COMPETITION

Just answer the simple question at the end of the extract to be in with a chance of winning one of 5 copies of The Gift of Darkness.

EXTRACT

Madison leant against the car and drank the milk. It was still misty; maybe the morning light would get rid of it. The breeze from the sea was much stronger now, and brought the lone call of a fog siren. She hugged her heavy mountain jacket and thought about all the things that she wanted to cram into the next 24 hours, and that was when the girl came out of the mist.

Madison noticed her because she looked so young and out of place with her denim jacket and lightweight trousers. She must be freezing. Madison kept looking – the kid might need help. Her hair was baby blond and cut short. She looked 14, just about right for a runaway, small backpack included. She wore pink lipstick and heavy eyeliner, her cheeks flushed with the cold.

Leaning against the car with her coat and baseball cap on, Madison didn’t look the obvious cop, which was good – she didn’t want to spook the kid. Now she could see the dark shadows under her eyes.

‘Hey.’

Her voice broke the girl’s step; she turned toward her and nodded slightly. Madison gave her a half smile so that she wouldn’t think she was some kind of creep, at once realizing that was exactly what she looked like. Experience told her that she was probably sleeping rough, eating not nearly enough, and possibly nursing the beginning of some infection of the respiratory system.

The girl paused, hands deep in her pockets, and with two strides was up the stairs and into the store. She was traveling light, Madison had noticed; the small bag on her shoulders couldn’t hold much, and then there was the thing in the right-hand side of her jacket, the thing her hand had been clutching under the thin white fabric, and she had seen it as the kid was turning away. It had been a cold, sad waste of a night and it was getting worse: what Madison had seen looked like the tip of the butt of a gun. She was up the steps and behind the girl.

The kid was ten feet in front of her, looking at row after row of candy bars, her head swaying very slowly from side to side.

Brown was standing by the cashier and about to pay, four maybe five feet to her right; Spencer and Dunne were at the back of the store. The young couple had piled up their basket with boxes and cartons and were coming toward the cashier. Their chatter had died out and the only sound was the hum from the neon lights and the fridge.

In one movement Madison opened her jacket and unhooked the small leather strip that secured her gun to the holster on her right hip. It wasn’t a good time to remember that the majority of Homicide detectives never even have to draw the damn thing. She took one step toward Brown and touched him on the shoulder, her eyes never leaving the girl. She nodded toward the kid and made a gun with her fingers. Brown raised his eyebrows and unhooked the strip on his holster.

In the pocket of the jacket the hand was clammy and the kid didn’t like it, but she didn’t want to take it out and wipe it against the side of her trousers – that would have been much worse.

She hated the feel of the weight of the metal; it dragged her pocket down on that side. The hand clenched and unclenched around the butt of the gun, her eyes swept over Hershey bars, Mars bars, Reece’s.

Too many names.

The couple put their basket on the desk and an underpaid and overworked clerk started to ring up the items. Madison went up behind them, her voice so soft she could hardly hear it herself.

‘Police. Leave the store.’

‘What—’ The young man opened his mouth and closed it when he saw the flash of the badge on the inside of her jacket.

‘Now. Do not look around. Go.’

Mercifully, they did as they were told, but not without shooting a glance over their shoulders.

The clerk wasn’t as accommodating.

‘What is this—?’

The girl turned around, gun held with both hands at eye level.

‘Nobody move.’

Her voice was shaky but clear and the clerk dove under the bar.

The girl was facing Brown and Madison, the gun moving in jerks between one and the other. Spencer and Dunne had disappeared behind the racks. Madison knew as if she could see them that they both had their pieces out and were figuring out a way to get to the kid without getting either of them shot.

‘You have our attention. What next?’ Brown was calm and in control. Some part of Madison could actually appreciate the man at work.

‘Do as I say. Lie on the ground. Do it.’ The girl’s voice went up and cracked.

Madison could see her breathing getting more labored; they needed to calm her down pretty quick or she’d give herself a heart attack.

‘Do it!’ She was losing it fast.

‘It’s not worth it,’ Brown said. ‘There’s less than fifty bucks in the till. And you’re pointing your piece at two cops.’ He nodded toward his partner.

The girl’s eyes went into ‘Oh shit’ for a fraction of a second. It was long enough.

COMPETITION: Win 1 of 5 copies of Gift of Darkness
 
Twenty-five years ago in the woods near the Hoh River in Seattle, three boys were kidnapped. One did not come home.

A quarter of a decade later, a family of four is found brutally murdered, the words thirteen days scratched near their lifeless bodies.

Homicide Detective Alice Madison ran away from home as a child, one breath away from committing an unforgivable act; as an adult, she found her peace chasing the very worst humanity has to offer. Madison believes these murders are linked. And she has thirteen days to prove it.
 
 

 
Just answer the simple question below to be in with a chance of winning one of 5 copies of The Gift of Darkness.

Email

First Name

Last Name

 

What colour lipstick is the young girl wearing?

•   Pink
•   Red
•   Black

 

This promotion is open to UK residents only. By entering your email address, you agree to receive occasional emails from Quercus Publishing. You can unsubscribe from these at any time.
Read terms and conditions here.
Closing Date: 06.06.2013

Vivien’s Heavenly Ice Cream Shop: the wonderful new book from Abby Clements.

The Missing File: a dazzling detective novel set in Israel.

Isle of the Dead: The gripping new Novel from Alex Connor who has turned her attention to Titian.

When Imogen and Anna unexpectedly inherit their grandmother Vivien’s ice cream parlour, it turns both their lives upside-down. The Brighton shop is a seafront institution, but while it’s big on charm it’s critically low on customers. If the sisters don’t turn things around quickly, their grandmother’s legacy will disappear forever.

With summer looming, Imogen and Anna devise a plan to return Vivien’s to its former glory. Rather than sell up, they will train up, and make the parlour the newest destination on the South Coast foodie map.

While Imogen watches the shop, her sister flies to Italy to attend a gourmet ice cream-making course. But as she works shoulder-to-shoulder with some of the best chefs in the industry, Anna finds that romance can bloom in the most unexpected of places…

Check out our free interactive extract for a sneak peek and also head on over to Abby’s website for more.

A sixteen-year-old boy is missing in a Tel Aviv suburb. His mother is worried. Inspector Avraham Avraham is not. It is unheard of for children to vanish in this city.

‘He’ll be home in an hour, maybe three hours, tomorrow morning at the latest. I can assure you.’

But there’s a first time for everything. And, as time begins to pass, and the boy is still nowhere to be found, Avraham finds himself facing this horrible truth.

The Missing File presents a seemingly average detective and a seemingly routine investigation, and then shows both to be far from what they seem.

There is an interactive free extract/a> for the book and you can rustle up a copy here.

VENICE, ITALY.

CITY OF SPLENDOUR.
In October 1555 the Italian master Titian painted the portrait of Angelico Vespucci – a Venetian merchant whose cruelty words could not capture.

CITY OF SECRETS.
When Vespucci was revealed to be the elusive monster who had been flaying young women across the city, he vanished inexplicably, along with the painting. All that remained was a chilling warning: when the portrait emerges, so will the man.

CITY OF THE SKIN HUNTER.
Now the lost Titian masterpiece has surfaced in modern-day London, and skinless corpses are amassing across the globe. And it will fall to an unlikely man from the fringes of the art world to unravel half a millennia of myth, mystery and murder.

Check out the free kindle eBook of the prequel Blood on the Water.

Delighted to announce America’s George Washington Book Prize, worth $50,000 has been awarded to our very own Stephen Brumwell!

Brumwell won the award with for GEORGE WASHINGTON: GENTLEMAN WARRIOR.  He received it last night (21 May) at a black-tie dinner at George Washington’s Mount Vernon.

The Washington Prize, honouring the year’s best book about America’s founding era, is sponsored by a partnership of three institutions devoted to furthering historical scholarship: Washington College, the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History, and George Washington’s Mount Vernon.

It recognizes well-written books that speak to general audiences and contribute to a broad public understanding of the American past.

‘I am a warrior’. These were the uncompromising words that George Washington chose to describe himself in May 1779, at the height of the Revolutionary War against Britain. It’s an image very different to the one that he’s been assigned by posterity – the patriotic plantation owner who would become the dignified political leader of his country.

Stephen Brumwell’s new book focuses on a side of Washington that is often overlooked: the feisty young frontier officer and the tough forty-something commander of the revolutionaries’ Continental Army. It examines Washington’s long and chequered military career, tracing his evolution as a soldier, and his changing attitude to the waging of war. Brumwell shows how, ironically, Washington’s reliance upon English models of ‘gentlemanly’ behaviour, and on British military organisation, was crucial in establishing his leadership of the fledgling Continental Army, and in forging it into the weapon that won American independence.

BUY NOW: Quercus | Amazon | Waterstones | Foyles

The British Sports Book Award and the EPL Awards!

Richer Than God is an authoritative, emotional, provocative account of Manchester City’s takeover by Sheikh Mansour, culminating in their remarkable last minute Premier League title victory in May 2012.

By placing the club’s extraordinary current rise in the wider context of its patchy modern history, this is also the story of English football’s transformation – from the battlegrounds of the 1980s to today’s moneyed, seated, global entertainment. Conn is led to question the very nature of football clubs and being a supporter, the underlying values and running of what used to be called ‘the people’s game’.

‘A superbly written and researched book’ Jim White, Daily Telegraph

‘A must read’ Tony Evans, The Times

‘The best football book I have read for a long time’ Sam Wallace, Independent

Ever since the children of penniless immigrants caught the train from Whitechapel to White Hart Lane – to be greeted with the refrain: ‘Does Your Rabbi Know You’re Here?’ – this forgotten tribe have helped to shape the Beautiful Game.

Clavane uncovers a hidden history of Jewish involvement in English football. From Louis Bookman, the first Jew to play in England’s top division, to the pugnacious winger Mark Lazarus, whose last-gasp goal won the 1967 League Cup for QPR, to shady figures like One-Armed Lou, a ticket tout who never told the story of his missing limb the same way twice, through to the businessmen who helped form the breakaway Premier League, and in the process changed the English game for ever.

“enthralling” Patrick Barclay, Evening Standard.

“A thought-provoking, absorbing exploration” Independent on Sunday.

“A splendid, warmly written slice of untold social history” New Statesman.

BUY NOW:

RICHER THAN GOD Quercus | Amazon | Waterstones

DOES YOUR RABBI KNOW YOU’RE HERE? Quercus | Amazon | Waterstones

Jonathan Black, author of the international bestseller The Secret History of the World, uncovers the real-life stories of Dante and The Inferno.

Here you will find hidden codes, passageways under the streets of Florence, mad monks, mind-bending drugs and terrifying underground rituals. Together they contain all the elements of a great thriller – greed, murder, obsessive love, betrayal – and they reveal a 2,000-year-old conspiracy: to rule the world.

Perfect if you want to understand the mysteries that inspired Dan Brown’s novel Inferno, or as a standalone initiation to one of the great turning points in occult history.

Buy The Secret History of Dante: Unearthing the Mysteries of the Inferno for your Kindle.

It’s been an exciting week for Quercus over in New York. We were thrilled to celebrate the launch of Quercus in North America with a gathering of authors, editors, industry figures, and friends at the Italian Consulate in New York last Thursday.

Along with Quercus co-founders Mark Smith and Wayne Davies, we were joined by three key editors — Jon Riley, editor-in-chief of the Quercus imprint, Christopher MacLehose, Publisher of the MacLehose Press, and Jo Fletcher, Publisher of Jo Fletcher Books.

Read more over on the Quercus USA blog.

Quercus | Amazon | Waterstones | Easons

07:45am.
A monk lies dead in Snowdonia, a knife protruding from his throat. A young family is being held at gunpoint in a house in Wimbledon. The mission has begun.

08:56am.
A London Underground train is stationary in a tunnel, four hundred passengers trapped inside. All efforts to communicate with it have been met with silence.

09:15am.
DCI Ed Mallory has just started his day. The Met’s top hostage negotiator – despite having been blinded thirteen years earlier – Mallory is about to discover that, today, an underground train is not the only thing on the line.

This week I’m working with the Online and Communities team. At Quercus they manage all of the social media and online presence for the company and its authors.

Daily activities include tweeting, blogging, conducting author interviews, making videos, enabling Aurasma enhanced content and statistically analysing Twitter campaigns. They manage email, Facebook and Goodreads accounts and build webpages.

You should see the TweetDeck spread they have; it looks like the inside of the Matrix. Not being very tech-savvy myself – changing the header image on a blog is probably the most advanced I get – it’s a whole side of publishing that I knew was there but never had the occasion to see first-hand, let alone try for myself.

And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing as the Digital intern.

I help the team get things done, I learn how to do things I never knew needed doing, and I learn why they are important to the greater goal of publishing. After months of studying the theoretical side of the industry, there is a certain freedom in actually being in an office, helping to make things happen, rather than talking and reading about them.

My first task with Digital was to set up competitions to win books on Goodreads, and while I filled out the forms I became more acutely aware of the ways in which I am now able to connect tasks with their loftier purposes. Sure, it makes sense to have giveaway competitions in order to create excitement about books before they are published, to make sure events are timed perfectly to generate enough interest and excitement about new publications.

But all of this promotion goes so far, not only to increase sales, but to improve publisher-author relations and put the right books into the hands of the readers who will appreciate them most.

Goodreads has by no means been the focus of my week in Digital, however. I queued up tweets, found review quotes for a newsletter and researched blogs for the blogger database. I also edited blog posts. The team get authors to write up new content such as short stories, essays on topics related to their books and musings on their writing inspirations, whether for Quercus’s own blog or for those of booksellers. I also got to see how a splash page is built and all of the logistics behind setting up email subscription links.

After this week I am so much more comfortable with the different ways in which publishers can reach readers.

Yes, I knew about Twitter and WordPress, but actually being able to do things myself and actually being able to feel that there is a real book and a real author whose success might depend on my energies is beyond exciting.

If you’re lucky enough to find yourself interning at a publisher, make sure you spend some time with their Online department, even if you think your career lies elsewhere. The most important thing I’ve learned as an intern thus far is that you have to understand all of the separate parts of a publisher before you can begin to grasp the whole.

– Carolyn

When Imogen and Anna unexpectedly inherit their grandmother Vivien’s ice cream parlour, it turns both their lives upside-down. The Brighton shop is a seafront institution, but while it’s big on charm it’s critically low on customers. If the sisters don’t turn things around quickly, their grandmother’s legacy will disappear forever.

With summer looming, Imogen and Anna devise a plan to return Vivien’s to its former glory. Rather than sell up, they will train up, and make the parlour the newest destination on the South Coast foodie map.

While Imogen watches the shop, her sister flies to Italy to attend a gourmet ice cream-making course. But as she works shoulder-to-shoulder with some of the best chefs in the industry, Anna finds that romance can bloom in the most unexpected of places…

Amazon.co.uk | Quercus | Waterstones | Foyles

COMPETITION

Just answer the simple question at the end of the extract to be in with a chance of winning one of 5 copies of Vivien’s Heavenly Ice Cream Parlour.

EXTRACT
The seafront ice cream shop, Sunset 99s, was a local landmark: it had been around since the mid-1950s, and Vivien herself was well known across Brighton. At times the shop had thrived, but Anna got the sense that lately business had started to slow, with people as likely to stop by for a chat as buy anything. With organic smoothie shops and upmarket cafés springing up all over town, Anna often thought it was something of a miracle that the shop was still going.

‘Actually I’m taking a breather at the moment,’ Vivien said. ‘A week, perhaps two. Sue, my new assistant, I’ve left her to keep an eye on the place. She’s not had the easiest of times lately, with her son Jamie going into prison, and then her losing her job at the Co-op – she’ll look after the place well, I’m sure.’

‘Dad will be happy to hear that you’re taking a break,’ Anna said. ‘I suppose there’s still no chance of you deciding to retire?’

‘Of course not,’ Vivien said, shaking her head dismissively.
‘Retire and do what? That shop’s been my life for so long I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I’ve got my friends down there, Evie next door, and that nice young man, Finn. A week or two to recharge my batteries, that’s all I need.
Sue’ll keep things shipshape.’

‘OK, well, I hope you use the time to rest,’ Anna said. She resolved to pop by the shop and introduce herself to Sue as soon as things quietened down at work. It had been a while since she had last visited.

‘I will,’ Vivien said. ‘Although just you try and stop me coming to have a look at your new flat. When are you moving in?’

Anna beamed at the thought. ‘I’m picking up the keys next Saturday.’

‘That’s wonderful. And will Jon be moving in the same day?’

‘Yes,’ Anna said, ‘he’ll be there.’

‘I look forward to seeing it,’ Vivien said, reaching down to stroke Hepburn, who was curled up on the rug by her feet. ‘We’re pleased that you’ll be moving a bit nearer, aren’t we, Hepburn?’ The dog rolled onto his back, exposing his bare belly and inviting her to tickle him.

‘You’ll like it. There’s a nice window seat,’ Anna said, recalling the view from her top-floor flat, taking in the horizon and the bright lights of Brighton Pier. The sound of the wind whistling against it made the flat feel even cosier, protected from the elements.

‘Sounds perfect,’ Vivien said. ‘I already like the place, because you’ll be just around the corner.’

‘I will. And of your two favourite granddaughters, you may have to make do with just me for a while. Doesn’t sound like Imogen’s coming home any time soon.’
‘She enjoys it, doesn’t she?’ Vivien said. ‘The travelling life. I got a nice postcard from her the other day, with a picture of a golden Buddha on it. Reminds me of your father. Always has. Free spirits, those two.’

‘It sounds like she’s having a ball, taking loads of photos – she had a hard time looking for a job here after uni, and I think it was what she needed.’

‘I do like it when she sends me her photos. I always loved hearing about your father’s adventures through India, Asia – it was quite a thing in those days. On that lumbering great motorbike of his,’ Vivien said with a smile. ‘And now we have Imogen’s updates to keep us entertained.’

‘How is Dad?’ Anna asked. She’d been so busy at her marketing job for Brighton Pavilion, and finalising the flat purchase, that she hadn’t called her parents for a couple of weeks.

‘Oh, he’s well. He rang this morning as a matter of fact.

He’s finished work on one of his new sculptures – a heron, this one. It’s just gone in the kiln. I asked if he could make another one for my garden pond, so that’s next on his list.’

‘Good,’ Anna said. ‘That should keep him out of trouble.’

Her dad liked nothing better than working away in his garden studio, making clay sculptures of the birds and wildlife he was so fond of. ‘I should get going really,’ Anna added, checking the time on her phone. ‘I’ve got a lot of packing still to do for the move, and Jon’s coming around in an hour.’

‘So,’ Vivien asked, a mischievous smile on her face. ‘Permit your nosy grandma a question. Is he the one – Jon?’

‘I think so,’ Anna said, feeling suddenly shy. ‘It definitely feels like the right thing to be moving in together.’

‘I’m glad,’ Vivien said. ‘Because you deserve a good man. You’re a strong woman, always have been, and a talented one. You’ll remember that, won’t you?’

‘Don’t go getting soppy on me, Granny,’ Anna laughed.

‘I’m not going anywhere. I’m getting nearer, not further away.’

‘I know that, love,’ Vivien said, placing her hand tenderly on Anna’s denim-clad leg. ‘But there’s no harm in reminding you that you’re special, is there?’

Competition

 

With summer looming, Imogen and Anna devise a plan to return Vivien’s to its former glory. Rather than sell up, they will train up, and make the parlour the newest destination on the South Coast foodie map.

While Imogen watches the shop, her sister flies to Italy to attend a gourmet ice cream-making course. But as she works shoulder-to-shoulder with some of the best chefs in the industry, Anna finds that romance can bloom in the most unexpected of places…

Just answer the simple question below be in with a chance of winning one of 5 copies of Vivien’s Heavenly Ice Cream Parlour.

Email

First Name

Last Name

Which animal is the sculpture of?

•   Heron
•   Duck
•   Seagull

This promotion is open to UK residents only. By entering your email address, you agree to receive occasional emails from Quercus Publishing. You can unsubscribe from these at any time.

Read terms and conditions here.

Closing Date: 28.07.2013

THE INGREDIENTS OF LOVE by Nicolas Barreau

The day begins like any other Saturday for beautiful Parisian restaurateur Aurélie Bredin, until she wakes up to find her apartment empty – her boyfriend gone off with another woman.

Heartbroken, Aurélie walks the streets of Paris in the rain, finally seeking refuge in a little bookshop in the Île Saint-Louis, where she’s drawn to a novel titled The Smiles of Women by obscure English author Robert Miller. She buys it and takes it home, but when she begins to read she’s astonished: The Smiles of Women can’t possibly be about her restaurant, about her. Except, it is.

Flattered and curious to know more, Aurélie attempts to get in touch with the reclusive Mr Miller, but it proves to be a daunting task. His French publishers seem determined to keep his identity secret, and while the Editor-in-Chief André Chabanais is happy to give Aurélie his time, he seems mysteriously unwilling to help her find her author.

Is Robert Miller really so shy, or is there something that André isn’t telling Aurélie?

COMPETITION
Just answer the simple question at the end of the extract to be in with a chance of winning one of 5 copies of The Ingredients of Love. Competition closes Midnight on 22nd May, for full terms and conditions click here.

Quercus | Amazon | Waterstones | Foyles | Easons

EXTRACT

I sighed involuntarily, and the old bookseller looked up from his book and stared at me in surprise, then pushed his spectacles up.

‘Ah . . . bonsoir, mademoiselle –I didn’t hear you come in,’ he said in a friendly way, and his kind face with his intelligent eyes and delicate smile reminded me of a picture of Marc Chagall in his studio. Except that this man wasn’t holding a brush in his hand.

‘Bonsoir, monsieur,’ I answered in some embarrassment. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘Not at all,’ he said, raising his hands. ‘It’s just that I thought I’d locked the door.’ He looked over at the door, where a bunch of keys was hanging from the lock, and shook his head. ‘I’m starting to get a bit forgetful.’

‘Then you’re actually already closed?’ I asked, taking a step forward and hoping that the guardian angel outside the window would finally fly away.

‘Take your time and look around, mademoiselle. There’s no hurry.’ He smiled. ‘Are you looking for anything in particular?’

I’m looking for someone to really love me, I answered to myself. I’m running away from a policeman who thinks I want to jump off a bridge, and I’m pretending that I want to buy a book. I’m thirty-two years old and I’ve lost my umbrella. I wish something nice would happen to me for a change.

My stomach rumbled audibly. ‘No . . . no, nothing in particular,’ I said quickly. ‘Just something . . . nice.’ I went red. Now he probably thought I was an ignoramus whose powers of expression were exhausted by the meaningless little word ‘nice’. I hoped that my words had at least drowned out my stomach’s rumblings.

‘Would you like a cookie?’ asked Monsieur Chagall.
He held a silver dish of shortbread out under my nose, and after a short moment’s hesitation, I took one gratefully. There was something consoling about the sweet cookie, and it calmed my stomach immediately.

‘Do you know, I haven’t eaten properly today,’ I explained as I chewed. Unfortunately I’m one of those uncool people who always feel obliged to explain everything.

‘It happens,’ said Monsieur Chagall, without commenting on my embarrassment. ‘Over there’ –he pointed at a table piled with novels –‘you may well find what you’re looking for.’

And I really did! A quarter of an hour later I left the Librairie Capricorne with an orange paper bag with a unicorn printed on it.

‘A good choice,’ Monsieur Chagall had said as he wrapped the book, which had been written by a young Englishman and was called, pleasantly enough,
The Smiles of Women.

‘You’ll like this.’

I’d nodded and, red-faced, fumbled for the money. I hardly managed to conceal my amazement, which Monsieur Chagall probably thought was an attack of excessive anticipation of the pleasures of reading as he locked the shop door behind me.

I breathed in deeply and looked down the empty street. My new policeman friend had given up his surveillance. The probability that someone who bought a book would subsequently throw themselves from a bridge over the Seine was obviously very small from a statistical point of view.

But that was not the reason for my surprise, which gradually developed into excitement, causing me to walk much faster and then, with thumping heart, to take a taxi.

On the very first page of the book, which I was pressing to my heart in its pretty orange wrapping like a precious treasure, there was a sentence that bewildered me, aroused my curiosity –electrified me:

The story I would like to tell begins with a smile. It ends in a little restaurant with the auspicious name ‘Le Temps des Cerises’, which is in Saint-Germain-des-Pr.s, where the heart of Paris beats.

Competition

Answer the easy question below to be in with a chance of winning one of five copies of this wonderful book.

The day begins like any other Saturday for beautiful Parisian restaurateur Aurélie Bredin, until she wakes up to find her apartment empty – her boyfriend gone off with another woman.

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

Whats the name of the book Aurélie discovers? *

•   The Smiles of Women
•   The Love of Women
•   The Book of Women

Competition closes Midnight on 22nd May, for full terms and conditions click here.

Quercus | Amazon | Waterstones | Foyles | Easons