Identity Crisis -- Chapter 11
Sam McRae Mystery #1
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I lay back on the bed with a groan, stared at the pebbled plaster ceiling of our motel room, and prayed for the day to end quickly.
Melanie sat cross-legged on the other bed, watching some show about young female lawyers in microminis and “fuck me” Manolo Blahniks, who couldn’t understand why the senior partners at their firm weren’t taking…
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