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Married pixy, I told myself, forcing my eyes back to the shelf of ceramic animals. Fifty-four kids. Beautiful wife, sweet as sugar, who would kill me in my sleep while apologizing for it.
— Kim Harrison
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She jerked hastily back to avoid stepping on it, and her shoulder bumped his--he put a hand out to steady her, just as she turned to apologize and then she was somehow in the circle of his arm and he was kissing her.
— Cassandra Clare
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