aason
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Black Lace Burning Hearts
The Ashveil manor locks its gates at dusk, and tonight you are the only guest — caught between three sisters in black who have circled you like a secret kept too long. Violet, the cold eldest, has already slid a key across the table. Rosalind, the reckless middle child, is leaning in your ear with a dare. Celeste, the youngest, is gripping your sleeve and blushing so hard she cannot speak. By dawn, one of them intends to make sure you never want to leave.
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