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R224,00 – R300,00Price range: R224,00 through R300,00
Book club orders will be shipped out after 3 August 2026.
All I wanted was to avoid feelings, not end up in a murder mystery with scatter cushions.
Look, I didn’t move to Port St Francis for the ocean breeze or the view of the marina, I moved here to hide. From grief. From people. From everything.Look, I didn’t move to Port St Francis for the ocean breeze or the view of the marina, I moved here to hide. From grief. From people. From everything.
Then Marie walked in, braid, blue eyes, ginger beer, and suddenly I was forgetting how to speak in full sentences. She made everything But the real disaster started when the bodies showed up. Around the port. Not bar-fi ght bodies. Real butchered ones.
Suddenly, the jokes stopped landing, and some losses cut deeper than the sea.This is a story about really bad ideas, worse timing, and how even when you’re drowning in grief, life keeps throwing you back in.
It’s got murder. It’s got chokka. It’s got love, sort of. And somewhere in the middle of all that, I figured out that maybe, just maybe, there’s still something perfectly splendid to be found.
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R129,00
Please note that this is a digital product, no physical book will be sent.
All I wanted was to avoid feelings, not end up in a murder mystery with scatter cushions.
Look, I didn’t move to Port St Francis for the ocean breeze or the view of the marina, I moved here to hide. From grief. From people. From everything.Look, I didn’t move to Port St Francis for the ocean breeze or the view of the marina, I moved here to hide. From grief. From people. From everything.
Then Marie walked in, braid, blue eyes, ginger beer, and suddenly I was forgetting how to speak in full sentences. She made everything But the real disaster started when the bodies showed up. Around the port. Not bar-fi ght bodies. Real butchered ones.
Suddenly, the jokes stopped landing, and some losses cut deeper than the sea.This is a story about really bad ideas, worse timing, and how even when you’re drowning in grief, life keeps throwing you back in.
It’s got murder. It’s got chokka. It’s got love, sort of. And somewhere in the middle of all that, I figured out that maybe, just maybe, there’s still something perfectly splendid to be found.
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R280,00
All I wanted was to avoid feelings, not end up in a murder mystery with scatter cushions.
Look, I didn’t move to Port St Francis for the ocean breeze or the view of the marina, I moved here to hide. From grief. From people. From everything.Look, I didn’t move to Port St Francis for the ocean breeze or the view of the marina, I moved here to hide. From grief. From people. From everything.
Then Marie walked in, braid, blue eyes, ginger beer, and suddenly I was forgetting how to speak in full sentences. She made everything But the real disaster started when the bodies showed up. Around the port. Not bar-fi ght bodies. Real butchered ones.
Suddenly, the jokes stopped landing, and some losses cut deeper than the sea.This is a story about really bad ideas, worse timing, and how even when you’re drowning in grief, life keeps throwing you back in.
It’s got murder. It’s got chokka. It’s got love, sort of. And somewhere in the middle of all that, I figured out that maybe, just maybe, there’s still something perfectly splendid to be found.
