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Читать книгу: «Perfect Match»

Dara Girard
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They’re perfect for each other…

Desperate to save her family home from foreclosure, Hannah Olaniyi takes on a seemingly unwinnable case…for a substantial fee. But her new client is testing the North Carolina attorney in ways she never imagined. As tempers ignite over conflicting strategies, Hannah fights a desire that’s taking her from the boardroom and into the bedroom of the town’s most notorious playboy.

They just don’t know it yet.

Amal Harper needs a lawyer fast…someone willing to go up against a powerful family. But there’s a shocking secret in this hard-driving businessman’s past. Amal doesn’t want to lose Hannah, especially after she starts working her seductive magic. Is it too late to mend his bad-boy ways and claim his future with the woman who’s his total opposite—except when it comes to love?

“I know all about you. I know how you think getting a woman into bed should be an Olympic sport.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“There’s no need to—your actions speak loudly enough.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read.”

“Or everything you hear.” She folded her arms, wanting to look unmoved, although she was feeling so many emotions, she could hardly keep still. “Why did you lie?”

“I wanted to make you stop crying.”

Hannah paused, hating how he was a constant surprise to her. “I don’t believe you.”

He shrugged. “It’s the truth. Did the contractor give you a good estimate?”

“No.”

“Oh. Look, a friend owes me a favor. I can get your parents’ house fixed so they’ll get insured.”

Hannah held up her hand and shook her head. “I don’t need your help—you’re the one who needs mine.”

Amal shrugged and leaned against her desk. “I don’t see why you’re so upset. It was a harmless diversion.” He continued before she could reply. “Did I try to get your number or address?”

“No.”

He folded his arms. “You’re lucky I didn’t have to resort to Plan B.”

“Plan B?”

“Yes.” He came around the desk and lifted her to her feet. “I was going to kiss you.” And then he did just that. She expected to be repelled, alarmed, violated, but instead the touch of his lips on hers was like coming home. Like the sweet smell of cinnamon pancakes on a Sunday morning, or the sound of a crackling fire on a still winter’s night. He felt safe, secure, right.

DARA GIRARD

fell in love with storytelling at an early age. Her romance-writing career happened by chance when she discovered the power of a happy ending. She is an award-winning author whose novels are known for their sense of humor, interesting plot twists and witty dialogue. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spring mornings and autumn afternoons, French pastries, dancing to the latest hits and long drives.

Dara loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at contactdara@daragirard.com or P.O. Box 10345, Silver Spring, MD 20914.

Perfect Match

Dara Girard


www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

Have you ever had to work with someone you couldn’t stand? That’s the situation Hannah finds herself in when she’s forced to take on playboy Amal Harper as a client in order to save her parents’ home.

I really enjoyed working with the premise of dealing with people who aggravate you. I once had a boss who kept calling me by the wrong name and another who just referred to me as “the girl.” Those personalities really helped me develop Mrs. Martha Walker, the one person who, unwittingly, unites Hannah and Amal.

And then of course there’s the secret Mrs. Walker is desperate to keep that Hannah is just as determined to uncover.

Soon both women will learn that Amal Harper is not all that he seems and hearts will be broken and healed....

Enjoy,

Dara Girard

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 1

“We’re going to be homeless.”

“No, you’re not.”

“We’re going to be tossed out in the street and left to starve.”

Hannah Olaniyi bit back a sigh as she switched her cell phone to her other ear. Her older sister, Abigail, always tended toward the dramatic. In the distance she heard children squealing with delight as they raced about the playground. A few feet away a jogger darted past and a dog tugged on its leash while attempting to sniff the trunk of a tree. She felt the warmth of the late-spring sun as she strolled through the park on her lunch break. She saw its rays cascading over the green grass, but it did little to lift her spirits. It was just proof that life went on while her world fell apart. “That’s not going to happen. How’s Dad?”

“He’s coming out of the hospital tomorrow.”

Hannah felt some of her tension ease. Her parents’ financial woes had so stressed her father that he’d been rushed to the hospital two days earlier due to trouble breathing. Her mother and sister had been certain he was suffering a heart attack because of his weak heart, caused by a construction accident over eleven years ago that left him unable to work. A shady contractor had cut corners on materials used at a site where her father had been working. He ended up falling through two floors of the structure and seriously injuring his back and left hip, leaving him in constant pain. Since then, hospital visits had become part of their lives, as had countless physical therapy sessions.

Fortunately, this time it was just a panic attack, although his blood pressure was dangerously low and he was dehydrated.

Hannah glanced at a tree whose leaves swayed in the slight breeze. “I’ll come visit after he’s rested a day or two.”

“There’s no need trying to hide from the inevitable. You can’t face them, can you?”

“Of course I can,” Hannah said, fighting to take hold of her temper. Her sister was good at igniting it. “I saw them just yesterday. They were fine.”

“They were just pretending to make you feel better like they always do,” Abigail said, as though her sister was dense. “They don’t want to worry the baby of the family.”

There was only a five-year age difference between the two sisters, but most of the time it felt like much more. Abigail had wanted to stay an only child and had never welcomed Hannah’s arrival. For twenty-eight years she had convinced herself that Hannah was their parents’ favorite although they worked hard to treat their daughters as equals—same birthday gifts, same holiday gifts, but nothing seemed to change Abigail’s opinion.

Hannah rolled her eyes. “I’ll talk to the bank.”

“They’re going to take the house.”

Hannah knew it wasn’t that simple. Their home insurance policy had been canceled because the house needed major repairs. She remembered the contractor they’d hired to inspect the house and his quote of over forty-five thousand dollars. If they did not have the repairs done they’d lose their house, and with her father’s medical needs that would mean a rehabilitation center or senior residential facility for him—and nobody wanted that.

“I won’t let that happen,” she said.

“Did you suddenly get rich?”

“No, but—”

“Then how will you stop them?” Abigail’s voice cracked. “This is all your fault anyway.”

Hannah paused, not sure she’d heard right. “M-my fault?”

“Yes,” Abigail said with feeling. “Dad refinanced the house to help you with your education so that you could get your fancy college degree. But instead of graduating and getting a job right away you decided to start your own company. If you had joined an established law firm or something you’d have the money to help. While you were having fun at college I was working to support the family, and now that you’re out you still can’t do anything.”

Hannah gritted her teeth. Her sister knew how much earning her degree meant, but every chance she got she belittled her efforts. Abigail knew that Hannah had applied for several jobs and, despite her stellar grades and work experience, hadn’t gotten hired. These factors had been part of the decision to start her own law practice. “That’s not true, and you know it.”

“Why didn’t you just join Uncle’s business like we all wanted you to? You’ve worked there since you were sixteen and ran the office like no one else.”

“I didn’t want to be a secretary.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being an office assistant.”

Hannah kicked a pebble, imagining it was her sister’s shin. “I didn’t say there was.”

“You could have gotten married to Jacob. He has money.”

“I’m not ready to get married, especially not to him.”

“You’re just selfish and—”

“Okay, that’s enough. It’s not my fault that you’re miserable.”

“What?”

“You keep blaming me, but in reality you’re miserable because you’ve never left home. You stayed there and watched the house slowly fall down around you and you did nothing. After Dad’s accident you had an opportunity to travel and didn’t. Even though you’d saved your money for a two-week trip to France. Something you’d been talking about since you were nine and saw the movie An American in Paris. Dad was doing well then and you could have gone. We all told you to, but you made a choice to stay.”

“I couldn’t have gone then.”

“What about years later?” Hannah continued before her sister could argue. “You chose to stay home and help Mom with Dad. I chose to become a lawyer so that I could help both my parents and others. So if you’re unhappy, that’s not my fault. Okay, so I didn’t expect things to work out this way. I thought after graduation I’d get a great job and soar high and fast. That didn’t happen, because in the real world lots of graduating lawyers don’t get work right away. That’s the dirty little secret they don’t tell you before you enter the profession and get thousands of dollars in debt. I know a guy who graduated top of his class who’s waiting tables, and another who’s working at his father’s car lot. I’m doing the best I can. My business is slowly growing and I’ll show you what I can really do, but for now get off my back and find someone else to blame for your unhappiness.”

Silence followed and then she heard sniffling. “I didn’t mean to make you mad,” Abigail said in a tear-soaked voice. “It’s just been so hard. Mom and I have done our best to maintain the house, but you know Dad was always the handy one. I’ve never been good with repairs and things like that. I’m doing all I can, and I’m so scared.”

Hannah gripped her phone. With her sister, if it wasn’t insults it was tears. “Yes, I know,” she said, trying to soften her tone and keep the irritation out of her voice.

“I’ve spent my life supporting our parents, and I’m helping to take care of Dad. I’ve done more for them than you ever have....”

Hannah sighed, knowing that she’d never convince her sister to see her in a different light. She knew her sister was as dependent on her parents as they were on her. She’d never ventured out alone, had few friends and had never had any romantic interests. Only in her early thirties, Abigail was resigned to living at home and being provided for. Most times Hannah felt like the older sister because Abigail was never one to offer advice or encouragement.

“It’s going to all work out.”

“Mom is so worried. We can’t imagine having to put Dad into some kind of facility, but if we lose our house no other place will be able to address his needs.”

“Look,” Hannah said, trying to sound strong, although she didn’t feel she had any strength left. She rested against a tree. “I said I’ll handle it.”

“When?” Abigail pressed, as if she expected her sister to provide a miracle at that moment. “How?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

Hannah closed her eyes and sighed. “I’ll get back to you. I need to go.”

“Of course you do. You always have something more important to do than worry about us.”

Hannah disconnected and put her phone away, wishing she could do the same with her parents’ troubles and her sister’s false accusations. She knew what Abigail said wasn’t true, but her words hurt anyway. Hannah wanted to be the one to rescue them, and she couldn’t. She wanted them to be proud of her, but after graduating from law school she’d ended up with a mountain of debt and no job prospects, and starting her own company was her last-ditch effort. She was getting some clients but not enough to meet all of her financial obligations. Her father’s brave smile burned in her memory.

She knew her parents tried to protect her from all their worries, but she’d seen the strain in her mother’s eyes and her father had lost a lot of weight. She felt like such a disappointment. When her father had gotten injured on the job, everything changed overnight. She’d been comfortable with the life her family had planned for her. She would work in her uncle’s prosperous business, get her degree in business management and perhaps own it one day. But that all changed. She’d returned home from school one day and seen her mother drop the phone and crumble to the floor. She had rushed over to her.

“Is it father?”

“Yes.”

“Is he okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“No, he’s badly injured.”

After her father was hospitalized for over six weeks and had undergone months of physical therapy, they learned that the company he worked for refused to pay for his loss of wages and inability to hold a job. While the lawyer they hired had helped get some compensation for her father, he hadn’t been aggressive enough, and her father ended up having to apply for permanent disability, three lawyers later. That’s when Hannah decided her new path. She gave up her dream of getting an MBA and running an office. Instead, she’d get justice. She remembered the shock on everyone’s face when she told them her plans, but no one would stop her.

She saw what a lawyer could do and knew then that that was what she wanted to strive for. She wanted to use the law to help people get justice. But now she had a law degree, and she couldn’t help the ones she cared about the most. Her parents had left Nigeria and worked hard so that she and Abigail could have all the opportunities they couldn’t. They had sacrificed for the American Dream, only to be faced with having it all slip away.

Her cell phone rang again and pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced at the number and groaned. It was Jacob. She couldn’t deal with him now. She still felt guilty about their last meeting, when she’d halted several feet from her apartment door trying to figure out how best to handle the man who stood before her holding a bouquet of flowers.

Hannah thought of running but he’d already seen her, so she inwardly groaned and then plastered on a smile and walked toward him. “Jacob, you shouldn’t have,” she recalled saying to him.

He extended his arm and handed her the flowers. They were beautiful, but the sight of them depressed her. She’d told him that their relationship was over, but he still carried hope and no rebuffs, no matter how hard she tried, could convince him otherwise. He still remembered her and sent her expensive cards on holidays and her birthday. “I told you to stop this.”

“I knew you’d be upset about your dad’s health scare so I wanted to cheer you up.”

It was a likely story, but Hannah didn’t completely believe him. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, I promise. No more flowers.”

“Or cards, or teddy bears, or baskets or...”

“Okay,” he said, flashing a crooked grin. His smile was both shy and friendly at the same time, and it was one of the reasons she’d fallen for him in the first place. She’d been attracted to his vulnerability. “I get the hint.”

Hannah wiped her forehead in an exaggerated gesture of relief. “At last.”

“How’s your dad?”

“He’ll be out of the hospital tomorrow.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I care about them like they’re my own parents.”

Hannah hesitated and then opened her door and turned to him. “They know that, and I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

“I needed to see you first.”

Hannah rested against the door frame and shook her head. “Jacob, don’t do this.”

“You know how I feel.”

“I really wish you didn’t.”

“I can’t help it.”

“You haven’t given yourself a chance to. There are many women out there, all much better than me, who deserve a great guy like you.”

Jacob hung his head a moment and then smiled at her. “Perhaps if you say that enough times I’ll start to believe you.”

“Good, because I won’t stop.”

“So I still don’t have a chance?”

“I’m going now.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Because you already know my answer, and it’s not going to change. Thanks for the flowers.”

“I’d give you a whole lot more if you’d let me.”

“Goodbye, Jacob,” Hannah said and then closed the door. She set the bouquet on the side table in the foyer and then collapsed on her couch. It had been a hectic day, and she didn’t want to end it thinking about how her life may have been different if she’d married Jacob as everyone had expected her to.

She would have lived a life of privilege. Jacob Omole’s family was very politically connected in Nigeria and enjoyed state dinners and mingling with the upper crust of society both in Nigeria and among the diplomatic core in Raleigh and D.C., where his parents frequently visited. She’d started dating him in high school. Their families were close. Marriage seemed inevitable to everyone but her. When she’d completed her undergraduate degree she had opted to study abroad in Tanzania, where she worked in a microloan office helping provide needed counseling to women hoping to start a business. Upon returning to the United States she worked as a paralegal for a legal aid program in a poor town in Georgia, where she saw the law work to impact lives. She had had an opportunity to see a bigger world and had larger dreams for her life than the one others had prescribed for her. She chose to follow her heart. Now she just wished she didn’t feel so guilty because of it.

Hannah put her phone away, also dismissing the memories of Jacob. She then stumbled over to a park bench and sank into it, feeling as if she was being crushed by the weight of the world. Pain, raw and primitive in its intensity, spread through her, overwhelming her until her throat felt dry and her eyes were blinded by tears. She covered her face and sobbed.

“Hey! I didn’t expect to see you here,” an exuberant deep voice said from above her.

Her head snapped up and she saw a large, blurry dark figure. She quickly wiped her tears away so she could see him better. The light behind him put him in shadow. She squinted up at him. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s good to see you again.” He took a seat beside her.

As she brought his face into focus, she realized it was very good to see him, as well. She found herself staring into the caring brown eyes of a handsome man: the man of her dreams.

Chapter 2

He smiled. “How have you been?”

Hannah frowned, wondering why this stranger was smiling so warmly at her. “I’m afraid you’ve got me confused with someone else,” she said, hating to admit it but needing to be honest.

He shook his head. “Impossible. I never forget a pretty face.”

Hannah’s frown deepened. She was certain she didn’t look pretty now with her eyes and nose red from crying. Was he crazy? He didn’t look it. He wore a casual pair of khakis, a dark red polo shirt and a gray wool coat draped over one shoulder.

Hannah held up her hand. “How many fingers do you see?”

“Five.”

“Strange. I thought you were blind.”

Instead of being offended, the man only smiled more broadly. “A rose with a little dew on its petals doesn’t make it any less beautiful.”

“You’re a poet?”

The man studied her for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t remember me?” he asked, sounding disappointed.

“Yes,” she said. “I doubt you’re the kind of man anyone would forget.” She wasn’t flattering him. It was a certifiable fact. He was definitely the type of man people noticed. The type who walked into a room and commanded attention. Not because he was the tallest, although he was tall with broad shoulders that exhibited a sleek, taut strength; or the most handsome, although he was that, too. He had a square jaw, dazzlingly brown eyes, warm mocha-brown skin and a bright smile. He had charisma. The kind that exuded from politicians, con men, magicians and playboys. But strangely he didn’t seem to be any of those. His interest appeared sincere and genuine, and Hannah found herself falling under his spell even though she didn’t want to.

He snapped his fingers. “I know what would jog your memory.” He glanced up and saw an ice cream cart. He nodded toward it. “Let me treat you to something sweet.” He stood and took her hand, giving her no chance to protest. “Come on.”

“But—” Hannah began in a weak voice, shocked not just by his action but also by how comfortable her hand felt in his.

He stopped in front of the vendor and took out his wallet. “Order whatever you want.”

She wouldn’t say no to free ice cream, even if the man had confused her for someone else. Hannah ordered an ice cream sandwich and he ordered a cone.

His cell phone rang. He glanced at the number.

“You should get that.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said, handing her the sandwich.

“I don’t want to keep you.”

“You’re not. Isn’t it a great day?” he said, leaving the vendor a generous tip and walking in the opposite direction.

Hannah fell in line with him. “For some.”

“Who’s pissing on your parade?”

She laughed. “My sister.”

“Older, right?”

Hannah blinked, surprised. “Yes.”

He frowned. “That’s hard. Any way to get around her?”

“She blames me for everything. My parents might lose their house, and the stress of it put my father in the hospital.” Tears welled in her eyes. She sniffed and quickly blinked them away. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, since I don’t know you.” However, even as she said the words they no longer seemed true. She felt as if she’d known him her whole life. There was an affinity. She trusted him and it felt good to talk to him, to be with him. Suddenly, she was happy that the sun was shining and she could hear the laughter of children in the distance. She noticed the bright white of the spatter of clouds as they slowly drifted across a blue sky that showed no threat of rain.

His phone rang again and he absently turned off its ringer and put it on vibrate.

“What’s your name?” she asked, eager to learn more about him.

“Take a guess.”

Hannah stroked her chin as if in deep thought. “I know.”

“What?”

“Rumpelstiltskin.”

He laughed. “That’s right. People rarely guess that on the first try.”

“Right now I could really use a man who could spin straw into gold,” she said, feeling her good mood fading.

The man playfully nudged her with his elbow. “I’m a man of many talents. What do you need?”

“Not me. My parents.” Soon she was telling him all about her parents’ housing trouble.

“Did you get a second opinion?”

“No.”

He wrote down a number. “Call this guy. He’s trustworthy. He might be able to give you a lower estimate.”

“Thanks. Whom should I say referred him?”

He winked. “Rumpelstiltskin. Call me Rum for short.”

Hannah shook her head. “You’re impossible.” She paused. “Wait. What do you think my name is?”

He hesitated and then suddenly looked sheepish. “I don’t remember your name, just your face.”

Hannah laughed. “Perhaps I have a twin somewhere.” She glanced down at his hand. “Your ice cream is melting.”

He looked down and saw the vanilla ice cream leaking from the bottom of his cone onto his hand. He sucked the bottom of the cone until all the ice cream was finished. “There, that’s better.”

“There’s still ice cream on your hand.”

“I don’t have any napkins.”

“Just lick it off.”

“Sure.” He raised a sly brow. “Want to help me?”

Definitely. She felt her face grow warm. She could imagine licking, sucking, teasing and anything else he asked of her. She bet he tasted sweet, too. She remembered watching the sight of his pink tongue against the chocolate-covered vanilla cone, and just for one wild moment she imagined that chocolate was her skin melting under the warm assault of his tongue. She brushed the thought aside, the day suddenly feeling hotter than it really was. “I still don’t know your real name.”

“You’ll remember it soon.”

“Even though you don’t remember mine?” she countered.

“At least I remember your face. Your name will come back to me eventually. Of course, you could give me a hint.”

Hannah shook her head. “You first. Where did we meet?”

His phone buzzed insistently, as if the caller demanded a response.

“Saved by the bell,” she teased, and then she saw an expression of frustration and guilt cross his face. “You really should answer that,” Hannah said, seeing his jaw twitch in annoyance. “I’m fine now...really. Thanks for everything.”

He glanced at the number and then put the phone away. “I didn’t do anything.” He lifted her chin with his forefinger. “Keep your chin up.” He smiled and then started to walk away.

“Wait. At least tell me your name. What is it?”

He bent down and plucked a buttercup and handed it to her. “You already know it. Just say my name four times and I’ll come.”

“That’s not how the story goes.”

“That’s how our story will.” His mouth spread into a smile that was as intimate as a kiss, and then he turned and walked away.

Hannah watched him go, holding the flower close to her chest, wishing she could hold on to him instead.

* * *

“And you didn’t get his name?” Hannah’s assistant, Bonnie Li, said in disbelief. They sat in Hannah’s new office, which was still not completely furnished but serviceable. At least the front receptionist’s area looked impressive. She’d had a stroke of luck because one of the tenants in the building where their office was located had just been evicted. They had left behind several pieces of furniture and lamps, which she and Bonnie had eagerly snatched.

The two women had met in college and become fast friends. Like Hannah, Bonnie hadn’t lived up to her parents’ expectations, either. Small and lithe, she’d trained to be a dancer until a torn ligament ended that dream. Bonnie had a mind to go into sports medicine, which was a profession frowned upon in her Chinese family of three doctors and two university professors. But she’d jumped on board with Hannah despite the low pay, discovering a love for organization and helping people. She looked young for her age of thirty, but she dressed up to appear older. After reading several books on how to make over oneself, she had cut her waist-length black hair short and colored it a striking reddish-brown. She had lovely almond-shaped brown eyes and an attractive slender figure. But there was nothing delicate about her—she liked dirty jokes and the occasional Jack Daniel’s. Bonnie pointed at her friend. “What is wrong with you?”

Hannah threw up her hands, helpless. “At first I thought he was crazy. I mean, I looked a mess and he was going on as if he was so happy to see me.”

“Tell me how good-looking he was again.”

“I’ve already told you twice.”

“Tell me again.”

“No, there’s no point. I’ll probably never see him again.”

“Maybe he’ll call you.”

“He couldn’t remember my name, either.”

“Maybe he was teasing you.”

“Perhaps,” Hannah said, doubtful. “But he definitely made my day brighter, especially after my call from Abigail.”

Bonnie feigned a shiver of fear. “So, how is the queen of horror?”

Hannah laughed at her friend’s description. “She’s not that bad.”

“No, she’s worse. In a horror film she’d be the monster.”

“Well, right now she’s preparing to be homeless.”

“And it’s all your fault,” Bonnie said, mimicking Abigail’s tone.

Hannah nodded, her spirit dimming. “Yes.”

“Does she have a reason to really worry this time?”

Hannah sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. It’s really looking bad, but I have another option I’m going to try. The guy I met in the park gave me the phone number for another contractor to try. Maybe he can give us a lower estimate.”

“It’s a start. I hope you get to see him again,” Bonnie said, returning to what she was doing.

“Me, too,” Hannah said in a soft tone.

* * *

“Where have you been?” Hector Ramirez demanded when Amal stepped into his office. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

Amal walked past him. “I was busy.”

Hector followed him and then paused and studied him with a knowing look. “You met a woman, didn’t you?”

Amal shook his head and sat. “It wasn’t like that.” Hector was a man of thirty-seven with dark eyes and prematurely gray hair that gave him a distinguished look despite his boyish features. Amal liked him, trusted him and rarely kept anything from him. But this time was different.

“I knew it would be a woman.”

Amal didn’t care what he thought. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss it with him. Hector was his trusted friend, but somehow the meeting in the park was something Amal wanted to keep to himself. There was something special about it. He just wasn’t sure what yet.

“What line did you use with her?” Hector asked with a smug grin. “How pretty is she? Wait, don’t answer—with you they’re always gorgeous. Was she a model? An actress? A nurse?”

“No.”

“Did you just get her name and phone number, or did you get her address, too?”

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477,97 ₽
Возрастное ограничение:
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Дата выхода на Литрес:
09 мая 2019
Объем:
181 стр. 2 иллюстрации
ISBN:
9781472013194
Правообладатель:
HarperCollins

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