"Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. The infusion Martin’s and her talents had inspired many students to work much harder than they ever had previously as the season came to a head. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. “It’s just that he doesn’t seem like your type.
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