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Blue Devil Suite
House of Shadows
When Peggy Cameron was sent by her rich boss to bid for the old Federal Hotel, she had no idea the place was haunted--or that she would become the victim of two attacks. Peggy discovered a handsome neighbor, a mysterious grave, and a fiendish plot. Some one would do anything to keep Peggy from the secret of Blue Devil Suite.
When Peggy Cameron was sent by her rich boss to bid for the old Federal Hotel, she had no idea the place was haunted--or that she would become the victim of two attacks. Peggy discovered a handsome neighbor, a mysterious grave, and a fiendish plot. Some one would do anything to keep Peggy from the secret of Blue Devil Suite.
157 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1968
About the author
Dorothy Daniels
166 books34 followersAccording to a mini-biography, accompanied by a photograph, on the rear cover of one of her many gothic novels, Dorothy Daniels was born in Connecticut but by the time she was a full-time writer, in the middle 1960's, was living in California. She was initially an English teacher at a state college but later wrote articles that appeared in national magazines, which led to her career as a writer of mostly gothic paperbacks. Lancer books, which published more than twenty of her novels, proclaimed her "America's Most Popular Gothic Novelist" while Pocket Books claimed her gothic novels had sold over eleven million copies by the middle 1970's. Her approximately 146 novels were published by a dozen paperback publishers, some had as many as four printings while others were printed only once. Lancer and Warner Books together published more than sixty of her novels. The vast majority of her novels were written in the first person and this was a trademark of sorts with Dorothy Daniels, as she rarely strayed from this pattern. Several of her novels take place in the Old South. Her novels were also considerably more involving plot-wise and contained more character development than other gothic novels. She published her last gothic novel, "House of Silence", in late 1980. Afterward she wrote a handfull of historical romances and her last published novel appears to be "Crisis at Valcour" in 1985.
The aforementioned photograph on the rear cover of her 1965 book "Cliffside Castle" contradicts some claims that Dorothy Daniels was male, and at least one internet website's author insists that Dorothy Daniels was actually a man named Paul Hugo Little who lived in Chicago and wrote over 700 books under at least a dozen pseudonyms. We may never know for certain who Dorothy Daniels was. Several of her gothic paperbacks, credited to Dorothy Daniels or Suzanne Somers, were copyrighted by Norman Daniels. She published one novel, "House of False Faces", under the pseudonym Helen Gray Weston, but this book was later reissued as "Dorothy Daniels writing as Helen Gray Weston". She wrote three nurse romance books in addition to her many gothic novels.
Also wrote under the names:
Angela Gray
Cynthia Kavanaugh
Helaine Ross
Suzanne Somers
Geraldine Thayer
Helen Gray Weston
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
The aforementioned photograph on the rear cover of her 1965 book "Cliffside Castle" contradicts some claims that Dorothy Daniels was male, and at least one internet website's author insists that Dorothy Daniels was actually a man named Paul Hugo Little who lived in Chicago and wrote over 700 books under at least a dozen pseudonyms. We may never know for certain who Dorothy Daniels was. Several of her gothic paperbacks, credited to Dorothy Daniels or Suzanne Somers, were copyrighted by Norman Daniels. She published one novel, "House of False Faces", under the pseudonym Helen Gray Weston, but this book was later reissued as "Dorothy Daniels writing as Helen Gray Weston". She wrote three nurse romance books in addition to her many gothic novels.
Also wrote under the names:
Angela Gray
Cynthia Kavanaugh
Helaine Ross
Suzanne Somers
Geraldine Thayer
Helen Gray Weston
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
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March 29, 2020
“Fortune may rise up or abuse the ordinary mortal, but the sage should have minds beyond her control.” – Sir Walter Scott
As I read through the story’s opening pages, I learned that the story was set in 1890.
Soon after, I was introduced to Peggy Cameron, the social secretary to a wealthy and influential woman named Sara Addison.
Peggy finds herself in the town of Coronado, located some 40 miles west of Saratoga Springs, New York. The purpose of her visit is to purchase a hotel on behalf of her boss. And it’s not just any hotel, but rather the once-grand Federal that had suddenly closed four years previously.
As the months and years pass, the property becomes grown over and neglected. The memories of well-dressed guests, manicured grounds and prestigious racetrack have faded from the collective memories of the locals.
That very morning, Peggy departs from her overnight accommodation, bound for the Town Hall.
The Federal is scheduled to be auctioned at 10:00 am, she doesn’t want to be late.
She opens the front door, finding herself in front of the office of the Town’s tax assessor and collector, a wizened little man named Latimer.
I found it a rather amusing exchange:
“Good morning,” he said brightly. “Is there something I can do for you, Miss?”
“I wish to know where the auction for the Federal Hotel is to be held,” I said.
“Why…right here.” He was unexplainably quite flustered. “In two or three minutes, according to the advertising the law says had to be published. What about it, Miss?”
“I intend to bid, sir.”
I couldn’t have startled him more had I given a huff and puff and vanished in a cloud of smoke to reappear as a dragon. Though a small man, he sat down slowly and heavily.
“You…want to bid for the Federal Hotel?”
“That’s correct,” I said. Behind him was a wall clock, ticking noisily in the silence which immediately followed my announcement and his amazed exclamation. “It is now one minute of ten, sir. Are you the auctioneer?”
He nodded, still unable to speak.
“Very well.” I said. “It is my understanding that the property is to be sold in order that the taxes on it can be paid. Its owners have been unable to pay, or are unwilling to pay, so the town will take it over unless someone bids in a sum at least equal to the amount of the tax lien.”
He nodded again, having absolutely no argument, Mrs. Sara Addison’s lawyer had taught me well and I knew exactly where I stood on this matter.
“The auction has been legally advertised,” I said. “It is now ten o’clock, sir. I seem to be the only bidder. May I ask what the amount of the tax default is?”
He didn’t even have to look at any document. “Sixteen thousand, four hundred seventy dollars and eighty cents,” he said, as if that would now end the matter.
“thank you,” I inclined my head slightly in a polite nod. “I bid that amount plus one dollar.”
“But…but…I have to notify the owners…I have to talk to the selectmen. Nobody thought there’d be and bids. The hotel ain’t worth a dollar and a half, Miss. That’s the truth. Not a dollar and a half. The land is worth something, but not as much as you bid. No ma’am, not nearly as much.”
“I have bid one dollar over and above the arrears in taxes,” I repeated. “Please ask aloud if there are any other bids, and if not, you must now declare the Federal Hotel, its appurtenances, its contents and the land, including the racetrack, sold to me. My name is Miss Peggy Cameron. I now place before you a certified check for the amount of twenty thousand dollars. The difference is to be paid into my account which I shall open in your local bank as soon as you give me the documents of ownership, sir.”
He stood up. “There has been a bid of one dollar over and above the tax lien in the property known as the Federal Hotel,” he intoned. “Do I hear any other bids? Going once. Going twice. Going three times and sold to…Miss Peggy Cameron.”
He smacked the top of the oak desk with the heel of his hand and the auction was completed. I handed him the check and sat down quite primly to await his delivery of the documents attesting to my ownership. These were procured in short order. The more complete records of sale would be given me later. I offered the little man my hand, murmured a polite, “Good day, sir,” and walked out, the owner of a three hundred-room hotel which up to four years ago had been one of the foremost fashionable spas in the country…
Loved this scene!
I also had a strong feeling, by the feel of the story in its early stages, that I’d really enjoy this one.
And as we read on, we find that the key to the front door accompanied the bill of sale. Peggy was yearning to explore the inside of the hotel, but first stopped at the railroad station to send a telegram to Mrs. Addison at her home on Fifth Avenue in New York City:
HAVE COMPLETED DEAL STOP FEDERAL HOTEL PAID FOR DOLLAR ABOVE LIEN AND NOW IN MY NAME STOP SIGNED PEGGY
She then walks down main street till she reached the livery stable where she hires a buggy.
Moments later she’s riding out on the dirt road in the direction of the hotel and its racetrack. Soon she reached the hotel:
“It was a four-story wooden structure. There were cupolas on the roof, ornamental carvings, and a wide stairway on each side and another in front, all of which led to the porch. I guessed that twenty people abreast could have mounted the stairs. The porch went around three sides of the building.
Now the windows were dirty, the porch dust covered, with little piles of leaves nestling in the corners, last autumn’s dead foliage. The many colonnades rising from the floor of the porch to the roof over it had once been festooned with ivy and other green, growing plants. Only wisps of them were left and the white paint on the columns was peeling.
I had an eerie feeling that I was looking at a house of ghosts!”
Peggy reaches the great double doors, debating whether or not she should go any further. She finally summons the courage to draw the key and insert it in the big brass lock.
She opens the door and is taken aback by the spaciousness of the two-story-high lobby with its massive chandeliers and curved staircases. She crosses the lobby, then the dining room, then back outside through another set of doors, and almost immediately a thick pedestal of white marble supporting a life-sized sculpture of a racehorse done in black marble comes into view.
It is a stunning piece of work.
She inspects a bronze plaque at the foot of it. Pulling the growth aside, she reads:
BLUE DEVIL - 1879-1886 – “His Heart Was In Each Race”
Peggy thinks about it, she had heard of the Blue Devil, one of the greatest racehorses of all time.
This was a monument to him. This is where he’d gained most of his fame, at the track behind the hotel.
She re-enters the hotel, now venturing through the kitchen and later the ballroom,
“Here, the remnants of luxury were more vivid than anywhere else in the old hotel. Gold chairs still lined the walls. On a dais, there stood a grand piano, with a golden harp beside it. I counted sixteen chandeliers and there were innumerable wall brackets for candles or gaslight. The walls were papered in rich red, with flowery design. The dusty, limp draperies were of the same color.”
As she walked through the ballroom, the question suddenly came to her, “Why had Mrs. Addison wished to have this desolate and abandoned hotel purchased?” She realized that it was prudent for the wealthy woman to have her social secretary act as an agent in the purchase, as the price would’ve gone high if it was discovered that she was after the title to the property.
She then decides to walk upstairs to the second floor. First, she went behind the desk, locating the keys to the upstairs rooms, then ascends the staircase. There she unlocks doors and inspects each room, one a parlor with a bedroom and bathroom, all the furnishings and décor, despite its disuse, was very pleasing to the eye. She went on to investigate the remaining suites, then locked them tight again.
There was nothing more she could do here now. The mystery of why Mrs. Addison purchased this property could be answered when she arrived to inspect it herself.
Peggy was turning to descend the staircase when she hears a distinct creak of wood.
It was coming from downstairs.
She hadn’t noticed anyone else on the grounds or inside the hotel, so she proceeded curiously, until she found herself looking at a young man standing at the foot of the stairway. She stopped short, looking down at him,
“Very well Miss,” he said, Come down here at once.”
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” I asked.
He looked flabbergasted, “I was about to ask the same of you, this building is not open to the public, Miss. I don’t know how you got in, but I was passing by and I saw the front doors open wide…”
“It so happens I have a perfect right to be here,” Peggy retorts.
“I beg to disagree, Miss. No one is allowed in here. The owner locked the doors four years ago after a tragedy.”
Peggy demands to know what he’s speaking of, but he simply reasserts that she must leave. She then informs the man that she purchased the property, a fact that takes him aback, “You…bought this hotel?”
She offers to show him the documents of ownership, but the man says he believes her.
Then Peggy remembered what he said earlier, “What tragedy were you referring to?”
“You don’t know?” He asks in amazement.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
That’s when he introduces himself as Lee Ashely, Peggy introduces herself as well.
Lee then tells her that his father once managed this hotel and that now they own a small inn on the outskirts of Coronado, “I’ll be more than honored if you’ll be my guest,” he offers.
“I will be pleased to accept your gracious invitation, and may I ask if you have a room available at your inn?” She suddenly remembered how displeasing her experience at the King’s Hotel was the previous evening.
“I’m sure we have one which will meet with your approval,” he replied with a smile.
She offers to rent a room, sight unseen, and he suggests she gather her things from the other hotel and continue at his inn. She was relieved at the proposal; anything would’ve been an improvement over the King’s Hotel.
They prepare to leave, when Lee offers to lock up while she waits on the porch. When he locks the front door he is perplexed, “That lock should be rusty, difficult to turn, or did you have it oiled?”
“I did not,” Peggy replies, “And I’ll confess I was confused as you when it turned so easily – as if it had been recently oiled.”
Lee is looking at the lock with a frown on his face, “To my knowledge, no one had ever been here since it was closed…but there are those in the village who say they have seen flickering lights in some of the windows. Bluish lights, and others have claimed to have heard a horse racing around the track behind the hotel. Tales which I put down as mere gossip and foolish superstition, but the fact that this lock has been oiled gives me reason to pause a moment and not deride such stories as the products of fanciful imaginations…”
There was a silence between them for a moment.
All that in the first chapter of the book. An amazing mystery followed, one that included: Eerie nighttime happens at the deserted racetrack, an anonymous cleaner and perfumer, the tale of a vanished hotel guest, white robed figures, trespassing jockeys and the final chapter that was so intriguing I found myself madly flipping one page after another.
This is the second Dorothy Daniels book I’ve read, the first being “Mystic Manor” in 2018. As I consider both of these stories, I realize how much I enjoyed the way she expertly “seasons” her books with unique details that, when put together in concert, allow me to escape into a time and place of wonder and delight.
I’m avidly conferring five brilliant stars to “Blue Devil Suite” by the legendary Dorothy Daniels.
As I read through the story’s opening pages, I learned that the story was set in 1890.
Soon after, I was introduced to Peggy Cameron, the social secretary to a wealthy and influential woman named Sara Addison.
Peggy finds herself in the town of Coronado, located some 40 miles west of Saratoga Springs, New York. The purpose of her visit is to purchase a hotel on behalf of her boss. And it’s not just any hotel, but rather the once-grand Federal that had suddenly closed four years previously.
As the months and years pass, the property becomes grown over and neglected. The memories of well-dressed guests, manicured grounds and prestigious racetrack have faded from the collective memories of the locals.
That very morning, Peggy departs from her overnight accommodation, bound for the Town Hall.
The Federal is scheduled to be auctioned at 10:00 am, she doesn’t want to be late.
She opens the front door, finding herself in front of the office of the Town’s tax assessor and collector, a wizened little man named Latimer.
I found it a rather amusing exchange:
“Good morning,” he said brightly. “Is there something I can do for you, Miss?”
“I wish to know where the auction for the Federal Hotel is to be held,” I said.
“Why…right here.” He was unexplainably quite flustered. “In two or three minutes, according to the advertising the law says had to be published. What about it, Miss?”
“I intend to bid, sir.”
I couldn’t have startled him more had I given a huff and puff and vanished in a cloud of smoke to reappear as a dragon. Though a small man, he sat down slowly and heavily.
“You…want to bid for the Federal Hotel?”
“That’s correct,” I said. Behind him was a wall clock, ticking noisily in the silence which immediately followed my announcement and his amazed exclamation. “It is now one minute of ten, sir. Are you the auctioneer?”
He nodded, still unable to speak.
“Very well.” I said. “It is my understanding that the property is to be sold in order that the taxes on it can be paid. Its owners have been unable to pay, or are unwilling to pay, so the town will take it over unless someone bids in a sum at least equal to the amount of the tax lien.”
He nodded again, having absolutely no argument, Mrs. Sara Addison’s lawyer had taught me well and I knew exactly where I stood on this matter.
“The auction has been legally advertised,” I said. “It is now ten o’clock, sir. I seem to be the only bidder. May I ask what the amount of the tax default is?”
He didn’t even have to look at any document. “Sixteen thousand, four hundred seventy dollars and eighty cents,” he said, as if that would now end the matter.
“thank you,” I inclined my head slightly in a polite nod. “I bid that amount plus one dollar.”
“But…but…I have to notify the owners…I have to talk to the selectmen. Nobody thought there’d be and bids. The hotel ain’t worth a dollar and a half, Miss. That’s the truth. Not a dollar and a half. The land is worth something, but not as much as you bid. No ma’am, not nearly as much.”
“I have bid one dollar over and above the arrears in taxes,” I repeated. “Please ask aloud if there are any other bids, and if not, you must now declare the Federal Hotel, its appurtenances, its contents and the land, including the racetrack, sold to me. My name is Miss Peggy Cameron. I now place before you a certified check for the amount of twenty thousand dollars. The difference is to be paid into my account which I shall open in your local bank as soon as you give me the documents of ownership, sir.”
He stood up. “There has been a bid of one dollar over and above the tax lien in the property known as the Federal Hotel,” he intoned. “Do I hear any other bids? Going once. Going twice. Going three times and sold to…Miss Peggy Cameron.”
He smacked the top of the oak desk with the heel of his hand and the auction was completed. I handed him the check and sat down quite primly to await his delivery of the documents attesting to my ownership. These were procured in short order. The more complete records of sale would be given me later. I offered the little man my hand, murmured a polite, “Good day, sir,” and walked out, the owner of a three hundred-room hotel which up to four years ago had been one of the foremost fashionable spas in the country…
Loved this scene!
I also had a strong feeling, by the feel of the story in its early stages, that I’d really enjoy this one.
And as we read on, we find that the key to the front door accompanied the bill of sale. Peggy was yearning to explore the inside of the hotel, but first stopped at the railroad station to send a telegram to Mrs. Addison at her home on Fifth Avenue in New York City:
HAVE COMPLETED DEAL STOP FEDERAL HOTEL PAID FOR DOLLAR ABOVE LIEN AND NOW IN MY NAME STOP SIGNED PEGGY
She then walks down main street till she reached the livery stable where she hires a buggy.
Moments later she’s riding out on the dirt road in the direction of the hotel and its racetrack. Soon she reached the hotel:
“It was a four-story wooden structure. There were cupolas on the roof, ornamental carvings, and a wide stairway on each side and another in front, all of which led to the porch. I guessed that twenty people abreast could have mounted the stairs. The porch went around three sides of the building.
Now the windows were dirty, the porch dust covered, with little piles of leaves nestling in the corners, last autumn’s dead foliage. The many colonnades rising from the floor of the porch to the roof over it had once been festooned with ivy and other green, growing plants. Only wisps of them were left and the white paint on the columns was peeling.
I had an eerie feeling that I was looking at a house of ghosts!”
Peggy reaches the great double doors, debating whether or not she should go any further. She finally summons the courage to draw the key and insert it in the big brass lock.
She opens the door and is taken aback by the spaciousness of the two-story-high lobby with its massive chandeliers and curved staircases. She crosses the lobby, then the dining room, then back outside through another set of doors, and almost immediately a thick pedestal of white marble supporting a life-sized sculpture of a racehorse done in black marble comes into view.
It is a stunning piece of work.
She inspects a bronze plaque at the foot of it. Pulling the growth aside, she reads:
BLUE DEVIL - 1879-1886 – “His Heart Was In Each Race”
Peggy thinks about it, she had heard of the Blue Devil, one of the greatest racehorses of all time.
This was a monument to him. This is where he’d gained most of his fame, at the track behind the hotel.
She re-enters the hotel, now venturing through the kitchen and later the ballroom,
“Here, the remnants of luxury were more vivid than anywhere else in the old hotel. Gold chairs still lined the walls. On a dais, there stood a grand piano, with a golden harp beside it. I counted sixteen chandeliers and there were innumerable wall brackets for candles or gaslight. The walls were papered in rich red, with flowery design. The dusty, limp draperies were of the same color.”
As she walked through the ballroom, the question suddenly came to her, “Why had Mrs. Addison wished to have this desolate and abandoned hotel purchased?” She realized that it was prudent for the wealthy woman to have her social secretary act as an agent in the purchase, as the price would’ve gone high if it was discovered that she was after the title to the property.
She then decides to walk upstairs to the second floor. First, she went behind the desk, locating the keys to the upstairs rooms, then ascends the staircase. There she unlocks doors and inspects each room, one a parlor with a bedroom and bathroom, all the furnishings and décor, despite its disuse, was very pleasing to the eye. She went on to investigate the remaining suites, then locked them tight again.
There was nothing more she could do here now. The mystery of why Mrs. Addison purchased this property could be answered when she arrived to inspect it herself.
Peggy was turning to descend the staircase when she hears a distinct creak of wood.
It was coming from downstairs.
She hadn’t noticed anyone else on the grounds or inside the hotel, so she proceeded curiously, until she found herself looking at a young man standing at the foot of the stairway. She stopped short, looking down at him,
“Very well Miss,” he said, Come down here at once.”
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” I asked.
He looked flabbergasted, “I was about to ask the same of you, this building is not open to the public, Miss. I don’t know how you got in, but I was passing by and I saw the front doors open wide…”
“It so happens I have a perfect right to be here,” Peggy retorts.
“I beg to disagree, Miss. No one is allowed in here. The owner locked the doors four years ago after a tragedy.”
Peggy demands to know what he’s speaking of, but he simply reasserts that she must leave. She then informs the man that she purchased the property, a fact that takes him aback, “You…bought this hotel?”
She offers to show him the documents of ownership, but the man says he believes her.
Then Peggy remembered what he said earlier, “What tragedy were you referring to?”
“You don’t know?” He asks in amazement.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
That’s when he introduces himself as Lee Ashely, Peggy introduces herself as well.
Lee then tells her that his father once managed this hotel and that now they own a small inn on the outskirts of Coronado, “I’ll be more than honored if you’ll be my guest,” he offers.
“I will be pleased to accept your gracious invitation, and may I ask if you have a room available at your inn?” She suddenly remembered how displeasing her experience at the King’s Hotel was the previous evening.
“I’m sure we have one which will meet with your approval,” he replied with a smile.
She offers to rent a room, sight unseen, and he suggests she gather her things from the other hotel and continue at his inn. She was relieved at the proposal; anything would’ve been an improvement over the King’s Hotel.
They prepare to leave, when Lee offers to lock up while she waits on the porch. When he locks the front door he is perplexed, “That lock should be rusty, difficult to turn, or did you have it oiled?”
“I did not,” Peggy replies, “And I’ll confess I was confused as you when it turned so easily – as if it had been recently oiled.”
Lee is looking at the lock with a frown on his face, “To my knowledge, no one had ever been here since it was closed…but there are those in the village who say they have seen flickering lights in some of the windows. Bluish lights, and others have claimed to have heard a horse racing around the track behind the hotel. Tales which I put down as mere gossip and foolish superstition, but the fact that this lock has been oiled gives me reason to pause a moment and not deride such stories as the products of fanciful imaginations…”
There was a silence between them for a moment.
All that in the first chapter of the book. An amazing mystery followed, one that included: Eerie nighttime happens at the deserted racetrack, an anonymous cleaner and perfumer, the tale of a vanished hotel guest, white robed figures, trespassing jockeys and the final chapter that was so intriguing I found myself madly flipping one page after another.
This is the second Dorothy Daniels book I’ve read, the first being “Mystic Manor” in 2018. As I consider both of these stories, I realize how much I enjoyed the way she expertly “seasons” her books with unique details that, when put together in concert, allow me to escape into a time and place of wonder and delight.
I’m avidly conferring five brilliant stars to “Blue Devil Suite” by the legendary Dorothy Daniels.
May 10, 2012
The protagonist Peggy Cameron embarks on a seemingly straightforward task that leads her into a web of haunting secrets and danger. Sent by her wealthy employer to bid on the old Federal Hotel, Peggy soon discovers that the place is not only haunted but that she herself becomes the target of two sinister attacks. As she delves deeper into the mysteries surrounding the hotel, Peggy uncovers a handsome neighbor, an enigmatic grave, and a chilling plot. Someone will stop at nothing to prevent Peggy from uncovering the secret of Blue Devil Suite.
The book combines the elements of a classic gothic romance with a strong and independent female lead. Peggy Cameron's character is compelling, drawing readers into her journey as she navigates through eerie encounters and unearths the truth hidden within the hotel's walls. Dorothy Daniels crafts an unforgettable story, skillfully blending mystery, romance, and a touch of the supernatural.
As a fan of gothic romances, I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The atmospheric setting and the well-developed characters added depth to the narrative, keeping me engrossed from beginning to end. Daniels' writing style is captivating, drawing readers into the story with its evocative descriptions and compelling plot twists.
The book combines the elements of a classic gothic romance with a strong and independent female lead. Peggy Cameron's character is compelling, drawing readers into her journey as she navigates through eerie encounters and unearths the truth hidden within the hotel's walls. Dorothy Daniels crafts an unforgettable story, skillfully blending mystery, romance, and a touch of the supernatural.
As a fan of gothic romances, I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The atmospheric setting and the well-developed characters added depth to the narrative, keeping me engrossed from beginning to end. Daniels' writing style is captivating, drawing readers into the story with its evocative descriptions and compelling plot twists.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews