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I suffer from resting bitch face (RBF).

It’s sad but true. As a result, I turn people away. I’m not exactly bubbly and friendly.

This is probably why my lonely job as a private investigator is perfect for my skill set. Usually, I’m very good at what I do. I get the job done and move on. But my latest assignment has thrown me for a loop. The satanic-looking Hyrrokin biologist I’ve been tracking has gotten under my skin. Sir Bane Ashmoor has become much more than a job. Through my telescopic lens, I can literally see my future unborn children in his deadly eyes.

I’m full-on stalking this monstrous guy as he charts the migration of fire-beasts, spending countless unbillable hours in the wildlands, watching his every attractive move. What is wrong with me?

When I trip and break my ankle my hot target finds me with my ass in the dirt, doing the full-on ugly cry. And he lifts me in his massive red arms and carries me back to his tent! He’s caring for me and I think he really likes me. Basically, it’s a dream come true.

But what happens when Bane discovers he’s brought his stalker home?

And he finds out who I really am, what I really do and who I work for?

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