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The Beach Bag Boxed Set – 7 full length novels by Bestselling authors for 99cents

Title: The Beach Bag Boxed Set: Seven Bestselling Authors! Seven Sizzling Summer Beach Reads!
Authors: A.L. Jackson, Alyssa Rose Ivy, Elizabeth O’Roark, Gretchen Galway, Kathryn Andrews, Natasha Boyd & Stacy Kestwick
Published: July 1, 2016
It’s Summer! Are you heading off for a well-earned week long vacation? Or do you have to stay home and just dream of the ocean? Either way you need to pack your beach bag, because we have just the thing for you.

SEVEN full-length contemporary romance novels by bestselling and award-winning authors all in one place for only 99 cents! A love story for every day of the week! We guarantee we’ll have you smelling the salty ocean breeze, and feeling the the sand between your toes as you fall in love over and over all week long. This amazing compilation of beach read romances is only available during the month of JULY, so act now and take advantage of this unique opportunity to sample some new-to-you authors. In some cases these are the author’s highest selling novels and they have made them available in this easy “Beach Bag” for a limited time.


A Stone in the Sea by: A.L. Jackson
A bad boy rock star falls for a sweet single momThe Hazards of Skinny Dipping by: Alyssa Rose Ivy
Sometimes the right guy turns out to be the wrong one, and the wrong one … well you knowUndertow by: Elizabeth O’Roark
Childhood love turns to teenage passion and a bitter family betrayal

Diving In by: Gretchen Galway
Bumping into your bad boy college crush while on your post heart break vacation has never been so sweet

Drops of Rain by: Kathryn Andrews
A swimmer and a ballet dancer who can save each other from their painful pasts

Eversea by: Natasha Boyd
A jaded Hollywood movie star in hiding falls for an innocent beach town girl

Wet by: Stacy Kestwick
A young photographer moves to a coastal beach town and plays cat and mouse with the local playboy


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Wet by Ruth Clampett ~ Release Day


Hi Everyone, my name is Paul and I’m a recovering sex addict. I’ve been managing my addiction for two years.


Paul McNeill loves sex.  Good sex. Bad sex. Oral sex.  Any kind of sex.  You name it; he loves it.  But Paul’s biggest passion is his greatest flaw.  As a recovering sex addict, he’s been abstaining and managing his addiction for over two years.  Now, all the wants is to fall in love and find that certain someone he can settle down with.


But when he finds himself on his knees on Elle Jacoby’s damp lawn, he knows there’s going to be trouble.  Elle quickly becomes Paul’s biggest challenge yet.  She’s instantly set him ablaze while he begs to be hosed down. As he gets to know her more, the flames burn even hotter.


How can he resist a hot divorcee who’s amped up to have all the fun she’s missed?


Warning: for mature audiences only. If you don’t like graphic sex, sex talk and curse words in books this story isn’t for you.


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“Elle, have you ever considered that the whole bunch of men looking to hook-up on Tinder could be bad apples?”

“You’re so funny!”

“I’m not joking,” I say.

“Seriously Paul, I’ve decided to throw myself back into the game.”

“But Tinder’s not really a game, Elle . . . it’s more like the mosh pit. What if you get head butted again?”

“I’ve realized the mistake I made. This time I’m going to spell it out to the dude before we get to the sexing.”

“Spell it out, huh?”

“Yeah, no weird stuff like latex or furry suits. No demeaning talk or behavior. No bondage. No threesomes.”

“Or foursomes?” I ask.

“Ewww, no!” she says.

“Are you trying to make me feel bad?”

“What? No, why?”

“I told you about my foursome.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot about that. That was when you were a man-whore.”

“Yes, thanks, although I prefer the term ‘sex fiend’.”

“Well . . . that’s still what you told me.”

“I did. So see, I’m the very guy you wouldn’t want to sleep with.”


“Yet, you pretty much asked me to screw you when we met. Do you see how complicated this is?”

“Can I ask you something, Paul?”

“Sure, why not? You know so much about me already.”

“Did you do men too back during your sex fiend days?”

I almost drop the phone. “Sex with dudes? No! Why would you ask that?”

“So your orgy was really just you and a bunch of women. Did you have a harem or something?”

“I could have.”

She huffs into the phone. “Oh really? A harem? What if you’re making all this stuff up? Why should I believe you and all your big talk?”

“If you don’t believe me, I don’t care. It doesn’t change anything.”

“What if you made up all those sexy stories . . . like that you were addicted to sex. What if you’re really more like your accountant brother?”

I feel the vein pop out on my forehead. Why is she screwing

with me?

“I know what this is about,” I whisper in a dark voice.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You’re provoking me, trying to get me to come over there and fuck you and break my oath. Well, it’s not going to happen.”


“Yup, good.”

“Because you know what, mister? You don’t fit into my profile anyway.”

“Oh that’s rich. You must have one hell of a profile.”

“Well look at you. You’re searching for a little complacent wifey who will roast your chicken and birth you a bevy of babies.”

“Roast my chicken? What’s that a metaphor for?”

“It’s not a metaphor, it’s dinner.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re pretty weird, you know.”

“And you don’t want to fuck anymore and nothing’s weirder than that . . . so who’s calling the kettle black?”

“Who says I don’t want to fuck? I never said that. I want it.”


“Sure.” I want it bad. So bad it hurts, but I don’t tell her that.

“So it’s that you just don’t want to fuck me?”

“Oh, I want to fuck you. Right now I want to throw you on the bed and ride you so hard you won’t be able to walk the next day.”

There’s a long silent pause. Maybe that was too much.

“Ms. Jacoby, are you still there?”

        “I’m here, Paul Junior. I’m just distracted thinking about you throwing me on the bed.”

“And mounting you?”


I hear a soft moan.

“And fucking you hard?”

“God, yes.”

“So you really want that, do you?”

“You’re cruel. Are you going to make me beg for it?”


“Please . . . Paul, are you touching yourself? Because I am.”

I pause.





Ruth Clampett, daughter of legendary animation director Bob Clampett, grew up surrounded by artists and animators. A graduate of Art Center College of Design, she has been VP of Design for Warner Brothers Studio Stores and taught photography at UCLA. Today she runs her own studio and as the Fine Art publisher for Warner Brothers Studios has come to know and work with some of the world’s greatest artists in the fields of animation and comics.


From this colorful background comes Ruth’s first novel, Animate Me, a fun and sexy, unique and engaging contemporary romance.


Ruth lives and works in Los Angeles, strictly supervised by her teenage daughter, who helps plan their summer around their yearly pilgrimage to the San Diego Comic Con.


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Wet by Stacy Kestwick Blog Tour & Giveaway

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Title: Wet
Author: Stacy Kestwick
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Water’s Edge (Book 1)



Doughnuts were her weakness.

If Sadie Mullins hadn’t been running on the beach to burn off the calories from her doughnut addiction, she wouldn’t have noticed the man not moving out in the water.

Wouldn’t have dived in after him.

Wouldn’t have met West Montgomery.

The cocky bastard should have been thankful, grateful even.

Of course, he wasn’t.

That should have been the end of it.

Of course, it wasn’t.

Damn doughnuts.



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Our second date kind of sucked. Yeah, it was fun to sit on a barstool and stare at West and watch his ass shake when he mixed cocktails and bent over to scoop up grog. It was far less amusing watching all the ladies, and I use that term loosely, offer themselves up to him as not-so-virgin sacrifices. The Wreck clearly did not have self-respect on tap. I sighed as a girl just happened to spill her drink down her shirt. A sheer white tank top. Her big doe eyes widened as she pressed the cocktail napkin to her breast, rubbing at the damp spot until her nipple hardened. Oh, look! West had more napkins to save the day.

How nice.

West sent me a pained look and rolled his eyes. The girl looked barely legal as it was. It was like a guppy taunting a shark.

Stupid girl.

Sharks like to chase their prey.

Needing a break from all the calculated desperation clogging the bar area, I escaped to the bathroom. The stall I picked had a working lock — thank God for small favors — and I forced myself to take a deep cleansing breath as I sat there. Okay, yeah, that was poor planning on my part, since the bathroom reeked of covert cigarettes, drugstore perfume, and stale urine, but it was the thought that counted.

Like the rest of the bar, the bathroom was covered in graffiti. I never understood how people always just seemed to have Sharpies handy when they felt like marking their territory. I looked over the scribbled messages that peppered the wall.

Ohmygod — West lives up to the hype, every inch of it! ❤ Jaymie

Wyatt is mine 4ever. The mine had been crossed out and Kim’s was written above it.

Right below that it said, Kim’s a slut-faced hoebag. Huh, eloquent.

Several seemed to echo the popular sentiment, West is so hot.

I spotted a bubble-lettered, Theo is a sweetheart, which probably wasn’t what he was hoping the girls bathroom said about him, considering the other notes about male anatomy it was tucked between.

But what started to piss me off was the drawing of an erect cock with the words, West and life-sized scrawled next to it. Other inscriptions saying, agreed! and totally! and yum! had arrows pointing to the image.

The artist was accurate too. Whoever the slut-faced hoebag was.

I did a quick survey of the other wall of the cramped stall and saw my date for the evening was the star attraction and, boy, did he shine.

Just as I started to flush and rearrange my bikini bottoms under my dress, I heard two sets of footsteps echo off the stained concrete floor.

“Amber, did you see that hopeless blonde that’s been hovering at the bar all night? I think West feels bad for her or something, he keeps going to check on her.”

“Yeah, but I asked him about it. He said she was his date!” Her sarcastic tone conveyed how ridiculous she considered that. They snickered and the sound of running water gurgling in the sink did little to muffle their words.

I stilled, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“She doesn’t even look like she’s taken a shower today.”

“I know! And her skin looks creepy under the lights! Maybe West had too many shots or something tonight. He has better standards than that. It’s an insult to all of us who’ve come before her.”

They dissolved into laughter, and the water turned off.

“Let’s try offering him a combo. He’s gone for it before.”

“Mmm, you know I love a good BOGO deal, Tipper. It’s worth a try. I think his date’s disappeared anyway. She must have gotten the hint.”

Their laughter faded and a hollow thunk of the door closing signaled their exit.


Just — wow.

My mind whirled, and I was annoyed I hadn’t been able to see them through the crack between the stall door and the wall. How many other girls out there had already screwed my West? I made a face as I flushed the toilet, berating myself for letting things with him go past a quick fuck-and-duck.

I finished adjusting my admittedly wrinkled dress, opened the stall door with more force than necessary, and peered at myself in the crappy mirror. What the hell had that slut said about my skin?



I looked down at my arm, pressed the fingers of my other hand onto my skin, and let go. Five fingerprints glowed white before returning to an angry, lobster-red hue. The skin around my eyes seemed okay, thanks to the protection my gold-rimmed aviators had provided, but the rest of me looked almost fluorescent, like a raccoon in reverse. My hair was crinkled like old straw, frizzed and barely contained by my sad excuse for a braid.

I might have been so caught up in West earlier that I had forgotten sunscreen. And to look in a mirror once we got off the boat.

Maybe. Possibly.

No wonder those girls had been mocking me. I looked like a hot mess. Like, roasted.

Running a cautious fingertip over my shoulder, the tenderness of my skin confirmed the extent of my sunburn. I needed to roll like a pig in a puddle of aloe, stat.

The time had come to call this date a failure and make a quick exit, only I didn’t have my Wrangler. We’d dropped off the dog and picnic supplies at West’s place and come straight here in his oversized truck.

Twisting to see the back of my head, I finger combed my hair as best I could, letting it fall around my face to try to hide my Ray-Ban tan lines. Then I took the coward’s way out and sent West a text that I wasn’t feeling well and was taking a cab back home.

Slipping my tote bag over my shoulder, I skirted the perimeter of the bar, escaping out the front doors without looking back. I was standing on the front sidewalk and searching for the number of the cab company on my phone when it was suddenly snatched right out of my hands.

I gasped, taking a step back, and tucked my bag to my side.

“Running away?”

How the fuck had West gotten out of there so fast?

I dropped my gaze and let my hair hide my eyes, trying to disguise the worst of the damage.

“Yeah, I think I got a little too much sun,” I mumbled, not wanting to meet his eyes. Even though it was after eight, the sun was just beginning its descent, and there was still plenty of daylight.

He hooked my hip with his hand and tugged me closer. Using his free hand, he tipped my chin up, exposing my face. Eyes widening, he touched my cheek with the tip of his finger, wincing as he removed it. “Shit, Sadie, you’ve got to be in pain. Hold on, let me tell Wyatt I’ve got to get you home.”

I snorted. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here? I’m sure there are other toys you can play with instead.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Amber and Tipper would be more than willing to entertain you tonight. Together.”

West glanced toward the bar then back at me, annoyance splashed across his face. He moved closer, invading my personal space, and loomed over me, his eyes flashing gray storm clouds, but I stood my ground, refusing to step back. “I’m two inches from the person I want to be with tonight. Two inches. And I’d be happy to erase those two inches if you’re still not clear on that.”





 Jill’s Review

What can I say about Wet by Stacy Kestwick? This debut novel blew me out of the water!

She doesn’t even just start of the book by hooking you with the prologue, which she most certainly does… but the sneaky little author snatched my attention when I first saw the blurb to her book! That is one catchy, sweet a$$ blurb! Damn doughnuts!

The characters in Wet were well developed and well written – from the main characters to the supporting cast. As I was swept away into the story I felt as if I knew them personally, as if I cold be friends with them (OK, I admit it I just really WANTED to be friends with them and be able to hang out at The Wreck!) They are far from perfect, but who wants to read about perfect people? Not this chick! BORING! These are flawed characters who live life and have the bumps and bruises to prove it. Do they have secrets? YES! Do they have issues with communication? YES! Do you sometimes want to scream through your e-reader at them? HELL YES! But isn’t that the sign of an excellent book?

Wet had everything I look for — fabulous writing, engaging characters, some incredible lines, laughs, steam, romance, friendship — all tied up in a neat little package. And seriously this was a debut?

Do I recommend this book? Only to everyone I know! So yes – take the plunge, dive right in and get WET!

I received a complimentary copy from the author in exchange for an honest review.

Yessi’s Review

I may have to rewrite this review because I’m slightly intoxicated at the moment. But it’s kinda fitting because that’s how I felt after finishing reading Wet. Intoxicated. I won’t get into what this book is about because the synopsis does a damn good job of telling you.

What I will tell you is that I loved this book. I made the mistake of reading the prologue when I was scheduled to be elsewhere in fifteen minutes. Yeah, big mistake. I did not want to put it down. I mean, my nephew would understand If I was late or a complete no-show to his First Communion, right?

In all seriousness, Stacy Kestwick is an amazing author, weaving a story together that grips you from the first page. I love her writing style and the characters that live inside her head. I reserve the title of literary genius to a select few, and she is included in that title.
The characters were beautifully flawed, which if anyone knows my reading style, knows this is exactly what I look for in a book. Flawed, real characters I can relate to. Screw the perfect character. They make me want to commit mass homicide because there’s no way any of us can reach that kind of perfection. Instead, she gives us Sadie and West. Frustrating, sexy Sadie and West. Characters I can have lunch with. Or rather doughnuts, definitely doughnuts. About a dozen of hot glazed doughnuts. After I hit the gym of course, because that makes sense.

Ok, no more rambling. I’ll just say, I love Wet by Stacy Kestwick and highly recommend it to anyone. Even if you’re on a diet and trying to lose the extra doughnut weight. The extra pounds you gain while reading this story is well worth it.

Kestwick is an author I will be following, and probably begging for the next installment because that ending… GAH!



Author Bio


I’m a Southern girl who firmly believes mornings should be outlawed. My perfect day would include lounging on a hammock with a good book, carbohydrates, and the people around me randomly breaking into choreographed song and dance routines. It would not include bacon, cleaning, or anything requiring patience.

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Wet by Stacy Kestwick Release Day Blitz & Giveaway

Title: Wet
Author: Stacy Kestwick
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 7




Doughnuts were her weakness.

If Sadie Mullins hadn’t been running on the beach to burn off the calories from her doughnut addiction, she wouldn’t have noticed the man not moving out in the water.

Wouldn’t have dived in after him.

Wouldn’t have met West Montgomery.

The cocky bastard should have been thankful, grateful even.

Of course, he wasn’t.

That should have been the end of it.

Of course, it wasn’t.

Damn doughnuts.



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West slid behind me and plastered himself against me, wrapping his dripping arms around my waist. I turned to protest, and he pressed against my front, soaking most of my sundress.


“Sorry, did I get you wet?” He grinned unrepentantly.

I pushed him away and pulled the bottom of the damp cotton away from my thighs before turning my accusing green gaze on him. “Are you trying to get me to strip down to my bikini?”


I tugged the dress over my head and laid it over the back of the center console, next to his shirt. “You could have just asked me, you know.”

“Would that have worked?” He raised his eyebrows, one corner of his mouth edging into a smile as he took in my bikini — seafoam-green edged with black lingerie-seamed detailing. Yes, I matched my bikini to my nail polish.


“What else will you do if I ask?” He walked toward me slowly.

“What else do you want?”

He kept moving until we were almost touching. He bent his head down, stopping just short of my lips. “Everything,” he breathed, closing the last centimeter separating us.

His lips met mine, tasting of salt and sugar. Hands cupped my face and slid into my hair as we devoured each other. I wrapped my arms around him and grabbed his ass, pulling him snug against me until his hardness nestled into my softness. He cursed and ground himself against me, his tongue mimicking what his cock clearly wanted. I lifted one thigh and wrapped it around his waist, needing to get closer, my arms circling his back, and my hands clutching his shoulder blades.

We ate at each other, not bothering to pause for breath, and when his hands cupped my ass, lifting me and urging me to wrap my legs fully around his waist, I groaned with satisfaction, pressing my hips against him, desperate for friction. I nipped his lower lip, pausing to steal a breath, and he rested his forehead against mine, his beautiful eyes closed. Bending my head, I ran my tongue down his neck and trailed kisses along his shoulder as my hands explored his upper back, kneading his hard muscles and feeling them flex in response. Changing directions, I ran my palms up his neck, forcing his head back, and dug my fingers into his scalp until he opened his eyes. He groaned.

“I didn’t bring you out here for this.”

He rolled his hips, and I couldn’t answer, except to squeeze him tighter with my thighs.

I moved my lips to his ear. “Why the fuck not?”




I’m a Southern girl who firmly believes mornings should be outlawed. My perfect day would include lounging on a hammock with a good book, carbohydrates, and the people around me randomly breaking into choreographed song and dance routines. It would not include bacon, cleaning, or anything requiring patience.

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Wet by Stacy Kestwick Cover Reveal & Giveaway

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Title: Wet
Author: Stacy Kestwick
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 7
Cover Design: Hang Le





Doughnuts were her weakness.

If Sadie Mullins hadn’t been running on the beach to burn off the calories from her doughnut addiction, she wouldn’t have noticed the man not moving out in the water.

Wouldn’t have dived in after him.

Wouldn’t have met West Montgomery.

The cocky bastard should have been thankful, grateful even.

Of course, he wasn’t.

That should have been the end of it.

Of course, it wasn’t.

Damn doughnuts.






I woke up slowly to the sound of panting. Hot, damp air was puffing rhythmically against my face. When something wet poked my cheek a few seconds later, I jerked away reflexively. Confused, I cracked my eyes open blearily and staring back at me were saddest, droopiest brown eyes I had ever seen.

What the hell?

I smothered a scream and struggled to sit up in bed. Blinking against the sledgehammer banging in my skull, I fell back to my elbow and realized two things at once. One, I knew those eyes. General Beauregard was staring back at me forlornly, opening his mouth in a huge yawn, drool stretching between his jowls. Two, I was most definitely not in my own bed.

Looking down to see a tattooed arm draped over my hips, I was slower to realize the most important fact. I wasn’t alone in the bed either. The arm moved into a stretch, and the man next to me yawned too.


My elbow fell out from under me, and I laid on my back staring at the ceiling, trying to force my sluggish brain to work. What the fuck happened when I left Grady’s?

West leaned over me to rub General Beauregard’s ears. “Morning, boy. You ready to go out?” West’s voice was a raspy rumble that resonated through me. His bare chest pressed against my left side, and if I lifted myself up the smallest fraction, I’d be able to lick his shoulder. I closed my eyes against the temptation and took a deep breath. I smelled soap, salt, and citrus. I smelled West. I swallowed back a moan.

General Beauregard let out a soft whine of pure bliss and laid his head heavily against me. When I turned to glance at him, his tongue swiped my cheek and his tail thumped against the floor. West laughed softly and gave the dog one last pat. “I know, buddy. She does look good first thing in the morning.”

My cheeks warmed. And other parts of me did too.

His arm brushed against my breasts as he pulled it back, and my nipples budded in response. He flipped back the covers on his side and padded quietly across the room to a set of sliding glass doors, opening one enough so that the hound slipped out. The sunrise peeked over the ocean through the glass, but it barely registered before my eyes returned to West.

He stood looking out the door in just a pair of boxer briefs. He was all golden skin and lean, ropy muscle and a tight, tight ass hugged by some thin black fabric. I was jealous of that fabric. As he turned back to face me, the grooved definition of his abs was on display, his torso narrowing to a tempting V before disappearing. My eyes dropped lower, taking in the prominent bulge in his shorts. Maybe I was still dreaming. That would explain everything but the jackhammer in my skull. The light dimmed as he drew the curtains and shut out the light.

Slipping back into bed and covering his lower half back up, he turned on his side and faced me, one arm tunneling under the pillow beneath his head, the other resting between us. I stared at his fingers and tried to focus. I dida quick inventory of my body. My head was pounding, but the darkened room helped. My stomach was clenching, but I blamed that more on the view than the hangover. I tensed my legs experimentally. My thighs felt… fine. Not sore at all. What did that mean? Had the sex been bad? Or maybe he had been like Jared, and the act had been over so fast that my muscles never even got a workout.

“Coffee,” I croaked, turning away from him. I couldn’t be expected to think clearly without coffee. I sat up on the side of the bed and swayed dizzily for a moment. Jesus Christ, my head. Looking down, I saw I was only wearing one of the logoed bar shirts from the Wreck and my underwear. My cutoffs were on the floor near the end of the bed and I slid them on quickly, grateful for the oversized length of the shirt.

Without looking back, I slipped from the room, figuring the kitchen couldn’t be that hard to find. Sure enough, it was just down the hall and to the right. I pushed my wild hair out of my face and squinted around the too-bright room. Morning light filtered through curtainless windows and glinted off the oversized stainless steel fridge. I reached for my wrist, but apparently my hair tie had disappeared along with the rest of my clothes.

Coffee. I smelled it. I had to be close. Turning around farther, I spotted it. Just past the retro enamel toaster, a glass pot sat beneath the small coffee maker, filled halfway with steaming brown liquid gold. . I plucked a cup out of the sink, not caring if it was clean or dirty, and filled it to the brim. Leaning back against the counter, I inhaled deeply, trying to expel the smell of West from my mind.

As I took my first tentative sip, Wyatt walked into the room, wearing only board shorts. I swallowed the wrong way, coughing and sputtering before setting the cup down behind me, my lungs burning. What was it about these guys that messed with my basic ability to breathe properly? And what the fuck was Wyatt doing here?

Wyatt reached around me to pour himself a cup. “Mornin’,” he said, smiling at me knowingly, his eyes running down the length of my body.

I stared at him in dawning horror.

Oh. My. God.

Did I have a threesome last night?




Author Bio


I’m a Southern girl who firmly believes mornings should be outlawed. My perfect day would include lounging on a hammock with a good book, carbohydrates, and the people around me randomly breaking into choreographed song and dance routines. It would not include bacon, cleaning, or anything requiring patience.

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