Need a book to match an outfit, embody a place, create an illusion?

But here's a warning. Some books make themselves.

Like this one. When it was done, I couldn't help but notice how it needs to be casually laid on a table in a story written by Edgar Allan Poe.

Then here, cold crumpled blue leather, made like the sea; a sudden sparkling from a diamond-like gem, thrown by the chance turn of life, saying, find me. Blue, bleak, beguiling. Suits Aldeburgh, Suffolk, when a sea mist rises.

And for this one, I didn't set out to stitch a book of feminine erotica...

but I think that's where we ended up. (Book will choose woman.)