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Drums of Autumn [Hardcover]

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  • Category: Books (Fiction)
  • Author:  Gabaldon, Diana
  • Author:  Gabaldon, Diana
  • ISBN-10:  0385311400
  • ISBN-10:  0385311400
  • ISBN-13:  9780385311403
  • ISBN-13:  9780385311403
  • Publisher:  Delacorte Press
  • Publisher:  Delacorte Press
  • Pages:  896
  • Pages:  896
  • Binding:  Hardcover
  • Binding:  Hardcover
  • Pub Date:  01-May-1996
  • Pub Date:  01-May-1996
  • SKU:  0385311400-11-MING
  • SKU:  0385311400-11-MING
  • Item ID: 100313674
  • List Price: $36.00
  • Seller: ShopSpell
  • Ships in: 2 business days
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  • Delivery by: Oct 28 to Oct 30
  • Notes: Brand New Book. Order Now.

“Unforgettable characters ... Richly embroidered with historical detail ... I just can’t put it down.”—Cincinnati Post

“Passionate ... Remarkable—a mix of history, fantasy, romance and unabashedly ribald storytelling.”—Arizona RepublicDiana Gabaldonis the #1New York Timesbestselling author of the wildly popular Outlander novels—Outlander, Dragonfly in Amber, Voyager, Drums of Autumn, The Fiery Cross, A Breath of Snow and Ashes(for which she won a Quill Award and the Corine International Book Prize),An Echo in the Bone,andWritten in My Own Heart’s Blood—as well as a collection of Outlander fiction,Seven Stones to Stand or Fall;the related Lord John Grey booksLord John and the Private Matter, Lord John and the Brotherhood of the Blade, Lord John and the Hand of Devils,andThe Scottish Prisoner;two works of nonfiction,The Outlandish Companion, Volumes 1and2;the Outlander graphic novel,The Exile;andThe Official Outlander Coloring Book. She lives in Scottsdale, Arizona, with her husband.

A HANGING IN EDEN
Charleston, June 1767

I heard the drums long before they came in sight. The beating echoed in the pit of my stomach, as though I too were hollow. The sound traveled through the crowd, a harsh military rhythm meant to be heard over speech or gunfire. I saw heads turn as the people fell silent, looking up the stretch of East Bay Street, where it ran from the half-built skeleton of the new Customs  House toward White Point Gardens. It was a hot day, even for Charleston in June. The best places were on the seawall, where the air moved; here below, it was like being roasted alive. My shift was soaked through, and the cotton bodice clung between my breasts. I wiped my face for the tenth time in as many minutes and lifted the heavy coil of my hair, hoping vainly for a cooling breeze upon my nelƒ1

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