Dearest Friends: A Jane Austen Inspired Novel
Publication Date: November 14, 2014
Publisher: Vanity and Pride Press
eBook & Paperback; 277 Pages
Genre: Historical Romance/Regency
Independent Publishers 2016 IPPY Award Bronze Medal for Romance
The historical romance Dearest Friends retells Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice as a sensual adventure that will delight a modern audience. Fitzwilliam Darcy left Hertfordshire following a friend’s betrayal, but his heart remained with Elizabeth Bennet, the impertinent beauty who captured his attention in ways no woman ever had before. When he encounters her unexpectedly in London, he realizes he can no longer live without her and begins his pursuit for her hand. When he finds that Elizabeth is not free to marry, will he again walk away or will he fight for the lady he loves?
While Darcy and Elizabeth pursue their own happiness, around them friendships progress to love and infatuation leads to disappointment. Join a group of unlikely friends as they support our dear couple on their journey, each treading unique paths along the way.
"Dearest Friends is an 'excessively diverting' and enthralling Pride and Prejudice variation!"--Austenesque Reviews
"This was a wonderful read and a great 'visit' with my favorite people. Pamela Lynne brings out the best and the worst in some of these people and makes the story so much more. I highly recommend this title to any JAFF lover."--The Ardent Reader
Sketching Character: A Jane Austen Inspired Novel
Publication Date: September 25, 2015
Publisher: Vanity and Pride Press
eBook & Paperback; 296 Pages
Genre: Historical Romance/Regency
What if a tragic event involving a beloved sister shatters Elizabeth Bennet's confidence in her ability to accurately judge a person’s character? When she leaves Longbourn for Kent, Elizabeth’s heart is full of worry for those she left behind. She carries a secret that would ruin her family if exposed, and she must deceive the ones closest to her to conceal the truth.
She unexpectedly encounters Mr. Darcy on her journey, and his gentlemanly behavior confuses yet comforts her. Their daily encounters in the woods surrounding Rosings soothes Elizabeth’s weathered conscience, and she soon falls in love. Her doubts, along with the well-placed words of another, threaten to destroy the peace she finds in Darcy’s company, and she wonders if she has again failed to correctly sketch his character.
When the truth behind her deception is uncovered, will Darcy shun her as Elizabeth fears, or will his actions prove that he is the very best of men?
An Excerpt from Sketching Character:
“Mr. Collins, your boots!” Charlotte reprimanded her husband as he came through the door covered in mud nearly to his knees.
Mr. Collins looked down and saw the extent of his untidiness. “Forgive me, my dear. I will just go and change.”
“You will go through the kitchen and not my entry hall. What would Lady Catherine say if she knew you tracked mud through the home she has worked hard to improve?”
“Oh my goodness, Charlotte! Why did you not correct me before? Her ladyship would indeed be cross if she knew. I heartily chastise myself in her stead.”
“Right, right. I will turn around and go through the kitchen.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes and entered the parlor, where Elizabeth sat smiling, having overheard the entire exchange. She sat down near the window and picked up her sewing.
“Charlotte, you are brilliant. Do you often have to evoke Lady Catherine to get your husband to cooperate?”
“Her more than Jesus at times.”
“It is true. He has put so much faith in her that I fear for his well-being should she fall from her throne and somehow injure herself irrevocably.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Charlotte, I cannot believe the words that come from your mouth now. “
“I know, but, believe me, I do not say these things to my husband or anyone else. I only play harridan with you, dear Eliza.”
Elizabeth tilted her head in thought. “I do not know what to say. I suppose it is flattering that you feel comfortable enough to show your real personality to me. However, that nature is almost shrewish. I am not sure it is wise to be friends with such a person.”
Charlotte laughed. “You will not abandon me now, Eliza. Not when I have such plans for you.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and began to ask what plans, but then thought better of it. “I know you wish me to ask, but I will not. It only encourages you.”
Before Charlotte could explain herself, a clean Mr. Collins entered the room. He bowed then clasped his hand together.
“Oh, my dear Charlotte and my dear Cousin Elizabeth. As a man of God, I never complain about the paths he leads me on but this morning I ardently wish they would have been less muddy.”
“Will you not sit down, Mr. Collins?”
“Of course, my dear.” He turned to Elizabeth. “I am happy to see you are sewing, cousin. I was worried you would show the same sort of wild nature you displayed in Hertfordshire, always going on your rambles.”
Elizabeth paid closer attention to her sewing and chose not to respond. She made that choice often in the last week. Rain had fallen nearly every morning, leaving the paths too muddy to travel by foot. The sun came out earlier that day and she hoped it would dry the trails enough to tread tomorrow in spite of her cousins admonishment.
“Wild behavior will have its consequence. I have just come from ministering to a family in the village. Their young unmarried daughter has become with child.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “They were just beginning to come up in the world. Now they face ruin all because that girl could not be tamed. I told them they must send her away if they have any hope of recovery. The sin must be cleansed from the house.”
Elizabeth looked at her cousin with a stern expression. “And did you have the same admonishment for the man who put her in that position?”
Mr. Collins looked confused for a moment. He studied her face then seemed to suddenly find enlightenment. “My dear cousin, I do not expect you to understand the workings of the world. That girl should have said no.”
“How do you know she did not? Did you get any of the particulars before you cast your judgment?”
“What I know is that she has brought shame on her family. It would have been far better had she died rather than dishonor them in such a way. Then they could mourn openly. Now they must live with the shame of her impurity.”
Elizabeth stood and walked to the window in an attempt to hide her anger. Better had she died. She wanted to throw something at him, or better still, strike him with her own fists. She suddenly found it fitting that this man would inherit her father’s estate. His opinions certainly fell in line with the current owner.
“Mr. Collins, I do not believe it is appropriate to speak of such things in front of an unmarried woman. Thankfully Maria is helping the cook with the pies. Let us change the subject, please.”
“Of course, of course. I had the pleasure of visiting Rosings today as well. I was not allowed inside because of the mud, but her ladyship is so very kind. She had one of her footmen bring books for me to read on farming and land management. She believes it is not too early to prepare for the inevitable. One never knows when the hand of the Almighty will descend upon us, taking from one and giving to another.”
Elizabeth looked at the ceiling then to the wall. She was afraid she could not disguise the sheer revulsion she felt at that moment. The contentment she felt for Charlotte’s situation evaporated. She could only pity her friend for being married to such a hateful man. Although she knew he was ridiculous, Elizabeth could not help but believe those words were uttered to cause her pain.
Suddenly, Charlotte rose and dropped her sewing into her basket. “Mr. Collins, I believe I need your assistance with the household accounts.”
Mr. Collins looked to his wife in confusion. “Uh, um, but you have said we need only attend the accounts on Saturdays. After sundown.”
She lifted her chin and clasped her hands in front of her. “Yes, Mr. Collins, I believe we should tend them now.”
He rose and swallowed heavily. “In daylight?”
“Yes, my dear. I will, uh, go prepare the books for inspection.”
Charlotte turned to Elizabeth, who was perplexed by the entire exchange. “I am sorry for my husband’s poor choice of words, Eliza. I can see you are distressed. Tending the books always leaves him fatigued and he will likely remain above stairs until tomorrow.” Charlotte gathered her thoughts then pulled Elizabeth into an embrace. “Mr. Collins is right that the change in ownership is inevitable. I promise you, Eliza, that I will do everything I can to see Longbourn thrive and to raise an heir worthy of your home.”
Elizabeth was overcome with both sadness that Mr. Collins would one day inherit Longbourn and gratitude that Charlotte would be there, too.
“Thank you, Charlotte,” Elizabeth spoke through her tears. “Would you mind if I did not join you for dinner this evening. I believe I would like to spend time writing to my sisters.”
“Of course, Eliza. You have not had much solitude this week. I will bring a tray to your room.”
Elizabeth hugged her friend close one more time before she retired to her chamber. She sat at the small writing desk and penned a long letter to Lydia. She told her of Kent and Rosings and how Mr. Collins was as bizarre as ever. She filled the page with words of encouragement and love and assured her they would see each other soon. Elizabeth folded the letter and added it to one she had written to her aunt. She could not send it to Lydia directly, lest someone see the direction and question who she knew in Lambton.
As promised, Charlotte brought dinner to Elizabeth’s room. They spoke quietly of inconsequential things before Charlotte excused herself to have dinner with Maria. As she supposed earlier, Mr. Collins was too tired to join them.
Elizabeth did not sleep easy. Mr. Collins’ words filled her dreams as scenes of her sister played in her mind. It began at the Netherfield ball. Lydia danced every dance and the blush on her cheeks made her vibrancy all the more attractive. She laughed and through her dream, Elizabeth laughed with her. Lydia moved through the line of a reel when two arms clothed in red appeared around her waist. Elizabeth could not see the man’s face, but panic replaced her laugh as she saw Lydia struggle to free herself from his grasp. He released her and she fell to the floor as the other dancers moved away. Elizabeth ran to her side and gathered her up in her arms. She looked down at Lydia’s face, which had become thin and ashen. She whispered her name, but Lydia did not respond; she merely faded in her sister’s arms.
Elizabeth woke with a heavy heart and a renewed worry for her family. She kept Mr. Collins’ words in the front of her mind as she rushed through her morning ablutions. His words had been callous, but nonetheless correct. Society would pity the Bennets if they lost their young, lively, beautiful daughter to death. They would be prayed over and cared for, offered every possible balm to soothe the heartache of loss. But losing her to a scoundrel would make them objects of scorn. They would be avoided, gossiped about and despised. The unfairness of life struck her hard as she gathered her bonnet and gloves. She needed to run. She needed to lose these thoughts to the wind if she had any hope of facing the coming weeks with any cheerfulness.
Darcy stared out his chamber window, happy to see the sun coming up over the trees. He had spent too many gloomy days inside of Rosings. The restlessness that claimed him in London was settling in again. He needed to move. Not bothering to ring for his valet, he strode to his closet and gathered his clothing. As he dressed himself his mind wondered to his last visit with Elizabeth, which had been too many days ago.
She was vivacious and warm, full of love for those she was close to. As they looked over the landscape together, it was not hard to imagine her on his arm as they toured the grounds of Pemberley. He continued those imaginings after they parted and added to them as the week drew on. They were poor substitutes for her lovely face. He missed her. He paused his musings while that thought took root. This was different from the longing he felt through the winter. That time was full of regret. This feeling was softer, sweeter, and full of hope.
He would see her today—he was determined and he would do so without Fitzwilliam. He was still angry with his cousin for his actions the previous week. Darcy had not realized when they walked to the parsonage that his cousin was well into his cups. Fitzwilliam’s casualness with the ladies caused him to suspect something was not quite right. Darcy confronted him about his behavior on the walk back to Rosings and they argued vehemently, nearly coming to blows when they reached the manor.
They had barely spoken since—though Fitzwilliam had tried to raise his ire a number of times. Darcy could not understand why he was acting this way. Visiting Rosings was never pleasurable, but they had always managed to make the best of it. The tension between the two weighed on Anne, who now would only receive them separately.
Darcy blew out a long breath and rubbed his face. He could not call at the parsonage alone. Word would surely get back to Lady Catherine and she would demand to know why he was there. Anne was right when she said that her mother was more determined than ever that they marry.
His aunt used every ploy in her power that week to convince him to fulfill his duty. When trying to induce his guilt by mentioning his mother’s desire to unify the family did not work, she became irate. She demanded to know if some lesser woman had bewitched him, causing him to forget what he owed to Anne.
If she suspected his interest in Elizabeth, she would exercise her power over Mr. Collins and have him send her away, or worse. She was now desperate and he had to believe she was capable of anything. He did not want to be caught off guard.
He donned his coat and decided a hard ride would clear his mind and hopefully help him determine the best plan of action. He made his way downstairs as quietly as possible and quit the house for the stables. A short time later he was riding hard toward the woods.
Elizabeth tied the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin as she walked down the stairs. She stepped quietly, hoping to avoid any of the household before she could walk off the stress of the night before. After she had managed to escape the house and gardens, Elizabeth inhaled the scent of earth and woods. To her, this was the smell of freedom. She could hide among the trees or run a race with the wind and no one would be the wiser—at least not until she came back with dirty petticoats.
She reached the line of the trees and was pleased to find a path soon after she ventured inside. She walked a little ways, attempting to empty her mind when she heard a thundering sound behind her. She barely had time to move to the side when a great horse, carrying a great figure, ran past her then stopped a few feet ahead.
“Miss Bennet, good morning.”
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy.”
It seemed for some moments this would be the extent of their conversation, as the gentleman sat on the magnificent steed and looked at her as if he expected something more. She was about to curtsy and be on her way when he dismounted.
“Do you often roam the woods so early in the morning, Miss Bennet?”
“I do at Longbourn. Today is my first opportunity to explore here at Rosings. I find the exercise to be helpful in clearing one’s mind before getting on with the arduous tasks of breakfast and embroidery.”
He smirked at her impertinence, the one that always left her wondering if he was offended, amused, or something else altogether. This man’s character was impossible to sketch, yet, she found his presence—and that smirk—oddly familiar, like an old friend.
He finally dismounted and walked toward her. “Did you leave the inhabitants of the parsonage in good health?”
Elizabeth’s irritation at the mention of the parsonage was evident. Darcy raised his eyebrow in question.
“I did not have the pleasure of seeing anyone this morning, but last evening they were all quite themselves.”
“I have the impression you do not believe that is a good thing.”
“You can be sure, Mr. Darcy, that I think Charlotte to be everything that is excellent and pleasant.”
She received another smirk in response to her omission. He would not let it pass.
“And Mr. Collins?”
Elizabeth sighed. If he would press the subject, then she would be honest. “I cannot comprehend, Mr. Darcy, why some people must hold themselves so high above others. It seems unfair that opportunity of education and growth, not to mention fortune of birth, can be bestowed on the ridiculous. That man will inherit all that my family has and he takes every opportunity to remind me of it. And there is, of course, the matter of my unfortunate nature that leads me to do such unseemly things as love my family or walk in these woods.”
Darcy searched her face for a moment. The fatigue he noticed in the carriage the morning of the accident had returned. He wanted to carry her somewhere, hold her close to him and demand that she rest. He chose instead to speak.
“What can I do, Miss Bennet? How may I help settle your mind this morning? Will you to speak to me more of your troubles?”
She gave him a soft smile then shook her head. “I thank you, Mr. Darcy, but for once in my life I am tired of words. If I were alone. . .” she paused, knowing she was about to divulge a secret that would undoubtedly shock the staid man at her side. “If I were alone I would run so fast the thoughts that plague me this morning could not catch me.”
The shocked expression she expected did not emerge. Instead, his features softened as the corners of his mouth lifted just a little.
“You would like me to leave you so that you may run through the woods by yourself.” It was a statement more than a question. He looked at her for a moment before he led his horse to a nearby tree and tied its reigns to a branch. “I will not give you the isolation you seek, madam. The woods are too full of dangers, especially for one who does not know their secrets.”
Elizabeth knew she should be angry at his refusal, but she was too distracted by the sight of him removing his greatcoat and hat, which he carefully placed over the horse’s saddle. Her heart rate quickened and she had to remind herself that he had always acted like a perfect gentleman.
“You will not leave me?” The strength she intended to display failed to materialize as he returned to her side and without it, her voice seemed but a whisper.
“No, I will not.” He tilted his head and extended his hand. “I will run with you.”
Elizabeth looked at his hand and then to his face. He was in earnest. She was simultaneously relieved and ashamed. She swore to herself that she would never again question his good character. Still, she did not take his hand but delivered her best impression of his amused smirk.
“Well, then, Mr. Darcy. I suggest you try to keep up.”
Then she ran. As she hoped, the thoughts vanished from her mind as she felt the cool air on her face. She could feel Darcy just behind her. She turned her head and flashed him a genuine smile as she increased her pace. She could see a fork in the path ahead and stopped, trying to decide which way to take. She felt a strong hand take hers.
He tugged her arm and they were off again. He did not release her but led her further into the trees where the path was less worn. The sun had not dried the ground there, and mud splashed around them.
There was no convention in their actions. No propriety or societal expectation followed them as they moved deeper into the trees. They had escaped.
Elizabeth felt her bonnet fall from her head, but she did not stop until they reached a small clearing. They slowed and she began to take in her surroundings. When they stopped altogether, she felt him release her hand. She watched as he turned back down the path to retrieve her bonnet, which had fallen in the grass along the muddy trail.
She stepped forward into the clearing. In the weeks she had been in Kent, the foliage had gone from gray to green and the air began to warm. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath as she slowly turned in the sun. Spring was indeed glorious; nature’s rebirth allowing mere mortals a glance at eternity, a never-ending cycle of renewal. No matter how harsh winter had blown or displayed its temper, the warmth would come, the flowers would bloom and the word would set itself right again. Elizabeth stilled her movements and allowed herself a few moments to hope her own world would right itself: Lydia’s bloom would return, and the cold that had surrounded them for so many months would be replaced by a warmth that would never fade.
She lowered her chin and opened her eyes to see Darcy at her side, looking at her with that same intense gaze that had followed her in Hertfordshire. As if the sun had suddenly come down to sear her flesh, her cheeks reddened as he spoke in a deep purposeful tone.
“The wilderness suits you, Miss Bennet. You seem far more at home here among the trees than in the structured gardens. Do you often find yourself playing the part of wood nymph?”
Darcy’s cheeks fared no better than Elizabeth’s. In fact, his entire body seemed on fire. When he turned back after retrieving her hat, he saw what he was sure to be the most beautiful image her would ever behold. Elizabeth’s face was tipped toward the sun and the breeze toyed with the chestnut locks that had fallen from their pins. He felt the blood rush through his veins. For the first time since he was a child he felt the excitement of discovery, as if he had come across some uncharted land that had grown from the earth, meant for only him to explore.
The desire he felt for her in the autumn was but a trifle compared to the emotion that now coursed through him. He thought back to what his cousin told him about the difference between lust and love. One takes while the other gives. He no longer wanted to take her; he wanted to claim her and claim the land that surrounded them for her so that she could run free and rid herself of whatever burden she had sought respite from just moments earlier. He wanted to give her all the pleasure that could be shared between them, along with his land, his fortune, and most of all his heart if she would have it.
Elizabeth, at first, thought she might wither under the heat of his gaze. His words in the parsonage garden, along with his genuine smile, had led her to believe he never disapproved of her, but she knew that her current state was far worse than the six inches of mud that covered her the first day he saw her at Netherfield. She gathered her courage and stepped back, forcing herself from the pull of his eyes.
She summoned her greatest weapon, her only defense against the confusion she always felt when in the presence of this man. She tilted her head, raised an eyebrow, and willed her voice to stay calm.
“If you are attempting to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by reminding me of my disheveled appearance, then I must admonish you, sir, to first repair you own. I was not the only one plodding through the woods nor am I the only one to bear the evidence of my endeavor.”
Her eyes traveled down to his dirt splattered breeches, then back up to his tousled mass of curls. She reached up and pulled a small clump of mud from one such curl and presented it to him along with a satisfied smirk. He laughed as he took it from her hand. Elizabeth started, thinking she might be safer under the heated glare than in the presence of the usually well-hidden dimples.
“Then we make the perfect pair, madam. I may not appear to uncommon advantage like the last time I attempted to walk with you, but I hope you will grant me the pleasure nonetheless. Shall we?”
His acknowledgment of her insult at Netherfield surprised her, and she was relieved to see that he was more amused than affronted. They began their walk around the grove quietly and she once again attempted to fill the silence.
“You are correct, sir, that I prefer the wild to the ornamental. I find more beauty in what is natural, than what is tended to perfection.”
“The rose garden is not in bloom. You may yet find beauty there.”
Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders slightly. “Perhaps.”
“You do not find roses beautiful?”
“I find them common. You will see roses in every garden in England. I would wager, Mr. Darcy, that after two turns within those lovely walls you would not be able to find a single thing you have not seen before. They are pretty, they are prevalent, but in them I find nothing truly beautiful. Whereas here, one could explore for days, weeks perhaps, and only see a small portion of what nature has to offer. You see Mr. Darcy, I find roses quite vulgar.”
He chuckled softly then after a while added, “My aunt is very fond of roses.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I noticed.”
They shared a knowing smile and continued their walk mostly in silence. Their heads had been cleared by the run and now their hearts were free to reign. While one was now certain there would be no future without the other in it, another was simply grateful to finally feel at ease.
Too soon, it was time to return. He offered her his arm and he gently led her down a shorter path to Hunsford. Once there, he opened the gate for her but closed it after she walked through. She turned and looked up at him questioningly.
“As much as I would like to escort you further and call on Mrs. Collins, I believe I should not appear before her so...”
“Unlike yourself?” She thought she could see sadness in his eyes as he nodded.
“Do you plan to walk out again tomorrow, Miss Bennet?”
“I do, sir.”
“May I join you in your search for the beautiful and rare?”
“I would like that very much, Mr. Darcy, so long as you promise to return me in better condition than you have today.”
“I will try my very best Miss Bennet.” He bowed and as he raised back up he once again fixed his intense gaze upon her.
She curtsied and turned down the path thinking, Dimples. Dimples are definitely safer.
"Pamela Lynne is a skilled author and tells a fantastic story. Her book kept me reading and 'held me captive' until the last words on the last page."--More Agreeably Engaged
"I really enjoyed finding this new-to-me Austenesque author. I hope Pamela Lynne has more Austen Inspired Novels up her sleeve, but in the meantime I have her first book to devour."--To Read or Not To Read
"Sketching Character is a brave, intuitive, and skillfully written Pride and Prejudice variation! I appreciated the darker premise, the honest emotions and consequences, and the exquisitely beautiful romance that takes place in a most sheltered and romantic setting!"--Austenesque Reviews
"I highly recommend this title and this author! Every book I've read by Pamela Lynne has been a joy to read and re-read!"--The Ardent Reader
"Wow. Just wow. Everything this woman writes is at a level so far and above what I expect that I have no words. This was sweet, funny, tragic, and so lovely."--Author Elizabeth Adams
Family Portraits: A Dearest Friends Continuation
Publication Date: Coming Soon!
Publisher: Vanity and Pride Press
Genre: Historical Romance/Regency
In Dearest Friends, Pamela Lynne drew complex and interesting characters who joined Darcy and Elizabeth on their road to happily ever after. But what happened after ‘the end’? Did Lydia survive her time at Rosings? Did Jane find fulfillment as Mrs. Bingley? Did Mary and Sebastian adhere to duty or allow their hearts to lead them? Follow the Fitzwilliams, Bennets, Gardiners and Darcys through portraits of their lives at two, five and ten years after the Darcys’ marriage. Their canvas is studded with heartbreaking loss, new beginnings and, through it all, the indelible bond of family.
About the AuthorPamela Lynne grew up in the American South, surrounded by Southern Gothic works by Faulkner, O’Connor and the like. These authors helped shape her evolving mind and continue to influence everything she produces as an adult. It was a Regency-era wit from across the Atlantic, however, who seeped into her being.
She often describes her developing years as “Longbourn, The White Trash Version,” and credits Jane Austen for what little sense she brought away from that time. She has met her share of Willoughbys and Wickhams, Bingleys and Tilneys, and writes about them all.
Pamela currently lives among the rolling hills of Tennessee with her husband of more than a decade, three kids, two cats and one very blond dog. She is still a Marianne hoping to grow into Elinor, or Clairee from Steel Magnolias.
For more information, please visit Pamela Lynne's website. You can also find her on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.
Blog Tour ScheduleMonday, October 3
Kick Off at Passages to the Past
Tuesday, October 4
Review at Bookish (Dearest Friends)
Spotlight at Queen of All She Reads
Wednesday, October 5
Excerpt at Susan Heim on Writing
Review at The Book Junkie Reads (Dearest Friends)
Friday, October 7
Review at Jorie Loves a Story (Sketching Character)
Spotlight at Broken Teepee
Saturday, October 8
Review at The Book Junkie Reads (Sketching Character)
Monday, October 10
Review at Bookish (Sketching Character)
Tuesday, October 11
Excerpt at Books, Dreams, Life
Review at The Book Junkie Reads (Family Portraits)
Thursday, October 13
Interview at The Book Junkie Reads
Friday, October 14
Review at Bookish (Family Portraits)
GiveawayTo win a set of all three books by Pamela Lynne, please enter via the Gleam form below.
– Giveaway ends at 11:59pm EST on October 14th. You must be 18 or older to enter.
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– Only one entry per household.
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– Winner has 48 hours to claim prize or new winner is chosen.
Pamela Lynne Blog Tour