Spotlight: Hometown Girl Memories by Kirsten Fullmer


Hometown Girl Memories 
Hometown Series Book 6 
by Kirsten Fullmer 
Genre: Contemporary Romance  
Publication Date: October 1, 2019


"I was crying one minute and laughing the next. A definite must read!" 

Winnie is content in her role as the reigning matriarch of Smithville, but when a letter arrives from a long-lost friend, the door to her past is reopened. Memories come flooding in, drawing her back to 1968, her college days; a time filled with people and events she hasn’t allowed herself to recall. 

Tara knows her husband, Justin, is up to something. She may be crazy busy running her inn and trying to manage little Bella, but her gut tells her there’s more to Justin’s busy schedule than just work, and she’s determined to find out what it is.

Join in the fun as Smithville’s leading ladies unite in this charming, must-read novel filled with love; past, present, and future. 


**Only .99 cents!! ** 



Book Trailer: 





Hometown Girl at Heart 
Hometown Series Book 1 

Hometown Girl After All 
Hometown Series Book 2. 

Hometown Girl Forever
Hometown Series Book 3

Christmas in Smithville
Hometown Series Book 4

Hometown Girl Again
Hometown Series Book 5


Kirsten grew up in the Western US and graduated from high school in 1984. She married soon thereafter and quickly built a family. With three young children and number four on the way, she returned to college in 1992. Her career as a draftsman included many settings ranging from a steel fabrication shops to prestigious engineering firms. Balancing family life with the workplace forced her to become the queen of multitasking. In 2001, bored with the cubicle life, she moved on to teach drafting in technical college, then to open her own consulting firm teaching 3D engineering software. Due to health problems, Kirsten retired in 2012 to travel with her husband for his job. She now works writing romance novels and enjoys spoiling her three grandchildren. Since 2017 Kirsten has lived and worked full time in a 40' travel trailer with her husband and her little dog Bingo. 





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Spotlight: Some Like it Plaid by Angela Quarles

When Ashley Miller sees a Craigslist ad for an all-expense paid vacation to Scotland with a handsome Highland “escort”, she’s all over it. Worn out from working two jobs to pay off the debts her scam artist ex-husband left her with, she just needs a friggin’ break already. Rolling, misty mountains of the Scottish Highlands, here she comes!

But one minute she’s sipping a latte and the next she’s zapped to the 2nd century and promptly informed she’s managed to wed her handsome Highlander without even an “I do.” Oh, hell no.

After a devastating tragedy, Connall’s tribe is left with few marriageable women. When his Druid priest suggests a place filled with bonnie lasses, he of course agrees to go fetch one for himself. But nothing prepared Connall for his sassy new wife, nor his tribe for a woman determined to see equal rights for all women.

Now the men are threatening revolt if he can’t rein his young wife in, but it might be too late. The women are demanding the men get “woke”—which of course makes no sense because they already woke that morn—and give women “the vote,” whatever the bloody hell that is. Despite all that, Connall can’t stop wanting to convince his wife to get naked, and he’s starting to wonder if he’s been bewitched.

Only the more he gets to know her, the more he starts to think she’s just what they needed. If only he survives her next demand...

Exclusive Excerpt: 

“Head out? Where are we?” That trickle of unease bloomed in her heart, her breath catching. Because his words were different. Somehow, he was speaking in a lilting but foreign language, and she’d not only understood every single word, but had answered in the same language. 

To distract herself and, well, because her stomach chose that moment to growl, as if it knew she’d just been handed food and was all, Gimme, woman, she took a bite of bread. 

The yeasty flavor burst on her tongue, along with the taste and crunch of oodles of grains. No dream she’d ever had was this vivid. The details were sharp, down to her being cold. And to the odd taste and texture of the bread. And her hunger. 

The taste, though—a fuzzy memory poked. She took another bite, trying to chase it. Whatever it was, it had been buried so far in her past she couldn’t form it. Except for a fleeting, wonderful feeling of being cherished. 

“Aye, we need to break camp and head to my tribe’s stronghold. And we’re in a land called Scotland.” 

That last word was not in the same language—instead it was in her own—and he said it as if it were a strange word to him. 

“What happened? How did we get here?” She’d asked this last night, but maybe he’d change his answer. 

He strode toward her and knelt. She appreciated he would no doubt repeat himself but took the time to listen to her and patiently explain. “Mungan, our spellcaster, weaved strong magic. Brought me to your land, and then brought us both back here.” He held up a round stone incised with two parallel deep grooves around its center. As if that explained everything. 

The hell it does. Some dude, even in a dream, was just whisking her about? 

He waved to the two horses. “They left us mounts to ease our journey.” 

She swallowed, trying to work moisture into her parched throat. “How long will it take to get to your…stronghold?” 

“Only part of the morning.” 

“How many hours?” 

“Hours?” 

“Yeah, how long? How many hours?” Was her Star Trek Universal Translator on the fritz already? The word “hours” had come out in English. 

He shook his head and frowned. Then he pointed to the sun just barely visible as a pale glow behind morning clouds. “As long as it takes the sun to travel from there”—he slid his finger just a few inches away—“to there.” 

She pulled in a deep breath. Oookay. 

He marched over to a shaggy brown horse, grabbed the saddle, and swung himself up into it with one swift motion, like she’d seen in old cowboy movies. 

Wow, that was hot. 

She’d ridden her share of horses growing up in Nebraska but had never perfected that technique. She stepped up to her horse and stroked its mane, pulling in the musky scent of the beast, letting him smell her, adjust to her. The animal’s fur was thick and curly, its coarse hairs springing through her stroking fingers. 

Is this real? 

She stared at the imposing but gentle Highlander, and then at the horse she was supposed to ride. If she did as he asked, she’d no longer be “playing along” with her dream. She’d have to face what she hadn’t wanted to admit yet— hopping onto this horse would be accepting this wasn’t a dream. This step, this moment, felt real. Tangible. 

Get Your Copy: Amazon | Amazon AU | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | B&N | iBooks | Kobo

About Angela: 

An avid reader herself, Angela Quarles writes books she’d like to read–laugh-out-loud, smart, sexy romances that suck you into her worlds and won’t let you go until you reach The End. She is a RWA RITA® award-winning and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary, time travel, and steampunk romance. Library Journal named her steampunk, Steam Me Up, Rawley, Best Self-Published Romance of 2015 and Must Love Chainmail won the 2016 RITA® Award in the paranormal category, the first indie to win in that category. Angela loves history, folklore, and family history and combined it with her active imagination to write stories of romance and adventure.

Connect with Angela: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Google | Pinterest | Amazon

Spotlight: A Billion Times No by Kenzie Reed

His nickname’s Sexy Satan.

For the past three years I’ve called him boss.

So why is he telling everyone that he’s my boyfriend?

Working for Chase Lancaster was supposed to catapult my marketing career. Instead, I’m trapped in personal assistant hell. His hobbies include barking orders, torpedoing my advertising campaigns, and reducing the office staff to tears.

On a good day, he acts like I’m invisible. On a bad day, I remind myself arsenic is not an acceptable sweetener for coffee. And prison orange would be murder on my complexion.

Imagine my surprise when Chase follows me home to Bitter End, North Carolina, where I’m about to endure my ex-fiancé’s wedding.

The moment he chases off my date and offers to pose as my boyfriend, I know he's got a hidden agenda—especially when he plays the part a little too convincingly. Unfortunately, I have to play along to find out what he’s really up to.

To satisfy the town gossip squad, I’ll have to let him kiss me. Who knew Satan’s lips were so soft and inviting? And if we’re really playing the part, we’ll have to go to Lover’s Lane – testing my willpower beyond its limits.

The more time we spend together outside the office, though, the more I see a different side of him. He’s still bossy and demanding, but is it wrong that I find it kind of, well … hot?

This wedding is bound to be hell, so I might as well spend it in the arms of a sexy dev.

Excerpt

I mop off part of the desk, dry it, and then set down the fresh blotter. There are still a few splatters on the end of the desk, though, and Chase is directly in my way.

     “Can you please get up so I can finish cleaning?” I huff.

     He taps on his keyboard and smiles coldly at me.

     “Sorry, but you’ll just have to work around me.”

     I try to get revenge by bumping into him several times as I blot up the last of the coffee from his desk. I “accidentally” dig my heel into his foot, and he moves abruptly. Losing my balance, I trip and fall into his lap.

Oh my God. I’m sitting on something that feels like a flashlight stuffed down his trousers. Holy hell. Is he all right, or should he seek medical attention for the swelling? And why is it hard as a rock? Is that because of me?

He smiles politely at my shocked expression.

“Something to say, Miss Abernathy?”

I’m absolutely speechless. I squirm a little and bite back a moan. His smile stretches wider, and I want to die. Preferably impaled on his …

No! I won’t even let myself think it!

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About the Author

I'm a life-long reader of romance, and cut my teeth on Jennifer Crusie books (they were chewy, but flavorful.) I take in rescue dogs, and I've never met a dog I didn't want to add to my pack. I love a good rom com, whether it be in the form of screwball comedy movies from the 1930s, modern day Katherine Heigl/Meg Ryan/Reese Witherspoon/ et cetera laugh-fests, or books by my many favorite authors. I love to hear from readers, so please stop on by www.kenziereed.com or https://www.facebook.com/Kenziereedauthor/ and say hey!

Connect:

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Spotlight: The Princess Problem by Christi Barth

What girl doesn’t want to wear a tiara? Me. The one who lives in yoga pants and knows she’s not special enough to be a princess.

One minute I’m starting my dream life in NYC, and the next, a man too hot for his own good is banging on my door, telling me that I’m a long lost princess of a country on the other side of the Atlantic.

Not exactly your typical Friday night in the Big Apple.

Suddenly, all of my plans for the future are yanked away. I’m trapped in a life filled with social obligations—and stilettos!—and an uptight royal family I didn’t know existed. They, and the whole rest of the freaking country, have lofty expectations I’m not sure I can meet.

At least the aforementioned sexalicious man, Elias, is my constant shadow, protecting me with his life. The whole situation is overwhelming. So I’ve secretly put him in charge of my happiness, too...and he’s taking my orders very, very seriously.

So seriously, I’m falling for him even harder than the new country I’m coming to...maybe...love.

And that’s a major problem, because he’s crazy about me, too. I may not know all the zillion rules about being royal, but I know one for sure: No way can a princess date her bodyguard…

Each book in the Unexpectedly Royal series is STANDALONE:
* The Princess Problem
* Ruling the Princess

Exclusive Excerpt: 

“Damn it, Kelsey, don’t do that. Don’t close down on me.” He grabbed her chin and tilted it up. She looked into blue eyes sparking with…anger? Frustration?

“We were kidding ourselves, Elias, pretending for one night that nothing’s changed doesn’t make it so. Just like pretending we can be together doesn’t make it so.”

His hands slipped down to cup her shoulders. As if he was worried she was about to run out the door. “Maybe I went about this all wrong. I’m sorry for trying to make you feel like you were Kelsey Wishner again, excited Manhattanite. I simply wanted to put a smile on your face.”

“I smile every time I think of you. You’re outrageously handsome, you know. And when I talk, you make me feel like there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing, nowhere else you’d rather be. You make me feel like I matter. Plain old Kelsey Wishner.”

“Extraordinary Kelsey Wishner,” he corrected softly. He looked over her shoulder and cursed. “Stay here.” Then he disappeared through an arched doorway into the…kitchen? She only glimpsed the curve of a small, round wooden table, set with wineglasses and a fat candle in the middle. But there were heady smells coming from the room, a sort of rich tomato sauce with spices she couldn’t identify.

When Elias came back, his jacket and holster were gone. “I’ve turned it all off. Dinner’s on hold. Indefinitely.”

Oh, no. She’d screwed everything up by freaking out about his gun. “You’re going to take me back to my suite now?”

“What? Of course not. Kelsey, what your life has spun into is a new normal, for sure. But one with not a few perks that I promise are worth it.”

Not getting dinner sure didn’t come off as a perk. “Such as?”

“Sex with me.” His cocky grin and ‘you want a piece of this’ pose with one leg outstretched in front and both arms up was pure, absurd male ego on parade. Apparently, Elias knew it, too, because he only held the pose for a few seconds before laughing. “I’m taking a page from the American dating handbook. We’re skipping straight to the sex, because that’s the one thing I know will get your mind to stop spinning about all the changes in your life.”

She could get on board with that. “Consider it my gift to your country.”

Elias gripped her upper arms tightly, and his voice was so deep it rumbled. “You’re a gift to my country, alright. But the only thing that matters right now is what a gift you are to me. Let me show you.”

Before Kelsey could pick up her dropped jaw and reply, Elias moved in. He shuffled her backward a few steps until she was pressed between him and the wall. Pressed tight enough to feel the steel wall of his pecs against her already hard nipples, massive thighs caging in her legs, and the gratifyingly hard and long bulge against her belly. 

Oh, and while they took those few steps, his mouth devoured hers. Heat and speed, yes, but mixed with a thoroughness that left her lips a little bruised and a lot electrified. There was no doubting the depth of his desire.

There was no denying the depth of hers.

Kelsey gave back as good as she got. Her fingers raked across the top of his skull, delighting in the soft brush of his super-short hair. Her tongue danced and tasted and licked. 

It wasn’t nearly enough.

She wanted her bodyguard to stop guarding her body, and start using it.

Kelsey took a deep breath, reminded herself she excelled at graphic design. That her clients called her intuitive. That her boss called her easy to work with. That she’d been voted most likely to make friends in a dystopian society in her high school yearbook. Prince Christian should be the one nervous about meeting her

Except…He probably was. Because of that whole, sticky layer of he and his family actively searching for her. For more than two decades. He wanted his sister back. 

Kelsey didn’t want anything. Aside from not humiliating herself. “Let’s do this.” 

Elias led the way out of the plane and down the stairs. Kelsey kept her eyes glued to each step, refusing to give the universe any shot at mocking her by sending her tumbling in a heap at her brother’s feet. But when she hit the purple carpet runner on the ground, she looked up.

‘Private’ wasn’t exactly the best descriptor of how she’d meet her brother. There were three black SUVs, two police cars, four bodyguard-types, and one man by himself at the base of the stairs with his hands tucked behind his back, feet braced wide. 

Christian was…well, gorgeous. Tall and broad-shouldered in a bright blue suit. Thick, blonde hair topped off high cheekbones and a wide mouth. This man looked like a stand-in for at least four Disney princes. 

Most noticeably, the unusual shade of his violet eyes was an exact match for her own.

Kelsey wasn’t sure what to feel about that, except to catalogue it as more proof that Elias had, indeed, not made the whole thing up.

Grab Your Copy Today! Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iBooks

About the Author: 

USA TODAY bestseller Christi Barth earned a Masters degree in vocal performance and embarked upon a career on the stage. A love of romance then drew her to wedding planning. Ultimately she succumbed to her lifelong love of books and now writes award-winning contemporary romance.

Christi can always be found either whipping up gourmet meals (for fun, honest!) or with her nose in a book. She lives in Maryland with the best husband in the world.

Connect with Christi: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Newsletter

Spotlight: Breathe In by Michelle Bellon

Breathe In
Michelle Bellon
Published by: Limitless Publishing
Publication date: June 27th 2017
Genres: Adult, Suspense, Thriller

Breathe in. Breathe out. This mantra gets Tessa Benson through the day.

The man she loves walks all over her, and she just wants to get by without her heart shattering to pieces. If she could find her voice, she’d scream.

Everything changes in one night, when she’s snatched from the streets and tied to a bed, a camera set up to capture her dying moment. And the person who paid to watch her die…is still out there somewhere.

Tessa prowls dark neighborhoods in a quest for justice, but she doesn’t find the killer. Not until they strike again…in the place Tessa is least expecting, and where it hurts worst.

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EXCERPT:

Before consciousness fully embraces me, I’m already remembering the evening’s events. A nightmare that is not really a nightmare at all. My eyelids feel heavy, reluctant to open as white, hot pain shoots through my head. My throat hurts. I’m lying uncomfortably on my right side, my head tipped awkwardly without a pillow under me. A kink in my neck spasms, starting behind my right ear, traveling to my shoulder. Both shoulders burn from the strain of the position I’m in, my wrists bound firmly behind my back. Lower lip trembles. I don’t want to open my eyes. Please, God, just let it all be a bad dream. A nightmare.

The smell of stale urine combines with something cooking, assaulting my nostrils. Bacon? Seems an odd scent, given my scenario. My stomach roils from the rich aroma. Food is the last thing I can think of. I still feel queasy and weak. More from the blow to my head than the alcohol. Slowly, slowly, blink, blink. My eyes are gritty and dry. The room I’m in comes into focus, then blurs, then focuses again. The door straight ahead is worn wood. It’s closed. The walls are wood also, adding a rustic feel to the place…like an old, abandoned cabin. Though I cannot see the rest of it, I sense its compact size pressing in on me. The smell of urine wafts up from the twin-sized bed I’m lying on. Without sheets, I can see it’s one of those old striped mattresses. It sinks deeply in the middle. I arch my head back to take in the rest of my surroundings and my neck instantly spasms again. The room is empty. Like, really empty. Stark. Nothing but the bed I’m on and me. I’m alone. This gives me a brief moment of comfort. Think. I need to think. I’m in the second location. This is bad. Really fucking bad. I remember watching an Oprah episode where they gave tips on how to survive a kidnapping. The number one tip was to never let your kidnapper take you to “the second location.” You’re too vulnerable there. That’s where they will likely kill you. My heart skips and gallops faster.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Calm down. I’m not going to die. Not today.


Author Bio:

Michelle Bellon lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband Chayne and her four quirky and beautiful children. She loves coffee, Superman, rollercoasters, and has an addiction to Chapstick.

She works as a registered nurse, is pursuing her Masters and in her spare time writes novels. As a multi-genre author, she has written in the categories of romance suspense, young adult, women’s fiction, and literary fiction. She has won four literary awards. You can visit Michelle’s website at http://www.authormichelleking.com/

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Spotlight: Her Last Whisper by Jennifer Chase

Katie focuses her mind, trying to keep another anxiety attack at bay. The victim’s long brown hair is slick and wet, her body rigid in the grass. She looks more like a mannequin than the woman Katie had spoken with only yesterday, the woman she had promised to protect…

When a cold, naked body is discovered by a couple on a jog through the lush woodlands of Pine Valley, California, new recruit Detective Katie Scott is stunned to discover the victim is Amanda Payton – a much-loved local nurse and the woman at the heart of an unsolved case she’s been investigating whilst getting a grip on her crippling PTSD.

Weeks earlier, Amanda had run, battered and bruised, out into the headlights of a passing patrol car. She claimed to have just escaped a kidnapping, but with no strong evidence, the case went cold. The Pine Valley police made a fatal mistake…

Katie is certain the marks on Amanda’s wrists complete a pattern of women being taken, held captive and then showing up dead in remote locations around Pine Valley – and she won’t let someone die on her watch again.

But then a beautiful office worker with a link to the hospital where Amanda worked goes missing. With only days before the next body is due to show up, can Katie make amends for her past by saving this innocent life?

Totally gripping crime fiction for fans of Lisa Regan, Rachel Caine and Melinda Leigh. Nothing will prepare you for this nail-biting roller-coaster ride…

Excerpt:

A heavy evening mist clung to the windshield of the police car, obscuring the view of the forgotten neighborhood. In the few occupied houses curtains were drawn tightly leaving only thin cracks of light seeping around the edges. Some homes even had bars across the windows. This small rural community had been ignored by the rest of the lively, growing town around it for too long. It was in desperate need of attention and restoration.

Deputy Stan Miller flipped on the wipers to clear his view, only to smear streaks of dirt across the windshield. He let out an annoyed sigh and turned the wipers to a higher speed—making it worse—and then off again.

“Now you’ve done it,” said Deputy Karl Windham beside him, and Miller laughed in spite of himself after a long and uneventful night shift.

“You’re going to criticize me?” Miller joked. “Me? The guy who has your back?” He sat up straighter, sucking in his waist and adjusting his seatbelt; it was no use pretending he hadn’t put on a few extra pounds recently.

“It’s the kiss of death out here tonight,” complained Windham watching out the side window as the mist turned to light rain.

“I bet it was Sheriff Scott’s idea to double us up, with all those recent ambushes on cops around the state.”

“It probably has something to do with the mayor’s office. Who knows? You know how they don’t tell us anything, even though we’re the ones putting our asses on the line every shift.” Still gazing out of the window, he watched a dark figure dart around a garbage can and disappear into the darkness, then he turned his attention to a skinny cat scurrying along the sidewalk, nose close to the ground tracking something.

The rain got heavier as they drove deeper into the Basin Woods Development. There were no other vehicles on the road. No lights in the distance. Only darkness.

“You hungry?” asked Miller.

“I wouldn’t turn down a cup of coffee,” replied Windham.

“Me neither.”

Deputy Miller took his eyes off the road for a moment to check the time and looked back just in time to see a slender woman stagger into the road ahead of them. She stopped still in the headlights. Her long hair, wet from the rain, was plastered against her head and around her face. She wore only a pair of panties and a tattered tank top. She looked terrified, dark eyes pleading in the glare of the lights, her mouth forming words they could not hear.

“Hey!” yelled Windham to his partner. “Stop!”

Miller jammed on the brakes, making the patrol car bounce to a stop inches before hitting the young woman. Weak and unbalanced, she fell to her knees. In the glare of the headlights, both men could clearly see the dirt embedded on her face and neck, the blood seeping from wounds on her hands, elbows, legs, and feet.

Deputy Miller turned to his partner with wide eyes. “What the…?” Jamming the vehicle into park he picked up the radio. “Dispatch, this is 3741, we have a possible 10-16 at Lincoln and Travis. Will keep you updated. Copy.”

“Copy that,” replied Dispatch.

He nodded to Windham who swung open the car door and ran to kneel beside the woman. “Miss…” he spoke gently. “Are you alright?”

She shook uncontrollably. Her head and shoulders drooped as her mouth tried to form around a word.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Windham said.

He gently touched her shoulder and she flinched away from him. “It’s okay. You’re okay now,” he reassured.

“Truth… truth… the truth… you don’t understand… otherwise…” she finally managed between gasps for breath. “I told the truth…” she muttered.

“What truth?” asked Deputy Miller who had retrieved a blanket from the trunk and now stood a few feet away.

She stopped speaking and slowly looked up at the deputy, her eyes filled with fear. Then she whispered, “I told the truth… I told the truth… told… the truth.”

Both deputies carefully helped the woman up and gently wrapped the blanket around her.

“What’s your name?” asked Windham.

“A… Aman… Amanda,” she said slowly.

“Okay, Amanda. We want to help you. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I tried…” she whispered. “It was…” Her voice trailed off.

Deputy Miller opened the back door to the patrol car as his partner gently guided her to sit down in the backseat. Miller handed her a small bottle of water and, after a few moments, her eyes focused on the officers and her breath began to steady.

Deputy Windham kneeled down to her eye level and asked, “Amanda, can you tell us what happened to you? Do you remember what happened? Anything?”

She shook her head as more tears welled up in her eyes.

“It’s okay.”

“A blue door with white trim,” she said quietly. “A big box…”

“What else, Amanda? Can you remember anything else?”

“There was a fantasy tree…”

Confused by the description, the deputy tried to make sense of it, pushing gently to pry out any more details from her. “Can you tell us what happened?”

Taking a couple of deep breaths, she finally spoke: “I was k-kidnapped.”

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About the Author

Jennifer Chase is a multi award-winning and best-selling crime fiction author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a bachelor degree in police forensics and a master's degree in criminology & criminal justice. These academic pursuits developed out of her curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience with a violent psychopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal investment in every story she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serial crime and criminal profiling.  She is an affiliate member of the International Association of Forensic Criminologists, and member of the International Thriller Writers. 

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Website → https://authorjenniferchase.com/ 

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