Page and page I let the spell of the story and its world take me over, until the breath of dawn touched my window and my tired eyes slid over the last page. I lay in the bluish half-light with the book on my chest and listened to the murmur of the sleeping city. My eyes began to close, but I resisted. I did not want to lose the story’s spell or bid farewell to its characters yet.

Never trust girls who let themselves be touched right away. But even less those who need a priest for approval. Good sirloin steak – if you’ll excuse the comparison – needs to be cooked until it’s medium rare. Of course, if the opportunity arises, don’t be prudish, and go for the kill

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