Another free to enter contest exclusive to Bibliophilia members ...
for a free signed copy of Anne Morgellyn’s latest Louise Moon novel:
Pincushion
Outrageous artist August Stockyard - attention-seeking heir to a media and property empire - dies in typically theatrical fashion … and the mischief that drove his life's work culminates in the bequest of adjoining houses to his pregnant girlfriend, Cressida, and to his former comrade-in-arms, Louise Moon.
But was August's demise simple suicide or was it the result of a kinky sex game that went wrong? Had he cleverly planned to shame his distant father and take revenge on his ruthless uncle, the obese and grasping millionaire who now had his sights set on Louise?
Or was it a game from the grave to throw the two women with whom August had been obsessed into a fight to the death as reluctant and mismatched neighbours?
Pincushion is the third and latest in a series of psychological thrillers that chart the adventures of Louise Moon and her precarious love affair with brilliant but unconventional pathologist and former boss Chas Androssov.
Powerful in its metaphoric compulsiveness, bleak, disturbing, intelligent …DM Thomas
All BeWrite Books are available from: BeWrite Books, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Angus & Robertson and other online booksellers and to order from high street bookshops.
Print ISBN: 978-1-905202-82-9
eBook ISBN: 978-1-905202-83-6
Price: £6.99
Pages: 188
All you have to do to win a signed copy is to drop an email with the subject "BiblioContest" to win[at]bibliophilia.org with an answer to this simple question:
Name heroine Louise Moon’s lover Chas Androssov’s medical speciality:
a) Dentistry
b) Gynaecology
c) Pathology
The winning email address will be picked up from the virtual hat on 18th September 2008.
Last Flash Challenge winner: Another Man’s Treasure by orangedream. Congratulations orangedream!
Another Man’s Treasure
Below watercolour skies he sits content on tatty plastic sofa – a square peg in this dump-it-get-a-new-one age.
Overhead, a flock of seagulls shoot the breeze. One by one they land, establish pecking order; feathers fly before they dine on whatever they can scavenge.
Under graffiti-daubed, grey arches, his abode; an inside-out kind of home with river frontage.
With its antique tilt-topped table, a welcome refugee from some burnt-out stately mansion, a clapped-out iron framed mangle, circa 1953
and a cello with no strings. Borough Market just a stone’s throw away; pigs’ trotters, fish-heads, his for the taking when the stallholder turns a blind eye.
Under frosty, phosphorescent skies, needs must he gets wrapped up in the news; The Telegraph, The Independent, whatever he can find. He’s not fussy.
A fingernail moon sails high above Tate Modern, spawning images – transient, bizarre; shapes and shadows fall on ochreous walls. Abandoned bathtubs, sinks and stoves,
ever growing hoards of trash, throw a myriad of patterns. Tin trays clatter-crash – the vermin scatter
as the gaffer on the dump sets to work, sifting, searching, discarding nothing. One man’s waste is another man’s treasure.
Behind him, the flicker of a fire … a mountain of detritus, burning bright … ever brighter.