Witchy Tales: A Wicked Witches Of The Midwest Fairy Tale - Plot & Excerpts
Clove clapped excitedly as Landon carried me back to the yellow brick road. “We were worried,” Thistle admitted, her face relaxing when our eyes met. “You look … heavy.” “You can probably put me down now,” I said, sighing. She was right. The dress had to be heavy on Landon’s muscled arms. Notice I didn’t say I was heavy. “Sure,” Landon said, lowering both of us to the ground next to the road and then tightening his arms around me as he settled us into a comfortable sitting configuration. “What are you doing?” I asked, resting my forehead against his chin. “Just … give me a minute,” Landon murmured. “He was really worried,” Clove said, her eyes wide. “He almost had a meltdown.” “Almost?” Thistle arched a challenging eyebrow. “If that was almost a meltdown, I’d hate to see the actual thing.”
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