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This title is printed to order. This book may have been self-published. If so, we cannot guarantee the quality of the content. In the main most books will have gone through the editing process however some may not. We therefore suggest that you be aware of this before ordering this book. If in doubt check either the author or publisher’s details as we are unable to accept any returns unless they are faulty. Please contact us if you have any questions.
So,
gentle reader, open up this book, pick out a tale at random, doesn’t matter
which, and put your feet up on the old swaybacked sofa in this ancient
tumbledown rose cottage at the end of the sandy lane. Listen. Outside the
window, a summer nor'easter is brewing. The wind finds a shrill banshee
voice. It rattles the shingles and mists hard, chill raindrops off the grey
slop dancing out in the harbor…Listen. Thomas Woodbriar’s calm baritone
introduces you to his world, this tiny crescent of sanddune and beach plum
and cobblestone, such a sweetly mad tempest in a cracked, old teapot, this
Naugahide that he knows so intimately… (From the introduction by Phil
Laughing Crow Austin)
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This title is printed to order. This book may have been self-published. If so, we cannot guarantee the quality of the content. In the main most books will have gone through the editing process however some may not. We therefore suggest that you be aware of this before ordering this book. If in doubt check either the author or publisher’s details as we are unable to accept any returns unless they are faulty. Please contact us if you have any questions.
So,
gentle reader, open up this book, pick out a tale at random, doesn’t matter
which, and put your feet up on the old swaybacked sofa in this ancient
tumbledown rose cottage at the end of the sandy lane. Listen. Outside the
window, a summer nor'easter is brewing. The wind finds a shrill banshee
voice. It rattles the shingles and mists hard, chill raindrops off the grey
slop dancing out in the harbor…Listen. Thomas Woodbriar’s calm baritone
introduces you to his world, this tiny crescent of sanddune and beach plum
and cobblestone, such a sweetly mad tempest in a cracked, old teapot, this
Naugahide that he knows so intimately… (From the introduction by Phil
Laughing Crow Austin)