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» Devil May CareSebastian Faulks
It was a wet evening in Paris. On the slate roofs of the big boulevards and on the small mansards of the Latin quarter, the rain kept up a ceaseless patter.
» Deaf SentenceDavid Lodge
'Who was that young blonde you were deep in conversation with?' Fred asked me in the car on the way home. She was driving because she hadn't had much to drink and I had had quite a lot.
» Mr. S and the Secrets of Andorra's BoxRoss O'Carroll-Kelly
'Er . . . run that by me again?'
'A Divorce Fair,' he goes. And he's, like, totally serious. In the RDS, of all places. 'Divorce and fair,' I go. 'Two words I never thought I'd hear in the same sentence,' which you have to admit is a cracking line. 'Dude, why?'
» The Atlantis CodeCharles Brokaw
Thomas Lourds abandoned the comfort of the stretch limousine with reluctance and an unaccustomed sense of foreboding. He usually enjoyed opportunities to talk about his work, not to mention the chance to solicit funding for archaeological programmes he believed in and consulted for. But not today.
» Open-HandedChris Binchy
A smooth midsummer evening. Two-thirds full. Fourhundred-and-fifty-euro rack rate, two hundred minimum for a walk-in, although depending on who was around there might be room for negotiation.
» The Widows of EastwickJohn Updike
Those of us acquainted with their sordid and scandalous story were not surprised to hear, by way of rumours from the various localities where the sorceresses had settled after fleeing our pleasant town of Eastwick, Rhode Island, that the husbands whom the three Godforsaken women had by their dark arts concocted for themselves did not prove durable.
» The Beach HouseJane Green
The bike crunches along the gravel path, weaving around the potholes that could present danger to someone who didn't know the road like the back of their hand.
» The Lost Diaries of Adrian Mole, 1999-2001Sue Townsend
I have not kept a diary since fire destroyed my house, furniture, clothes, books and life savings. The arsonist, Eleanor Flood, is residing in a secure unit, where she is doing an MA. Her dissertation is entitled 'The Phoenix - Myth Or Metaphor?' I know, because she writes to me occasionally.
» Girl FridayJane Green
One of the unexpected bonuses of divorce, Kit Hargrove realizes, as she settles onto the porch swing, curling her feet up under her and placing a glass of chilled wine on the wicker table, is having weekends without the children...
» At the City's EdgeMarcus Sakey
His heart pumps fire. Jason's feet are impossibly heavy, and his world is blurring. Shin muscles stretch to snapping, rubber bands wound too tight. When they began racing, the breeze was like cool water he could melt into.
» Pack Up the MoonAnna McPartlin
It was early March and raining. The clouds were relieving themselves with a ferocity akin to a drunk urinating after fourteen pints.
» The Lost Book of SalemKatherine Howe
Peter Petford slipped a long wooden spoon into the simmering iron pot of lentils hanging over the fire and tried to push the worry from his stomach. He edged his low stool nearer to the hearth and leaned forward, one elbow propped on his knee, breathing in the aroma of stewed split peas mixed with burning apple wood.
» The HelpKathryn Stockett
Mae Mobley was born on a early Sunday morning in August, 1960. A church baby we like to call it. Taking care a white babies, that's what I do, along with all the cooking and the cleaning. I done raised seventeen kids in my lifetime.
» OutliersMalcolm Gladwell
out*li*er \- li-(- e)r\ noun
1: something that is situated away from or classed differently
from a main or related body
2: a statistical observation that is markedly different in
value from the others of the sample
» The Ascent of MoneyNiall Ferguson
Bread, cash, dosh, dough, loot, lucre, moolah, readies, the wherewithal: call it what you like, money matters. To Christians, the love of it is the root of all evil. To generals, it is the sinews of war; to revolutionaries, the shackles of labour. But what exactly is money?



