Thursday, December 15, 2016

A Christmas Village by Ann Acton, Liz Adair & Terry Deighton







Ann Acton lives with her husband and children in a tiny town in Washington state. She loves the feeling of Christmas and usually finishes her shopping on Christmas Eve. She is also the author of The Miracle Maker.





Liz Adair, a native of New Mexico and mother of seven, lives in southern Utah with Derrill, her husband of 50 years.

A late bloomer, Liz published her first mystery (The Lodger) just as AARP started sending invitations to join. After writing three in the Spider Latham series, Liz moved into romantic suspense. She feels writing in that genre doing so is a service project. "I remember when I was a young mother with all those kids and a slender budget," she says. "I was so grateful for books that let me go places and meet people who carried on adult conversations That's what I want to write--cheap vacations."
"Amy's Star" brings both Liz and her writing to Kanab, Utah. Look for new Spider Latham mysteries set in Kanab.

Terry Deighton lives in Washington, the state not D.C., with her husband, Al. Their six children are grown and gone, and pets tend to complicate life. When she is not visiting her children and grandchildren, writing and revising, again and again, she works as a substitute teacher. Mr. Goetz in the Tweaks series is wiser and cooler, but he's made up, so it doesn't count. Mrs. Deighton started out to be a high school English teacher, but raising kids turned into a full-time job. During those years, her dream of writing books for young people grew until she had to do something about it. Her Tweaks series is a fulfillment of that dream. Her love of Christmas naturally prompted her to write "Whit's End" in this book and "Just Say No-el," a companion novella to these three stories.



Q & A With  Author Liz Adair:
1.  Describe yourself in 50 words or less.
I’m 75 on the outside, 39 on the inside. I still think of myself as tall and statuesque, but who is that hefty, swollen-ankled women looking back at me from the full-length mirror? I’m a hearth-tender, but my explorer husband entices me to experience the wonders of the outside world.

2. What do you love most in the world? In all the world, I love family the most. I love the ties that bind generation to generation. I treasure the pictures my heart carries of my little, bird-like grandma, my Auntie-Mame mother, my children as they toddled around my farmhouse kitchen, and the fine people they have become.

3. What do you fear most? I’m afraid of the dark. A vivid imagination is great for writing murder mysteries, but it’s a curse on a moonless night when I’m alone, the power’s out, and something’s creaking in the next room.

4. What is your largest unfulfilled dream, and what are you doing to reach it? The largest of my few unfulfilled dreams is to hit the USA Today best seller list. To reach it, I’m learning to be a savvy marketer. This last year, I hit #1 in the Amazon Bestseller list and stayed there for almost all day, so I’m making progress. 

5. What is the hardest thing you've ever done?  It may be a little indelicate, but I’ll state this: When I was having children, natural childbirth was the usual path chosen. My last child was breech. ‘Nuff said.

6. Now that we've gotten to know each other, tell me a story. It can be long or short. From your childhood or last week. Funny, sad, or somewhere in between. Just make sure it's yours. What's your story?

This is my Christmas story:
Red Taffeta, by Liz Adair
When I was in the third grade, we moved from southern New Mexico to Wyoming for my father’s work. In the fall, before we knew we were leaving the temperate New Mexico climate, my mother had made me a little black velvet cape for a winter coat. It had a red taffeta lining and was trimmed with a rabbit-fur collar.
The cape was adequate for the first Wyoming autumn months, but then the air turned really cold. The constant wind cut through the two layers of cloth like Mama’s sewing shears, no matter how closely I wrapped the cape around me.
Because of the influx of construction workers, the little housing that was available was very expensive. Our family’s budget didn’t stretch to house rent and a new coat for me.
Two weeks before Christmas, a frigid front swept down from the north, pushed by a howling gale.  In spite of the storm, I had talked my parents into taking us to the movies. I can still see the scene in my mind’s eye: we’re getting ready to go. I’m full of anticipation, and I put on my velvet cape. As the wind whistles outside, Mama stands at the door, her hat on and her purse in her hand. She stars at me for a moment, then two, and she seems to be making up her mind about something. “Go get the box from under my bed,” she says.
I feel the hard linoleum of the floor on my knees as I look under the bed and pull out a substantial box, wrapped in Christmas paper. “Bring it in here,” Mama calls from the front room.
I carry it in and set it on the coffee table. “Open it,” she says.
I tear off the paper. There’s no excitement. Christmas is still two weeks away, and this is just strange. I lift the lid and find a winter coat: gray, nondescript, probably woolen. Mama has me put it on, and I wear it to the movies. 

That was in 1949. I don’t remember Christmas morning that year. I don’t remember anything else about that gray winter coat. But to this day, I can remember the way that red taffeta lining felt as it rubbed against my bare, eight-year-old arms.



Connect with the Authors here: 


These three Christmas novellas will get you into the holiday spirit. 

Christmas Gift - Christmas for Amanda Grover is usually a chaotic marathon in search of the perfect gifts. This year, she thinks she's got it all under control—until she's roped into doing service on Christmas Eve. What should be a simple night turns into a series of chaotic events and a gift she never expected. 

Amy’s Star: A Spider Latham Christmas Story - A new star rises above the southern Utah town of Kanab and draws some surprising visitors on Christmas Eve. 

At Whit’s End - When Whitney Saunders and her husband buy their first home, it jump starts her desire to make everything, especially Christmas, perfect. She soon finds out it’s more work than she thought, and she begins to wonder what perfect really is.









Snippet Amy’s Star:


At the back door, Spider could see Laurie at the table with Amy opposite. They both looked up as he opened the door.
“Hi,” Laurie said. She smiled, but it wasn’t an automatic, come-from-the-heart, Christmas Eve smile. It was a wooden, brave-faced turning up of her lips.  
Amy smiled, too. Hers was genuine. Five-hundred-watt incandescent. 
“Hello, girls,” Spider said. “How’s it going?”
“Fantastic,” Amy said. 
Laurie cleared her throat. “Amy stopped taking her meds.”
“So I heard.” Spider tipped his head, regarding Amy. “Is that wise?”
Amy covered her face. “No. I know it’s not, but listen.” She let her hands slide down, so her eyes were peeking above her fingertips. “I just wanted to feel the Christmas joy. You don’t know what it’s like to have everything—” She made a horizontal motion. “—even out. I want to feel something this Christmas!”
Spider grimaced. He understood what Amy was saying, and right now he hated the responsibility he had inherited. “This thing with President Obama and the Bethlehem star. It wasn’t real, you know.”
Amy stared at Spider, chewing on her lower lip. “The big black limo? The tinted windows going silently down?” She pantomimed the windows lowering. “The man in the back leaning forward and taking my hand, telling me he had this great thing for me to do? You’re saying it wasn’t real?”
Spider nodded. “That’s what I’m saying.”
Amy looked at Laurie. “It was real to me.”

Ten fun facts about Liz Adair 

1.    I lived in Alaska while it was still a territory.
2.    I was born in Hot Springs, New Mexico, but they changed the name of the town to Truth or Consequences.
3.    The smell of an outhouse doesn’t repel; it brings back memories of staying with Grandma.
4.    I had a small wholesale bakery for 15 years making home-made pies for 22 restaurants.
5.    During my ‘Mother Earth’ decade, I learned to make Mozzarella cheese.
6.    Also, while doing the ‘Mother Earth’ thing, I delivered a baby burro.
7.    I was once fluent in Spanish.
8.    I have seven children: four biological and three adopted.
9.    I’m an intrepid ATVer.
10. I’ve been married for 53 years.



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Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Cheeky Christmas by Aria Cole













































Everly Grayson is sick of her small life in a small town. She dreams of bigger things, so when an opportunity for something bigger comes along, she grabs it with both hands. Now she’s on her way to a sprawling country estate in rural England to work as an au pair.

However, her new adventure loses some of its shine when she finds out her new boss, wealthy single dad Mason Kingsley, is a surly and foul-tempered ogre. Yet despite his temperament, he consumes the air in her lungs and dominates her every waking thought. Especially when she sees him being as sweet as candy to his five-year-old daughter.

Little does she know that he is just as affected by her. While his attraction to her drives him to distraction, he wants more than just her body. Much more.

This holiday season, prepare to lose more than your Christmas stockings and light up brighter than your tree when you fall in love with Mason Kingsley.































A friendly-looking guy, probably a few years older than Mason, thrust a hand at me. “Hi, I’m Michael.”
   “Hi.” I smiled kindly. “I’m Everly.”
   “Pretty name. That an American accent I hear?”
   “It is.”
   “What brought you here of all places? Pretty girl like you should be drinking cosmos in London.” He leaned in closer and took a sip of his beer, eyes trained on my lips.
   I felt Mason shift closer to me. His low voice was still deep in conversation with Toby, but his body clearly sensed something was up.
   “I’m here for a job actually. Only for a few months.” I turned back to my pint and took a sip, wishing Mason would cut in and save me from any more probing questions.
   “Well, there isn’t much to see, but if you ever need a friend, let me give you my number—”
   “Everly, can I have a word?” Mason butted in, looping his hand at my elbow and pulling him against his chest.
   My heart dropped instantly and my knees went weak as I felt every hard inch of his solid body behind me. Jesus, what was he doing and why did I like this?
   “Sure,” I whispered, smiling at the stranger before Mason shuttled me away from the bar and down a short corridor.
   “Bloody tosser.” He growled, shoving through a door and pulling me in behind him. Flicking on the light, he spun me, hands caging me against the wooden panels.
   “What’s wrong?” I asked, chest heaving. My every single breath was consumed with him. His scent, the primal, beast-like energy radiating from him. Everything about him turned me on.
   “I don't like his eyes on you.” His hands were at my waist, sliding over the curve of my ass. His fingers found the hem of my dress, inching it up my thighs to land at the curve of my ass. “I don’t like him looking at what’s mine.”
   “Mason, I don't think he was—”
   “Don’t tell me what he was thinking. I know men, and I’ve known that one longer than I’ve known just about anyone. He wants you.” His teeth edged the shell of my ear.
   “So what if he does?” I offered lamely.
   “You made me cum in my trousers, Everly. I’ve never done that before. I love you shuddering beneath me. My lips on every inch of your skin...feeling you so deeply it shatters your soul. That makes you mine. Do you need me to remind you why, kitten?”
   Mason’s fingers hooked in my panties and pulled them just down my thighs.
  “Please…” I whispered, my hands wrapping around his neck.
  “My sweet little pussy cat is soaked.” His fingers ran through my slit and sent me arching up onto my tiptoes.
   “I’m always wet around you,” I confessed, unable to stop the words.
   “I know, I love it.” He pushed his thumb into his mouth, sucking off my arousal before his grin tipped up. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
   I waited breathlessly, hardly comprehending his words.
  “Do it, Everly. Touch that pretty pussy.” He guided my hand between my thighs, groaning when my fingertips made contact with the slick skin. “That’s it, sweetheart.”
   I heard the swift sound of his zipper, then I watched, riveted, as he pulled his thick erection from his pants. Fisting it at the root, he ran his hand in slow strokes up to the tip and back down again.
   “Oh my god.”
   “That's it, kitten. Let him hear you now.”




























Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.

For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn't take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she's writing next!

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Shaded With Love: a coloring book for a cause IS LIVE All proceeds benefit Free2Luv!


Shaded With Love: a coloring book for a cause IS LIVE! All proceeds benefit Free2Luv!

This coloring book, featuring 82 designs inspired by your favorite authors & bloggers is here just in time for the holidays and all proceeds will benefit FREE2LUV, an anti-bullying non-profit. #OneClick NOW!

BUY NOW: http://amzn.to/2hgLzYu

Illustrator: Jessica Hildreth

Find out more about Free2Luv here: http://free2luv.org/

Participating Authors/Bloggers:
Jessica Hildreth, Vicki Green, Katharina LeBoeuf, Beantown Bitches Book Page, A.L. Wood, Noelle Bodhaine, Angela Coffey,Amy Briggs, Little Shop of Readers, 

Gillian Jones, Avelyn Paige, GM Scherbert, Jennifer L. Armentrout, also known as J. Lynn,Charlotte Fallowfield, Geri Glenn, Janine Infante Bosco, Christine Hughes,Cecilia London, T.K. Leigh, Jen Luerssen,Tiffani Lynn, Sister Spot Book Blog, MJ Fields, Jenika Snow, Jennifers Taking A Break, Reading After Dark, J.C. Valentine, Alyvia Paige, Maria DeSouza, Rhonda James, Mary Elizabeth, JL Long, Brooke May, Emery Jacobs, Amelia Sue, J.M. Walker, Annelise Reynolds, Harlow Stone, Katie Fox, Mary B Moore, Read and Share Book Reviews, Len Webster, Cat Mason, Elizabeth York, HJ Bellus, Stacey Lewis, J. A. O'Donoghue, JL Long, MariaLisa deMora, Alphas Do It Better Book Blog, Evan Grace, Niquel, Xana Jordan, K. Renee, Anna Paige, Elizabeth Princeton, Cory Cyr, N. E. Henderson, L.J. Shen, Kennedy Fox, K.L. Kreig, Ginger Ring, Relentless Book Chics Ramblings & Reviews, Leisa Rayven, Alyson Raynes, Emerson Rose, FG Adams, Stevie J. Cole, Gemma James, M. Robinson, A. Zavarelli, Books and Boys Book Blog, Heather Carver, HEA Bookshelf, Kim Jones, Rachel Robinson, R+M Photography, Angie Brashears, Mikey Lee, Scott Hildreth


Found You by Dahlia Donovan's

Fun & Flirty M/M Romance
Author: Dahlia Donovan
Title: Found You (Trade Me Collection)
Genre: Gay Romance
Release Date: November 29, 2016
Publisher: Hot Tree Publishing
Cover Artist: Soxsational Cover Art
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Kent Casado has lost everything that defined him: his construction business, his husband, his home, and his fortune. He went from one of the first gay men to marry in Colorado, to the first to be divorced. Crushed and alone, his only recourse is to move into a hurricane-damaged cottage in Key West, but his troubles seem to follow him to the beach paradise.

Dusk “Doctor Dusky” Keller has never allowed himself to be defined by anyone or anything. Growing up in the Keys with his hippie parents, he ran an animal hospital until a hurricane destroyed it. He never expects to fall straight into lust with an uptight stranger who he sees on his daily beach walks.

Satisfied with a prolonged one-night stand, neither expects to plummet from casual to complicated.

Hot Tree Publishing Exclusive M/M Romance Collection

Trade Me is a new genre-linked collection of 30,000 - 50,000 word novellas. With so many sexy trades to pant over, Trade Me stories offer heat, swoon-worthy men, and HEAs that will leave M/M romance lovers completely satisfied.
While Dusk drifted away from him, Kent found himself drawn to inspecting the man. He had longish dirty-blond hair, wavy, and out-of-control; it matched the scruff on his face which was barely more than a five o’clock shadow. He had tanned skin likely from days spent under the heat of the Florida sun, which only served to make his incredible blue eyes stand out.

Those eyes glanced back toward him as if sensing his perusal. Dusk winked at him and waved cheerily. It only worked to make the blue even brighter.

Kent could easily spot at least three tattoos on the dog walker with his beach attire of khaki shorts and a tank top. He had an island and ocean scene on his left arm while his right had several symbols on it that looked almost like doctor symbols, but might’ve been for a vet instead. The edges of some sort of map peeked out from under his shirt in the back.

A few more steps sent Dusk out of his view. It left Kent with one lasting impression—the man did have a nice ass. He might put up with the barking dogs for a closer look at it each morning. Not the chickens, however. Maybe he could write to Popeye’s to offer them up. The locals might not be too thrilled with him, but he might get to sleep in a little.

Stretching his legs out until his feet dug into the sand, Kent relaxed against the steps with his eyes closed against the sun. Florida had certainly not done anything for his productivity. His type-A need to accomplish tasks had taken a nosedive over the last few weeks.
On sale for half price!
Dahlia Donovan started out working in the insurance world. After ten years, she morphed her love of investigating accidents and studying people into writing about them. She's a bit of a hermit and despises being in front of a camera. Her life wouldn't be complete without her husband and her massive collection of books and video games.
 

Hurricane in Paradise, #10 by Deborah Brown

COVER REVEAL

hurricaneinparadise

Book Title:Hurricane In Paradise 
Author: Deborah Brown 
Genre: Mystery 
Release Date: December 15, 2016
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

book blurb

Set against the steamy backdrop of Tarpon Cove's sun-kissed, tropical waters, sexy sleuths and best friends Madison and Fab are at it again dealing with the occasional dead body. Hidden just below the surface of the small town lies an underworld, one steeped in deceit, corruption, and deadly secrets. It's only a matter of time before Madison and Fab find themselves on a collision course with the police, who consider them likely suspects in a murder.

Ride along on their adventures when the duo realizes that a family member is missing and pull themselves away from all jobs to track him down. Theories: walked away, freak accident, kidnapped? If so, then why no ransom demand?

Hurricane in Paradise is book ten in the thrilling and humorous provocative Paradise series, which finds the two waist-deep in mystery and romance. It is a smart, adventurous read that delivers heart-thumping, non-stop action. Join Madison and Fab as they solve the most twisted of cases, through unconventional ¬– and highly entertaining – measures… sometimes in flip-flops.
excerpt
Chapter One

A gust of wind blew the front door open, sending it ricocheting off the wall. Creole stumbled into the entry, his black hair whipping around his face. A crack of thunder boomed behind him, announcing the fury of the rapidly approaching storm. “Madison Westin,” he barked, sounding like an angry dog. “What in the hell are you still doing at home?”

Dropping a small bag at the bottom of the stairs, I watched as my boyfriend veered left, going into the kitchen, dripping wet from the sheets of rain slamming the house in all of Mother Nature’s ferocity. The wind’s howling sounded like someone screaming at times.

Luc Baptiste was his birth name, Creole the undercover moniker he used in his employment as a Miami detective, but only a handful of people actually knew that little fact. He stood over six feet, his muscles accentuated by his soaked t-shirt. At the moment, he had a two-day scruff of beard and his eyes were an irate blue; when they turned a deep cobalt, I knew he was more than mildly annoyed.

Another bolt of lightning flashed through the garden window. I counted under my breath and listened until thunder rocked in the distance, the eye of the storm getting closer. It was just beginning to make its presence known.

“You need an umbrella.” I watched as he shook the water off like a wet animal. “The news said the hurricane won’t make landfall until tonight.”

He scowled, looming over me, his brows pulled together. “You promised you’d be going with Fab and Didier to Miami.” He tugged on a tendril of red hair that had escaped my hair clip.

When I first moved to the Florida Keys, living by myself got old––fast. So, when Fabiana Merceau showed up one day with her suitcases, she caught me off guard, but I was happy to have her move in and had never been sorry that she became a permanent fixture. Not long after, Fab met her supermodel boyfriend, Didier, and decided, without a word to the man, to go to the hotel where he was staying, pack up his belongings, and unpack everything into the closet upstairs. Didier was a quick fit as a friend and family member. And nice to look at over morning coffee, or any other time. It made life easier that we had erratic schedules and were rarely all in the house at the same time.

“I didn’t make any promises.” I tried not to flinch at the weaselly tone in my voice. “No one asked my opinion, or I would’ve told all of you that I didn’t want to go anywhere.” I tossed him a towel from a stack that was going into the Hummer if I got scared enough to change my mind and leave. “The news always over-dramatizes the weather reports. It’s only forecast to make landfall as a category two. If it turns out to be a ‘rain event,’ they’ll still close the roads and take their time in reopening them, leaving us hanging out for several days since there’s no way to sneak back home with only one road in and out of the Keys.” I tried not to roll my eyes when, upon hearing the word “sneak,” his dark scowl returned.

“You’ve lived here long enough to know the back side of the storm can bring the most damage.”

I ignored his lecturing tone. I didn’t think now was the time to tell Creole that I wasn’t aware there was a difference. I’d ridden out a few hurricanes, often in the dark, the electricity not able to handle the onslaught, and when the sun came out again, the only damage left in their wake were piles of leaves and tree branches. I’d thankfully never experienced one of the more destructive ones.

Tarpon Cove sat at the top of the Florida Keys. The last damaging hurricane to roll through happened before my arrival. The old timers liked to say, “It’s been a damn long time since we had a direct hit.”

Lightning skated across the sky in non-stop action, the wind shrieked, and the lights flickered.

“Let’s go.” He reached for my wrist and pulled me into his arms, lifting me slightly, just enough to draw me against his chest.

My fingers curled into his thick, dark hair, and I traced a line over his lips and ran my hand over his jaw, feeling the scratch of rough stubble. He tilted his head and kissed me, then gave a low growl and deepened the kiss.

“What about the cats?” I took a moment to appreciate the muscled chest resting under my fingertips. “Fab texted an address on Ocean Boulevard, which makes it a good bet that it’s a five-star hotel. Good luck sneaking Jazz and Snow in. I don’t know what kind of traveler Snow is, but Jazz will meow loudly enough to make his presence known. I’m not leaving them behind. I don’t understand people who do that.”

Snow, my long-haired white cat, had been pregnant when I first rescued her from life with fifty other unrelated felines. Thankfully, she’d only had two kittens—a boy and a girl. Neither looked remotely related. They had both been adopted by my friend and employee, Mac, who was eager to become a new cat mom. My only condition was that they be spayed or neutered; all three went to the vet on a discount plan.

Jazz, my hundred-year-old, long-haired black cat, had adjusted quickly to getting a trophy girlfriend in his old age. A few sniffs, a handful of hisses, and they were sleeping together.

“One of Didier’s designer friends offered up his beach-front digs.” Creole made a face, which usually made me laugh; instead, I returned a half-hearted smile.

Creole shook his head; he’d made up his mind that we were leaving, and he was not letting me talk him out of it. He crossed the kitchen and retrieved the cat carrier sitting on the floor by the island. He scooped up Snow and stuck her in first, followed by Jazz. Since they had both been rudely woken from sleep, it took him less than a minute, neither meowing, even when the door banged closed.

Our eyes flew to the garden window over the kitchen sink, where the pelting rain had picked up speed, sounding like gravel was being thrown at the glass. The winds ramped up to a yowl that steadily grew in intensity.

“We should stay.” I avoided eye contact, knowing he’d veto the idea, but I had to suggest it.

“We are not going to be one of those couples that makes the news because we had to be plucked off the roof. How would I explain being so stupid to my boss? Remember him? Chief Harder? And in the next breath, I’d have to justify the squandering of county funds on my rescue.”

“Take off your clothes.” I stared up into his deep-blue eyes and winked. “I’ll toss them in the dryer. Unless you want to drive to Miami in wet clothes?”

He peeled off his shirt, followed by his jeans. I openly stared while he undressed. “I know what you’re up to.” He shook his finger at me. “It’s not going to work. I’ve got a change of clothes upstairs.” He turned out of the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time.

The wind continued to grow, the storm beating the sides of the two-story Key West-style house that I had inherited from my Aunt Elizabeth. A sizzle of lightning strikes followed by an ear-splitting crash had me running to the French doors that led to the pool area. Flicking on the outside lights, I peeked out, and immediately noticed that the palm that had stood in the far corner since before my aunt bought the house now lay on its side, a row of flower pots crushed under its weight where it had landed perilously close to the pool.

“That could have been worse,” I muttered to myself. I didn’t like leaving the house to fend for itself any better than leaving the cats to do the same. I crossed my fingers, certain I had nothing to worry about; the house had withstood many pounding storms, never sustaining more than minor damage.

“Ready?” Creole called from the bottom stairstep, my suitcase in one hand.

“Am I following you?”

“Nice try.” He laughed. “You and the cats are riding in my truck; that way, I can keep an eye on you.”

Happy not to be driving in the pouring rain, I gave in and crossed the room, picking up the small tote lying on the floor next to the banister.

meet the author

Redhead. Long legs. There's nothing like a strawberry-lemonade in summer. Favorite activity: Filling my pockets with seashells. An avid rule follower when eating Animal Cookies: Broken ones get eaten first, match up the rest, duplicates next, line them up favorite to not, least favorite go first. South Florida is my home, with my ungrateful rescue cats, and where Mother Nature takes out her bad attitude in the form of hurricanes.
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