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...... Miss Rose Sister Violet began in the back room of a bookshop. Where dusty books lay in piles, and stained tea cups and coffee mugs sat chipped upon a small metal sink next to an exhausted and overused kettle. It was a dream, only small, and hidden from the light of day. But it was a rich dream, timid to prying eyes but bursting from the inside to show all the world its beauty. And full of beauty it was, for it was a dream born to the most magical of worlds. Day after day the dream of Miss Rose Sister Violet took shape while words of Bronte and Wordsworth and Tennyson kept it company; while fabrics of Liberty's kept it warm as it traced amongst the foreign landscapes of books fallen from shelves and the muted thoughts of customers who had escaped the outside world to find solace in a bookstore. Through hardships and uncertainty the dream pushed forward, sometimes barely a whisper, sometimes hardly existing at all. Yet it survived. In the presence of Artists, Historians, Poets, Dreamers, Philosophers, Angels, Heroes, Knights and Dragons it stayed alive and blossomed. It ventured forth from the damp darkness of a tiny backroom into the blinding light of the outside world. So full of life and soul from years of existing amongst every desire, thought, passion and life experience of the written word, the dream became Miss Rose Sister Violet.....

.... And now, Miss Rose Sister Violet lives a blissful existence. In a world where the lines between life and love and work are blurred; where beauty and romance thrive and magic happens.