The Sour Orchard
The Sour Orchard I. The heat in Georgia does not announce itself. It simply arrives, thick and suffocating, like a blanket soaked in hot water and draped over your face. Clara Beauregard felt it the moment she stepped from the carriage onto the dusty road that led to Whitmore Manor. She had not intended to come. The land dispute could have been handled through lawyers, as sensible people...
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