Salvatore often times puts his foot in his mouth, “you didn’t mean any disrespect?” she repeats. If I didn’t think she could stiffen anymore, I was wrong. “And there’s nothing wrong with how I am? ” she asks, spinning her chair slowly to face me. Salvatore tends to have a different definition on some things, “you called it a negligee,” I remind her. “I call it something small enough to snap off with my teeth.” I liked this book, I liked Salvatore.
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