Chrissy Sutherland

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It had been a long, wearying preparation, and I hadn’t even started with the magic yet, but if the spell could help me nail the bad guys quicker, the hours of effort would be well worth it. Silence and focus ruled. I was ready. And then the fucking phone rang about a foot from my ear. It is possible that I made some kind of unmanly noise when I jumped. My posture-numbed legs didn’t respond as quickly as I needed them to, and I lurched awkwardly to one side, half falling onto the nearest couch. “Dammit!” I screamed in sudden frustration. “Dammit, dammit, dammit!”
Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files, #8)
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