Stuart Spencer hated his hotel room excessively. The only advantage to being in New York was that his wife was in London and couldn’t hound him about sticking to his diet. He’d ordered up a club sandwich from room service and was savoring each bite. He was a portly, balding man without the jolly disposition expected from one with his looks. A blister on his heel plagued him, as did a persistent head cold. After he’d gulped half a cup of tea, he decided with cranky British chauvinism that Americans simply couldn/t brew decent tea no matter how much they tried. He wanted a hot bath, a cup of good Earl Grey, and an hour of quite, but, he feared, the restless man standing by the window was going to force hi to postpone all of that…perhaps indefinitely. [download]
Format : Ebook.Pdf
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