I’m Carmen Jenner, Aussie author, lover of cupcakes and all things braiiiiiins … er … I mean Zombie!
The lovely Toni has agreed to let me and my boys take over her blog to celebrate the final day of Zoctober 2013, but don’t worry, something tells me our beloved blogger won’t be far.
The Undead Revolution is a free-to-read online series about a bunch of New Adults surviving the Zombocalypse.
If you haven’t yet met the kids from The Undead Revolution you can check out their antics in the first two chapters here: http://theundeadrevolution.blogspot.com.au/p/home-page.html
And find out more about my work at: http://www.carmenjenner.com/
Alright, now that all the shameless plugs are out of the way, let’s go kill some dead guys!
*Featuring special guest star Toni Lesatz*
I lean against the wall while the others collect the spoils from the van and carry them inside the Sunday school housing our crap. Laugh all you want but this set up is sweeter than both of the shit-stained warehouses we called home before it. The building’s surrounded by a six foot steel fence. It looks like some lucky bastard might’ve holed up here in the first days because the top of the fence is laced with barbed wire and every few yards there’s wooden spikes jutting out of the ground, ready to impale the rotters.
It’s either that, or they’re really very selective about who comes to church these days.
I stare at the new girl’s rack as I suck back on my last cigarette—another fucking Alpine, wouldn’t you know it? She’s hunched over inside the van, passing boxes of goodies to eagerly awaiting boys. She’d probably be fucking mortified if she realised the only reason she has so many eager beaver helpers on hand is because when she leans over like that we get a direct glimpse into her sexy-as-fuck cleavage. God damn it, she’s hot! I mean sure, she’s a fucking uppity bitch, but holy shit is she hot. Jessica Biel in Blade III kinda hot. Yeah. Now you know why me and my boys are staring at her every second of the god damned day like she’s a juicy steak and we’re hungry, drooling Rottweilers.
Sometimes I wonder if she wouldn’t be better off on her own. It can’t be fucking easy holing up in a warehouse with four horny-as-fuck boys who haven’t so much as seen a pair of tatas since the outbreak. Unless you count Chubs’ little work out with Fonda the other day.
Abbi hands a box to Ratch and wipes the beads of sweat from her brow as he carts it inside. She glances up and her eyes meet mine. Then she scowls and her lips turn up in a sneer.
“Y’all could help, you know?” Her sweet southern twang has my balls tightening up around my ears.
I shrug and lean back against the wall. “I could.”
“God, you’re such an asshole.”
“I aim to please sweetheart.”
“Well, I’ll just bet.”
Abbi jumps down from the van and turns before bending over to retrieve the last box. My eyes are glued to her ass, her pert little cheeks just begging to be grabbed. I don’t, of course, because she’s an uppity bitch and been nothing but a pain in mine since the day she arrived a month ago.
“You know, I don’t get why you’re always so mean?”
“Mean?” I say and she swings around to face me. My eyes are still on the spot where her ass used to be and this feisty little southern belle is not a fucking happy camper.
“Flint, please tell me you weren’t just ogling my butt?”
“I wasn’t ogling shit. And you . . . not as fucking hot as you think you are, GI Jane.”
Abbi’s brow creases and I feel like I’m one step away from being thrown over the fence to meet the undead.
Fuck! Why did I just say that?
“Did you seriously just-”
“OPEN THE GATE!” We hear the screams coming from beyond the fence. “Please? Open the damn gate!”
“Fuck!” I flick my cigarette to the ground and thumb my new baseball bat. “Boys! Get your lazy asses out here now!”
They come tearing outside, armed to the teeth, and it’s a good thing too because the woman standing on the other side of the fence is holding a gun on us. A trail of zombies shuffle along in her wake. “Open the gate. Now.” she says, as she turns what looks like an AK9 on me.
Chick’s packing some hefty hardware for a lone woman surviving the apocalypse.
The boys and I have nothing like this. I have a simple handgun in my back pocket—our only gun, as a matter of fact—Ratch is wielding a machete, New Kid a large hunting knife and Chubs my old baseball bat.
Seems his grown kind Fonda it.
“Hurry up!” she commands. “I won’t waste my bullets on rotters, but I have no problem using them on you.”
“Is this chick for real?” Chubs pipes up.
New Kid mutters something under his breath and Ratch doesn’t make a sound, except for the slipknot blaring from his fucking ipod.
“You bit?” I ask the newcomer. She’s decked out head to toe in black. Combat pants, a long sleeved t-shirt, despite the heat, and a pair of steel toed army boots. She’s so fucking hardcore I wanna make her the poster child for the apocalypse. Her short hair falls in her eyes but she makes no move to shift it out of the way. Just keeps her gun trained on my head.
“Do I look like I’m bit?”
I shrug. “Don’t know, can’t see that much of you to be honest.”
“If I was bitten I’d be running a fever, my eyes would be glassy and rimmed with red, I’d have excess saliva forming in my mouth, making me swallow every five to ten seconds and depending on the stage of infection I could be incoherent, acting paranoid and experiencing muscle spasms. Do I look like I’m suffering from any of those symptoms?”
“What are you, some kinda throw back from the CDC?”
“No, I’m just another woman that watched her husband get bit and mutate into an animal before I had to shoot him in the head.”
“Ratch, open the gate.” I throw the keys and they land at his feet. He shoots me a look like he thinks I’m fucking crazy, but doesn’t protest. He just walks over and pulls the latch free and Commando Carla pushes her way through with her gun trained on his head. “Back up, Sonic Hedgehog.” she says, referring to his stupid-as-fuck emo hair, and snatches the padlock from his outstretched hand, chaining up the fence with one hand.
She takes a look around our measly little group. “You boys all alone here?”
“Yeah,” I reply, wondering where the hell Abbi ran off to. If I didn’t know any better I’d think the poor little southern belle had run away screaming when the chick with the gun showed up. Good thing I know better because what happens next might have been a bit unexpected if I hadn’t: from out of nowhere Abbi comes catapulting through the lot and roundhouse kicks the chicks gun from her hands. A really fucking stupid move that could have killed any one of us if the safety lever wasn’t on. The two of them scrabble and go down like a sack of bricks, a really fucking hot sack of bricks.
Is there a better sight than chicks in an all-out brawl?
Yeah, naked chicks brawling in a pool of Jell-O.
Abbi scrambles into a sitting position, straddling commando chick’s hips and it’s real hard not to imagine both of these crazy-as-fuck women dripping with confectionary. I glance around at the boys and it’s real fucking clear I’m not the only jackass thinking about Jell-O.
“Who are you?” Abbi screams into the woman’s face.
“The bitch whose gonna take you out if you don’t get the fuck off me, Barbie.” She yanks Abbi’s ponytail hard and her head jerks back with a scream. Commando chick gets one good solid punch in, hitting Abbi in her smart southern mouth and forcing a bright spray of blood to stain her t-shirt.
I wince, expecting Abbi to lose her shit completely and go crying for her mamma, but as usual she surprises me, she spits on the ground and backhands the chick across the face before pulling out her Sai from its holster on her hip and shoving the tip up underneath chick’s throat.
“Eat me.” she replies and Abbi shoves the point of the Sai harder, until she’s almost piercing the skin.
“Abbi, that’s enough.”
“Really? You’re gonna take her side. She just pulled a gun on y’all and led a whole damn herd of biters to our door.” She points toward the fence where several of the zombies are attempting to claw at us through the fence. One has his entire torso impaled on a spear jutting out from the fence and he’s still trying to reach us while his rotting innards are spilling down around his feet.
I hear a yelp and turn back around to find Abbi pinned beneath the newcomer, each of them holding a Sai to the other’s throat.
“Alright, ladies, break it up.” I say, much as it disappoints me. The woman eases off Abbi and carefully steps backward, but Abbi’s not content with calling it even so she lunges toward the newcomer again and winds up flat on her ass with the sleeper on. This chick really is Commando Carla. I’ve never seen anyone demonstrate that move in real life properly and yet with just a flick of her wrist against Abbi’s neck this chick has rendered her unconscious.
“Holy shit.” New kid pipes up.
“I think I’m in love.” This is Chubs.
I glance at Abbi. Who’s lying flat on the pavement and going to wake up with one helluva headache. She’s also gonna be fucking pissed. I nod to Ratch who’s closest to the gun, he snatches it up before the woman can reach for it and turns it on her.
“You know how to use that thing, Sonic? Because I have kids who depend on me, and I’d really prefer to not get shot today.”
“I’m a fast leaner.” Ratch replies in his standard monotone-emo-mumble that always has me wanting to shake him.
“And I’m a perfect shot,” I say, clicking the safety off my gun and pointing it at her head. “Newbie, Chubs, tie her up.”
Chubs eyes go wide, “With what, canned spaghetti?”
“Just find something.” I have to resist the urge to turn the gun on my own boys. They’re both still staring at the newcomer like she’s about to bite their fucking heads off. To be honest, I wouldn’t put it past her. “THE FUCK NOW!” I shout and they scurry inside.
“I’m not gonna let you tie me up, you know that right?”
“It’s either that or we shove you outside the fence and let the rotters have their merry fucking way with you.”
“And what’s to say you won’t do that once my hands are tied.”
“Jesus Christ, lady. We might smell a little rank, but we’re not fucking animals.” New Kid comes back holding a ratty looking packet of cable ties, Chubs is trailing along behind him like a kid with a kicked puppy. “Put them on her.”
“Wh-what?” New Kid asks.
“Tie up the fucking prisoner!”
“No, Pussy Pete over there” I say, waving the gun in Chubs’ direction. “Yes you, asshole.”
“Come near me and you’ll meet the same fate as your Barbie doll friend there.” The newcomer says, biting out her words with a snap of her teeth.
New kid hesitates.
“Oh for fucks sake.” I stomp over and thrust the gun into his hand, which I then position against the woman’s temple. “If she moves, pull the trigger.”
I take the packet from his other hand, force the woman’s hands behind her back and secure them tightly with a tie. She doesn’t struggle, which is a relief because even though she’s been nothing but a hostile bitch since she arrived, the idea of having someone’s mother plastered all over me doesn’t give me a happy, joy, joy feeling. “Put her in the van.”
“Where are you taking me?” She twists against her restraints, trying to get to me though Ratch and New Kid are pushing her towards the van.
“Back to your kids.”
For a split second there’s confusion on her face and then she slams her tough Commando Carla expression back into place. “Why?
“Because too many kids have lost their mothers in this war.”
“Thank you.” She whispers.
I shrug, and swipe the sweat from the back of my neck. “Don’t thank me yet, you could still get eaten along the way.” She smirks and turns back to the van, climbing up and in with the boys’ assistance.
“Chubs, bring a couple of those boxes out, will ya?”
“You mean the boxes of supplies that we just spent two hours collecting and fighting through a zombie horde to get to?”
“Yep. Those boxes.”
He waddles back inside, muttering some shit about how life was better when Rosso was in charge and they shot strangers before asking questions.
“What do we do about her?” Ratch asks, tipping his chin in Abbi’s direction.
“Well we can’t leave her here, but she’s gonna go ballistic once she wakes up.” Thinking about it, we have to do what keeps everyone safe, but that southern little pain in the ass is gonna make me pay for what I’m about to do. I toss the packet to Ratch and say, “Tie her up.”
“Kinky.” He waggles his brows in a dick move. “Should I lay her out on your bed for later?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Ten minutes later the zombies at the gate have been killed (again) and the six of us are coasting down a desolate city street toward the fire station this woman and her kids have been calling home for the last three weeks.
A murmured “urgh” from the back of the van has me checking the rear-view mirror. Abbi is stirring.
“Morning Sleeping Beauty.” I mutter, taking my eyes off the road for a second to glance at her. She looks damn near edible when she not running her giant trap. Then she wakes fully and I remember what a pain in my ass she is.
“Y’all tied me up!”
I meet Abbi’s gaze in the mirror. “It’s for your safety as much as ours. As hot as it was to see you two trying to get the women’s wrestling federation up and running again, we can’t afford that with the rotters around.”
“Oh, what’s the matter, Barbie? Afraid you can’t fix your hair?” the woman asks.
“I am gonna hurt you.” Abbi replies. “I can’t believe y’all tied me up.”
“Can it, GI Jane. We got bigger problems.” Like the fact that I can see the Fire Station up ahead and its occupants definitely have company of the dead variety. “Brace yourselves kiddies, we’re about to go off-roading.”
I slam my foot down on the gas and the van lurches forward with a screech. The zombies lurking around the entrance turn and begin staggering towards us. I plough through the first couple easily. A woman lunges for me and Ratch tucked safely behind the glass, but the force with which we hit slams her into the windshield and black ichor and zombie rot smears itself over the glass. I flip on the wipers and her head slides back and forth in time with the blades. Ratch chuckles quietly to himself and I shoot him a smug look.
“Watch this.” I slam on the breaks, causing the girls to holler in the back as they slide around unstrapped. The zombie skids down the windshield and begins clawing her way to her feet. I hit the gas pedal to the floor and we glide right over her, feeling the squish and pop of her skull beneath the tyres.
“Holy shit, man, that’s the fucking best thing I’ve seen in weeks.” He raises his palm in the air for a high five and I slap my own against it.
Sometimes it’s the little things in life that bring the most joy.
The boys and I are all riding the high of being guys in a world where it’s acceptable to kill things and find joy in it when Abbi pipes up from the back, “Uh, Flint?”
I glance in the rear view mirror and do a double take, then I spin around in my seat to make sure what I’m seeing isn’t really what I think it is: a hungry horde of around twenty zombies shuffling toward us in the hopes of fresh meat. And the worst part? They’re only a couple yards behind us. If they gain any leverage, we’ll be overwhelmed in a matter of seconds. I slide the gearshift into reverse and prepare to take out as many as I can by running them down, but once I hit the throng the press of bodies proves too much for our rusted old van and I feel the back doors groan and buckle under their weight. I slam the shift again but it won’t budge.
“What the fuck, Flint? We gotta go!”
“Thank you, Einstein. The fucking shift is stuck.”
“Ya’ll need to untie us.” This from Abbi.
“Can’t, Princess.” I grunt out, trying to get the damn shift to move. “The only way to get through cable ties is with scissors, and I didn’t think to bring any Ratch has a really big knife you can use, though.”
“You what?” Both Abbi and the woman screech.
“You find some way to get us free, right this second, Flint, or so help me god I’m commin’ after you for my first meal as one’a them biters.”
“Kinda busy here, Princess.” I mutter.
“I got a pocket knife, I could maybe use that?” Chubs asks.
“You think?” the newcomer says.
I jerk the gearshift again and the car lurches forward and then stalls. I’m twisting the key in the lock just as Chubs and the girls start screaming. I whip my head around and see several dead hands seeking purchase inside the van.
Fuck! How the name of all things gone to shit did those fuckers get inside?
I glance at Ratch who is looking back at me for a fucking clue, and then I catapult myself into the back of the van just as one of the hands finds purchase on Abbi’s leg. She begins to kick but the dead don’t feel pain and every time it seems she’s gaining ground another hand reaches through the gap to pull her further from me.
I pull the gun from my jeans and fire at the disembodied arms. It forces my ears to start ringing and glancing around me I know everyone is feeling just as disoriented as I am. One of the arms drops to the floor with a squelch, but the rest have a firm grip on her leg. If they get that door opened just a fraction of an inch, they’ll have her. I wrap her around her shoulders and pull as tightly as possible. I’m squeezing her hard enough to crack her ribs but all that matters is that I get her away from the rotters. With one last good tug the hands holding her captive lose traction and she collapses back against me in a shaking, trembling heap. I almost laugh, but then I see pulling her away has forced a zombie to snake his torso between the doors. We all watch on in horror as the others pound dead fists against the glass, rattling the ancient rust bucket and clambering over one another to get to us.
Ratch twists the key in the engine and the van chokes to life lurching us into one another. The van picks up speed, New Kid clambers over his seat and takes a swing at the zombie still wedged between the doors. The rotter’s head caves against the blunt force and then he calmly pushes the remains out onto the road.
Whadda ya know, seems you can teach an old dog new tricks.
“Where are you going?” The woman screams, once we’ve all taken a moment to breathe. Her hands are untied and I’m attempting to look around for her gun without making it obvious. “My kids are in that building! Stop the car!”
Ratch swings the wheel hard around the corner and slams on the breaks. I crane my neck to see over the seats, the huge door to the fire station has been completely obliterated with the press of rotting bodies. They fill up the ground floor, some mill around on the stairs but that doesn’t compare to the sixty plus undead bodies standing before us.
Ratch throws the van into reverse, knocking down two zombies like bowling skittles, and then we’re screeching and tearing off in the opposite direction.
The woman gasps and then the torrent breaks and she begins howling. “My kids, were in that building. You have to stop the car. I have to find them. I can’t just leave them there.”
I move out from behind Abbi, sit down on the seat next to the woman—who’s still a complete stranger to me—and fold my arms around her. And yeah, aside from pulling Abbi in a strangle hold away from a rotter just now, it’s the first time I’ve hugged another human being in a long, long time.
In what feels like forever, but is more than likely only a few minutes, Ratch slows the car to a stop. The zombie horde is till tagging along behind us, but as long as we keep moving they’re not a threat right now. I pull away from the woman, ignoring the fact that my shirt is wet with tears and despite the kind of environment we live in now, I realise I’m still really grossed out by other people’s bodily fluids touching my skin.
“Ratch, why are we stopped?”
“Holy shit, you guys have to see this.”
Moving to look through the windshield, the road looks empty save for one kid staggering along with a little girl clinging to his back. Even from here I can see they’re covered head to toe in black, sticky-looking ichor. For the first time in a long time, my heart sinks.
The kid stops walking and slowly staggers around, but there’s something off about his movements. Before I can properly gauge what’s happening the woman is out of the van and running towards them.
“Fuck!” I follow her out with my gun raised. Only when I get there, I realise that the three of them are embracing. The little girl is wailing and clinging to her mother’s neck while the boy, who couldn’t be more than sixteen, explains quietly and calmly how they lost their sister when the horde broke in and how he and this girl waited in a supply closet, bagged a zombie and spread its innards all over themselves to mask their scent.
I step forward to tell them it’s time to move on if they want to keep this family reunion from turning into Zombiestock when I realise what I’m witnessing is kind of a fucking miracle. Finding the people you love in a world gone to shit is like finding the fucking Holy Grail. It’s impossible, and yet here it is.
I feel Abbi slide up next to me, she’s a lot closer than she’d usually stand and I can’t help but wonder if all this sappy family shit hasn’t turned her into a walking vagina, too.
“Pretty smart kid, huh?”
“Y’all did a good thing for these people, helping a mamma get back to her children. Y’all should be proud of yourselves, a lotta people would have stripped her of that gun and sent her packin’.”
I fold my arms across my chest and huff, “People like you guys behind the fence?”
She nods. “People like them behind the fence.”
“Well, on the outside we make our own rules. It’s how we, the rest of the people who aren’t military brats and who don’t have enough money to buy our safety, stay alive.”
“I know,” she whispers and then turns and narrows her gaze on me. “But just so ya know, unless y’all want me to gut you in your sleep you won’t tie me up again.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I chuckle and watch her incredible, annoying ass sashay back to the van.
*This work of fiction is © copyright of Carmen Jenner 2013. Please respect the authors work and do not copy, reproduce or replicate without permission*
Toni: What do you have against menthol cigarettes, Flint? Menthol cigarettes have a nice minty taste that leave you feeling refreshed instead of feeling like you just licked butt. lol.
Flint: I’d rather lick butt than smoke menthol cigarettes. I meant what I said before, I hope the artsy fucker who invented that shit got eaten.
Abbi: Flint! Watch your language, that’s no way to speak in the presence of a lady, and we don’t know who could be reading this . . . or if there’s anyone else left alive to read this . . . but that’s beside the point. You should apologize.
Flint: *sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose* You’re right-
Abbi: *turns to Toni* I usually am. Wait, did you answer the question?
Flint: Well I might have if you’d shut up for five fu…reaking seconds.
Abbi: You are the meanest man I know.
Flint: Sweetheart, I’m the only man you know.
Toni: Chubs, if you could have chosen the little lady that appeared on that flatscreen, who would it have been? *snickers*
Chubs: *turns beet red* Oh man. Who told you about that?
Ratch: Dude, everyone knows about that.
Chubs: Flint, you said you wouldn’t say anything.
Flint: Aw, come on, Chubs. We’re all a little Fonda fondling here.
Abbi: Am I missin’ somethin’?
Toni, Flint, Chubs, New Kid, Ratch: YES!!
Toni: How long have you boys been on the other side of the wall trying to survive?
Ratch: What’s it like, two years, or something?
Flint: Too fucking long.
Toni: If you could choose only one weapon to have at your side throughout this zombie apocalypse, what would it be?
Flint: Baseball Bat, or at least it was until Chubs got his jizz fizz all over it.
Abbi: Did y’all really just say that?
Flint: *gives Abbi a megawatt smile* What, JIZZ FIZZ? What’s wrong with JIZZ FIZZ? You’ve never heard the term JIZZ FIZZ before?
Abbi: I’m gonna be sick.
Flint: I’m sorry, where were we? Oh yeah, Ji-
*Abbi runs from the room with her hand covering her mouth and the boys howl with laughter.*
Ratch: I’m a crossbow man, myself.
New Kid: I like a bat, better leverage.
Chubs: Bat yeah, although Abbi is kick ass on those Sais. I wish she’d show us how to use them.
Flint: I don’t think Abbi’s showing you her Sais, or anything else for that matter, Chubs.
Toni: What is the most important thing you’ve learned about survival during this horrific experience?
Flint: Don’t trust anyone.
Ratch: Thanks, Douche Canoe. *punches Flint on the arm* Actually he’s sorta right.
Chubs: to appreciate the little things in life, like laughter, a warm bed and
Flint: Tootsie Rolls?
New Kid: Jane Fonda Videos?
Chubs: Screw you guys.
Toni: Rosso is twenty five years old. How old are the rest of you?
Flint: Was 25, now he’s just dead. I’m 21.
New Kid: 16
Chubs: 17 and a half. *everyone turns to give Chubs a curious look* What? I can’t be excited about my birthday?
Ratch: Dude, what the hell is there to be excited about? Every day you get older, fatter and smellier in a world filled with corpses trying to eat you.
Chubs: Well yeah, okay, when you put it like that birthdays do kinda suck now.
Toni: Give us a little personal insight into who you were before the outbreak, such as your favorite TV show or movie, or maybe even your favorite food.
Abbi: Okay, well I’m a southern girl, born and raised in Tennessee. I was crowned junior Miss Tennessee two years running before my daddy joined the military and then we moved around a lot from state to state. Eventually we started trainin’ together and then when the world all fell apart, my brother and me followed him behind the fence. The rest is a really long story that I’m pretty sure y’all don’t have time for now, but I’m sure you’ll hear it soon. Like in the next chapter, soon.
Flint: Okay, everything she just said? I was the opposite of that.
New Kid: Ditto
Ratch: I read to sick kids in the hospital.
Flint: You’re shitting me right?
Ratch: Dude, why would I lie about sick kids?
Flint: I don’t know. I guess I just thought you’d have been in some emo, freakshow band, rockin out in your parents garage and trying to score with your kid sister’s groupie wannabe friends.
Ratch: Yeah, that too. But I really did read to sick kids in my spare time.
Flint: Right, well if that’s the interviews out of the way I say we go and kill some dead things. *winks at Toni* Thanks for having us.
Well, that’s it from me. I’d like to say a very special Zombtastic thank you to Toni for allowing me to take over the blog and introduce you all to the kids out there fighting the good fight.
Happy Halloween and Happy Slaying everybody!
by Carmen Jenner & more
Publication date: October 3rd 2012
FEAR: A Modern Anthology of Horror and Terror brings together, for the first time, tales of murder, monsters and madness, by sixty of the world’s best indie horror authors.
Discover what lurks in the water at the end of the garden, learn of the unforgiving loyalty of a loving toy and meet a writer, just itching to finish his latest horror story.
Every author in the Anthology has generously contributed their work for free. All royalties from sales will go directly to the international charities, Barnardo’s and Médecins Sans Frontières.
FEAR, with forewords by international bestselling authors, Peter James and Sherri Browning Erwin, is now available in two volumes.
~About the Author~
Carmen Jenner is a thirty-something author, doctor, pilot and CIA agent.
She’s also a compulsive, flagrant prevaricator who gets to make things up for a living.
While Sugartown may not technically exist, Carmen grew up in a small Australian town just like it, and just like her characters, she always longed for something more.They didn’t have an Elijah Cade, though. If they did, you can be sure she would have never left.
Her debut novel, Welcome to Sugartown, releases November 3, 2013.
Catch up on all the news from the Sugartown Series at: www.welcometosugartown.blogspot.com.au
Keep a look out for the follow up novels in the Sugartown Series:
Enjoy Your Stay (Sugartown #2)
Now Leaving Sugartown (Sugartown #3)
Carmen’s Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads
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