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THE MALIBU GIRLS CLUB | 3
Yawn.
It was way too early to be up and about. But I was, against my wishes. And I was behind schedule. Snooze buttons should be outlawed.
I would have to hurry if I was going to do the "thing" that morning.
As I rushed to get dressed and figure out which suitcase compartments held my sunglasses and other gear, I tried not to think about where I should have been at that hour--or how jet-lagged I was. Or how there was no coffee in the house.
If there had been one available room at the Malibu Beach Inn, I, at that moment, would have been ensconced in a plush robe and sitting on an ocean-front patio, enjoying the lapping waves along with a carafe of steaming hot coffee and one of Marmalade's low-fat cranberry-orange muffins. But no rooms. No cancellations. Tourist season in Malibu is a terrible inconvenience. Some might say a real pain in the ass. But I've been trying not to swear. Copyrighted Material
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