So what did you bring? Lip gloss and a hairbrush?” Smirking, she unpacked the sandwiches Mort's cook had made for her, along with an ample slice of chocolate cake. “You owe me an apology.” “Omigod, it's a feast! Okay, you're forgiven.
Jana OliverSimon had been all lined up and he’d managed to throw away the best girl he’d ever meet. “What a dumbass,” Beck muttered. “No way I’d have done that.
Jana OliverThanks. For everything. I mean it.’ A slow grin edged onto his face. ‘You’re worth it…Princess.’ Her tennis show hit the door a second after it closed.
Jana Oliver