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An unexpected score
On my way through Anchorage enroute to Girdwood, I stopped at Title Wave, Alaska's biggest used bookstore, because how could I not (perennial check for Biggles books came up blank as usual), and picked up a few cheap books for reading material on the trip, including an old Dick Francis hardcover with a ratty dust jacket.
It wasn't until I'd read half the book and was taking off the dust jacket so the book would fit in my purse that I noticed there was something written on the flyleaf. I figured it was the usual "To Jimmy for Christmas, Aunt Maude" or whatever, until I read it and realized ...

... it's signed by the author! How cool is that?
It wasn't until I'd read half the book and was taking off the dust jacket so the book would fit in my purse that I noticed there was something written on the flyleaf. I figured it was the usual "To Jimmy for Christmas, Aunt Maude" or whatever, until I read it and realized ...

... it's signed by the author! How cool is that?
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Extremely!
(I don't recognize that one by title at all: which is it?)
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It does not! I'll have to read it, which will almost certainly turn out to be a re-read. My mother owns a copy.
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