Mary Heron

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They’d dragged me to a chair outside the room and were trying to keep me in it despite my limp body’s insistence on eating floor tile. “Oops,” the nurse said. “Got her?” “I had her the first time. She just keeps slipping out of my grip. She’s like really heavy spaghetti.” “What?” I shrieked, jerking to my senses. “How heavy? What happened?”
First Grave on the Right (Charley Davidson #1)
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