d already wasted a slip of his morning trying to make the blasted blue jeans work.
He looked at his watch. “None today. I am here too long already.”
“An hour?” I pleaded.
Sabion shook a finger. “Yesterday you say to me, ‘This day I will make repairs to the corral.’ You forget this? Now you say, ‘Este día voy a hacer reparaciones.’ Mas importante.”
I tried not to laugh. Sabion could never scold. Though he tried to sound tough, it only made him look leathery. It was kinda weird that I was beginning to understand him when I didn’t even speak the lingo.
“But you’re here already. I can make the repairs when you leave.” My plan today wasn’t to repair the corral; my plan was to string those blasted bells together while I had the workbench to myself. Then I’d reveal my fun training plan to Sabion when he returned.
His shoulders caved, the argument lost. “One hour okay is all.” His words netted altogether.

About the Author

Drawn to action and adventure that is grounded in real life, Katlyn finds inspiration in the wildness of the world around us. “Nature doesn’t care what we think. It’s wild and ferocious and unpredictable—a good reminder not to take ourselves too seriously. The downright ridiculous seems to call for a twist of humor. What I can’t see, I can imagine.” Juggling family, work, and life, over the years Katlyn grasped whatever time she had available for a writing class when she could—poetry, creative, a bit of journalism. What she discovered was that stories come from deep within us…a moment. A memory. An experience or impression or dream. Only when they surface, can you add texture and color.

A late-bloomer by her own description, Katlyn’s writing kicked off when she joined Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators (SCBWI), a community of like-minded people who selflessly share, uplift, and guide, one meeting at a time. “There’s so much to learn, just for the listening. Other writers energize me, challenge me to ‘say it better’. Everyone has a natural style, and it always amazes me how many ways there are to tell a story. From SCBWI to the Writers’ League of Texas (WLT)—where Nightflower of Comanche Mound was a 2022 Thriller/Action-Adventure Finalist in the Manuscript Contest—on to Western Writers of America and Women Writing the West (WWW), Katlyn has found that it’s networks of writers that encourage her “No matter what stage of writing skill, anyone, at any age, with a yearning to write should seek out others who love what you love. Don’t wait.”

A native Texan, Katlyn Bates lives near Dallas, TX, outside a small town that—like so many inter-connected communities, is quickly becoming absorbed by the sprawl. “As for me, it’s open skies and nature and landscape that frame a plot, and lend power to a story.”

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Date Published: January 30, 2026

Publisher: Small Circles Press

About the Author

 Gael Lynch is a writer and storyteller who traces her roots back to her dad’s carefully crafted bedtime stories of fairy queens and villains, beggars of old, the rags to riches sagas of the ancients, always set in the rich green tones of the Irish countryside. Her own greatest ideas, though, are not those of far away and long ago, but ones that exist right under her nose. In what seems to be the ordinary, Gael loves nothing more than a chance encounter while waiting on a line at the grocery store. Perfect strangers offer a world of little gems, experiences she might never have had herself.

The Newbury Award winning author, Patricia Reilly Giff, mentored Gael for many of her writing years. Always a person of pure encouragement, it was Pat’s gentle wisdom that kept her writing and believing in herself for many years.

Her debut novel, IVY LEIGH EVER AFTER, is the story of an eleven, almost twelve-year-old girl whose mom has died and whose life is in a swirl of change. With a mix of humor and heart-rending moments, Ivy will learn that by extending a hand to others, she can also help herself.

If Gael is not at her desk writing, she’s off riding waves, tossing balls in the air for her large golden retriever, Wrigley, or listening to live music under a starlit sky alongside her longtime husband, Tom. She lives in coastal North Carolina with its warm nights and soft ocean breezes. But Newtown, with its pastoral beauty and its warm-hearted people, will always be the place she calls home.

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Horror / Suspense

Date Published: 08-03-2026

Everyone has an angel name and is being prepared to ‘ascend’ when
the time is right. Their angelic identities will play a significant role in
aiding humanity when the world ends.

As the weeks pass, Maylin becomes accustomed to the peculiar confrontational
therapy. The black curtains and bars on the windows no longer trouble her. The
lack of privacy, mystifying theology, and strange rules become commonplace.
She sees Margo less frequently since the children are kept in the basement.

The death of another patient awakens Maylin to dark secrets within the walls,
and soon the horrifying truth about Nakir and Heaven’s Hope is revealed.
Maylin must confront her insecurities, rediscover her individuality, and use
her wits and resources if she hopes to save Margo and the other children.

Inspired by a true crime case, this slow-burn thriller roars to a
pulse-pounding climax, reminding the reader to think independently, ask
questions, and be careful who you trust.

About the Author

J. Todd Kingrea is the author of “With A Blighted Touch” and The Deiparian
Saga (“The Witchfinder,” “The Crimson Fathers,” and “Bane of the Witch”). He
has also authored two non-fiction books, two short stories, and role-playing
game scenarios. When not writing, he enjoys collecting and watching movies,
reading, and prowling through dusty old bookstores. He and his wife live in
Galax, Virginia.

You can find him online at www.jtoddkingrea.com, on Facebook, X, and
Instagram. Stay in touch at jtoddkingrea@yahoo.com.

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Date Published: 04-15-2025

Publisher: SparkPress

When an illusionist joins the Pines & Quill writing retreat, one of the
owners vanishes without a trace in the middle of everyone, but the surrounding
would-be witnesses don’t see or hear a thing. That’s when crime
boss Georgio Gambino makes a checkmate move against his nemesis, Sean
McPherson. He forces a writer in residence to kill another writer and frame
McPherson. In a video call, Gambino warns the writer, “If you
don’t follow orders, your daughter will die.” Then, he pans the
camera to prove access to her college dorm room.

McPherson discovers that Carmine Fiore, Gambino’s second in command,
covets his boss role and is staging a coup. As Gambino’s soldiers
traffic drugs, weapons, and humans, Fiore plants incriminating evidence
against the notorious Sureños gang. Can McPherson leverage that
knowledge for a temporary truce and the gang’s help?

The writers in residence—a former NASCAR driver, a professional
triathlete, an architect turned house flipper, and a world-renowned magician
who may not be who she appears to be—band together with McPherson to
create the illusion of a lifetime.

Gambino picks up his cell phone and makes another call. His heart races with
anticipation. When the recipient answers, he says, “If you hang up,
I’ll kill your child. Do you understand?”

“Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“I assure you this is no joke. When I disconnect, you’ll receive a video
call from my associate. He’s visiting your child’s class—Market
Power in the New Economy. If you don’t do what I say, it will cost the
life of the person you love most.”

“Who is this? What do you want from me?”

“I’m the person who’s going to kill your child if you don’t
do what I say. In two days, you’re heading to Pines & Quill writing
retreat. While there, you will frame Sean McPherson for murder.”

“Frame someone for murder? What do you mean?”

“No, not just someone. You’re going to frame Sean McPherson.
You’re going to kill one of the other writers in residence. I
don’t care which one, nor do I care how you do it. You’re a crime
writer. Figure it out. You arrive at Pines & Quill on October first and
leave on the twenty-first. You have three weeks to accomplish the task.”

About the Author

As a novelist, photographer, and voracious reader, she never travels without
three essentials—a laptop, a camera, and a book.

Growing up, she dreamed of being a magician, an international spy, and a mad
scientist. There’s still time!

Her writing studio is the hayloft of a historic carriage house in the Pacific
Northwest, where creativity thrives. Her husband, Len, a private pilot, and
Henry, their not-so-standard Standard Poodle, join her on daily walks. She
always carries a camera because sometimes, the best word choice is a picture.

A journey that left an indelible imprint on her was a 20-day, 211-mile trek
across the majestic landscapes of Scotland. She, her husband, and their son
hiked from the North Sea to the Atlantic Ocean, with the pinnacle being the
climb of Ben Nevis at the midpoint of their adventure, the highest point in
the British Isles.

“My writing goal is simple: to leave you wanting more.” —Laurie Buchanan

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Children’s Book

Date Published: 06-13-2026

Publisher: Solander Press

This new buddy isn’t your run-of-the-mill earthling! Mack soon discovers
the stellar delight of making a truly out-of-this-world friend.

In this galactic adventure, award-winning author Clarissa Willis introduces
two characters who learn that no matter who you are, or where you are from,
friendship is all about having a blast together.

Clarissa Willis is the author of 8 picture books and a captivating chapter
book! Carrie Ingalls The Forgotten Sister won the Western Writers of America
SPUR Award for best juvenile nonfiction and a Will Rogers Medallion Finalist
(2026). Her tale, Bloomers on Pike’s Peak (2024), is the biography of
the unstoppable Julia Archibald Holmes, the first woman to climb Pikes Peak.
It won a Will Rogers Medallion and was the finalist for the Women Writing the
West 2025 WILLA Literary Award. Fast as the Wind: The Story of Johnny Fry Pony
Express Rider (2022) galloped away with a Will Rogers Medallion in 2023. Then,
there’s The Three Little Pigs and the Not So Big Bad Wolf, putting a fresh
spin on a classic yarn. Get ready for her upcoming book, Not from Around Here,
a whimsical picture book about sharing and quirky friendships set to take off
in early summer 2026!

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Suspense, Historical Fiction

Date Published: 04-24-2026

Publisher: Salty Books Publishing Company, LLC

James, held hostage at the U.S. Embassy in Teheran, endures the same demons
that afflicted the real-life hostages during the actual crisis 45 years ago.
Deprivation, bad treatment, political manipulation, and above all the
uncertainty of whether or when it would all end.

Angie, biting her nails at home, endures her own demons. How can she support
him? Should she join efforts that pressure the president to negotiate a
release? Or even a rescue? A take-charge person by nature, she follows a path
that will reap huge benefits if it works. Or destroy her life if it fails.

Goodbye Demons is a visceral, emotionally charged exploration of resilience in
the face of adversity. It is the story of a man and a woman struggling to
overcome demons beyond their control.

Excerpt

This was the chance of a lifetime, and Angie swore she wouldn’t
blow it. She did elaborate stretching exercises and weight training. She
followed a dietician’s meal plan and skated five days a week under the
guidance of her coach. Angie concocted a brilliant plan to capture the Gold at
Nationals and guarantee her a slot on the Olympic team.

Her coach objected. “No woman has ever done a triple axel, and
you’re not ready.”

“I did it in practice. You saw me.”

“You fell. A perfect double axel that you’re capable of doing
trumps a triple axel that you screw up.”

Angie was determined to do the triple without falling. She doubled down on her
training regime. Bruising falls came each day. It wasn’t until a week
before the competitions that she completed a triple. She grinned triumphantly
at her surprised coach. Then on the next try she took a nasty fall that left
her limping when she rose from the ice. Her coach sped over to her. After
making sure Angie had broken no bones, she again warned her to stop trying the
triple axel.

“You’re not ready. It’s a riverboat gamble.”

“I have to take the gamble when I’ve got the chance.”

“You’ll have a chance next year. You’ll be stronger and more
experienced. That’ll be the time to do it.”

“In the meantime, some other girl might do it first, and nobody will
ever hear about me. Even if I do one the next day. Can you tell me who was the
second woman to fly across the Atlantic?”

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Contemporary Fiction

Date Published: 11-23-2025

 A pandemic is spreading across the globe. A national lockdown looms in the
United States. A Southern journalist sees a chance to protect her health and
jumpstart her career by escaping north to a Minnesota wilderness. Feisty and
wary of entanglement, she piques the interest of a bored Native American rock
star on his way home.

Excerpt

Empty. No sounds except
flight announcements and Covid precautions over the PA as Grace trekked alone
through the wide, carpeted corridors, stepped onto the moving walkways, and
passed the shuttered kiosks, shops, and restaurants of the Minneapolis
airport. The few people she saw, behind counters or scurrying past at safe
distances, wore surgical masks, except for one or two who had creative,
last-minute coverings . . . red bandannas or black gaiters. The antiseptic
smell of hand sanitizer hung in the air, penetrating her mask. If she closed
her eyes, she could think she was in a hospital. Her hair probably reeked of
the stuff. Of course, her gate was the last one. She shrugged her old, green
backpack off and sank into a seat against the wall, leaning her head back and
closing her eyes, hoping the flight was still happening. Except for her, the
gate area was deserted. Maybe she could drift off.
But it was no good.
She couldn’t sleep. She was tired, and the adrenaline had worn off, but
she was growing anxious. Maybe she wasn’t as brave or capable as
she’d thought. She sat up, pulled the tablet out of her backpack, and
began rereading her notes from the last interview she’d done, the one
with the middle school English teacher about online classes. She needed to get
it written up and into her editor. She could not lose this job, her only
income. A seat creaked nearby. She looked up. She hadn’t heard him walk
up, but good sign, another passenger. A man was sitting with his head leaned
back against the window, eyes closed, long legs stretched in front of him, a
guitar case leaning against the next seat with a tan jacket thrown over it.
Before long, he sat up, glanced at her over his black mask with tiny gold
stars, rose, and walked to the bank of windows at the end of the concourse. He
stood there, looking out, a tall, thin man all in black, with a long braid.
Quite the silhouette. She looked back at her notes.
“Cozy, huh? A
whole airport and just the two of us.”
She jumped. The voice was
unexpected . . . and hoarse. He was six feet in front of her. She stared up at
him. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“Well,
I try to look for the positive.” He paused and cleared his throat but
didn’t turn away. “I’m going in search of coffee. If
you’ll keep an eye on my things, I’ll bring you
some.”
“I’ll watch them.”
He
moved the guitar and jacket to a seat in her row, then straightening, looked
at her. “You want coffee or not? You didn’t actually
say.”
They studied each other then, the way people do when
they’re wearing masks — all eyes. His were dark, almost black,
under barely arched eyebrows. They looked at her steadily . . . with a touch
of amusement? Hers were brown, with the beginning of a worry wrinkle between
her brows. She looked back with a serious expression.
“Sure. Black,
one sugar.” She leaned over to get her wallet and noticed her toenails.
She had meant to cover the chips with a fresh coat of blue polish. Oh,
well.
“I’ll get it.” He walked off.
A red packet
was on the carpet below his jacket. She put her tablet down on the little
table between her and the next seat, walked over, and picked it up.
D’Addario Guitar Strings. She placed it on the worn suede jacket, under
the sleeve but visible, and went back to her notes.

“I stopped at a hand sanitizer.”
She nearly dropped
her tablet this time. “You need a bell!”
“Sorry.”
He was in a seat, reaching across his guitar to place her coffee on the little
table. “One of my nicknames growing up was Sneak. But you seem a little
edgy.”

“Maybe.” She noticed his long, slender fingers and wondered if
that was good for playing guitar. Her mother’d always said it helped
with playing the piano. She picked up the cup and went to remove one side of
her mask, but the loop was tangled in her hair. She put the cup back down.
Masks were proving to be a challenge. She’d given up trying to control
her hair long ago, but masks weren’t optional. Her hair was dark red,
dark enough it was hard to see the red unless she was in the sun. The kind of
red hair that’s big and ends up in long twirls unless you comb or brush
it which only makes it a bigger, frizzy mess. She tried to free first one side
of her mask, then the other, finally getting one, then a sip of coffee. She
looked his way. He was watching her. “I hadn’t realized how much I
needed this. Thanks.”
“You have a lot of hair.” He
turned away, removed his mask with one hand, took a sip, and turned his face
toward her, pausing, then going on, “I knew how much I needed it.”
Leaning forward, he put his forearms on his thighs and held the coffee between
his knees. He was not unattractive, in an angular, ascetic kind of way —
prominent cheekbones, straight nose, full lips, and the dark eyes.
He’d
bought her coffee, so she figured she should try to be sociable. “Have
you come a long way?”
“Not today. Just from my apartment. But
I’ve been traveling. Got in late. You?”
“This is my
third airport since five this morning.”
“Sounds like
you’ve come a long way. Got somebody in Duluth?” He sipped.
“I
wish. I have no idea what I’m doing next.”
He raised his
eyebrows and looked over at the clock. “I’d say you have about an
hour and a half to figure something out.” Just then, an agent walked up
to the check-in desk.
“Do you think they’ll take
us, if it’s only us?”
“I don’t know. Probably
depends on whether they need to get a plane to Duluth, for commuters. I guess
we’ll see. I’ve never had this flight cancel.”
“You’ve
done this before?”
He nodded, swallowing a sip of coffee.
“Every four . . . six months or so. I’ve got family all around
Duluth . . . and this time, I’m staying . . . a while. I figure
I’m safer up there than most anywhere.”
“Me,
too.”
The PA system came on. “Good afternoon passengers. This
is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 2514 to Duluth. We are now
inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring
special assistance, to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding
pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately
ten minutes time. Thank you.” The agent looked in their direction and
shrugged. “If you guys are ready, you can board.”
They
gathered their belongings. He noticed the strings and looked over at her, but
she was putting her tablet away. As she passed him, he said, “I’m
Robby.”
She replied, “Oh . . . Grace.”

https://api.follow.it/track-rss-story-click/v3/b_NPwv2xBJ7dTiOA0Gua1c7w7q18wYm0?utm_source=follow.it https://api.follow.it/track-rss-story-click/v3/b_NPwv2xBJ5xxM2bO2SMPlNwVs77ab9r?utm_source=follow.it

Dark Paranormal Romance

Date Published: July 31, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

In the desert sands of Egypt, three lovers battle a maniacal curse. Only
their love can save them.

Half vampire, half sphinx, Kahma roams the deserts of Egypt, praying for death
— until his lost love returns, reincarnated as archeologist Emma Bonham. But
to fulfill the passion Kahma offers, Emma must part with her life.

Fascinated by the tale of Emma Bonham’s disappearance some eighty years
ago, Carson Bonham comes to Egypt to unravel the mystery. But the bloody
carnage of Karnak’s history has a way of repeating itself. The struggle
to keep Carson alive will be a death defying act for the powerful vampire
Sopdet.

Alexis Peters has no intention of returning to Egypt, until a mysterious dream
lover promises endless pleasure if she will just return to him. Little does
Alexis know she’s bound to her Egyptian savior, the legendary sphinx,
Amenhotep…

Publisher’s Note: Egyptian Lovers Box Set contains the previously released
novellas Kahma, Sopdet, and Ardeth & Amenhotep.

Excerpt from Kahma

Abydos, Egypt
November 1926

Emma Bonham moaned and writhed with Corey Dunham’s head between her thighs and
his strong hands holding her against his busy mouth. His tongue speared deep
into her moist opening, thrusting like a cock and she moaned again, but more
for his benefit than from the pleasure she couldn’t focus on. Slurping, wet
noises filled Emma’s small tent as she played along, trying to relax into a
good fuck.

She just couldn’t.

Emma closed her eyes and sighed blissfully at what she hoped were believable
intervals as Corey’s tongue fucked her. It was so hard to focus. Her mind had
been spinning since they’d finally reached Abydos that evening, the most
sacred site in all of Egypt.

Abydos. Emma had spent much of her life longing to see the ancient necropolis
and the famous tombs there. Tombs of ancient kings, temples of ancient gods.

Her hips left the ground as Corey’s fingers played with her half-swollen clit.
Corey did have nice hands and fingers and he knew just what to do with them.
He’d been her lover for several months now. They’d met when he’d joined the
expedition that her Aunt Elspeth coordinated back in London. Corey had been on
a few expeditions to Egypt before, though his experience wasn’t vast. He had
more than enough experience in bed for Emma, who’d had no experiences before
Corey. Emma had been as curious about sex as everything else, perpetual
student that she was and Corey more than satisfied her curiosity on a number
of carnal acts. She was attracted to him, trusted him.

Emma wasn’t in love with Corey by any means. She liked him immensely. Corey
was an attentive, considerate lover and Emma enjoyed their lovemaking.

Normally.

“You taste so damn good, Emma.” Corey slid a finger into her pussy to replace
his darting tongue. “I want you to come for me.”

The heavy canvas of the tent rippled as the strong winds whipped around it in
the desert beyond. It was just one more thing to break Emma’s concentration.
She began to wonder if a sandstorm was coming. Emma also wondered if she’d
ever see a sandstorm. Emma could play along and fake it but she didn’t want to
do that to Corey. Sighing, Emma pulled herself up, surprising Corey enough
that he pulled his fingers from her sheath. Before she could say anything, a
desperate cry ripped open the tranquility of the night.

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

The frantic male cry had Corey, who was mostly dressed, on his feet and Emma
scrambling to find her discarded robe. Pulling it on as fast as she could,
Emma stayed right on Corey’s heels as he sped out of the tent. Naked beneath
the robe she held tightly to herself and with her hair flying wildly about
her, Emma struggled to keep up with him as he raced toward the tent of Alan
Burns, the expedition leader and her friend. The rest of their group had
already gathered there.

Peering over the shoulder of Alice Henderson, one of the artists in their
expedition, Emma spotted the group’s writer kneeling over Alan’s unmoving body
in the sand. Frantically, Daniel Woods pressed his fingers to Alan’s throat,
searching for signs of life.

“He’s dead,” Daniel announced, his face stricken.

A bolt of shock and fear shot through Emma. Alan was dead? How could that be?
Emma was as fond of the kind older gentleman as her Aunt Elspeth. If not for
him, Emma’s aunt would never have allowed her to go on the expedition. Her
aunt’s confidence in Alan Burns and his vast knowledge of Egypt and all its
sites had won out in the end. That and the man’s solemn promise to her aunt
that he’d watch over Emma and keep her safe.

Tears stung the back of Emma’s eyes. This is horrible.

Alice started to sob quietly in front of Emma while Corey pushed his way past
the others and into the tent. Emma watched as Corey joined Daniel in searching
the fallen man’s body for any clues as to what had killed him. The wind ripped
at Emma’s robe and hair from where she stood just outside the tent as tears
slid down her face. Holding her breath just like the others, she waited.

Corey’s features turned hard and he pointed to the older man’s ankle.

“What is it?” Emma called out to Corey.

Corey seemed not to hear her at first. He started searching the sand around
him, his eyes round and filled with alarm.

“A snake bite.” Corey’s green eyes met Emma’s. “It looks like an asp bite.
What an asp is doing out here, I don’t know. They usually stick to the shrubs
and hillsides. They are not desert dwellers.”

“Perhaps it got into Alan’s bags in Cairo,” Daniel suggested.

Corey nodded. “It’s possible.”

“Dear God in Heaven.” Alice, with her stout little body, took a step back and
bumped into Emma. “It could still be here.”

All eyes flew to the ground, searching the sand in the dim light provided by
the fires that burned inside the circle of their tents.

“Watch your step.” Corey’s voice took on a more authoritative tone as he met
the eyes of each of the remaining members of the group in turn. “Be mindful of
this. Check your blankets before you go to sleep and check your clothing
before you put it on. Reach into your bags with caution.”

Dashing out of the tent and to her side, Corey gently took Emma’s arm. “I’ll
see you to your tent.”

With Alan gone, Corey had to take charge now. Emma easily read the tension in
the hard set of his face, felt it in the hand that lightly gripped her arm.
Corey was older than her, but still y...]]> Wed, 29 Jul 2026 12:00:30 +0200 https://api.follow.it/track-rss-story-click/v3/b_NPwv2xBJ5xxM2bO2SMPlNwVs77ab9r?utm_source=follow.it