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Through a Glass Darkly: A Novel [Paperback]

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  • Category: Books (Fiction)
  • Author:  Koen, Karleen
  • Author:  Koen, Karleen
  • ISBN-10:  1402200447
  • ISBN-10:  1402200447
  • ISBN-13:  9781402200441
  • ISBN-13:  9781402200441
  • Publisher:  Sourcebooks Landmark
  • Publisher:  Sourcebooks Landmark
  • Pages:  768
  • Pages:  768
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Pub Date:  01-Jun-2003
  • Pub Date:  01-Jun-2003
  • SKU:  1402200447-11-MING
  • SKU:  1402200447-11-MING
  • Item ID: 100612668
  • List Price: $23.99
  • Seller: ShopSpell
  • Ships in: 2 business days
  • Transit time: Up to 5 business days
  • Delivery by: Nov 27 to Nov 29
  • Notes: Brand New Book. Order Now.

<p>"A completely involving story...power, greed, family conflict, burning ambition and passion kindle the plot. Readers will be captivated!"—<em>Publishers Weekly</em></p><p>Karleen Koen's sweeping saga contains unforgettable characters consumed with passion: the extraordinarily beautiful fifteen-year-old noblewoman, Barbara Alderley; the man she adores, the wickedly handsome Roger MontGeoffry; her grandmother, the duchess, who rules the family with cunning and wit; and her mother, the ineffably cruel, self-centered and licentious Diana. Like no other work, Through a Glass Darkly is infused with intrigue, sweetened by romance and awash in the black ink of betrayal.</p><p><strong>Praise for <em>Through a Glass Darkly</em>:<br></strong>"Fast-paced and fun to read!"— <em>Glamour</em>"<br>Engaging, elegant, chock full of sex and gossip."— <em>Philadelphia Inquirer</em></p>Karleen Koen is interested in history, particularly women's place in it. Love and hate, gender issues, and spiritual quests are themes she explores in her fiction. She lives in Houston and is also the author of Dark Angels and Now Face to Face. Her blog, called Writing Life, is at www.wordpress.karleenkoen.com.Excerpt from Chapter 1<br><br>Two voices, raised in anger, carried through the half-opened window of the library. Recognizing them, Barbara stopped and looked for a place to hide, a place where she might listen but not be seen. Seconds later, she was burrowing into the ancient ivy that crisscrossed the mellowed red-pink brick of the house. Entangled, dense, persistent, its vines as thick as her wrists in places, the ivy released the house reluctantly. Each spring it sent cunning, thin green fingers curling under the window frames and into the rooms, and each spring her grandmother calmly snipped the fingers to bits with a pair of sewing scissors and ordered the gardenelã!

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