Liz Gnidovec

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He has the drooping jowls of a bulldog, a broad forehead, a drunk’s eyes, heavyset, yellow from a liver he’s tortured since he was eleven. There’s something clever to the cut of his mouth, though, like he’s in on a cosmic joke and about to cash out big on the punch line.
Hammers on Bone (Persons Non Grata, #1)
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