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best for FICTION
BY ALISON JAMES
Rosie didn’t want to
Helen Harris always enjoyed her afternoon tea with Martha Evert, and as she knocked on the door carrying a treat of two chocolate muffins, she looked forward to an hour or two of catching up with her
TWO choc ices and an orange Kia-Ora, please.” He didn’t need to tell me what he wanted. As soon as the house lights went up, and he appeared in the aisle, I was already reaching into the illuminated t
MARIE peered out of the front room window, wondering if people would be on time. And not only that – what if nobody showed? She let the net curtain drop, listening to the kettle whistling in the kitch
A WAVE the size of a house crashed down upon the deck. Soaked to the skin, Dinah landed in a crumpled sail at the foot of the mast. “I had another of those stress dreams,” Dinah said, when Ken joined
I WAS lonely. Papa was a preacher and we lived and travelled in a painted wooden wagon, pulled by Jessie, a large and docile shire horse. We had few possessions; there was no room for what Papa called
G av drove home, glancing up at the ...