january sale
25% off selected Scottish titles
The Highlands aren’t a therapist; they’re terrain with teeth. Douglas walks after her mother’s death[...]
Darwent’s Edinburgh isn’t candlelit escapism; it’s a sorting machine. The clique doesn’t tempt, it recruits:[...]
Thomson doesn’t write “strong women” as slogans. She writes women with expertise—poisons, bodies, institutions—and lets[...]
Ribchester stops treating Edinburgh as scenery and starts treating it as a participant. In Murder[...]
Foley’s real weapon isn’t the corpse; it’s the room. A lodge, an island, an apartment[...]
Scots gets used like garnish: a few phonetic sprinkles, then back to “proper” English before[...]
Edinburgh sells itself as culture with safe danger: closes, gothic sheen, festival glitter. Rankin treats[...]
Witches aren’t atmosphere; they’re paperwork. Kelsey takes North Berwick 1589 and shows accusation as governance:[...]
Barrett learned gloss first: pace, cliffhangers, the sugar-rush promise you’ll be safe. Then she weaponised[...]
Nicolson should be a heritage salesman: Sissinghurst in the blood, islands inherited, access guaranteed. Instead[...]