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Carla the florist is surrounded by the duplicitous and the craven - and that's just her flowers. The human beings are infinitely worse, especially the men. There's Gwynne, her oafish and cold-hearted brother, Gerald, the suave and sophisticated doctor whose hidden agenda is unspeakable, and finally there's David, the handsome, dashing lawyer whose deceit hurts most of all. If only God weren't a fictional character then surely they'd get their just deserts . . . except, it is only through their perfidy that love finds a way into her world.

Produktbeschreibung
Carla the florist is surrounded by the duplicitous and the craven - and that's just her flowers. The human beings are infinitely worse, especially the men. There's Gwynne, her oafish and cold-hearted brother, Gerald, the suave and sophisticated doctor whose hidden agenda is unspeakable, and finally there's David, the handsome, dashing lawyer whose deceit hurts most of all. If only God weren't a fictional character then surely they'd get their just deserts . . . except, it is only through their perfidy that love finds a way into her world.
Autorenporträt
First taught Latin by the Christian Brothers, and having picked up the odd lucky cent on Wall Street, T J became a bee keeper and tomato grower during the summer, and a reader of Cicero and Phaedrus through the drear winter months. In between sweet, sweet clouds of Irish Flake and S. G. 1792, rising at dawn from a variety of comely Dublin briars, he does a little bit of scribbling in various idioms, but wastes not a single precious moment of unredeemable time, dear reader, in badgering you for your pennies. As for politics, what I say is . . .níor chaith mé an masc ní fuair mé an vacs.