Monday, December 30, 2019


Book 1
Serafina Silk

Genre: Erotica/Supernatural/Thriller
Publisher: Serafina!

Date of Publication:  15 November 2019

ISBN: 9781916066427


Number of pages: 198
Word Count: 35,000

Tagline: How far would you go to help someone get over their ex?

Book Description:

When Chris gives a deathbed kiss to her best friend her safe world is turned upside-down as a strange sexual obsession and compulsion begins.

But what is driving it? And how will it affect her safe but boring marriage?

The Sex Samaritan series combines erotica and mystery as Chris' journey takes her into a dark and sensual world in which more than her family life is suddenly threatened.

Also Available on Amazon

Book 2     Book 3


With a hand on Evan’s shocked face, I reached in and pressed my lips against his. He was shaking, like he was trapped. When our lips touched, he became still. Once again, it was as if there were two worlds: the one in which we were Evan and Min, and the one in which Evan and I were sexless old acquaintances. There wasn’t time now to wonder how or why.  Unable to cut the Min side out, I just wanted to savour not being Chris the Reliable, Chris the Predictable, Chris the Wife.
I could feel it. The incredible heat between Min and Evan was something exciting I had never experienced in my own sex life. Sure, when Arron and I first got together, he took me to new places. Sex with him in the early days was mind-blowing, but this was an upgrade, no question. No wonder Evan had given up trying to match the experience in the years since she left him.
He broke from increasingly urgent kisses to whispers. “Why did you leave, Min? God, I love you. You will always be the love of my life.” After every line he returned to my mouth, unable to keep from the “sweet communion of a kiss,” as Judee Sill memorably described it.
It’s interesting that we kiss and eat with our mouth, isn’t it? It means that you can say things like, “we devoured each other.” It makes perfect sense - I understood that now. We were devouring each other. Our arms pulled each other tighter. We were both slim. Only my swelling breasts separated us. Our hands strayed across each other’s backs, giving our arms the support they needed to pull-in a fraction closer. The kisses, the sighs and the whispered phrases of loss from Evan, seemed to go on, deliriously, forever. Yet, my body needed more. Min may have been driving this, but Chris also had to know - I knew I could not carry on without feeling what Min and Evan had felt together.
It was me who lowered my hands first, to squeeze Evan’s arse. His soon followed suit and his hands pushed flat against my back and dove behind my jeans, under my panties. He tease-bit my lip, upping the ante. I groaned as, for the first time in 15 years, a man who wasn’t my husband, touched my aroused, naked flesh. And boy, was it aroused.
Constricted by the material, Evan could do no more than feel and knead my cheeks, but my pussy throbbed at the thought of what I hoped was to come. Unable to wait, I brought my hands to the front, unlatching the clasp of his trousers, pulling the zip down an inch or two. There was just enough room to slip my right hand into the top of his boxers.

About the Author:

Like the hero of the Samaritan series, Serafina Silk has been a highly successful reporter and journalist, working both local and national newsrooms in America and the UK.

Like Chris, Serafina has two children and is happily married.

Also like Chris, she has interviewed many celebrities.

Cursed is her first novella – Book 1 of the ongoing Samaritan series.

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Monday, December 23, 2019

ASPHYXIA by Gori Suture

The Paradox Chronicles
Book One

Gori Suture

Genre: visionary paranormal erotic horror

Publisher: Inside Henry’s Head

Date of Publication: re-released October 30, 2019

ISBN: Paperback 9780359916146,
ISBN: epub 9780359941834

Number of pages: 420
Word Count: 81,920

Cover Artist: Apothekari, Gori Suture,
& B.H. Young

Book Description:

Nathaniel, teenage occultist, is in love with Jithinia, a nihilistic sexpot.  All is well, until they meet Eldridge.  A shape-shifting creature from another dimension, he is quite mad.   He still feels the ghostly remnants of his amputated wings.  He can smell them rotting, feel the squirming maggots eating them.  The only thing that eases his suffering is devouring souls.  Cursed with this hunger, he knows that he is a monster, which only feeds his lunacy.  He is moments away from killing Nathaniel when he discovers something so astounding, he cannot continue.  As he falls in love with Nathaniel, he learns that true horror lies not in his monstrosity, but in his growing humanity. 

Danielle was abducted and physically mutilated in the name of God for years. Her vile keeper, Preacher, tortures his broken dolls until they pray, to help them find God.  One day, Danielle does.  She reunites with her lost love Jithinia, whose world is now spinning out of control. 

What follows is a magnum opus of magick and the true nature of God as the characters make their way through the sordid underbelly of modern Christian America.

Expand the mind, expand the soul!  The Paradox Chronicles are a series of metaphysical allegories which use extreme imagery and scenarios to jolt the psyche as a catalyst for spiritual growth.  Mind expansion doesn’t mean to simply elevate one’s thoughts in the highest direction; one must also debase one’s thoughts in the lowest direction.  Only then is the mind truly expanding in a balanced and veracious fashion. 

This book series attempts to rouse people from their hypnotic waking sleep. 

The Paradox Chronicles utilizes shock and horror juxtaposed with higher spiritual thinking to catapult the ego past its blockades, allowing for a deeper understanding of the veiled essence of divinity.  Asphyxia illustrates the power of perception and will, of enlightenment sought through debauchery, of awakening through titillation. 

Falling somewhere between the genres of visionary fiction and paranormal erotic horror, Asphyxia is a unique blend of depravity and insight.

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A dreary dirge, thick like molasses, wept from a single organ as Jithinia gave her grandmother one last kiss goodbye.  She took a seat on the pew next to Nathaniel.  Despite the bitter cold outside, the funeral chapel felt like July in the Deep South.  She pulled a hand fan from the hymnbook rack and cooled herself.  On one side, there was a picture of white Jesus, and on the back, there was the twenty-third Psalm.  She read, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil:”  
The hymn ended, and the pastor began his hollow bit — ashes to ashes and dust to dust, the bitch is dead; don’t make a fuss.
Jithinia heard the flapping of wings and a woeful coo.  She looked up and saw four doves trapped in the heating vent above her.  Two of them were dead; their stiff little feet hung down through the shit-caked metal grid.  She elbowed Nathaniel.  “Look up,” she whispered.
When he saw the birds, he remembered the dove from his dream, flailing its wings and screeching as its chest split open, and a feeling of foreboding washed over him.
The heat came on.  The birds squawked and hopped about.  The clicking of their feet sounded like Sammy Davis Jr. doing a tap dance.  Feathers rained down upon Jithinia and Nathaniel.  The hot air spilled over the carrions and filled the room with the rancid stench of decay.
Jithinia felt caged, too, like she could do so much more with her life, be anything, even fly, if the Fates would only release her from their trap.  
Just then, the vent fell open.  The dead birds landed at Jithinia’s feet with a fleshy thud, and she felt dizzy and hollow as she began to hyperventilate.
The two live birds flew around the chapel in a panic.  The acoustics of the room caused the flapping of their wings to amplify and echo.  One dove flew to the skylight and began thrashing against the glass.  The other flew back and forth from the pulpit to the doors, finally lighting on a rafter above the pastor.
A thick, white glob fell from the bird’s ass, landed on the pastor’s right eye, and then slowly slid down his cheek.
Murmurs filled the room as everyone shuffled in their seats and looked at other things.  Jithinia’s mother turned a fan over and over in her hands.  Her uncle looked down at his watch.  Those with no other distractions scrutinized the hardwood floor. 
The pastor paused his sermon.  He cleared his throat, wiped his eye with his sleeve, and began again as if nothing had happened.  However, he hadn’t gotten it all.  He had snow-white bird shit smeared across his face.  He looked like he’d been making out with a mime.
Jithinia didn’t mean to laugh aloud.  What began as a stifled giggle became an unreserved guffaw.  Everyone stared at her, but she couldn’t stop laughing.  She felt vacuous; her chest ached, and her limbs felt numb.  Her skin flushed red as she became enraged.  “What’s wrong with you people?”  she cried out.  “Can’t you see how funny this is?  Don’t sit there and pretend like none of this is happening!  This is hysterical!”
Loving arms wrapped around her.  “It’s okay.  It’s okay,” Nathaniel said.  “Calm down.  Come on.”  He led her outside.
She fell into his embrace and wept uncontrollably in his arms.  “What the fuck’s wrong with me?  I ruined my grandmother’s funeral.”
“No, the chapel ruined your grandmother’s funeral.  You just laughed at it.  No big deal.”
“I’m so embarrassed!”
“Why?  ‘Cause you had the balls to face what everyone else chose to ignore?  Fuck them!”
“You don’t understand!”
He pulled back from her and looked at her in disbelief.  “I don’t understand?  Come on, now.  Who are you talking to?”  He lit two cigarettes and handed one to her.

She took a deep drag.  “Let’s just go home.”

About the Author:

Hailing from the outskirts of Mayberry, North Carolina, Gori Suture has been writing fiction since she could hold a crayon.  In addition to penning Grand Guignol style horror stories and audiobooks, she is also the creator of a hybrid genre of literature that melds metaphysical and visionary fiction with erotic horror for the purpose of spiritual advancement. Presented in a series of seven novels called The Paradox Chronicles (formerly The Smut Sagas), these books are allegorical, chronicling man’s pursuit of understanding God and the god within, juxtaposing eroticism and horror with metaphysical introspection for the sake of jarring the reader into an altered mental state.  Additionally, as an occult theorist, Gori Suture is the mother of modern Paradoxism, her interpretation of the mind-bending nature of God as Paradox, expounded upon on her blog The Color of Paradox (and soon to be in print), where she presents radical elucidations on color theory, Kabbalah, the dimensions, and the gods.  As an artist, Gori illustrates her own blogs, short stories, and audiobooks, and she co-creates the covers of her novels.  For fun, Gori enjoys tabletop role-playing, Arkham Horror board games, and video games.

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Friday, December 20, 2019


Celia’s Holiday Spritz Cookies

Cookies are one of my favorite, sweet indulgences for the holidays.  My family makes spritz cookies every December. Delicious! Here’s my mother’s recipe. Enjoy!

3/4 cup regular sugar (some recipes call for “powdered”, but mom swears by regular!)

1 cup margarine, or butter, or shortening (mom uses shortening; I use butter. Both are delish.)

1 tsp. vanilla

1 egg

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. salt

1. Preheat oven to 350 F.

2. In a bowl, mix together margarine (or butter or shortening), sugar, vanilla, and egg until fairly fluffy.

3. Stir in flour, salt, baking powder.

4. Optional: separate dough into bowls, add food dye of your choosing.

5. Fill cookie press; press dough onto ungreased cookie sheets.

6. Bake for 12 - 15 minutes.

7. Remove from sheet and cool on cookie rack.

8. Eat. All. The. Cookies!

Under A Mating Moon
Black Hills Wolves
Book 27
Celia Breslin

Genre:  paranormal romance

Publisher: Decadent Publishing

Date of Publication:  September 18, 2015

ISBN: 9781613338940

Number of pages:  114
Word Count: 32,200

Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde

Book Description:

British Alpha wolf Jake Matthews spends his days among humans, pursuing a lucrative music career and avoiding his pack’s politics. When his current DJ tour takes him to the US, he stops in Los Lobos to visit family, and runs into the one Wolf he never wants to see again—the mate who rejected his claim.

While visiting her brother in Los Lobos, free-spirited Lexi Luparell is shocked to encounter the Wolf she’d denied when they were teens. Now she must face her guilt for the cruel way she spurned him all those years ago, make amends, and admit the truth. Jake was right all along—they’re meant to mate.

Lexi would love to explore the mate concept and her overwhelming attraction to virile, alpha Wolf Jake, but he wants nothing to do with her. How can she break down his defenses when she’s the reason he built them in the first place?

Jake dates only human women now. Lexi had her shot at being his mate, and she threw it away. But when her life is threatened, he may have to rethink his position and do whatever it takes to claim his one true mate.

A standalone novel in the Black Hills Wolves World

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A billion butterflies battered Lexi’s stomach. She shifted her attention from Ross to the piano. Sure enough, the music had stopped, and Jake faced her from his seat on the bench. Man oh man, the heavy stare from those sky blue eyes sent shivers skittering down her spine. His gaze held the same intensity she remembered from him as a kid, as if he saw into the heart of people, exposing their deepest secrets. It had driven her crazy back then, and she’d spent much time teasing him, pulling his hair, trying to distract him from being so serious all of the damn time. They were teenagers—partying was supposed to be their sole focus.
With his ice-blue stare locked on her, Jake rose to his feet, all taut muscle and predatory power. His energy swept over her like a tsunami, forcing all of the moisture to abandon her mouth while parts much lower wept with want. Her inner wolf howled, answering the call of this Alpha, the first Dominant male ever to make her sit up and take notice. Holy crap. Her muscles shook with the need to bound over to him, jump in his arms, wrap her legs around his torso and writhe against his hard, hot, tattooed body.
Jake said something to his uncle then stalked straight at her, cutting a path right through the middle of the tables and the many, too-curious patrons.
A whimper escaped her throat.
Surprise sparked in her brother’s brown eyes. “You’re kidding me. Him?” He burst out laughing. “Wow, sis, that’s some major, big-time irony right there.”
Darci’s expression conveyed her bewilderment. “Now what are you two talking about?”
Her annoying brother grinned. “See that angry Alpha headed our way? My sister here rejected him when they were teens and he's apparently her—”
Lexi socked her brother in the ribs. “Shut it, Ross.”
“Ouch.” Ross rubbed his side and chuckled at her plight. The jerk. “Come on, Lexi, you have to admit the hilarity of the situation.”
No, she did not. Nor did she have to admit that J-Bird was right all those years ago. He was her mate. O to the M to the G…. They were mates.

About the Author:

Celia lives in California with her husband, daughter, and two feisty cats. She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance, and has a particular fondness for werewolves, vampires, and the Fae. Her stories are action-packed and typically include one of the many varieties of romantic entanglements: fated mates, second chance, rescue romance, opposites attract, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, and more.

When not writing, you’ll find Celia exercising, reading a good book, hanging with her family, or indulging her addiction to Joss Whedon’s TV shows and movies, as well as everything in the Marvel Universe franchise. Of course!



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Thursday, December 19, 2019


A Vampire’s Christmas

Deirdre looked around the decorated house with a twinkling Christmas tree, presents carefully put underneath the branches, and the sweet scent of pine filling the room, but it wasn’t Christmas.
Something was missing.
Her pulse quickened and her insides quaked. She smiled. She knew exactly want to do. Janus had done so many wonderful things for her––most of those presents were for her––that she wanted to do something for him that he’d never expect. Luckily, he was still in the death sleep.
Giddiness swept over her. She grabbed her purse and practically skipped to their SUV. Snow swirled around the windshield, putting her in the mood for baking.
Within minutes, she was at the grocery store. She grabbed flour, margarine, sugar, eggs, and anise from the pharmacy.
She could hardly wait to see Janus’s face. He was just now being able to eat certain things beside blood and she hoped he could add her grandmother’s special recipe to his repertoire.
After she parked the SUV in the garage, she unloaded her precious ingredients, then she pulled out her grandmother’s old pizzelle iron. Janus had offered to buy her a new one, but her grandmother’s was seasoned not just with traditions, but memories.
Deirdre melted a pound of margarine in the microwave. She broke fifteen eggs into a large mixing bowl.
“What are you doing?”
She squeaked, nearly jumping out of her skin. “Janus.”
He grinned leaning against the wall and yawned.
Her mouth watered at his naked chest and she bit back the desire to run her fingers over those sleek packed abs. “I thought you were asleep.”
He cupped her chin. “You left and I woke. I can always feel when you’re gone.” He brushed his lips over hers and she shivered.
“I wanted to make you a surprise.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Cookies? Unless there’s blood in them, I doubt I can eat it.”
She frowned. “But you’ve been eating other things.”
“Rare meat and red wine.”
She kissed his hand. “Will you at least try? It just isn’t Christmas without pizzelles.”
“You know I can deny you nothing.”
She bit his lip. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll add blood to it.”
“If you don’t stop tempting me, those cookies will never be made.” He lightly scraped his fangs over her neck.
Chills ran down her back, and her heart skipped a beat. She put her hands on his wide chest. “Janus, not know.”
She laughed at the disappointment  in his eyes. She clasped his hand. “Here, you can help.”
He did a double take. “I can?”
“Yes. Put two and half cups of sugar in the bowl while I get the margarine out of the microwave.”
Janus did as he was told. He was such a magnificent man not only with his perfect abs, but his long dark hair that flared over his wide shoulders. She could never get enough of him or thank him for saving her from a nightmare. She trembled and her knees weakened.
“Are you cold?” He wrapped his arms around her and snuggled his head in the crock of her neck. “I could make you warm.”
She took a deep breath. “I know you could, but I really want to do this for you.”
He slowly released her and she already missed his warmth. “As you wish.”
She smiled. Her favorite line from The Princess Bride.
“What do you want me to do next?”
She gestured. “Sit at the counter and relax.”
“Would you like some wine?”
Janus poured them both a glass of wine from his favorite vintage sent all the way from Italy while she added the margarine to the eggs and sugar. She flicked on the Kitchen-Aide mixer.
He set a glass on the counter. “Here, you go.”
“Thank you.” She leaned over and brushed her lips over his.
“So tempting,” he murmured. “How about if I take you on the floor like we did the other night?”
Her heart jumped at the memory and blood immediately pooled between her legs.  “You promise.”
He sighed and settled on to barstool. “I know I did.”
She could hardly wait to see if he could eat these. She’d be so disappointed if he couldn’t. But he was Janus Morano––Master Vampire.
She added six cups of flour to the egg, sugar, and butter mixture. “Now, for my favorite part.”
He frowned. “What’s that?”
“You’ll see.” She opened the small bottle of Anise oil and added it to the dough. The smell of Christmas spread through the kitchen like the blowing snow outside.
The creases of Janus’s frown disappeared and he flashed her a smile that always turned her into a hot mess.
“What is that?”
“Anise oil.” Once again, the mixer churned the dough, releasing more of Christmas.
“Now what?”
“We have to let it rest for a half hour.”
“Good. I’ve waited long enough.” He grabbed her and kissed her like a starving man.
Her body turned alive. She indulged in running her hands over his thick muscles, marveling at his strength. He was so powerful that vampire killers quaked when they heard his name.
And he was his. All hers.
He slipped his hand underneath her T-Shirt and she gasped. “Janus. Not yet. The cookies.”
“Seriously?” His husky breath almost made her want to forget the pizzelles.
“I promise you won’t be sorry.”
“They better be damn good.”
“They are.” She left him before she allowed him to make good on his promise.
She brought the bowl over to the pizzelle iron that was nice and hot. Janus’s passionate gaze made it hard for her to concentrate. She dipped a teaspoon into the mixture with her shaking hand and dabbed a spoonful onto the snowflake-shaped iron.
“Am I making you nervous?”
She glared. “Yes.”
This time, he laughed. She liked the sound of his laugh. It was deep from his diaphragm and always erased her slightest frown.
She squeezed the iron tight, flattening the dough. The scent of anise grew stronger.
She carefully took out the cookie with a fork and placed them on the counter to cool. They were a perfect golden color.
“They look delicious,” he said, but she could hear the wariness in his voice. Certain foods could make him deathly sick.
“Try one.”
He gingerly picked up a pizzelle.
She held her breath. Her chest tightened. She shifted nervously from foot-to-foot as he nibbled.
His eyes widened and a smile spread across his handsome face. “These are delicious.”
“Are you feeling okay? Are you sick?”
“I’m fine. I can’t tell you the last time I ate a cookie.”
“Hundreds of years ago.”
He gobbled up the cookie, then drew her into his arms. “Thank you.”
She searched his face. “Are you sure you’re not ill?”
“Only sick from not loving you.”
“I wanted to share something special from my past with you. Making pizzelles with my family has been one of my favorite traditions. And now, you’re part of my family.”
He grinned mischievously. “Let’s add another tradition to making pizzelles.”
She laughed and indulged in a sweet pleasure that brought making pizzelles into a hot, sinful delight.

A Vampire’s Wish
Vampires on Holiday
ML Guida

Genre:  Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Buffalo Mountain Press

Date of Publication:  December 19, 2018


Number of pages:  139
Word Count: 33452

Cover Artist: Megan J Parker-Squires

Tagline: He lost her once in another time. Will she give their love another chance?

Book Description:

Janus : I lost her once in another life. I’ve found her again, but she’s with another man. A man who beats her.

I won’t let him hurt her again. But if I move too fast, she’ll disappear again. Will I ever win her heart or am I destined to live alone for eternity?

Deirdre: A vampire’s claims he knew me over two hundred years ago, and I was his wife. He wants to pick up where we left off.

I can’t deal with his fantasies. I have enough troubles with escaping from my boss who is my fiancĂ©.

Unfortunately, my only chance to escape from him is to trust Janus who stirs up feelings that I’ve never felt for any other man. They scare me. What if he’s right? What if in a former life I was in love with him? Could I possibly be feeling desire for a vampire?

A Vampire's Wish is the first book in ML Guida's new sexy, vampire series. If you like page-turning action, dark heroes, kick-ass heroines, then you'll fall in love with new series from an award winning author.



“Yes, spoiled me actually. Fancy dinners. Expensive clothes. But it wasn’t the money I loved. It was his humor and his tenderness.” She lowered her gaze. “He’s my boss. I’m his secretary.”
“Your boss?”
“He’s an attorney. A powerful one.”
She strolled over to his small Christmas tree. “You’ve got a beautiful tree.” She glanced at the box of ornaments on the coffee table. “How come you haven’t decorated your tree?”
“My family’s tradition was to decorate the tree on Christmas Eve.” He left out that that it had been their tradition, one he had kept up after all these years.
She reached into the box of ornaments and pulled out a white porcelain horse ornament with roses on the saddle. “Brandon helped me out during some dark times.”
Janus held his breath. Interesting she focused on that one. She had cherished the little horse when she’d been alive. He’d given it to her their first Christmas.
She stroked the horse, just like she had when she was alive as Delores. Wishing, hoping, he tried to remain calm, but his hands shook. The slip of a woman was about to bring a master vampire to his knees.
He nodded. “There’s a story that goes with that horse.” His voice trembled, and she lifted her slender eyebrow.
“The story goes that a little girl came to Jesus’s manager. Heartbroken, she had no gifts to bring to the poor infant, so she cried. Her tears turned to roses when they splashed onto the ground. She quickly gathered the blossoms and offered him a bouquet of red blooms. The roses on the horse’s saddle are a tribute to the little girl.”
“What a lovely story. I love roses.” She sat on his leather couch and crossed her legs. “They’re my favorite flower.”
Janus forced himself not to move. Delores had a magic touch with gardens. Her flowers were grand and brilliant, and at each of their homes, their rose gardens shadowed their neighbors. At midnight, she used to stroll in the garden and inhale their fragrant scent, but he liked to spread her naked body on a bed of rose petals, the moon shining on her skin, her brown hair fanning over the petals. He ached to take her again, to kiss her, to spark her memory.
“Brandon is allergic to roses.”
He gripped the arm chair. “Allergic?”
“Yes. However, he’s a great gardener. Has a green thumb and grows zucchini, squash, tomatoes, and cucumbers. Before we started living together, he’d bring his produce into the office.”
“You were telling me why you’re with him.”
“A drunk driver killed my parents on New Year’s Eve.” She brushed more tears off her face. “Sorry.”
He handed her a box of tissues.
“Thank you.” She wiped her cheeks and blew her nose. “This is the first holiday without my parents.” She broke down and sobbed.

About the Author:

Award Winning Author M.L. Guida loves science fiction and the paranormal. From Star Trek to Dark Shadows to Supernatural, she fell in love with things that go bump in the night. But it was the heroes, she loved the best. No matter what happened, those characters never gave up. Now, her heroes are following their footsteps. Whether it's a shape shifter from outer space or a vampire from the past, her wounded heroes always find a way to conquer battles and win the heart of the feisty heroine. Because even in a world of darkness, true love survive.

Sign up for M.L. Guida's Supernatural Scroll on her website at  to learn about new releases and giveaways. She also has a readers Facebook Group called ML Guida's Supernatural Lounge. She has giveaways, news, and ways for her to connect with you.

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