by Holly Schofield The penthouse door shut behind Clive. Mike scowled at his back. Weenie. Next-door neighbours as children, Clive had deserved whatever Mike had dished out to him. Now, Mike had convinced Clive to let him sleep on the sofa until he got back on his feet. Mike munched Camembert, hunted through drawers, […]
About Holly Schofield
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