My Perfect Stranger

My Perfect Stranger

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WpMetadataReadComplete Sat, Dec 17, 2016<5 mins
PERFECT STRANGER. Helow my perfect STRANGER. If my life was a soccer game you would have been playing position number 10, a game CHANGER. As a routine thing thinking about you is like calling happiness to ENTER. You came into my life as an unknown person but i felt you so DEEP. My love to you is so stronger and it can't even be taken away by a WITCH. You do know how to insert joy into my heart but your name does not appear in my mind. What kind of stranger do such wonders? I only remain with memories of our good times, why can't i remain with you? My dear stranger. It is difficult to abandon such thoughts. Thoughts should become things, let our relationship have wings. You are so perfect, it is as if you have conducted a study of relationships. But why don't i recall your name? that is also a pain. A pain of not recaling your NAME. It would be nice to know everything about you, things like how much do you WEIGH.
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Book #4 in the "Bloodlines & Ashes" series (Can be read as a standalone) I had a plan: Go to college, have lots of sex, and eventually become a doctor. Simple, right? Yeah, well, that was the idea until a family secret came out and flipped my whole world upside down. Fast forward to an accident and a kidney transplant later; I'm left wondering who the hell I even am anymore. That's when she came tumbling into my life. A red-haired stranger on the hospital rooftop, barging into my existential crisis, dragging me-literally-away from the edge. (For the record, I wasn't going to jump. Probably.) She's beautiful, fiery, and...insanely frustrating. She refused to tell me her name, declared my parents must be gay, and walked away like she didn't just turn my entire world upside down. Sounds like the start of a great love story, doesn't it? Here's the problem: she doesn't think so. She's immune to my charm, dismisses me as some campus jock, and seems entirely uninterested in giving me the time of day. Naturally, her rejection only makes me more determined to prove her wrong. Enter the deal: tutoring sessions, gingerbread lattes, and endless chances to show her that I'm more than just a guy with good hair and charm. Her story? I need to know it.
 Her trust? I'll earn it. But the closer I get, the more I realize I'm in way over my head. Because, like they say, too much ginger can give you heartburn-and my heart? It's already hanging by a thread.

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