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As I am a weekend-only writer of romance, Darrah is still having trouble ignoring Hale.
She leaned against a tree, halfway back to the camp. Before she faced her men, she needed to give herself a few well-worded orders. The man’s ability to reflect and intensify emotions was a biological low-blow. But, the Sarkisian’s range of subtle, hormone-enhanced scents were no more than perfume on a courtesan. The healthy glow of his skin was the bait. The shifting silk of his hair begging to be stroked was the distraction. And the warmth that surrounded him in his aura? That was the trap.