Jenny

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The Retired Assas...
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The Bookshop by t...
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The Handsome Man'...
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  (25%)
Jul 14, 2026 10:57AM

 
Book cover for The Shell House Detectives (Shell House Detectives #1)
Perhaps it’s because the sea is never the same: sometimes it’s a faraway murmur, like holding a conch to her ear; other times it’s a thrashing and crashing that shakes everything in its path – nature’s version of stadium rock.
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Clare Pooley
“Perhaps the compulsion to fill every inch of space was because it made him feel less alone,”
Clare Pooley, The Authenticity Project

Hannah Beckerman
“The overriding memory you have of your dad is this all-powerful, tyrannical man. And that’s the version of him you’re still carrying inside you. But that’s not who he is any more. He’s an old man. He’s frail and weak. And perhaps if you saw him like that, it might . . . I don’t know . . . take away some of his power.”
Hannah Beckerman, The Forgetting

D.E. Stevenson
“A particular feature of Stevenson’s oeuvre is the way in which characters that appear in one book may crop up in another context in a quite different title. Readers like this because in a way it reflects the way the world is; our lives are not linear narratives–they are meandering stories that take place in diverse settings and that are peopled by characters who drop in and out at various stages.”
D.E. Stevenson, Winter and Rough Weather

T.J. Klune
“But I allow him to dream of such things because he’s a child, and who knows what the future will bring? Change often starts with the smallest of whispers. Like-minded people building it up to a roar.”
T.J. Klune, The House in the Cerulean Sea

L.J. Ross
“He lifted one tentative hand to cradle her face and watched her eyes darken. Another hand turned her, lifted her face to bestow the gentlest of kisses. As her hands lifted to frame his face, tracing the rough stubble she found there, she felt his momentary shock and it made her reckless. Her fingers arrowed into his black hair to pull him closer, urging him to go on. There was a battle waging inside him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt the desperation in the kiss, could still taste the salty tears on her skin.”
L.J. Ross, Holy Island

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