- Shopping Bag ( 0 items )
How it began was remarkable, almost exactly like the rehashed in fifty-seven languages of the industrialized world and romantic plot of a bodice-ripping Harlequinc, the same plot even now making inroads into the literary fabric of nineteen Third-World countries, even though few of those women are allowed to learn to read, squatting as they must over their cooking fires while suckling infants, which is, fiction aside, the absolute and ultimate conclusion of romance. Perhaps they use those books for fuel.
It all began when Ainsley-Brooke Marker's 157 pounds hurtled around a blindish corner of the new Falkner Building in the capitol of the Cowboy StateTM, Cheyenne, Wyoming, situated on the extreme southern border of the state where Wyoming's lawmakers assiduously nurture their inaccessibility to all Wyoming citizenry and thereby remain a law unto themselves. Ainsley-Brooke could have collided into the arms of Dorian Elliot Falkner III had he had his arms outstretched and not swinging at his sides where arms are generally located; therefore, they merely bumped into each other instead.
"Why the hell don't you watch where you're going? Look what you've done to my hair!"
Posted December 14, 2013
Posted October 11, 2012
No text was provided for this review.