IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT

It happened again, didnít it? In the middle of the night. You swore it wouldnít. But it did. Yet, again, one of your To-Be-Read piles toppled over, shaking the building, waking the ailing neighbors, causing their month-old baby to cry and the Rottweiler upstairs to bark his head off. Three point one on the seismic scale. Remember the landlord warned you--one more time and you would be out?

Oh, sure, you try to stop buying mystery novels, again and again you promise, but deep down you know you canít stop. You vow to yourself you wonít buy another book until you have finished reading at least two and got rid of them but without warning the craving begins again, doesnít it?

And those TBR-Syndrome Anonymous meetings didnít do you a damn bit of good, did they?

You read about a great new mystery, you hear about it from a friend, you see it displayed in a store window. And, sure enough, when those who love you arenít looking, you slip into a bookstore and before you know it youíre standing in the mystery section. Your heart beats faster, your pulse races, your breathing becomes audible, youíre covered in sweat. Just look at those covers! The title dripping red blood. The horribly mutilated body. The shiny silver pistol glittering in the shadows. The gore! The carnage! The chase! The puzzle! The intricate plotting!

And then suddenly you find yourself at the cash register, your shopping bags brimming with new mysteries. And now thereís even a To-Be-Read pile in the kitty litter box, isnít there? And what about those new cozies youíve stashed in the vegetable section of the fridge so your spouse wonít find them? And the ones taped to the inside cover of the cistern like something out of the Godfather. Reading mysteries gives you great joy but those dangerously swaaaying TBR piles cause you nothing but anxiety and pain.

Unfortunately, there is no cure for TBR Syndrome, but at last there is relief: Hangmanís Point - A Novel of Hong Kong. Say what? You donít read historical mysteries? No problem. You donít have to read the damn thing. Use it as the firm plinth for your To-Be-Read pile. Every column needs a sturdy base and Hangmanís Point, at 544 pages, 9 Ĺ x 6 Ĺ, is the most secure foundation for TBR piles on the market. (Compare it, for example, to Linda Fairsteinís Likely to Die, a mere 444 pages or to Carl Hiaasenís latest - a mere 452 pages) (And yet they make heaps of moneyĖgo figure.)

Just place a copy of Hangmanís Point at the very bottom of your TBR pile and, no matter how high the pile, that will keep it steady. Youíll sleep like a baby. Buy several - one for each pile.

Special offer: Your purchase of one copy of Hangmanís Point at full retail price qualifies you to then buy as many copies as you like at that same price!

 

Hangmanís Point - the Novel that Quiets your Piles

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Read a sample chapter

 

Pssst!  Are you crazy about women in flounced velvet crinolines?  Does a woman wearing a leghorn bonnet make you go absolutely ga ga?  Do women in petticoats and cage crinolines and kidskin gloves and Victorian boots and bishop sleeves and pagoda sleeves drive you insane with desire?  It's not easy being obsessed with a woman's ankles in a breast-obsessed society, is it?  The guys in the local pub swilling their Bud and talking about boobs think you're a bit, well, not normal, right?  But if a woman dressed in crinoline and bonnet turns you on, if the glimpse of a well-turned ankle makes you swoon dead away, you may be in the early stages of Leghorn-Bonnet Syndrome.  Alas, there is no cure for Leghorn-Bonnet Syndrome but there are plenty of bonnets and crinolines in the novel, Hangman's Point.  So, go ahead, indulge yourself!  Read the book! No one will know!

 

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