Monday, February 20, 2017

My unearthly Valentine (#mm #scifi #gayromance @parr_books)


Falling Star Valentine cover

By E.D. Parr (Guest Blogger)

The story Falling Star Valentine was inspired by shooting stars. We all know shooting stars are falling meteorites, but the romance remains when one streaks across the midnight blue sky, and when two, in close succession, zoom over the night vista as you stand on your hotel balcony, its a sight to behold. I travel a little with my day job and in the autumn of 2016, I had to travel a lot more than usual. One night when I couldnt sleep because I was churning worries around, I went out onto the balcony of the hotel room I was staying in and stared up at the sky. The night sparkled cold and the sky displayed an array of stars suddenly seeming only meters away a shooting star flew across my line of vision, then another as if it followed the first.

I’m a die-hard romantic and immediately my sweet but sexy character, Valentine Steel, had formed in my head. He’s Falling Star Valentine on his way to visit earth. Will he find love?

Blurb

Fashion photographer Dale Walker takes a train to his hometown, relocating there after nursing a broken heart for six months in another city. His train makes an unscheduled stop to take on a mysterious passenger.

For a long time, Valentine Steel has hoped to meet a man who will love him. When he sees Dale on the train, he’s overjoyed to find a vacant seat beside Dale.

Dale’s immediate attraction to Valentine has him on edge. He doesn’t want another broken heart, and yet Valentine is so magnetic Dale’s frozen heart begins to thaw.

Valentine sets out to charm and capture Dale in his sparkling aura. He can’t let the chance to have Dale’s love slip away. This could be his last chance to stay on Earth the planet he loves.

Excerpt

A soft sound of regret that he’d given his heart away so easily escaped Dale and then the sudden slowing of the train grabbed his attention. Thrown a little forward by the rapid decrease in speed, Dale huddled back in his seat. No one sat beside him and the magazine he’d placed on the adjacent seat flew off forcefully as the train ground to a halt.

People stood and gaped out of the windows. Dale peered out at the white expanse sparkling in the morning sun, unaware until then that the train had even traveled into snow-covered country. The hum of concerned questions filled the carriage as people looked around and talked in hushed voices. There’d been no collision, no terrible sound of an accident and Dale, in the fog of his misery, waited quietly for some indication of what was going on.

An announcement floated from the practically invisible speaker at the front of the carriage. A pretty sound chimed and a soothing voice stated the obvious before giving information.

Translines Rail has made an unscheduled stop. We apologize for the inconvenience. There is no need for alarm. We will shortly be mobile again when a passenger has boarded. Thank you and enjoy the rest of your journey.”

Dale bent to pick up the magazine that had fallen to the floor of the carriage. He hadn’t even placed a fingertip on the glossy cover when a hand extending from the cuff of a black jacket sleeve took hold of the magazine, and lifted it.

Dale swiftly looked sideways to see who the hand belonged to, and came face-to-face with a gorgeous man. Something about the man made Dale’s heart lurch, which scared him, and because of the scare his heartbeat increased. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, trying to calm this sudden flare of nerves. He gave up on retrieving his reading material and sat up in the plush velveteen train seat waiting for what would happen next.

Your journal. Is the seat free?” The man’s gentle voice soothed him only a little as he held Dale’s magazine out, and gave an indicative nod toward the vacant seat beside Dale.

Thank you, and yes the seat is free.” Captured by his outright beauty, Dale tried not to stare at the man. He dropped his gaze to the colorful shot on the cover, and accepted the magazine, holding it on his lap.

The man sat.

Dale struggled not to look at the passenger beside him, whose cologne now filled up his senses with a delicate, fresh, scent, a fragrance capturing the cool breeze crossing the ocean on a summer night, somehow full of promise. The suit the man wore was visibly expensive. Dale knew quality when he saw it even if it was only on a quick look. As a photographer for major fashion magazines, he’d gathered a knowledge and appreciation for clothes.

Dale stared ahead and wondered if this man was the passenger the train had stopped for. He edged a little away from the central armrest dividing the seats—their size was generous and the man wasn’t even close, but Dale could feel his presence as if gripped by a magnetic force. Finally, unable to help it, Dale chanced a sideways glance.




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Sunday, February 19, 2017

Sunday Snog 266: Test Drive (#mfromance #motorcycle #charity)


Sunday Snog banner

Happy Sunday!

My kiss excerpt for today’s Sunday Snog comes from my story “Test Drive”. This story is part of the altruistic erotica collection Coming Together: On Wheels, edited by Leigh Ellwood —along with seven other fabulous tales on the themes of fast cars, big bikes and speed. All proceeds from this volume benefit UNHCR, that is, the United Nations High Commission on Refugees.

When you’re done with my snog, head back to Victoria’s place for more weekend kisses.

And maybe you’d like to pick up a copy of the book? It’s for a great cause.



I pulled off my helmet and shook out my tangled hair. “Wow!” My pulse still raced. Between my thighs, I was thoroughly drenched. I didn’t care. “That was just amazing. Thank you!”

Jack gave me a smile without the slightest hint of smugness. “I knew you’d like it. The moment I saw you, I knew.”

He leaned closer, brushing his lips against my earlobe. His warm breath tickled my neck. Sparks skittered across my skin, jumped to my nipples then raced down to my pussy. Cupping my chin in one hand, he traced the shape of my mouth with the pad of his thumb. “So lovely,” he murmured.
I opened my lips. His thumb slipped inside. I pulled it deeper, eager to taste any part of him.

Oh, Alice! Oh, yeah.”

Pretending the digit was his cock, I flicked at the tip with my tongue, then sucked hard. Jack moaned. I felt the pull myself. My nipples drew into aching peaks and my clit pulsed each time I swallowed.

God, Alice!” He wrenched his thumb away and replaced it with his mouth. He tasted of coffee and breath mints, sweet and spicy. The honest lust in that kiss fanned my own.

He snaked his wiry arms around my body. My nipples sparked as they mashed against his solid chest. His hands wandered down my back to knead my ass. Shameless, I ground my pussy against the bulge in his jeans. Fireworks lit up my clit.

You really are something,” he murmured when we came up for air. “You want this too?”

Isn’t it obvious? Feel how wet I am.” Astonished by my own boldness, I grabbed his hand and dragged it under my skirt. He caught on immediately, slipping a couple fingers under the elastic of my panties and into my soaked cleft.

I writhed in his arms. “Jack—please…”

Lie down, darlin’. Yeah, that’s right. Just relax now. Leave everything to me.” 

 

Saturday, February 18, 2017

It's a dog's life (@KryssieFortune #bordercollie #romance #suspense)


Border Collie

By Kryssie Fortune (Guest Blogger)

Ask any dog owner and they’ll tell you their dog is brightest dog out there. One breed is renowned for its intelligence and obedience. Yes, border collies are bred for these traits. They’re also energetic, acrobatic, and athletic. You need to be fit to own a dog like this. 

 

Border collies make great working dogs. They enjoy herding and are often used as sheep dogs. They also make good pets.

Sean Mathews, hero of my book, Sex, Scandal, and the Sheriff has had his dog, Duffy, a black border collie since he was a pup.

Isn’t he a sweetie?


Duffy’s a well trained companion who loves to romp on the beach. He comes into his own in my latest book release Desire, Deceit, and the Doctor. When Sean takes his new bride away for a long weekend, he leaves Duffy with Mandy Devlin and her son, Ben.

Duffy not only helps save Ben’s life, but shows his protective nature when Mandy’s old boyfriend, Adam accosts her on her way her home. It doesn’t help that she’s just seen him kissing another woman the day after he seduced her.

Sometimes, though, things aren’t what they seem. 

Blurb

After Adam Montgomery walked away and left her pregnant, dare Mandy trust him with her heart again?

Twelve years ago, Mandy Devlin moved away from her friends and family--under threat. If she returned in the next ten years or told anyone who fathered her baby, her boyfriend’s great-aunt would bankrupt her family. She’s a single mom who dreams of her lost love and a good spanking. When she’s finally free to return to Westhorpe Ridge, the last person she expects to see is Adam—the man she loved and lost so long ago.

Dr. Adam Montgomery doesn’t know he has a son. Thanks to his great-aunt’s will, he has nine months to find a bride or he loses Montgomery Hall and the fifteen million dollars she left him. Although he seduces Mandy on his first night home, he still believes she betrayed him twelve years ago. No way would he marry a woman like her.

As Valentine’s Day looms, someone tries to kill Mandy. Is Adam trying to get rid of her? Or can Mandy trust him to protect them?

Buy links

Amazon US   http://amzn.to/2kJbtmK
Amazon UK   http://amzn.to/2lPNv9N

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Friday, February 17, 2017

Sneak Peek: A New Haunted Voices novel by Claire Gem (@gemwriter #romantic #suspense #supernatural)

Spirits of the Heart cover

Spirits of the Heart - A Haunted Voices Novel


An addiction counselor and a security guard struggle to free a little girl and her father, two lost spirits trapped inside an abandoned mental asylum.

Addiction counselor Laura Horton returns from college to move in with an old friend and start her career. But her homecoming is jarring. Her friend moves out, leaving Laura alone with the gorgeous but intimidating ex-boyfriend-in a house that snugs up to an ancient graveyard.

Officer Miller Stanford is a man with a shattered past. His alcoholic dad destroyed their family, a weakness Miller is terrified will consume him too. The last thing he needs is a sexy, blonde addiction counselor watching his every move. When he begins to see specters in the dark, he starts questioning his own stability.

But Laura sees her too--–a pathetic child-spirit searching for her father. Then Laura starts digging into old asylum records . . . Can Miller and Laura uncover the secrets of Talcott Hall without jeopardizing their love-and lives-in the process?


Excerpt
 
Laura Horton’s bad feeling began the minute she pulled up in front of Angie’s puke green, two-story house and parked at the curb.

Not Angie’s house, she reminded herself. Angie’s boyfriend’s house. Although they’d been pretty tight in high school, she and Ang had kept in touch mostly via telephone and email these past few years that Laura had been in grad school. Once, a few years ago, they’d gotten together for their five-year reunion, when Laura had come home to visit her ailing dad.

That was the first time she’d seen the compact craftsman bungalow—after dark—and she hadn’t realized it was such an ugly color. She hadn’t met the boyfriend, Miller Stanford, whom Angie either claimed to love with all her heart, or wanted to eviscerate with a Phillips head screwdriver, depending on the day. Nor had Laura noticed then that the house snugged up tight on one side to an ancient-looking graveyard. The only thing separating the two properties was a narrow strip of grass and a dilapidated, iron fence.

A shiver ran across her shoulder blades as she sat in her car, studying her new surroundings. Her new home.

Holy crap.

Chillier up here. Where’d I pack that hoodie?

She turned to dig around in one of the boxes squashed into the back of her tiny car, quickly realizing it was pointless. Nearly everything she owned in the world—besides a few pieces of battered, old furniture—filled the back seat, and passenger side, of her thrifty Kia. When she’d run out of room for boxes, she’d resorted to folding softer items, like her sweaters and sweats, into new plastic trash bags. Stuff crammed every nook and crevice in the car, leaving just enough space beneath the headliner for her to see out through the rearview mirror.

There was no way in hell she was locating her hoodie in Mt. Clothesmore.

Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she climbed out and sprinted up the steps to the front door. She hadn’t been able to reach Angie by phone since she’d left Boone, North Carolina the day before, but that wasn’t too unusual. Her friend was a bit flighty, and prone to misplace her phone, her charger, or both. Angie had been juggling courses at the community college with a full-time night job, tending bar at the pub just down the street, for the past two years. Laura couldn’t blame her for acting a bit squirrelly at times.

She reminded herself how nice it was of Ang and Miller to rent her their spare room. When Laura landed the job in Middletown, her initial exhilaration had been tempered by a glaring question: where the hell was she going to live? There was no way she could move into her father’s tiny condo with his new wife, Deirdre. And securing an apartment on her own was out of the question, at least not until after her first few paychecks hit the bank.

Laura squared her shoulders, which were quaking slightly in the cool spring breeze, tipped up her chin, and rang the doorbell.

Twice. She shifted her sneakered feet against the creaky porch boards, folding her arms against the chill. After another long moment with no answer, she rang the bell a third time, holding down the ancient button a full ten seconds this time. She could hear the electronic buzz through the peeling front door, but no other sounds at all.

Angie had to be here—she knew Laura was coming. It was Friday, but Angie’s last term of college ended last week, and it was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon. There was only one vehicle parked in the short driveway, a late-model Ford pickup. But Laura wasn’t sure what it was Angie was driving these days.

Then, she heard the booming, thumping sound. Footsteps? Deliberate, heavy, booming steps. Did Bigfoot live here too?

A dull click, then the tinkle of chain skittering on the inside of the wood. The door burst open. But it wasn’t Angie standing on the threshold.

Laura didn’t have time to suppress the involuntary gasp that escaped from her open mouth.

The man was huge, not only tall but massive, with a broad, muscular chest, one lightly furred with golden hair. His bulbous biceps were cut, sculpted like a Greek statue. And he wasn’t wearing much more than Michelango’s David, with only a steel grey towel snugged around narrow hips to match the steely glint in his blue-grey eyes.

She blinked and swallowed, stumbling back a step. “Is Angie here?” she asked in a small voice.

The giant snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Who’s askin’?”


About the Author

Strong Women, Starting Over
~Redefining Romance~
Claire is a multi-published, award winning author of emotional romance—contemporary, paranormal, romantic suspense, and women’s fiction. She writes about strong, resilient women who won’t give up their quest for a happy-ever-after—and the men lucky enough to earn their love. No helpless, hapless heroines here. These spunky ladies redefine romance, on their terms.

Whether it’s a sexy contemporary read you’re seeking, or a thrill ride into the supernatural world of hauntings and ghosts, Claire will take you on a memorable journey.


Her paranormal/romantic suspense, Hearts Unloched, won the 2016 New York Book Festival. Her contemporary romance, The Phoenix Syndrome, won the women’s fiction division in FCRWA’s The Beacon Contest.

A New York native, Claire has lived in five of the United States and held a variety of jobs, from waitress to bridal designer to research technician—but loves being an author best. She and her happily-ever-after hero, her husband of 38 years, now live in central Massachusetts.


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Thursday, February 16, 2017

Sneak Peek: Eye Candy by @PaulineAllan (#mm #gayromance #lgbtq)

Eye Candy cover

Blurb

Gavin Rossi is one sexy piece of Eye Candy wrapped in a tight body and sweet smile. The hot breath on his neck, the mesmerizing rhythm as he rolls his hips, the strong chest rising and falling beneath his hands make for a distraction he’s terrified to see play out.

When Dutch Williamson feels a set of perfectly sculpted thighs slipping over his lap, the last thing his liquor-hazed brain registers is this is my future. The tempting piece of Eye Candy grinding on his lap is going to cut him at the knees, and he knows it.

This is a dance. This is a tease. God, this is so much more.

Excerpt

The thought of going back to the crowded apartment after his shift made Mr. Stranger that much more important. Every customer counted as one step closer to being on his own. Granted, sharing a room with three guys didn’t compare to living on the streets, but dreams could change. Life meant more than a warm bed now.

The song switched. A new rhythm pulsed through the air, and they all bobbed their heads to the hypnotic vibe. Knowing the rhythm by heart, he stuffed the dark memories in his life into the hole where he’d pushed all the other messed-up experiences and focused on the gentleman’s wide-eyed expression.

Had his sexy new customer noticed the thickness behind his stretched white shorts? The way those eyes widened gave away the secret. Ah, two bets to one, the swelling behind that zipper had nothing to do with a balled-up sock.

Tingles sparked down his thighs when his toes finally tapped the rough tips of a pair of black boots. “Can I dance for you?”

Watching the man’s Adam’s apple bob before he nodded lent all the confidence anyone would ever need. Gavin filled his lungs and parted his knees, planted them on either side of Mr. Stranger’s lap, and gripped the back of the couch. Unruly silky waves tickled his cheek when he leaned forward.

I can touch you, but you can’t touch me. Don’t grab my butt. Okay?” Jesus, he never wanted that to happen again.

Mr. Stranger cleared his throat. The guttural sound massaged the side of Gavin’s cheek, forcing him to dig his knees into the cushions.

Got it.”


About Pauline

Pauline lives in the Midwest with her hero husband, two handsome boys, one ornery cat, and a lovely Pitbull. She enjoys writing erotic romance for all readers. From MM contemporary romance series to LGBT fairytales, Pauline shares stories that she holds close to her heart. By day Pauline is a special care baby registered nurse and by night a hopeless romantic. She loves to travel to New Orleans twice a year to recharge her creative battery and enjoy a bag full of powdered sugar covered beignets. Sit down, relax and Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Come say hello at:




Instagram: paulineallan_author

paulineallanerotica [at] yahoo [dot] com


Eye Candy is now $0.99 at Amazon!



Pauline will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.


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Wednesday, February 15, 2017

Inspiration on the Hoof (@kd_grace #mmromance #nerd #walkingtour)


Toys for Boys cover

By K D Grace (Guest Blogger)

One of the best holidays I ever had was a fourteen-day192 mile walk across England on the Wainwright Coast to Coast Path. The path begins at St. Bee’s Head, on the Irish Sea. It crosses the entire Lake District, then the Yorkshire Dales and finally the North York Moors, finishing at Robin Hood’s Bay on the North Sea. It was one of the hardest, most inspiring, most spectacular things I’d ever done. I don’t mind saying there were times I wasn’t sure I could finish it and there were times when I was a little bit scared, but I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Doing it again is exactly what I did when I wrote Toys for Boys. While Doc and Will’s adventure unfolded in my imagination, I got to live the whole experience of that wonderful walk over again while at the same time adding a few challenges and unexpected surprises for my boys.

High tech meets low tech in a wilderness adventure that sizzles.

Alpha nerd Will Charles teams up with Caridoc ‘Doc’ Jones in a coast to coast walk across England reviewing outdoor gift suggestions for the Christmas edition of Toys for Boys—an online magazine dedicated to the latest gadgets to tickle a man’s fancy. Will is recording their adventures with the latest smart phone technology. Doc is reviewing the latest outdoor gear. The two quickly discover the great outdoors provides even better toys for boys, toys best shared al fresco, toys that, in spite of Will’s great camera work, will never be reviewed in Toys for Boys.

Note: Toys for Boys has been previously published as part of the Brit Boys: With Toys boxed set.

Buy Toys for Boys Here:

Universal Amazon link: http://mybook.to/toysforboys
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2jPjrN2


 

Excerpt

We’re not going to make Ennerdale tonight,” Doc yelled into the wind.

Will’s answer was incoherent, an incoherence that wasn’t entirely because the wind was interfering with Doc’s hearing. They’d already got lost once and had fought their way back to the trail. Doc was fucking freezing, but he had spent enough time outdoors in bad weather to push his body way further than most people could. No matter how fit Will was, Doc recognised the signs of hypothermia when he saw them. They had to get out of the weather and get warm.

They lost the trail twice more before Doc made the executive decision to set up a tent in the first spot halfway flat. To his surprise it had been the damn urBrain that had saved the day. Will had downloaded detailed, interactive OS maps, but in his condition, Doc doubted if he could read his own name in bold letters, let alone the contours of a map. He’d pried the device, safe from the weather in its own little waterproof sheath, from Will’s icy hands and, with the light from the screen, he was able to find a wooded area relatively flat and as shielded from the weather as they were likely to get. The rain turned to hail and the Arctic wind made it feel like bird shot against all bits of exposed skin as Doc struggled to set up the tent. He’d shoved another energy bar at Will, and when he’d only stood there looking at it, Doc had opened it and half crammed it down his throat before he went back to work on shelter, desperate to get Will out of the weather.

Once the tent was secure, he chucked the bags inside, then grabbed Will by the collar and dragged him into the tight little space.

The energy bar must have helped. Will seemed coherent enough. “I can’t feel my hands,” he said, battling to get his sleeping bag out of its waterproof sack.

Give me that,” Doc said through chattering teeth. “Let me do it. My hands aren’t all delicate and dainty like yours.”

Would you look at that?” Will said as Doc grabbed the bag. “Amazingly, my middle finger works just fine.” He flipped him off.

So does your smart mouth.” Without thinking, Doc zipped the two bags together.
What are you doing?” Will was suddenly serious.

You’re hypothermic. Get your wet clothes off and get into the bag.”

Oh. Right.” But Will could no more manage the buttons and zippers on his clothing than he could his sleeping bag.

This time when Doc shoved his hands away and pushed the waterproof jacket off his shoulders, Will only watched, eyes focused on the process as though it were something totally new to him. Doc cursed the fiddly buttons on the man’s shirt, his own hands none too agile from the cold and wet and the fact that he was undressing Will fucking Charles, about whom he’d been having less than pristine thoughts since his first view of the man’s arse. Will fucking Charles with whom he was about to cuddle down into a sleeping bag butt naked, never mind that it was with good reason.

Will sucked in a harsh breath. “Your damned hands are like ice cubes, Woodsy.”

Oh shut it, William, or I’ll kick your arse outside and make you sleep in the rain.”

Fucking like to see you try.” Will’s teeth were chattering hard, and his whole body trembling from the cold as Doc worried the shorts down over his commando bum and found himself face to cock, which made the blighter burst into hysterical laughter. “Have we ulterior motives, Mr Jones? Where the hell’s urBrain? I have to get this on camera.”

Want a selfie of your cock, do you, you shivering bastard?” Doc turned his attention to the walking boots, which had stopped all progress of getting the man naked. Focussing on something other than the naked, very vulnerable body of Will fucking Charles helped clear his mind. He was too cold, too tired to get hard over what was essentially a matter of life and death, he told himself. Surely!

Once the boots were dispensed with, he shoved the man into the sleeping bag and went about the awkward business of stripping himself.

Where the hell is the urBrain when I need it?” Will chuckled between chattering teeth.

You point that thing at me, and I’ll shove it up your arse.” Doc’s own teeth sounded like a couple of spastic tap dancers had been turned loose in his mouth.

Now that’s a function I didn’t find in the instruction manual,” Will replied.

What started out as ribald comments on the shrivelling effect of the cold on male tender bits dwindled to nothing more than the sound of convulsive shivering. By the time Doc had shed the last of his clothes and shoved his way down next to Will, he was seriously worried. It took all his strength, which wasn’t a helluva lot at that moment, to pull the bloke into his arms and hold him close enough to share body heat, what little there was of it. The worry subsided a bit when Will threw his arms around his neck and gave a harsh chuckle against his throat. “This was seriously worth getting hypothermic for. Pity I’m too fucking tired to appreciate it.”

Though Doc agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment, his focus was on getting Will warm. Then he’d get out the backpacking stove and fix them something hot. That was the last thing he remembered, that and the feel of Will’s body shivering against him, in the tent redolent with the male scent of core heat and wet gear, all overlaid by the icy metal smell of the fells in a storm. 


About K D Grace/Grace Marshall
 

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She loves mythology. She enjoys spending time in the gym – right now she’s having a mad affair with a pair of kettle bells. She loves to read, watch birds and do anything that gets her outdoors.

KD has erotica published with Totally Bound, SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, To Rome with Lust, and The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition, Interviewing Wade are all available.

Find K D Here:


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