This was awful beyond all reason, and such a dissapointment. I look forward to Katie Fforde's light romantic real-estate porn-y trash, but this was so bad I could barely finish it. Shy bookseller Laura is talked into helping to run a literary festival after the bookshop she works in closes, but in order ot make a success out of it, she must talk reclusive Irish genius Dermot into appearing at the festival. Revolting shenanigans ensue, and made me want to burn the book, which, I must say, is rare for me.
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