I've just moved into a new flat and have found that I seriously underestimated how many books I own. I must have had at least a dozen boxes of books, if not more. How on earth did I get so many books!? OK, the crap I bought whilst working in a discount bookshop probably accounts for at least a third, and then there's the uni texts, the 'literary' texts, reference books, not to mention all the cookbooks (most of which I have never used)...
And then there are the books I love. The ones I read over and over again.
I'm fairly sure that I have the largest collection of urban fantasy/paranormal/supernatural fiction outside of the Waterstone's 'Dark Fantasy' aisle.
I don't think that's a bad thing. Not really...
The Sanguine Sands (The Sharded Few #2) by Alec Hutson (reviewed by Mihir
Wanchoo)
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