Eve M. reviewed on 7/11/2006 + 194 more book reviews

It was called Love...
In another season there were girls of Summer, robust and playful in their sandy ways, and now here were the winter ones with cool surmise in the tended eye fragrant and speculative, strolling, sailing and tanning , making their night music and night scent. And ther there was Gretel.
Gretel had discovered the key to me--all of me and suddenly I had something to hope for. Then terribly, unexpectantly she was dead. From a mysterious illness. they told me. But I knew they were lying Gretel hed been murdered. And now I was out for blood.

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