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In: Books, Writing

Maybe she wore a pillbox hat. A tailored sheath. Gloves would’ve been appropriate, given her precious cargo.

Whatever she wore, when she showed up with a vat of white sangria, the Beaufort Book Bashers treated her with Camelot-like awe. Or they made fun of her with Kennedy-esque wit. Or they lubricated their book discussion with tequila-fueled hallucinations.Continue Reading