"Eleanor's hair caught fire at dawn. Her eyes were dark and shining, and his arms were sure of her. The first time he touched her hand, he'd known."

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Reyes leaned back against the bar, crossed his arms over his chest, and studied me from beneath those same ridiculously long lashes. Men and their freaking lashes. It was so unfair. Like the exorbitant cost of designer shoes. Or world hunger.

— Darynda Jones