SPOTLIGHT ~ More than a Phoenix by Ashlyn Chase
What do you get when you take
Two phoenix shifter brothers
Throw in one powerful witch
And one…monkey shifter?
Mallory Summers is losing it. She’s discovered she can talk to dead people—and she might be able to shift to monkey form. Firefighter Dante Fierro knows the quirky beauty isn’t crazy—just supernatural. But what would she think if she knew his secret?
Hothead Noah Fierro has his own sparks flying with gorgeous ER doctor Kizzy Samuels. While the attraction is mutual, so are the supernatural secrets. With this much sizzle going on, how do you not get burned?
Fighting fires is easy… Finding love is the hard part.
Mallory Summers was trying to chat with a nice young man about the weather, but couldn’t help being distracted by two old biddies sitting on the bus bench, peaking at her from under their umbrellas.
One old woman leaned toward the other and whispered loudly, “Tsk. Tsk. Such a sweet young thing…”
“It’s a shame,” said the other one.
Shame? Should I be ashamed for chatting up a nice-looking guy and offering to share my umbrella? Just to make sure the gossips knew how unashamed she was, she turned back to the young man and spoke louder. “Yeah, I saw the weather report this morning. It’s supposed to rain until about noon.”
The guy just nodded. He was a little hard to engage in conversation.
Still, she persisted. “That will probably keep people at home, so my work at the mall will be slow.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted one of the women waddling up to a guy in uniform. They were farther away, so she couldn’t hear what they were saying.
A few moments later, he approached her slowly. He was a handsome devil. She could only imagine what the interfering old woman had said. Probably warned him not to be taken in by the young lady’s flirtatious ways.
“Uh, hi,” the guy said, smiling. He had stunning brown eyes, with thick, dark lashes most women would envy. One of the patches on his uniform looked just like the one on her uncle’s Boston Fire Department uniform.
She suddenly realized he looked familiar. “Hi. Do I know you?”
The young man paused. His smile turned into a grin, lighting up his handsome face. “I know you. You’re Mallory Summers.”
“Right—and you are…”
“Dante Fierro, and I’m wondering who you’re talking to.”
“Huh?” Well, that’s rude. Why should anybody care? She was about to say as much when she turned back to the guy in question to apologize for everyone else’s bad manners—but he was gone.
“Where did he go?” she asked.
“Where did who go?”
“The man… I don’t know his name. And—wait a minute… You’re the Dante Fierro from high school?”
“Yup. So you do remember me.”
“Do you always hold conversations with blank air?”
“What the heck are you talking about?”
“Mallory, these ladies have seen you at this bus stop three times, talking to yourself. They won’t call the cops, because you’re not doing anything illegal, and they don’t want to call an ambulance, which would be expensive, but they’re worried about you.”
Mallory jammed her hands on her hips and strode over to the two old ladies. “You should be minding your own business.”
They leaned away from her as if they might catch an airborne virus.
“Mallory…” Dante gentled his voice. “I don’t live far from here. Why don’t you come over for coffee and we can talk.”
“Because I have to go to work. I take two buses to get to my job at the Union Mall.”
“I can drive you.”
The weather didn’t look like it was going to let up, and a nice warm car sounded good. She shrugged. “I don’t want to put you out. You look like you’re on your way to work too.”
“I’m on my way home, actually. Come on. It’s no trouble.”
She smiled. “Well, now that I realize who you are, it would probably be okay to accept a ride. After all, it’s not like you’re a complete stranger.”
“Good.” He stuck out his elbow like he was escorting her to a fancy ball. “Let’s go.”
She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and gave the old busybodies a glare as they passed.
He lived around the corner in a nice two-family house on L Street, a stone’s throw from the main drag, which bordered the beach.
“I shouldn’t stay for coffee. I can get coffee at the mall. Is that your car?” She nodded toward a black Camaro with bright-red racing stripes down the side.
“Yup. My brother Noah calls it my wife.”
“Your wife? Why?”
“Because I named her Joanna, and I take good care of her. He says it’s because she eats up half my paycheck.”
She giggled. “Okay. Well, nice to meet you, Joanna.” As they approached the passenger’s side, she realized how talking to an inanimate object might also make her look like a crazy person—and he’d already caught her talking to, what…a dead guy? Maybe someone who stepped in front of a bus many years ago… She still wasn’t sure what was going on. Could two old ladies be punking her?
He just smiled, dug the key fob out of his pocket, and opened the door for her.
She settled herself on the comfortable leather seat and looked around. His car was indeed in pristine condition. It didn’t have that new car smell, but it looked as if it could have.
He jumped into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the driveway. “Where to?”
“I work at the mall in Somerville. I thought I already said so.”
He drove in the general direction of the expressway, but stayed quiet for a few moments. At last, he asked, “Mallory, are you sure you should be going to work?”
She reared back and stared at him. What was he saying? And did she want to know? “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
He glanced over at her. “It’s just that… Well, you… I mean…”
“Just say it, Dante. You think I’m nuts.”
“No, not nuts. I wouldn’t put it that way, but maybe…I don’t know, stressed?”
“Nope. I’m an artist, and having a creative outlet decreases stress. To pay the bills, I take professional portraits at the mall. Kids’ photos mostly. But I like kids, so that’s not very stressful either.”
“Please don’t be offended, but…are you on drugs?”
She burst out laughing. “No. Are you?”
About the Author
Ashlyn Chase was a registered nurse for twenty years. During those years she wrote articles for professional journals and a thesis, but eventually, thank goodness, discovered the joy and freedom of writing fiction.
Ashlyn considers herself lucky. Her degree in behavioral sciences is a combination of psychology and sociology, so she has studied people most of her life. She doesn’t have to write out exhaustive character sketches to understand her characters or predict how they will behave. That doesn’t mean they don’t surprise her. Sometimes they take her on grand unexpected journeys.
Ashlyn has learned to go with the flow. To enjoy the journey is not only one of her writing goals, but also a challenge in life. She tries to follow where the story takes her. Her identified theme involves characters who reinvent themselves. And why not? She has reinvented herself numerous times—from artist, to nurse, to hypnotherapist, to author, and she has lived in seventeen different places. At last, she’s all settled down and comfy in New England.
Is there a grand design or do we decide our own fates? Perhaps if the powers-that-be have a plot, then they also give us the right to revise it.
10 Surprising Facts About Romance Novels
Ashlyn’s Take on the Value of Romance Novels
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Tags: @GoddessAsh, @SourcebooksCasa
RECOMMENDED READ ~ Must Love Babies by Lynnette Austin
One of my favourite reads this year to date is MUST LOVE BABIES by Lynnette Austin
~ Tracy : BLP
This baby’s not the only one in need of a cuddle…
Brant Wylder is a bachelor and loving it! He’s in Misty Bottoms, Georgia, property-hunting for his vintage car repair shop when he gets the call. His sister’s been in an accident, and Brant has to drop everything and take care of his five-month-old nephew. That’s the end of the bachelor lifestyle.
Bridal boutique owner Molly Stiles is all business all the time, until she sees that Brant’s in trouble. In this Southern town, nobody ever has to go it alone. And besides, how can she resist that beautiful baby in the arms of a beautiful man…?
Molly stood beneath a magnolia tree, her face tipped to catch the moonlight. The breath caught in his throat, and for one fanciful second, Brant imagined a mythical princess or fairy.
He shook his head. The woman was real, and he wanted a dance, wanted to hold her in his arms. A little flirting? Harmless.
Stepping out of the shadows, he made his way to her.
“Beautiful night, huh?”
“Perfect.” Slowly, she turned, a smile on her face.
“How about a dance?”
“I’m not asking for a lifelong commitment, sugar. Just a single dance under the stars. The night’s made for dancing.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
He caught her hand in his, amazed at its softness against his work-roughened one. “In the interest of full disclosure, I’m not the world’s greatest dancer, but you shouldn’t lose any toes.” He glanced at her sequined stilettos, showcased by her cocktail-length dress. “Don’t know how you even walk in those, let alone put on the miles you do, but I have to say that all mankind is grateful.”
Smiling, Molly peeked at her shoes. “They’re awesome, aren’t they?”
He nodded. “You can dance in them?”
“I could run a marathon in these.”
“Okay, then.” The moon shone through Spanish moss that dripped from the live oaks, forming a lacy pattern on the dewy grass.
Kelly Clarkson’s “A Moment Like This” played over the sound system. Reaching the dance floor, Brant slid an arm around her waist and drew her in, breathed in her scent. He swung her out and brought her back in one smooth motion, felt her quick laugh in the pit of his stomach. The music slowed when the band segued into John Legend’s “All of Me,” and he drew her close.
Molly fit perfectly in his arms. She lived in Georgia and he in Tennessee, and that made her safe. And if the plans he and his brothers were working on panned out? Still nothing to worry about since she lived in Savannah. When she rested her head against his chest, he wondered if she could hear the rapid thump of his heart. Ms. Molly was hot, hot, hot.
His hand slid a little lower, and without missing a beat, she relocated it to her waist.
Molly smelled of a midnight garden with just a touch of naughty. His body responded, and he willed himself to think about something else. “How’s the city?”
“Savannah?” She shrugged. “I live in Misty Bottoms now. I opened a bridal boutique. Today’s bride was my first.” She grinned, dimples creasing her cheeks.
The dance ended, and he reluctantly released Molly. “I’m driving back to Tennessee tomorrow.”
“Speaking of driving, thanks for taxiing the last of the rehearsal dinner’s partiers home last night. I heard they celebrated pretty hard at Duffy’s.”
“I need to stop at my car before I go back inside. I left the little silver heart I attach to the bridal gown’s garment bag in my glove box.”
Brant walked beside her in the soft night air, a hand at her elbow, while the band played Blake Shelton’s “God Gave Me You.”
He lowered his head. “Before we call it a night, I’d love to see the rose garden our friend Cole salvaged.”
“What a mess, but after a lot of hard work it’s incredible again.”
The scent of roses surrounding them, they strolled through the yard. In the silver light of the moon, the flowers glowed and took on an almost magical, fairy-tale illusion. The house shimmered and welcomed, like the true Southern lady she was. Interlacing his fingers with Molly’s, peace enveloped Brant.
They wandered across the expanse of lawn and through the blooms in comfortable silence.
From the parking area, he heard the sound of engines starting, of tires crunching on the long drive. “Looks like it’s about time for lights-out. We’d better head back so you can finish up.”
A slight breeze caused Molly to shiver, and happy for the excuse, Brant wrapped an arm around her and pulled her a little closer, surprised when she didn’t pull away.
Reaching her yellow-and-white Mini Countryman, he made to open her door, then changed his mind, leaned in and gave her a quick kiss, one that should have been impersonal. Friendly. Instead, fire shot through him.
He pulled back, unsure whether he should be relieved or horrified that the expression on her face mirrored his own stampeding feelings. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m taking care of a few loose ends in the morning, then heading back to Tennessee. And I already said that, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. The kiss was nice, thanks, but you don’t need to worry. I won’t show up naked at your hotel door.”
His breath caught.
She grinned, and he understood she knew exactly the effect she was having on him.
“I—” His phone vibrated. “Whoops. Sorry, but I’d better take this. My brothers probably forgot something. Organization isn’t their strong suit. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Hello? Dad?” As he spoke, he made his way to a gnarly old oak. His father’s voice was gruff, almost as if he’d been crying. Panic grabbed Brant by the throat. “What’s wrong?
BLP REVIEW ~ Tracy
I know from some reviews that I’ve read that this wasn’t everyone’s cuppa but I have to say I loved Must Love Babies!!!!
Brant Wylder was settled and happy living his bachelor life and working with his brothers.
Molly Stiles has a solid plan of getting her business up and running and not getting married ’til she’s at least 30.
Then they met and things went to pot where their plans were concerned.
This was a slow brewing, sweet romance with two likable main characters, a fun supporting cast and of course, baby Jax, who was a show stealer! With all that you would expect from a small town by way of support, help and a little bit of helpful interference, this was a great read that I definitely recommend reading.
I haven’t read any of the books that this series has spun from – this was in fact my first Lynnette Auston read and I’m really looking forward to more in this series as well as going back to check our the authors earlier works.
This gets 5* from me!!
About the Author
Once upon a time, a handsome prince walked up to the Tastee Freeze window and asked the lovely princess—who was working there to earn money to redecorate the castle—for a chocolate milkshake and a date. She said yes to both, and they lived happily ever after.
Okay, maybe I embellished a little—the princess didn’t actually live in a castle—but it’s no wonder I write romances with their happy endings. My prince and I are still together.
We had one beautiful son whom we lost in 2006. Aaron brought untold love and happiness into our lives. He was one of those brave firefighters who run into the flames as others are fleeing.
Dave and I both grew up in Pennsylvania’s Alleghany Mountains. From there, we moved to New York, then to the Rockies in Wyoming. Presently we divide our time between Naples, Florida’s beaches and Georgia’s Blue Ridge Mountains.
I have a Master’s in Educational Leadership and taught middle school language arts before leaving it to write full-time. My books have finaled in Romance Writers of America’s national Golden Heart Contest, PASIC’s Book of Your Heart Contest, and Georgia Romance Writers’ Maggie Contest. My books written as Lynnette Hallberg include Enchanted Evening from Kensington, Moonlight, Motorcycles, and Bad Boys,Chantilly Lace and A Pretty Face, and Night Shadows from The Wild Rose Press, and Just A Little White Lie from Carina Press.
I love books and have closets full of them as well as two well-supplied ereaders. Nothing makes me happier than losing myself in my characters’ worlds. Besides reading and writing, I enjoy traveling. I’ve visited all fifty states with the exception of Alaska and have traveled extensively throughout Canada, Mexico, Europe, Africa, and Central America—always on the lookout for new characters or a new story.
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SPOTLIGHT TOUR ~ All’s Fair in Love and Wolf (Silver Town Wolf, #8) by Terry Spear
Title: All’s Fair in Love and Wolf
Series: Silver Town Wolf, #8
Author: Terry Spear
Pub Date: May 1, 2018
The Silver Town wolf pack has your back
Wolf shifter Sarandon Silver’s in trouble with the law, and bounty hunter she-wolf Jenna
St. James is determined to bring him in for trial.
Lucky for Sarandon, the entire Silver Town pack is ready to fight for his innocence.
But until the case is solved, Jenna’s sticking to Sarandon like glue…
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Looking forward to seeing Jake there, Sarandon climbed into the Suburban and took off. This might be even more fun than he had planned.
Sarandon headed into the wilderness, and after a couple of hours, he finally reached the Elk Horn cabin. He parked, got out, and stretched. Taking a deep breath of the pines and Douglas firs, he embraced the peace and quiet, the sound of a river flowing nearby, birds twittering in the trees, and the breeze fluttering the leaves.
Once he’d hauled all his supplies inside, he started a fire in the fireplace and planned to go for a run, something he couldn’t do while acting as a tour guide. Not unless he was taking a wolf group out.
Within minutes, he’d stripped off his clothes and shifted, then pushed through the wolf door. He dashed through the woods, exploring and scent-marking, letting any animal in the area know a wolf was on the prowl and this was his claimed territory.
The sound of a car’s tires crunching on the private gravel road, heading toward the cabin, caught his attention. He stopped and listened from the shelter of the trees and brush. There was nothing out here but wilderness. And the cabins and the land were private property. He could tell by the engine’s purr that the car wasn’t Jake’s or anyone else’s he knew in the pack. The car parked, and the engine shut off in the distance.
If the driver were a hunter, Sarandon didn’t want to be caught in his wolf coat and end up getting shot. Cursing mentally to himself, he waffled about what to do. Hidden in the undergrowth in the woods, he could check out the person leaving the car, or he could run back to the cabin, shift, dress, arm himself with his rifle, and then see who it was and what he or she was up to.
Sarandon opted for returning to the cabin first and ditching his wolf coat. That way, he could tell the trespasser to leave.
When he reached the cabin, he dove through the wolf door, shifted, and rushed to dress. He removed his rifle from the locked gun cabinet and left the cabin, locking it behind him. Listening for any sign of where the person was, Sarandon headed down the road to where he’d heard the car park.
A quarter of a mile from the cabin, he stopped dead in his tracks. A woman was standing off the road, partially hidden in the woods, holding a rifle aimed at him. The way she was holding it, she looked like she knew how to use it. And he’d thought running as a wolf could cause him trouble!
“Hey, I’m just camping up here at one of my family’s cabins. I don’t have any intention of hurting you,” Sarandon said, trying to put the woman at ease, even if she was in the wrong. “This is private property .”
“Carefully, put the rifle down!” she commanded in an authoritative, no-nonsense way.
Well, this was bizarre. She was trespassing and pointing a rifle at him, and yet she was telling him to disarm himself when he belonged here? He considered her attire: black cargo pants, a black windbreaker, and boots. She didn’t look like a half-crazed criminal or a hunter either. He wasn’t afraid of her; he’d be much warier of a man holding a rifle on him than a woman. He just figured he’d spooked her.
“All right. All right. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” Being the nice wolf he was, Sarandon set his rifle on the ground, figuring the woman was going hiking, albeit on private property, and didn’t know privately owned cabins were located here, though signs were posted in the area. But the fact that she was carrying a rifle made him suspect something else might be going on. “I run photo-op tours, hiking, mountain climbing, and white-water rafting guided tours, one-on-one tours, and group tours.” He thought if he told her what he did, she would realize he was employed, not some mountain man living out here in the wilderness alone, and that his occupation meant he was one of the good guys who liked working with people. “Whatever customers might be interested in,” he continued.
She was someone he was interested in. If she was a wolf and would put the weapon down. Something about her straightforward and confrontational attitude appealed. He swore it was the wolf in him.
“Sarandon Silver?” she asked, her brow arched.
Learning that she knew his name surprised him. If she knew who he was, why was she pointing the rifle at him? Then he wondered if this had something to do with his brothers. Maybe they’d sent her as a plant, a way to get him to meet a new she-wolf, believing the standard boy-meets-girl routine wouldn’t cut it with him. Especially since he’d said he was trying to come up with an idea for a new adventure.
“Yeah, I’m Sarandon Silver. Do you want to tell me how you know me and why you’re still pointing a weapon at me?” She had to be his brothers’ idea, but he wondered where she was taking this.
If this was for real, he didn’t recall anything he’d done that would have aggravated anyone to the extent that she’d pull a weapon on him. He hadn’t taken a mate and pissed off her family. He hadn’t lost anyone on one of his excursions. His dad was the only one who’d ever committed any crimes in the family, and he’d paid for his sins with his life.
“Come this way, nice and slow,” she said, her voice firm and resolved.
He frowned at her. She sounded like a cop. He looked her over again, but her clothes didn’t indicate that. He couldn’t see what was underneath the jacket, though from the slight bulk underneath the material, it looked like she might have a sidearm holstered there. She hadn’t said she was a cop though. Plus, if she were, she wasn’t in her own jurisdiction. Her car was a silver Ford Expedition, with no indication it was a cop’s vehicle.
She was a beautiful brunette, her hair cut short and bouncy, her eyes a crystal-clear blue. If his brothers—and maybe his cousins—had put her up to this… Well, he didn’t want to appear as though he couldn’t take a joke. She’d share with them how growly he’d been, and they’d all have a good laugh over it—at his expense.
“Am I under arrest?” he asked with good humor, smiling a little. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t take this seriously.
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Terry Spear has written over sixty paranormal romances. In 2008, Heart of the Wolf was named a Publishers Weekly Best Book of the Year. A retired officer of the U.S. Army Reserves, Terry also creates award-winning teddy bears that have found homes all over the world. She lives in Spring, Texas where she raises two Havanese puppies.
Find Terry Online:
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SPOTLIGHT TOUR ~ Play for Keeps (Love Games, #2) by Maggie Wells
Title: Play for Keeps
Series: Love Games, #2
Author: Maggie Wells
Pub Date: April 3, 2018
Mixing business and pleasure is a dangerous game…
Tyrell Ransom, the new men’s basketball coach, is ready to whip his team into shape and start winning some games. But when compromising photos of his soon-to-be-ex-wife with one of his players go viral, everything comes crashing down. With reporters thick on the ground, Ty and his team need some serious damage control—now.
When public relations guru Millie Jenkins arrives in her leopard-print cape to save the day, things really heat up… Soon they’re going to have to work double time to keep their white-hot chemistry out of the headlines.
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Clean-shaven, minty fresh, and unable to stand waiting a second longer, he snatched up the phone and padded into the condo’s master bedroom. The furnishings were comfortable if not a bit generic. The bed was a standard king, which meant he slept diagonally most nights, but the pillows were firm and plentiful. Hitting the recall button with his thumb, he propped a couple against the headboard, then dropped onto the bed. The knot at his waist loosened a bit but held the ends of the towel together enough to keep him decent.
The throaty rasp of her greeting did things to him. Stirred thoughts and urges he’d bank for later. For now, he had to set the jumble aside and form coherent sentences. “Hey, sorry I missed your call.”
His lack of explanation might have been a bit of payback. Millie never gave excuses for why she would need to call him back or accounted for her time in any way, so he followed her lead. He didn’t want her thinking he counted down the hours until he could talk to her again. Even if he did.
Playing by the unwritten conversational rules, he opened with an inane yet remarkably telling question. “How was your day?”
She sighed. “Boring. I hate summer session. Campus is like a ghost town in the afternoons. Kate has banned me from her office because I told her I was tempted to release the bikini picture from her honeymoon. I have no idea why she’s being such a pill. If I were built like her, I’d dance a bikini-clad flamenco on top of every swimsuit edition in the athletic department’s secret archive.”
Ty wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond, so he stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed one ankle over the other, and started in what seemed like the safest place. “Secret archive?”
She guffawed. “Don’t play innocent. I know what’s in the file cabinet at the back of the bullpen.”
He smiled, the image of Millie rifling through the battered metal drawers in search of contraband forming in his mind’s eye. She wasn’t wrong. When the university’s human resources director cracked down on “potentially offensive” materials displayed in the workplace, the warren of cubicles housing the coaching assistants was hardest hit. All calendars, posters, and, yes, a nearly exhaustive collection of Sports Illustrated swimsuit editions were deemed too dangerous for public display. But instead of taking the stuff home, some smarty-pants locked all the loot in a filing cabinet no one bothered to use once departmental records became computerized. A limited number of duplicate keys were made, and being awarded one had become a departmental rite of passage.
At least now Ty had a pretty good idea who’d planted a copy of Burt Reynolds’s Cosmopolitan centerfold in the mix.
“Are you the one who keeps slipping issues of GQ and Esquire in?”
“Not me,” she said in a singsong voice. “But I can tell you people really are crazy about a sharp-dressed fella.”
“Sadly, I don’t think they’re having any impact on Mack or Beau’s wardrobe choices,” he said gravely.
Mack and Beau were the elder statesmen of the Warrior coaching staff. They were known for their love of polyester shorts, snow-white athletic shoes, and, in Beau’s case, striped tube socks color coordinated with whichever polo-collared shirt his wife of over forty years had pressed for him. They were also two of the handful of coaches who’d willingly relinquished their keys to the cabinet. As far as Ty knew, the head coaches declined their copies. He knew far better ways to get shit-canned in professional coaching than ogling two-dimensional versions of scantily clad women. The three-dimensional ones caused enough trouble.
“I’d run away with Mr. Beau if he’d ditch that hussy.”
“Watch yourself. She may look all sweet and charming, but I’m pretty sure Mrs. Beau would claw your eyes out if you put the moves on her man.”
Millie heaved a heavy sigh. “No use. I can’t get the guy to look twice at me anyhow.”
“I have fifty that says he’s looked more than twice.”
Her delighted laugh made the prospect of coughing up fifty bucks on a bet he couldn’t prove one way or another totally worthwhile. “You’re so good for my ego.”
About the Author
By day, Maggie Wells is buried in spreadsheets. At night she pens tales of people tangling up the sheets. The product of a charming rogue and a shameless flirt, you only have to scratch the surface of this mild-mannered married lady to find a naughty streak a mile wide. She has a passion for college football, processed cheese foods, and happy endings. Not necessarily in that order. She lives in Arkansas.
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