Tag Archives: #newbookrelease

1 Week Countdown to HOPE’S DREAM (Deerbourne Inn) #WRPbks

 


In just one week my addition to the new series from Wild Rose Press, HOPE’S DREAM ( Deerbourne Inn Novella) goes livelivelive!

I can’t wait to share this story with you all. It’s the second book released in the series and continues the storyline of the Vermont inn and the people of the tiny town of Willow Springs.

Hope Kildaire gave up her dream of becoming a nurse practitioner when a car accident killed her father and left her mother an invalid. Working two jobs and caring for her mother leaves the twenty-seven-year-old with no time for fun or relationships. When a law firm representing her paternal grandparents sends her several letters, Hope ignores them. She despises the family who disowned her father and wants nothing to do with them.

Lawyer Tyler Coleman’s job is simply to obtain Hope’s signature on a legal document. Getting it is harder than planned, though, when an unexpected attraction blossoms between them. If Ty is honest with Hope about why he’s in Willow Springs, he’ll fulfill his assignment but may risk hurting her.

The opportunity to have everything she’s ever desired is at Hope’s fingertips. Will her dream come true at the expense of Tyler’s love?

Buy links for HOPE’S DREAM:

Amazon //  The Wild Rose Press // Nook // iTunes

An you can start the series from the beginning with the origination novella,  By Reservation Only, by Barbara Edwards

 

 

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Coming soon…

I haven’t had a new book release since April 2018 when CAN’T STAND THE HEAT came out into the romance reading world. Loved that book, but I’ve never gone this long without a new release.

Well, what’s that old saying: when it rains it pours?  Yeah. Story of my life.

This fall and into the holiday season I will have 3 new releases, well, released. A new San Valentino Christmas story called CHRISTMAS AND CANOLLIS, a new series starting called A Match Made in Heaven. Book 1 is DEARLY BELOVED. And I’m part of a book series of novellas from the Wild Rose Press called The DeerBourne Inn. My addition is HOPE’S DREAM.

I’m going to do a cover reveal of Christmas and Canollis, soon, but here’s the official blurb:

With Christmas season in full swing, baker Regina San Valentino is up to her elbows in cake batter and cookie dough. Between running her own business, filling her bursting holiday order book, and managing her crazy Italian family, she’s got no time to relax, no room for more custom cake orders, and no desire to find love. A failed marriage and a personal tragedy have convinced her she’s better off alone. Then a handsome stranger enters her bakery begging for help. Regina can’t find it in her heart to refuse him.

 

Connor Gilhooly is in a bind. He needs a specialty cake for an upcoming fundraiser and puts himself—and his company’s reputation—in Regina’s capable hands. What he doesn’t plan on is falling for a woman with heartbreak in her eyes or dealing with a wise-guy father and a disapproving family.

 

Can Regina lay her past to rest and trust the man who’s awoken her heart?

Love that!!!

here’s the cover and blurb for DEARLY BELOVED:

Colleen O’Dowd manages a thriving bridal business with her sisters in Heaven, New Hampshire. After fleeing Manhattan and her cheating ex-fiancé, Colleen still believes in happily ever afters. But with a demanding business to run, her sisters to look after, and their 93-year-old grandmother to keep out of trouble, she’s worried she’ll never find Mr. Right.

Playboy Slade Harrington doesn’t believe in marriage. His father’s six weddings have taught him life is better as an unencumbered single guy. But Slade loves his little sister. He’ll do anything for her, including footing the bill for her dream wedding. He doesn’t plan on losing his heart to a smart-mouthed, gorgeous wedding planner, though.

When her ex-fiancé comes back into the picture, Colleen must choose between Mr. Right and Mr. Right Now.

Can I just tell you how much I lovelovelove this cover and this story??!! This past weekend I posted a snipper from the upcoming story. You can read it here: Sunday Snippet

The DeerBourne Inn is a series of novellas centering around a bed and breakfast in Willow Springs, Vt. The books range from historical to paranormal to contemporary and even a few spicy/erotic ones.

My contribution is a modern day romance about two people who aren’t looking for love, and what happens when love finds them!

Ski instructor Hope Kildaire’s dream of becoming a Nurse Practitioner was shattered when a fatal accident changed her family and her future. Working two jobs and caring for her injured mother leaves the twenty-seven year old beauty with no time for fun or relationships. While she loves her Willow Springs community, she longs for a life where she can travel and make a difference in people’s lives.

Lawyer Tyler Coleman has one job when he comes to Hope’s hometown, an assignment that could change Hope’s life forever and allow her to fulfill all her dreams. But once he meets and gets to know her, that job takes a backseat to his unexpected and mounting feelings for the lovely young woman. When he finally admits who he is and why he’s in Willow Springs, his one hope is that she feels the same way about him.

Will Hope’s dream come true at the expense of Tyler’s heart?

To say I’ve been a bit busy is kind of an understatement!!!

When I have official release dates I’ll post them. And if you subscribe to my newsletter, you’ll be seeing the cover of CHRISTMAS and CANOLLIS soon. Sign up when the pop-up appears to subscribe!

Off to do more editing. And maybe take a nap. Definitely, a nap.

Find me here when you’re looking for me:Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me//Google+Me// Triber// BookMe

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Filed under A Match Made in Heaven, Author, Contemporary Romance, love, Romance, Romance Books, The Wild Rose Press

Sunday Snippet – Dearly Beloved 8.26.18

From my upcoming DEARLY BELOVED, Book 1 in the Match Made in Heaven series.

Chapter One

“9-1-1! Colleen, I’ve got a 9-1-1 in the Bawl Room!”

I cringed at the crisis call blaring through my earpiece. I hated emergency calls, especially when everything was about to start. To pull off the perfect wedding, just like when invading an enemy country during wartime, you have to run on a strict, unbendable time schedule. There was no room for deviation. A 9-1-1 call was the equivalent of a ticking time bomb, set to blow up the whole operation.

“On my way,” I said. “Any bloodshed?”

“None so far,” my assistant Charity Quinlan replied, her small voice breathless with urgency. “But it’s coming. Get here. I don’t know how much longer I can keep them from killing one another.”

I shot from my command post at the back of my hometown church in Heaven, New Hampshire, and sprinted down the long corridor toward the kid’s section, affectionately known as the Bawl Room, which was the staging area for the soon-to-start wedding I was in charge of. The small space was given this moniker because it was where parents of unruly children shuttled their little miscreants when their behavior disrupted the congregation during Mass. My sisters and I had been banished to the room every Sunday of our childhood.

I took a calming breath in front of the closed door—a door that did nothing to muffle raised, angry, and shrill voices—and ran a hand across my quaking abdominal muscles. They’d been throbbing and pulsing like a precision quartz timepiece from the confining, belly-flattening, spandex undergarment I wore to mask the extra eight pounds I’d recently packed on.

I said a silent prayer to St. Gabriel, the patron saint of strength. “Breathe,” I whispered, making it a plea. “Just breathe.”

Placing a broad smile across my face, I pushed through the door and entered into a tempest I regarded as the tenth circle of Hell: ex-wives.

Two lavishly dressed women—one in her fifties, the other ten years younger, and both trying desperately to look in their thirties—stood, dyed stiletto to dyed stiletto, glaring at one another. Both had fisted hands planted on their hips, shoulders hunched, perfectly coiffed heads bent, ready to do battle.

“Who do you think you are?” one screeched at the other. “You’re not her mother. You’re nobody in this wedding, just my ex’s current squeeze of the second, so back the hell off. Now!”

The woman being shrilled at, all six foot of her in icepick heels, leaned forward and pulled her outlined, lipstick-enhanced mouth back into a perfect teeth-baring snarl. She jabbed one of her french-manicured tips at her aggressor and ground out, “I’ve been married to him longer than you were, bitch, and you know it, so who you calling squeeze of the second, because from where I’m standing, you were more like a mistake who got knocked up than a wife any day of the week.”

The elder of the two was set to pounce, aiming for her rival’s perfect camera-ready face so I did a quick little jog and insinuated myself between them.

“Ladies.” My gaze ping-ponged from one to the other. “Please. The wedding is about to begin. We can’t have this kind of behavior.”

“She started it,” the actual mother of the bride, Mary Ann Stively said, pointing at her ex-husband’s current wife. “She says she should go down the aisle after me because she’s married to my loser ex—”

“Who’s the father of the bride,” JoEllen, wife number two, said. She turned her back on wife one and faced me. “You’re the wedding planner, Colleen. You know proper protocol says I should go down the aisle right before the party, since I’m married to the father of the bride. I looked it up, read all about wedding etiquette and procedures.”

“In what? Your current edition from slut-of-the-month book club?” Mary Ann spat.

JoEllen’s eyes slitted under penciled eyebrows standing stationary on her unlined and unmoving forehead, a paralytic effect—I surmised—from years of Botox injections.

“Why, you—” She inched forward and tried to reach by me, but eight years of track in school and four more in college gave me a decided advantage in swiftness. I blocked her, my arms splaying out at my sides so she couldn’t go around me.

My left eye started to twitch—never a good sign—and I knew I had to set this situation to rights. Now. The wedding was scheduled to begin in less than ten minutes.

“Mrs. Stively.” Both women stared at me. “Um, the current Mrs. Stively.”

JoEllen pulled herself up to her towering height and gave her paid-for breasts a good forward thrust. “What?”

“I know you feel you deserve to walk down right before the wedding party—”

“I do.”

“—but I’m sorry. Whatever you’ve read stating that was the correct procession is incorrect. The actual mother of the bride is the one who immediately precedes the party. Unless, of course she’s not present or deceased. Then it would be proper for a stepmother to be the last person down the aisle before the attendants and bride.”

JoEllen slanted a deathly glare at Mary Ann. I swear I could hear her brain running through scenarios on how to commit murder in the next five minutes.

“Now, I need you both to take your places so we can get this wedding started. Stop arguing and let’s go.”

I’d dealt with these two overbearing women many times in the past few months and knew neither would give an inch, or relinquish control, of their own accord. Since they continued to stand rock-still, daggers zipping between them, I did what I always do in situations like this and got physical.

I grabbed the first Mrs. Stively firmly by the forearm and gave her a good yank while motioning to Charity, who’d been cowering behind a pew, to do the same to Stively spouse number two.

Charity, at a spit above five foot, was no match for the lengthy, stilettoed second wife, but what she lacked in height, she more than made up for in determination. With a firm hand draped along JoEllen’s back, Charity began walking, propelling the woman forward.

“Can you believe that bitch?” Mary Ann asked as I escorted her down the long hallway to the back of the church where the procession stood, waiting. I continued to hold her forearm in a grip of steel in the event she planned to escape and go back to punch her replacement.

“Forget JoEllen,” I commanded. “It’s your daughter’s day. Focus on her. You don’t want Annie to remember this day filled with problems or fights. You want her to have the most wonderful memories of her wedding, don’t you?”

Before she could reply, I steamrolled right over her. “Of course you do. Fighting with JoEllen serves no purpose and will only upset Annie. Take a quick, deep breath if she annoys you again and ignore her. Believe me, you’ll feel better for it.”

I knew I was telling a bald-faced lie.

Mary Ann and JoEllen both wanted to scratch the other’s eyes out, and today’s incident was another in a long line of antagonistic outbreaks since Annie had retained me as her wedding planner. The two Stively wives despised one another for various and obvious reasons. Their only compatible redeeming value was their mutual unconditional love for the bride-to-be.

In the vestibule, the melodic strings of a Mozart concerto serenaded the waiting congregation.

Annie Stively’s parents had spared no expense on their cherished only daughter. From a twenty-thousand-dollar, custom-made, hand-stitched, lace and satin gown complete with a five-thousand-dollar tiara and train, to the five-hundred-dollar-an-hour stretch limousine waiting outside the church entrance, prepared to whisk the happy couple off to their reception a mere five minutes away, Dr. and the two Mrs. Stivelys set out to give their little princess everything she desired in a wedding.

With my help, they had.

“Mom? JoEllen? What’s going on?” The bride glanced from her mother to her stepmother, concern creasing her flawless brow.

“A few last-minute details we needed to go over,” I answered before either woman could. “They wanted everything to be perfect for you. It’s all settled now, correct, ladies?” With an arched and determined glare, I all but dared them to contradict me.

Both women, with uncharacteristic placidity, nodded.

“Good. Now, let’s get you all lined up, and we can get this beautiful girl married.”

I went into command mode, corralled the wedding party into their appropriate places, and gave the all-start command. “Let’s roll.”

Once the bridal party, including the two warring Mrs. Stivelys, were all seated, the soft, haunting strings of Johann Pachelbel’s Canon in D drifted through the air.

I stood behind one door, Charity the other. On my count, we threw open the doors wide at the same time. A collective wave of sighs blew through the church as the first view of the stunning bride broke through. While she floated up the aisle on her father’s arm, my photographer darted ahead of them, filming, as they slowly made their way to the altar. Charity and I closed the doors behind us and slipped into the last pew to watch the wedding.

At the front of the church, Dr. Stively stopped, lifted his daughter’s veil, and then kissed her cheek. I could hear dueling sniffling from the front pew, Mom and Stepmother each trying to outdo the other in the waterworks department. Once Dr. Stively took his seat between his first and second wives, the congregation sat as a unit.

“Did you check to make sure the best man has the rings?” I asked Charity, looking toward the stable of tuxedoed ushers at the altar. The groom’s younger brother looked as if last night’s bachelor party had been a rousing success, evidenced by the pasty tinge to his skin, the railroad track redness covering the whites of his eyes, and the none-too-subtle tremor in his hands.

“He does,” Charity replied.

“Did Devon bring the basket with the bird seed?”

“He did.”

Off to one side of the altar, I spied my trusty and talented photographer being as unobtrusive as possible while he captured the happy event through his lens.

“Kolby has everything he needs?”

“He does.”

When I slanted her a look, Charity grinned. “And before you ask, I already called the inn. Everything is ready. The champagne is chilling, and the band is warming up. Maureen told me to tell you not to fret. She’s got it all covered. No worries.”

Two of the most overused and least accurate words in the English language, especially when speaking about a wedding.

With as deep a breath as I could manage (I really was going to throw in the towel with this pseudo-girdle and cut back on the carbs instead), I sat back and watched the ceremony I’d put together, and prayed the rest of the day would go on without any further problems or arguments between warring family factions.

What’s that old saying? Man makes plans and God laughs?

Yeah…the story of my life.

 

DEARLY BELOVED, coming November, 2018. Buy links coming soon!

 

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A sit-down interview with author Mary Morgan and Rory MacGregor

You all know by now that I lovelovelove when one of my Wild Rose Press sistahs comes for a visit. Today I have award winning author MARY MORGAN visiting and she’s brought along her hero in her newest book OATH OF A WARRIOR, Rory MacGregor with her for a little sit down tete-a-tete.

Let’s get right to it!

“Morning, Mary. ‘Morning, Rory.

Hello Peggy! Thanks for allowing us to visit your lovely blog. Rory MacGregor has graciously agreed to be here today. Though he can’t stay long (terms set forth from the Fae realm), I am confident he can share some insight into his story and the Fae realm.

Peggy: Since you’ve been on our earth for thousands of years, can you share with us how old you are?

Rory: (He arches an eyebrow in amusement) Old is a term for the weathered foliage in our kingdom. I am considered ancient by your standard of years.

Peggy: When Prince Conn sent you back in time to heal your wounds, were you prepared to do so, or did you have an alternate plan?

Rory: At the time, I was standing on the abyss of darkness. My soul was entering what we call the Realm of Shadows. It is a desolate, bleak, and tortured existence with no hope of returning. The prince was unwise in sending me back in time in my condition. Regardless, I am fortunate that the circumstances proved to be in our favor—mine and Erina’s. I will be forever grateful that the Fates granted us this second chance.

Peggy: Can you share what drew you to Erina?

Rory: (Leaning back, he smiles) Her soul called out to mine, and I accepted. Furthermore, it was her great love of the land and animals. Endearing qualities, I admire.

Peggy: What is one word that best describes you?

Rory: It would depend on whom ye asked. Since my brother, Liam, is not here to offer a protest, I would say honorable.

Peggy: Do you think the author portrayed you accurately?

Rory: Aye, she kens me well, and I am sorry for causing her so much angst in writing this tale.

Peggy: What is your greatest fear?

Rory: To speak a fear out loud is to encourage its existence. I’d rather not bring misfortune to our life.

Peggy: What is the perfect romantic date in the Fae realm?

Rory: Holding Erina in my arms spread out among the heather and foxglove on a warm summer night as we watch the stars near the Waterfall of Life.

Peggy: What is your favorite color?

Rory: The rose blush that begins on my lovely wife’s face, and then continues to deepen the more I trail kisses over her skin.

Peggy: What is your favorite drink?

Rory: Honeyed ambrosia, especially procured from the Fae Pleasure Gardens.

Peggy: What is your favorite dessert?

Rory: (A slow sensuous smile appears) My wife, Erina.

Peggy: Is your book part of a series? What does the future hold for the readers of the series?

Rory: Aye, ’tis a series. My brother, Liam’s story is next. ’Tis called, Trial of a Warrior. In addition, I believe the author is planning a fourth book on our mentor and one of the greatest Fenian Warriors in the Fae realm, Aidan Kerrigan. His story is called, Destiny of a Warrior.

Peggy: I’m in serious love right now, folks!!! Le Swoon!!!!!!! Thanks, Mary, for bringing the delicious Rory for a visit today!

 Can a timeline be rewritten for love?

Blurb:

“You met them in the Order of the Dragon Knights. Now, journey to the realm of the Fae and witness their legends!”

Fenian Warrior, Rory MacGregor’s love conquests are legendary, but he has never spoken of the one mortal female who captured his heart. After his dark secret is finally revealed, he is ordered to return and seal the wounds left open by her death. Yet, he finds the timeline altered and swears an oath to rewrite fate, even if it brings about his own death.

Erina MacIntyre is known for her healing herbs and love charms. Determined to aid others, she refuses to listen to the whispers that call her a witch. When a Highlander steps forth into her path, he ignites a thread of strange familiarity and sparks a flame of desire she is unable to control.

Can the destiny of two lovers find love once more among the ashes of death and betrayal? Or will history repeat itself, leaving a scorching path of destruction for both mortals and Fae alike?

Excerpt:

“Erina, mo ghrá,” he groaned, taking her mouth with savage intensity. She tasted of honey and spices, filling him completely and easing the torment that continually plagued him.

Breaking free, he placed his hands on either side of the door. Giving her all of him required something more from Erina. Without the assurance of accepting him for what he was, Rory would be a lost man.

“Are ye certain ye want to ken all of me? I want ye as sure as the sun rises and sets over the land each day, but ken this, Erina—there is more to me than a simple bedding. There are things about me that might frighten ye. What I’m about to share with ye may cause ye to question my existence, or worse, my sanity.”

Her laugh was seductive and soothing as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “From the moment ye stepped through those trees that first day, I realized ye were not like any man I had encountered. It was as if the trees parted and ye came forth from inside them.” She brushed her fingers along his brow. “For one, ye have the most mesmerizing eyes and they shift colors.”

“And the second?”

Her face turned a rosy glow, yet, she held his gaze. “I thought your body chiseled from the old Gods, especially with all the markings on your back and arms.”

His gaze swept over hers. “I am nae God, Erina, though some would call me a demon.”

She traced a finger down along his arm and shook her head. “Ye are not a monster, but I am nae fool. Ye are not like other men, Rory. I have seen the markings on your body elsewhere.” Her finger curved around his shoulder and he trembled. “They are similar to the ones on the standing stones carved by the ancients.”

Rory fought the tide of emotions sweeping through him. She had come to the conclusion all on her own. “And ye would not flee if I told ye I was one of those ancients? One where the bards wove tales of giants who lived thousands of years ago among your own people? Others would call the story incredulous and filled with heathen words.” He held his breath, fearing her reply.

The smile she gave him speared straight to his soul. “Nae. I would not flee.”

Buy Links: Amazon // Nook // iBooks // The Wild Rose Press //

A wee bit about Mary Morgan:

Award-winning Celtic paranormal romance author, Mary Morgan, resides in Northern California, with her own knight in shining armor. However, during her travels to Scotland, England, and Ireland, she left a part of her soul in one of these countries and vows to retur

Mary’s passion for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination. She spent far too much time daydreaming and was told quite often to remove her head from the clouds. It wasn’t until the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling–writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life within her stori

If you enjoy history, tortured heroes, and a wee bit of magic, then time-travel within the pages of her books.

You can connect with Mary here:

Website //Blog // Twitter // Facebook // Goodreads // Amazon // Pinterest // Instagram // BookBub

 

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#NewBookRelease from #author Gina Leuci #WildRosePress #RomSuspense

Its always a pleasure when one of my my Wild Rose Press sistahs drops by with their new book. It’s a double pleasure for me when one of those authors is also a NHRWA chaptermate and friend! Today, I’ve got acclaimed writer GINA LEUCI with me, giving you a little insight into her newest  release, CAGED SOULS. 

Gina’s got a little sumthin’ sumthin’ for y’all, too, so stick around. Here’s my friend, Gina:

Thank you, Peggy, for hosting me today to celebrate the release of Caged Souls, book one of my Well of Lies novel.

The idea of this story started back when I was in college (many years ago). While watching a TV show with my son recently, one of the characters struck a chord with me and I knew he was my antagonist that I’d written oh so long ago. A lot has changed in the world since college, one of which is cell phones, and the started story, as written then, really didn’t have merit in today’s society. I brought the idea to my critique group and they steered me in the direction of writing in first person and pointing out that Caleb had to be the hero, not the villain. The story took on a life of its own and bloomed into a novel that needed to be told in two books. Caged Souls is part one of Grace’s story as she travels to and enters into the town of Wellington: A town where secrets run deep, and lies even deeper.

CAGED SOULS

Spending her summer break from college in the small town of Wellington is not Grace Adams’ first choice for excitement. But when her friend falls for the program’s recruiter she decides to tag along. The moment Wellington’s gates lock behind them, she realizes things are not what they seem.  She knows she is in trouble when the sexy chief of police is put in charge of preventing her escape.

Caleb Wellington is charged with keeping Grace in line after she runs afoul of the town council and local bullies.  He finds himself drawn to her, despite her tendency to challenge the rules, her constant questions, and demands for answers. After all the town needs her…doesn’t it?

With time running out and her future at risk, Caleb must make a choice between his town and saving Grace.

Excerpt:

“I’ve changed my mind. When is the next bus out of here?”

Caleb nodded to the other man who turned and walked away. “And what is the problem now, Grace?”

I stared at him, my hands on my hips, only just not tapping my foot. “No coffee? That’s obscene.”

“Ah, yes. There is always one who has difficulty with that rule.”

“It’s a stupid rule.”

He smirked. Sure, no emotion on anything else, but he thinks this is funny? I was not amused.

“Coffee, along with alcohol and drugs, contain ingredients limiting our abilities to choose or think clearly. Living a healthier lifestyle allows us to have a better connection with each other and with God.”

My jaw dropped. He was serious. “I get cranky without my coffee.”

“So I see.” The hint of sarcasm was my undoing.

“Shut up,” I yelled, then I pushed him. Okay, maybe pushed is the wrong word. I attempted to shove him, but he didn’t budge an inch. The entire room went quiet and I had a momentary sense of clarity as my eyes connected with his dark steel gaze.

“Okay, I should not have done that. Because you are…” I gulped and instantly became contrite. I slowly moved my hands from his rock-hard chest, “…really big and you could probably snap me like a twig. So don’t. Okay?”

Peggy here: sounds great, doesn’t it?! Thanks so much, Gina, for stopping by and giving us a little taste of Caged Souls.

Thank you all for coming to visit me today. I will be having a couple giveaways including a signed copy of Caged Souls, as well as some mug rugs and snap bags, so leave a comment and I will be drawing a name later today. I hope you enjoy Caged Souls and visit me at www.ginaleuci.com or on facebook at: http://www./facebook.com/GinaLeuciAuthor for updates for book two, Captive Hearts.

A little about Gina: 

Gina Leuci started reading romance at the age of thirteen and never stopped. She met her soul mate on a blind date and married him—not once, but twice (eloped and church wedding). They live in Southern New Hampshire with their son, who makes them laugh every day.

You can find Gina here:

Amazon  // Goodreads  // Twitter  // Wild Rose Press // 

Website

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