Accolade sat back in the chair and parked her motorbike boots on the desk. Eye-balling the fresh vodka martini with a grin, she relaxed and took an appreciative sip.
“‘Twas the night before Christmas,” she quoted and settled her shoulders back, “and I am going to get rip roaring drunk.”
Pursing her lips, she held up the glass and toasted her boots. “My wish for Christmas this Continue reading