Alessandra Chelf

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John Rachel
“The spring breeze felt like the warm breath of a child on Kumiko’s face. It played delicately with her hair like tiny fingers, and made the trees whisper a breathless song.”
John Rachel, Love Connection: Romance in the Land of the Rising Sun

Sara Pascoe
“And she was right. No matter how they tried, the two humans, with the cat but without the microchip, couldn’t connect to headquarters. Raya heard a loud popping sound in her mind, like a huge rubber band being snapped, like a glider plane released from a Piper Cub.”
Sara Pascoe, Being a Witch, and Other Things I Didn't Ask For

Miriam Verbeek
“Satisfied, Sundae trotted to a bush near the lake, dug vigorously for some seconds and pulled out a bone deliciously covered in mud and bits of vegetation. She took her prize to a still-sunny patch of grass and began to gnaw at it. Two magpies, their greyish necks identifying them as juveniles, landed on a nearby branch. Sundae paused, eyes flicking up to stare at the birds, then returned to attend to the bone. One of the magpies swooped down and landed on the lawn a couple of metres away from the dog. Sunny’s top lip trembled up in the prelude of a snarl. The magpie approached the dog. Sundae’s body tensed, lip furling up further, eyes focused on the agitator. The magpie inched closer. When it was half a metre away, Sundae launched. The bird flew back to the branch next to its companion. Then both birds threw their heads back and let out a rollicking call; it sounded like laughter. Rumbling a growl, Sundae returned to her bone, casting baleful glares at the birds as she gnawed.
Saskia and Tania chuckled.
“For all of my life, I have watched the magpies and dogs of Woodgrove play this game,” Tania said. “And every time I see it, I have to laugh.”
Miriam Verbeek, The Forest: A thrilling international crime novel

“I don’t like anything pointing at me, dollface, that includes an umbrella, a finger, or a gun, got it?”
A.G. Russo, The Cases Nobody Wanted

K.  Ritz
“If one does not react to gossip, the informer hushes more quickly.”
K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

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