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It was Wordsworth who wrote, "The world is too much with us"; and if I
could give the secret of my ambition as a novelist in a few words it
would be contained in that quotation. My inspiration to write has
always come from nature. Character and action are subordinated to
setting. In all that I have done I have tried to make people see how
the world is too much with them. Getting and spending they lay waste
their powers, with never a breath of the free and wonderful life of the
open!

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What happens when a family suddenly gets enough money to play with and probably won't have to pay it back? That word "probably" really throws the brakes on, doesn't it?

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The Way Of All Flesh needs explaining, or at least an introduction, because of the author being male.  If you will go into this as if it were a gothic romance you will not be far disappointed.  It is still distinctively male for inclination and presentation.  It reminds me of once upon a time I asked my wife why women were going into a certain store in such a long stream.  She responded that it was a woman's kind of store.  "Men and women are different.  Women like one kind of store and men like another."

I could see it immediately and blurted out my favorite kind of store.. "Yeah, like Office Max!"  Well ---- I'm a man and I love browsing through Office Max more than any other kind of store.. so that makes Office Max a man's store.  Case closed.

That's how it is with this book.  It is a gothic, set during the 19th century, but it comes at you from the man's side of the family.  Back then a man had to assert his rights or the woman would be wearing pants, not him.  This leaves our hero in a quandary because he is a minister and doesn't want to raise his voice or strike his beloved on the sharp point of her pretty little chin.  He also has to earn more than a thousand pounds a year to keep the family in decent trousers.  Samuel Butler, is an author that sneaks up on you too.  I didn't even realize I liked him until I was half way through the book.

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The Venus From Moscow  by Pushkin.  A very nice, almost mystical short romance from Paris where everybody still cuddles. Elizabeth is a penniless but sweet young thing living with a mean-spirited but wealthy old Russian Countess.  One day Elizabeth glances out her window and there on the street below is this handsome young officer in the Engineers corp. Naturally, Elizabeth shrinks back from the window and clutches at her heart.  Here it is, just like it happens in the Russian romance novels - and she is stricken with love, on the spot. "He is in love with me and hoping to get my attention by posting himself there on my Parisian street corner. The swirling snow is turning his lips almost blue on this bitterly cold afternoon, that he ignores because the heat of his passion is keeping his feet and his heart warm. Elizabeth nearly swoons again. Well, I won't ruin the story for you. Download this novel and read it for yourself, but I will tell you that with Pushkin at the author's throttle you can look in a dozen mirrors and never know who is the fairest one of them all until the last snowflake melts.

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The Mummy's Left Foot: It is hard to chase your foot down through the dusty corridors of time when it has such devilish help in getting away, but then her luck began to turn: Suddenly a spark of wheeling light twirled in a stream of dusty sun beams and I caught a gleam of sparkle on the ankle of a woman's charming foot. How can I describe that foot, or the impact it made upon me? Every angle, every curve in it was perfect, perfect when I first looked upon that sweet left foot that I took for a fragment torn off of some antique Venus that had been shattered in some ancient earthquake, perhaps. Ah, but I was dreaming, as one does, you know, when the romance spirit rises up into the head and claims the soul.

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Meadows and Myst: Where do thoughts go at the end of day? Do they dance through the meadows and climb to the stars on the evening myst? And what if someone steals them before they leave, someone snuggling close to you, someone fascinated, ravenously fascinated with every word you say? Can you break the bond set that night? Can you make yourself stay away? When a poet turns his fancy to writing a novel it turns into the story of a playwright composing a play and a sculptor composing songs. One can naturally expect daylight shadows to give forth radiant butterflies, but then ladies of darkness leap across the stage of time and the poet sees his play being read from the lips of the greatest novelist of the century --word for word, his own, right up to the thrilling end. Can he find his way back to the island and wind his way through the bright meadows and the evening's thickening myst? For Life has kissed me full upon the lips as it paused in fleeting by, but I left no impression there, nor am I myst.

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Rummy-Go  Rummy-Go is an archaic expression used to signify a state of bewilderment. In this short romance mystery an English duke is confronted with the kidnaping of his beloved wife and struggles valiantly to keep her alive without paying a vast sum for her release.

The modern, suspicious reader wonders all the way through just how many close friends were involved in the abduction and taking a cut in the ransom --

Rummy-Go is a short romance, perhaps a mystery, and definitely a good piece of humor that you will just know may be cut short in tragedy at any second. Don't miss this

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Now for the real Clincher... A second volume of romance with similar length and even better than the first volume by this same author is ready for your download.  Its steady finger traces out the romantic life of Jefferson Davis with even more exciting detail than the first novel afforded. ***

A Romance of Exmoor.  One of the best romances you will ever read.  At present I am working on it piece by piece, but you are welcome to sift through the debris now because it may take ages to get this one right.


An Enemy To The King
A wild cavalier sword-fighting
undercover romance set in France.

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A romance from the frozen north 
Tingling, wonderful, deadly.

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Could Acton possibly have said anything definite to start this unusual train of thought, the grandmother speculated. With Leslie so felicitously married, she would have felt ready for her _nunc dimittis_. She watched Leslie expectantly. But the girl was apparently dreaming, and was staring absently at the tip of one sturdy oxford above which a stretch of thick white woollen stocking was visible almost to her knee.

"How can they fall in love with them, dressed like Welsh peasants!" the grandmother said to herself, in mild disapproval. And aloud she said: "Ah, don't, lovey!"

For Leslie had taken out a small gold case, and was regarding it thoughtfully.

A Knight of the Wilderness  Abe and Ann are matched again in this romance of the western frontier.  Set in the Blackhawk war time frame you'll find Abe already setting out on the trail that leads to greatness in the eyes of all that know him.  Ann is a prize any man might wish to win.

Sliced from a bygone age when love was LOVE, golf is the background and indeed it is the driving force of this beautiful novel.  I'm sure that if I understood the game I would love this book all the more, but even in my complete ignorance I was fascinated with the entire book.

Hans Christian Andersen Yes, another romance almost lost forever, this one from Brother Andersen, and it is very, very good.  Please RIGHT CLICK on the title, and download it to your computer so you can share it with your friends when you discover just how good it is.   

by Bret Harte
A collection of short stories
many of which are romances
All are brilliant creations by a master.
 

by Jack London  Yes, Here is an exciting collection of frozen north short stories by the great author, Jack London.  Because Call of the Wild was so wildly successful we sometimes forget that Jack London had many other titles of wildly successful books.  At a mere penny per word it is excusable that Jack London produced some work that was less than perfect and fell to the wayside, but as he began to add notches to his belt to accommodate a larger girth, his natural genius was given the time it needed to produce exceedingly great works. 

Here's another new title
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Click the Cover
To Download

The Story of Pip
One of the last classics
Written by Charles Dickens

This IS a Page-Turning book
And will not work on Macs.

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David Copperfield can be downloaded as a page-turning PC book.  Just remember, this book is twice as long as Pride and Prejudice. Oh, one more thing, To Open The Page-Turning Book, click in the bottom right hand corner of the front cover.

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Tarzan of the Apes is yours to read for free on the web.  Click HERE.

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A Princess of Mars
by Edgar Rice Burroughs

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Princess Zara, a romantic adventure from the days of the last Czar on earth.

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What do you do when Venus comes to life and will marry no one, only you?  Our young hairdresser wishes to run for his life.  This is a complete, full sized book.   

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A Dashing Romance on

Dare I say it? Dare I say that I, a plain old prosaic lieutenant in the Republican Service have done all these incredible things here set forth, and done them for the love of a woman -- No, not for a woman, for a mere chimera in female shape; for a pale, vapid ghost of a real woman's loveliness? I know you will laugh if I simply give you the summary of my travails.
I know that you would hastily cast me aside as a fabricator; an unpolished liar, and I pause and deign to quit, and then I sigh again and pick up my pen and collect the scattered pages, for I MUST write this story and give it to the world – I am constrained to share the pallid splendor of that thing I loved, and won, and lost, and that is ever before me, and will not be forgotten or shunted aside.
 

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  is another one of the free "page-turning"  books furnished us by Browzer Books.  Back in its day of publication this was all the rage in England and France for six long years

Here is a teaser.. My father often took us to a place where there were men who drank wine. He used to put me on a table among the glasses, and make me sing. The men would laugh and kiss me, and try and make me drink wine. It was always dark when we went home. My father took long steps, and rocked himself as he walked. He nearly tumbled down lots of times. Sometimes he would begin to cry and say that his house had been stolen. Then my sister used to scream. It was always she who used to find the house. One morning la mère Colas got angry with us and told us that we were children of misfortune, and that she would not feed us any longer. She said we could go and look for our father, who had gone away nobody knew where. When her anger had passed she gave us our breakfasts as usual, but a few days afterwards we were put into père Chicon's cart. The cart was full of straw and bags of corn. I was tucked away behind in a little hollow between the sacks. The cart tipped down at the back, and every jolt made me slip on the straw.

 

ENTER SANCTUM