Renovation Gone Very Wrong
I was always flying for work, so I left the whole renovation thing to my husband, Daxton Pruitt.
This time, my flight got scrapped last minute, so I swung by the house to check in.
The second I stepped inside, some woman named Mona Scambley, who claimed she was the designer, chucked a stack of invoices at me.
Couples' lingerie display case: $15,000.
High-end waterbed: $40,000.
One glance at that pile of overpriced tacky nonsense made me nauseous. My brows pulled tight.
"Ms. Scambley, this is a private house, not some couples' motel. What is all this?"
Her face flipped in a heartbeat. She jabbed a finger at me. "The owner gave those orders. You're just the site supervisor. Disobey me a
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