Genres

Bar

Lists

Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea by Chelsea Handler

Drunken Masters

287 books — 378 voters

Vincent's Thanksgiving Date by R. Cooper

Well Built Communities in Romance Around a Building or Business

64 books — 2 voters

Mood Lighting: Romance Novels featuring Bars, Pubs or Nightclubs

110 books — 69 voters

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis

The Indian in the Cupboard by Lynne Reid Banks

King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table by Roger Lancelyn Green

A Chair for My Mother by Vera B. Williams

Furniture in the Title

534 books — 41 voters

When You're Brave Enough by Rebecca Bendheim

The Truth About My Bat Mitzvah by Nora Raleigh Baskin

My Basmati Bat Mitzvah by Paula J. Freedman

Bar/Bat Mitzvah Fiction

64 books — 31 voters

Met in a Bar: Romance Novel Style

35 books — 12 voters

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It’s Literally Summer! 93 Topical Titles for Your Seasonal Reading List.

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“ By confusing strategy with tactics and mixing up “what” and “how”, we may have a hard time staying on point. ”What” we want, on the one hand, and “how” we want to achieve it, on the other, needs a careful reading and a singular approach. (“When the bar is set too high”) ”
― Erik Pevernagie

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“ Raffe lifted the latch on the heavy door and sidled in. As usal, he gagged as he took his first breath in the cloying, fishy stink of the smoke that rose from the burning seabirds, which were skewered on to the wall spikes in place of candles. In the dim oily light, he could make out the vague outlines of men sitting in twos and threes around the tables, heard the muttered conversations, but could no more recognize a face than see his own feet in the shadows. A square, brawny woman deposited a Raffe lifted the latch on the heavy door and sidled in. As usal, he gagged as he took his first breath in the cloying, fishy stink of the smoke that rose from the burning seabirds, which were skewered on to the wall spikes in place of candles. In the dim oily light, he could make out the vague outlines of men sitting in twos and threes around the tables, heard the muttered conversations, but could no more recognize a face than see his own feet in the shadows. A square, brawny woman deposited a flagon and two leather beakers on a table before waddling across to Raffe. Pulling his head down towards hers, she planted a generous kiss on his smooth cheek. Thought you'd left us,' she said reprovingly. You grown tired of my eel pic?' How could anyone grow tired of a taste of heaven?' Raffe said, throwing his arm around her plump shoulders and squeezing her. The woman laughed, a deep, honest belly chuckle that set her pendulous breasts quivering. Raffe loved her for that. 'He's over there, your friend,' she murmured. 'Been wait ing a good long while.' Raffe nodded his thanks and crossed to the table set into a dark alcove, sliding on to the narrow bench. Even in the dirty mustard light he could recognize Talbot's broken nose and thickened ears. Talbot looked up from the rim of his beaker and grunted. By way of greeting he pushed the half-empty flagon of ale towards Raffe. Raffe waited until the serving woman had set a large portion of eel pie in front of him and retreated out of earshot. He hadn't asked for food, no one ever needed to here. In the Fisher's Inn you ate and drank whatever was put in front of you and you paid for it too. The marsh and river were far too close for arguments, and the innkeeper was a burly man who had beaten his own father to death when he was only fourteen, so rumour had it, for taking a whip to him once too often. Opinion was divided on whether the boy or the father deserved what they suffered at each other's hands, but still no one in those parts would have dreamed of report ing the killing. And since the innkeeper's father lay rotting somewhere at the bottom of the deep, sucking bog, he wasn't in a position to complain. ...more ”
― Karen Maitland, The Gallows Curse

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