Spotlight: Guardian Angel by Ruchi Singh via The Book Club

 

Guardian Angel by Ruchi Singh 
File Size: 709 KB
Print Length: 168 pages
Publication Date: December 26, 2018
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services LLC
Language: English
ASIN: B07MDHHP27
Genre: Romance/ Short Read 
 
Ranking on amazon.in 
 
#2 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Romance > Romantic Suspense
#7 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Literature & Fiction > Indian Writing
#7 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Crime, Thriller & Mystery
 
A thrilling tale of unconditional love amidst danger and certain death.
 
 
The Man
Security expert Nikhil Mahajan is in mortal danger. Gravely injured and unable to see, he is in the midst of hostile strangers in an unknown place. Any hope of survival is fast fading away. 
 
The Angel
Should an innocent man be left to die just because he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Someone has to intervene. 
It would be great if you can add this book to your TBR


Author of the bestselling romantic thriller ‘The Bodyguard’, Ruchi Singh is an IT professional turned novelist. Her other published novels are ‘Take 2’ and ‘Jugnu (Firefly)’. Winner of TOI Write India Season 1, Ruchi has also published a short story collection, ‘Hearts and Hots’, besides being a contributing author to many anthologies.
 

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Spotlight: If You Only Knew Me by Divyata Rajaram #TheBookClub

 

IF YOU ONLY KNEW ME
by
Divyata Rajaram
 
 
 
BLURB
 
If You Only Knew Me is a story of friendship, passion and intrigue set in Dubai, arguably one of the world’s most exciting cities to live in.
 
Rupali, Anjali, Dipika, Sakina and Monica are five NRI women whose lives are glitzy and exciting as they flirt with high society within the charmed social circles frequented by the Dubai expat community. Beautiful homes, designer clothes, shoes, fast cars and a lifestyle that is envied by all, there is very little these women have not attained. Together they have also woven the closest of friendships and must rely on each other to stay on top.
 
Appearances are deceptive, though, and often the people you think you know the best, harbor secrets too dangerous to be shared. When tragedy befalls, the investigation that follows opens an ugly box of secrets that will test their friendship and find them struggling to make sense of the madness and deception surrounding them.
 
Who can they really trust anymore? How far must they go in their fight for survival?
 
How long will their friendship last once the masks have dropped and none can pretend any longer?


Read an excerpt from the book…
 
Dipika’s head was swimming as she sat in Tim Horton’s, Mall of the Emirates, waiting for Rupali to join her. The only reason she had even fixed up to meet her was that she knew her mother had called up Anjali who would have informed Rupali.

“Ha … I’ve crossed over to the dark side, Ma. Too late to return home again,” she thought. The black coffee she sipped did nothing to clear the confusion in her head.

Dipika pushed her limp, dank hair out of her eyes, struggling to make sense of the menu in front of her.

That bastard was stringing her along, she knew it. All his false promises meant nothing, she thought wearily while gazing at the menu.

She looked up to find Rupali rushing over to the table.

“Dips, darling, so good to see you,” said Rupali, trying to sound upbeat and cheerful. She almost recoiled as she hugged Dipika.

The stench of body odor and some other strange pungent aroma permeated the air around her.

Dipika looked awful; her usual dark circles worse than ever, hair dank and limp, and lips cracked and blistered. She never used makeup, but this was truly the worst Rupali had ever seen her look in a long while.

“Are you okay, babe?” she asked in a soft whisper. The answer seemed apparent – she was not.

Dipika made a superhuman effort to sound and act normal.

“I haven’t been too well, Rupa. That’s what I had called mom about. Hope she didn’t worry you girls. I’m sure it’s nothing serious. I just haven’t been sleeping much lately and it’s telling on my health.”

Rupali was sure that Dipika was depressed about her father’s upcoming death anniversary.

“Listen, baby … you are going through a tough emotional phase right now. It will get better, I promise. Meanwhile, we are all there for you, okay?” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

Dipika nodded listlessly. Poor Rupali, such a good friend, always looking out for her. Dipika felt a million miles away from her right now.

They finished their coffee and made their way over to a few shops. Rupali could tell Dipika was having trouble walking and put it down to her mystery illness. Psychosomatic symptoms, probably, given her bouts of depression. All she could hope for was that whatever it was, it would clear up and her friend would get back to normal.

Dior, Valentino, Lanvin; there was truly no dearth of high-end brands in the latest styles in the Dubai malls. The girls finally agreed on a stunning Chanel dress, stark and beautiful, in black and white. When Rupali tried it on with the blue turquoise earrings the shop assistant provided, she loved what she saw in the mirror. The hunt for matching shoes took them to the Shoe District where even Dipika was seemingly revived by the stunning collection of Christian Louboutin. Rupa convinced her to pick up a pair of strappy stilettos in hot pink with a gold trim.

Rupali hesitated for a few seconds before charging her card. Sometimes she felt guilty about spending Rohit’s money. However, he had always told her that appearance meant everything – sleek, sophisticated and expensive clothes were his natural choice and, now, hers as well.

Finally, exhausted with their shopping, the girls headed to the parking lot where Rupali’s driver was waiting for them. She asked him to first drop Dipika off at her apartment on Sheikh Zayed Road before heading to her own home.

On her way home, she quickly called up Anjali.


Grab your copy @
 
 
About the author
 
 
Divyata Rajaram has been living and working in Dubai for the past fifteen years. An experienced financial service professional, she is also an accomplished singer of Hindustani classical as well as western music. If You Only Knew Me is her first novel based on NRI women living in the UAE, and offers a glimpse into their lives and the challenges they face in a foreign land.
 
An avid reader of crime fiction, Divyata lives with her husband, their daughter and a beautiful dog in Dubai.      
                  

 

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Spotlight: Sins of the Father by Sunanda Chatterjee #TheBookClub

 

 
Sins of The Father
by
Sunanda Chatterjee 


Blurb
Police Officer Harrison McNamara grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth. The former Wellington Estates heir has dedicated his life to taking criminals off the streets. But when he goes undercover to expose a blackmailing scheme, he meets a freelance model who may hold a key to his past.
 
For psychologist Laura Carson, freelancing as a model is the perfect bridge until she can set up her practice. But her modeling agency isn’t what she expected. Encountering the enigmatic undercover cop might be everything she’s ever wanted—and everything she must avoid.
 
As Laura and Harrison grow closer, their past threatens to destroy them. Trapped in an unending cycle of guilt and blame, can they find a way to bury the sins of the past for a future of redemption and love? 
 
Book 1 of the Wellington Estates Series, Sins of the Father is a stand-alone romantic saga.

 

Read an excerpt:
AT THE END of class, Laura Carson assigned the reading for her Child Psychology seminar, snatched her embroidered tote bag from the desk drawer, and waited for her students to leave the classroom. Some students hurried out, others sauntered in twos and threes, laughing over some inside joke and planning their lunch. Once everyone had left, Laura turned off the lights and hurried down the hallway. Her wristwatch read 12:05. If she grabbed a quick sandwich, she’d be on time for the photoshoot. Laura pushed open the exit door of the building as blinding light from the late California summer assaulted her eyes. She shoved her hand into her tote bag for her sunglasses and stepped into the sunny, brick-lined walkway. Students thronged the campus at lunchtime like a wolf-pack on a hunt. Just as she let the door close behind her, someone crashed into her. She winced in the bright sunlight and said, “Watch where you’re going, dude!” Clutching her shoulder, she stared in dismay at the contents of her bag now scattered on the ground. Great! Now she’d be late. She cursed under her breath. She looked up to glare at the clumsy clod who had bumped into her. But she stood transfixed, mesmerized by the hazel eyes of a man built like Hercules. Hazel with green speckles. In his button-down shirt tucked into pleated khakis, he didn’t look like he belonged on a college campus. This Adonis should be in Hollywood. He apologized and bent down to pick up her things. Their hands brushed, and a shiver ran down her spine as he glanced at her paper: Effects of Family Reputation on the Child’s Personality. She picked up her lipstick, mints, hand lotion, sunglasses, receipts for grocery and lunches, and the usual bric-a-brac she stuffed into her tote. Her wallet lay open, a business card peeking out. The man grabbed it and frowned as he stared at the card. “Hey!” She tried to snatch it from him, but he moved his hand away with the swiftness of a fox and held it just outside her reach. “Give me that.” Still kneeling on the walkway, he hesitated, and asked, “Do you work for them?” She looked at the business card for The Angels, the modeling agency where Laura was to have a photoshoot in twenty minutes. She’d modeled for a photography class as a fun project, and Professor Warren told her she had the face of an angel. He knew people at this agency, and if she was interested in making extra money, she should give them a call. “Do you?” asked the handsome hulk, staring at the appointment time she’d scrawled on the card. He didn’t exude curiosity. The way his eyebrows knitted together, it emanated disapproving hostility. Laura was annoyed at his intrusiveness. There was nothing wrong with trying to make a bit of extra cash. Her oncologist mother could well afford to pay for her education, but Laura knew the value of money. She’d worked on campus on minimum wage with non-existent tips all through college and graduate school. She had completed her supervised hours as a therapist, and her mentor had told her she was ready to start her own practice. All she had to do was find an office space. But she enjoyed teaching undergrads in the interim, trying to psychoanalyze them when they asked questions. And the longer she delayed her jump into the life of a therapist, the more her desperation for extra cash, especially now that her roommates were ready to abandon her to move onto bigger things. Besides, her soon-to-be-ex-roommate Elena worked for The Angels and had recommended the agency. The man was waiting for her answer. She held his gaze and said, “It’s none of your business.” Laura didn’t understand the emotion in his eyes. Concern? Worry? He said, “Um…” She looked at the enchanting frown lines on his forehead. “Yes?” The urge to run her hands through his hair mortified and surprised her, as if a magnetic pull drew her to him like a moth drawn to a flame. She grabbed the last credit card lying on the ground. He used her pen to write his phone number on the back of The Angels’ card and handed it back to her, their hands touching once again, as an electric current ran up her arm, jolting her with an unfamiliar sensation. She quirked an eyebrow, still kneeling. The bricks on the walkway dug painfully into her exposed knee, and she tucked her skirt under it. “Presumptuous, aren’t we?” He put the card from The Angels inside her wallet and returned it to her. She took it from him and stuffed the credit card she’d picked up. When she looked up at him, he extended his hand, a smile playing on his lips as if he was enjoying himself, and she was surprised at his sudden change from concern to mirth. Then he spoke in a resonant baritone. “Can I have my credit card back? Or are you planning to rob me blind?” Laura flushed and stared at her wallet in dismay. She had indeed picked up his credit card. Poisonous words from her childhood stormed through her mind, piercing her heart: You’re a thief like your father. Hands shaking, she returned the card and said, “I’m not a thief!” The face of her ex-boyfriend, George, flashed in front of her eyes. But this time she actually had picked up someone else’s credit card, albeit by mistake. George’s angry yells still rang in her ears. “You’re just like your father!” Although it had happened a year ago, the raw hurt was still fresh in her heart, like a slash from a six inch blade. Why had she been foolish enough to reveal her family secret? George had told her about his arrest for driving under the influence, and she’d told him about her father. After George broke up with her, she was determined never to confide in anyone, and had started a string of meaningless dates. “Hey!” said the man in front of her, bringing her back to the present. She looked at him, anger and confusion blinding her momentarily. “I was kidding,” he said with a grin as he pocketed his card. Then he stood up, towering over her. “Can you tell me the way to Freshman English?” The brilliance of the grin dazzled her as she threw her things back into her tote bag. Warmth flooded through her as the irritation washed away like dust from her unwashed windshield after a shower, her need to make a good impression on him, intense. Her head reeled as she straightened up. “New on campus? You look a bit old for Freshman English.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Looks can be deceptive. And some of us have to work.” She wondered what he meant. Had he worked before starting college? Or was working while in college? Intrigued, she smiled and led him a few feet away to the campus map displayed on an angled stone plaque upon which stood an abandoned coffee-cup. She tossed the cup into an overfilled trashcan beside it. “English Department holds all the freshman classes in Mudd Building.” She pointed to the star. “We’re here. You take Ackerman Way down to Bolden Plaza and turn right. You’ll see Mudd Building on the left. Ask someone once you get there.” “Thanks,” he said, and flashed her a smile that enlivened his face once more. She wanted to hand him the business card of The Angels for he could well be a model himself. In a moment, he would walk away and she’d never see him again. For some reason, the thought brought an ache to her heart. On a whim, she said, “I’m Laura Carson, by the way.” She hoped he’d take the hint and introduce himself; she had squandered the opportunity to see his name on the credit card. “Harrison McNamara.” He walked away from her as she watched his receding back, his muscular, lithe frame disappearing into the crowd of students down the walkway in the dappled shade of the jacaranda trees. He was gone, but he had left her his name, like the pleasant aftertaste of chocolate that lingers long after the ice cream is finished. Behind him, the outlines of the San Gabriel Mountains of Southern California rose tall and wide, their tops covered in clouds, promising delightful mystery, inviting her to ascend into the uncertainty. Stop behaving like a teenager, Laura. You’re a therapist! Still, a smile stole on her lips. Harrison McNamara was like no one she’d dated before. George had been much older than her, and she was drawn to his success. She cooked and cleaned for him and ran errands like a housemaid, staying over at his place more often than not. Her best friend and roommate, Juhi Raina, had told her she was being foolish over someone who didn’t value her as a person, as a professional. And she was right, for George had turned out to be a judgmental prick. The lingering scent of Harrison McNamara’s aftershave knotted her stomach, reminding her of her empty life. Of late, her dates were guys she picked up from a dating site, just for an evening of fun. They’d have drinks together, and depending on whether they were gentlemen, she’d bring them back home and go on a second date. But most of her relationships ended on her doorstep at the end of her first date, with or without a goodnight kiss like the period at the end of an uninspiring sentence. But Harrison was someone she wanted to get to know better. She touched her lips, letting her feverish mind imagine his mouth on hers, and a rush of adrenaline drowned her in foolish anticipation. Her reverie was broken by a flyer that flew right into her face. It was about Kara. A few days ago, the suicide of the co-ed had shrouded the campus in confusion and sorrow. Laura had been dismayed at the news. She remembered Kara from her Intro to Psychology class as a studious, pretty girl who kept to herself. But the resilient arrogance of youth sprung back from tragedy with unnerving rapidity; after just two days of mourning, the college moved on with classes, shows, and parties, and Laura had found herself getting ready for new hope and prospects. She pulled out her phone and called Juhi, who was busy with the opening of her boutique. Juhi had worked at an upscale boutique for a few years until she started designing dresses and evening gowns in the condo. She had recently found the guts to open her own shop. Laura was both proud and envious of her courage and wished some of it had rubbed off on her. Juhi said, “Just two weeks left, Laura. You’ll come to the opening, right?” Laura remembered a weekend back in middle school when she’d promised to visit Juhi, but forgot to call and cancel when Elena showed up at her door for a school project. The next day at school, Juhi threw haughty glances her way until lunchtime, and when Laura asked her what happened, Juhi said, “Laura, you are my only real friend. But I get it. You have many friends and have every right to see them. I’m trying to deal with it. Just, do me a favor. If you make plans with me, stick to them. Because when I make plans with you, I clear my whole calendar.” Laughing at the memory, Laura cupped her hand over the phone and said, “I’ve cleared my whole calendar.” “Good!” Laura grinned, as the comfort of years of friendship enveloped her in its warmth. She may not have a boyfriend, but she had a best friend. “I might even bring a date. Juhi, I think I met the one.” Juhi laughed. “Again? Where? Who is he?” “I bumped into him.” “Bumped into a guy and have an instant crush. Can it be more cliché? And where did this happen?” Laura laughed. “On Ackerman. He was on his way to class.” “You’re a Clinical Psychologist, Laura. Since when are you interested in college kids?” Laura sighed. “Since Harrison McNamara started Freshman English.”


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About the author

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunanda J. Chatterjee writes romantic sagas and family dramas, with empowered heroines and noble heroes, and all manner of family relationships. She loves extraordinary love stories and heartwarming tales of duty and passion. Her themes include the immigrant experience, women’s issues, and medicine.

 

 

Her books have consistently been the Top 100 bestsellers on Amazon USA and Amazon India in Asian Literature, Indian Writing, and Asian Drama categories. Her short stories have appeared in anthologies, short-story.net and induswomanwriting.com.

 

 

She grew up in Bhilai, India and now lives in Arcadia, California with her husband and two wonderful children. When she is not by the microscope or creating imaginary worlds, she reads, sings, goes on long walks, and binge-watches old TV dramas.

 

 

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Book under Spotlight: Who Shall I be Today by Sunita Saldhana #TheBookClub

 

Blurb
 
Who Shall I Be Today?
 
A woman can never be “just” a woman. She is a million people in one person. 
 
“Who shall I be today?” is a collection of poems that delves into what makes up a woman. It talks of a mother’s love and fears; a woman’s search for herself; the yearnings of the heart for that someone special. It tells of the hurt and pain that love brings, and the courage to pick up the pieces and start over again.
 
You will find tears and smiles, pain and pride. You will find fear and courage, nostalgia and anticipation. You will find woman in all her avatars.
 
“Who shall I be today” by Sunita Saldhana is something written from the heart. It is a celebration of womanhood. It is guaranteed to touch the soul of every woman who reads it.
 
 
Grab your copy @
 
 
About the author
 
 
“I am a writer and a trainer. I have been writing for more than 35 years now. Besides writing for my own blog, sunitasaldhana.com, and thequillofthephoenix.wordpress.com.  
 
At “The Know & Grow Learning Centre”, I conduct creative writing workshops and courses as well as work with kids and adults on their life skills.
 
I enjoy working with special kids and empowering them with skills to overcome their hurdles and to reach their full potential.
 
Right now I am a retired mom, with both my kids flown from the nest and I am working on publishing a book of my poems.
 
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Spotlight hosted by Summerita Rhayne, author of Against All Rules


 

Review: Finding the Angel by Rubina Ramesh #TheBookClub

Finding the Angel is the debut full length romance by Rubina Ramesh and I must say the author has found her place. The story is rightly paced, neither too fast nor too slow. The hero, arrogant, attractive and damaged is bent upon retribution –  the stuff fantasy is made of (though you wouldn’t like them in real life) He’s a man with loose morals and little respect for the heroine. However, the heroine’s love transforms him. A mystical touch to the traditional heirloom makes it more meaningful. Enjoy a glimpse of Indian royalty and sinful luxury in this blow-hot-blow-cold love story.

Warning *spoilers* ahead!
While I enjoyed the way the author writes, I found a few niggles. For instance, I wish he had voiced that he trusted her before he hit upon the evidence. Also, the girl was reminiscent of old Mills and Boon heroine, as at times she didn’t utter a squeak against the hero’s riding roughshod into her life. She could have displayed more spunk, I think.

All in all, a palatial fantasy romance. Read it for the royal setting and well paced story.

#review 1857 Dust of Ages by Vandana Shanker #TheBookClub 

​1857 Dust of Ages is a slim book with a story woven around the events presaging the Mutiny of 1857. It describes the role of British in weakening the Indian royalty and establishing more than a foothold in administration. The book is well researched, the language is simple and the romance which forms the central role in the novella holds attention.

The book is written in a back and forth way switching between past and present. The mystery of the unlikely marriage is maintained and highlighted by the growing dissension between the aristocracy and the British command. The language is passive at times and events jump forward in a ploy to serve the mystery.

Since the book is slim, the story could easily have been written as a novel depicting the whole story. As it is, the ending is abrupt and jarring and leaves the reader wondering why it has been divided into multiple volumes. A clear disclaimer regarding the continuity would also help the readers.

Read it for an imaginative glimpse for colonial India but be prepared to read other volumes to get the whole story.

Find the book details in the book spotlight on this blog:

https://summeritarhayne.com/2017/03/03/spotlight-on-1857-dust-of-ages-by-vandana-shanker-thebookclub/ 

Spotlight on 1857 Dust of Ages by Vandana Shanker #TheBookClub

 

 
1857 DUST OF AGES VOL 1:
A FORGOTTEN TALE
by
Vandana Shanker
 
Blurb
 
1857. The rebellion erupts in India. Despite its attempts to stay aloof, NAVGARH, a small town near Delhi, is drawn into the conflagration. And at its heart are Princess Meera and Captain Richard Smith, with their strange alliance made for the throne of Navgarh.
 
2016, Shiv Sahai, a young Indian art historian and Ruth Aiken, a British scholar discover an excerpt from the journal of an anonymous British soldier, searching for his wife in the chaos of 1857 Delhi. As they begin investigating the scandal, they become aware of the vague rumours that are told in the bylanes of Navgarh – about a princess who married a British soldier to save her kingdom.
 
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Read an excerpt from the book…

 

 

 

Prologue
Camp, Delhi Cantonment, 16 August, 1857.
Things have changed forever. A day spent in the company of my old friend Knox made it clear. These distances can never be bridged.
The pole of his tent snapped in the storm yesterday; and for the sake of old friendship, I offered Knox my humble abode. But his rancour was jarring. His determination to teach the enemy a lesson, the unshaken belief in the rightness of our mission– such bitterness asks too much of friendship and duty.
Earlier we went over the battlefield. One of our regiments was destroying the village near the bridge to prevent the enemy from getting cover in it. Elephants were pulling down the walls. The villagers stood by as their houses turned into mud while the monsoon clouds gathered on the horizon. Unfortunately, they were the Jats, who, for the most part, are our friends. We decided that the destruction of their homes and fields was necessary. Twenty-three men – their countrymen – were lying together in the ditch at the back of the village; we weren’t sure if they were the rebels. A party of Rifles killed then en masse, just to be sure.
We left the village with our bags swollen like raisins in water. And who can blame our light-fingered gentry? Armies are said to travel on their stomach.
At some distance from our camp, I can see the sun setting over the fort of Delhi. It isn’t much different from the first sunset I witnessed here years ago. How things have changed! We came with a mission – to know this exotic land, to bring the light of knowledge and civilization to its darkness. Now the memory leaves me embarrassed. These massive red walls made me uneasy even then. Today they mock our camp again. Whatever be the outcome of this devil’s wind, it has revealed the banality of our mission.
Knox’s bitterness is an expression of the anger in the camp. When the cannons are quiet, the silence resounds with confusion, with terror, with rage, but most of all with the question ‘Why?’ As we sit around a small fire every night, the question rages in every mind. ‘Why the mutiny? Haven’t we brought the glory of civilization to this land of superstition?’ These thoughts simmer as we deal with hunger, heat and rain.
But soon these questions will be forgotten. The winners will annihilate the other side. Already I see the madness in the eyes as rumours reach us from other places – Cawnpur, Jhansi, Lucknow. Madness will soon be let loose.
I often feel that the answers that elude me today were within my grasp a short while ago. They are somewhere near, yet unreachable, like the time gone by.
I promise to look for them once I have found her again. For she, I feel, holds a part of it.
So every evening, I try to escape this madness by thinking about her, Princess Meera of Navgarh, a rebel soldier and my wife. It is the third year of our marriage. Three years of tenuous links and fragile understanding. It was only a matter of time before an explosion happened. And it happened that eventful week when Navgarh too burnt in the fire raging all across India. The news that the sepoys in Meerut had rebelled spurred both of us. Did I expect Meera to be a dutiful wife when all her beliefs, her convictions pulled her in the opposite direction? Was I surprised on knowing that she was in Delhi, amongst the rebels? Would she be surprised on knowing that I have followed her as an enemy… a British officer? And as I follow her, I stand here once again, after five years, outside the walls of the Red Fort in Delhi.

 

 

 

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About the author


Delhi-born Vandana Shanker is the author of the series 1857 Dust of Ages, a historical fiction set in the year of the great uprising in India. A PhD from IIT Delhi, Vandana is passionate about history, storytelling and art. Apart from writing, she teaches literature and creative writing in Malaysia. She has also taught in Universities in India and Vietnam. She currently lives in Kuala Lumpur with her family and wants to travel the world. 

 

 

 

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