Fitting The Pieces (The Riverdale Series Book 3) - Plot & Excerpts
He was sprawled out on his stomach, the sheets twisted around his legs. He rolled over and found the courage to open his eyes, deciding it would take a small miracle to get him to lift his head upright. What the fuck did he drink? Then to answer his question, his memory flashed back to the night before and his little deal with the bartender to keep his glass full at all times. Apparently, it was money well spent, because he was suffering the mother of all hangovers. He ran his hand down his bare stomach absent-mindedly as he solemnly swore never to drink scotch again. He yawned and stretched one arm over his head, glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand. He raised an eyebrow when he realized he had slept way past six a.m. when he saw it was nearly noon. Sighing, he forced himself to sit up. He needed to get himself into gear and go pick up his daughter from his parent’s house. He grimaced as the room swayed when he threw his long bare legs over the edge of the bed.
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