Monday, October 29, 2012

[R682.Ebook] Download PDF 666 and 1000: The Novel on the Tribulation Period and Its Sequel, by Salem Kirban

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666 and 1000: The Novel on the Tribulation Period and Its Sequel, by Salem Kirban

666 and 1000: The Novel on the Tribulation Period and Its Sequel, by Salem Kirban



666 and 1000: The Novel on the Tribulation Period and Its Sequel, by Salem Kirban

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666 and 1000: The Novel on the Tribulation Period and Its Sequel, by Salem Kirban

  • Sales Rank: #2447083 in Books
  • Published on: 1981
  • Binding: Paperback

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
This book scared the "bahoogies" out of me when I ...
By Amazon Customer
This book scared the "bahoogies" out of me when I first read it, but it did get me thinking. I'm looking forward to reading it again and sharing it with my friends.

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Friday, October 26, 2012

[Z113.Ebook] Download Small Farm, Big Farm Boy (Growing Pains Book 2), by U. M. Lassiter

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Small Farm, Big Farm Boy (Growing Pains Book 2), by U. M. Lassiter



Small Farm, Big Farm Boy (Growing Pains Book 2), by U. M. Lassiter

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Small Farm, Big Farm Boy (Growing Pains Book 2), by U. M. Lassiter

High schooler Alex Johnson suddenly finds himself a muscle teen titan, thanks to a strange genetic treatment his late father gave him to save his life as an infant. As a shy, often awkward young man with Aspergers, can he adjust to now being likely the biggest, strongest man alive? Perhaps ever? Fortunately, Alex has a hot new boyfriend to stand by him as he tries to navigate quickly changing relationships with his friends. What Alex and Ryan don’t know is that their lives are about to take an ominous turn. Will Alex be able to take the bull by the horns?

  • Sales Rank: #845946 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2013-01-15
  • Released on: 2013-01-15
  • Format: Kindle eBook

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
A great follow-up book!!
By Shirley Quinones
Alex's new life continues right where it was left off in the previous book, A Growing Lad. From the start, Alex takes us into what his life has been like since he moved to the farm to work for the summer. He tells us what he has been doing, the new friends he has made and how his life has changed. His voice is one of a matured young man who has had to grow up fast but who is happy with where he is at the moment, both physically and mentally.

From a shy, socially awkward teenager, Alex has grown to be a matured young man who has made strides in his social interactions and who has learned a great deal about himself and others through the process. He continues his new-found relationship with Ryan and he continues to form friendship bonds with Farley and Bob.

With Alex's introspective narration and a set of interesting events that complemented the plot, the writing was as great as I expected. I was absorbed in the story and its characters, especially the developing relationship between Alex and Ryan - they were adorable. I enjoyed how U.M. Lassiter brought these two together. Their interactions were entertaining and their relationship an enjoyable addition to the story. It was great to see how far Alex had gotten. He was more confident with how he carried himself and continued to accept his situation even if at times he felt flustered with the attention he attracted and what was expected of him because of his size.

The author managed to give us a great storyline while at the same time giving us a glimpse into the new life Alex is embarking. I enjoyed the way he went about dealing with Alex's doubts towards Bob's intentions, Alex's interactions with the others characters and the resolution of the plot. As I kept reading I had my doubts about how U.M. Lassiter would bring it all together in the end, but he manage to do it in a way that felt real and not over the top, which I appreciated.

All in all, Small Farm Big Farm Boy is a great addition to the Growing Pains series. I would like to read more about Alex's story. I am curious to read more about his continued growth as a person and the new life and relationships he has established.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
too silly
By MLE
I received this book as an ARC through NetGalley. My thanks to the publisher, author, and Net Galley for letting me read this.

The plot was more than a bit absurd, but could have worked on a smaller scale. I think having him end up being 7ft tall and 600 pounds was just too much. Alex seemed like a good kid, more than a bit naive, but basically a good, if simple, person. I wish I could say something about Ryan, but I got no feeling for his character what so ever. I wouldn't have known they were dating if Alex hadn't said so, and they hadn't fooled around a bit. I have no idea why they were together, or what kept the relationship going. The plot made me want to bang their heads together. Ok, I can see Alex might not have understood what was going on, but that Ryan just went along with everything made me think that he was an idiot. The writing style felt a bit clunky, and didn't help the plot or characters.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Different..
By Bec
Book provided by the publisher.

I'm finding this a bit hard to review.
From reading the description
"Just because you're large, doesn't mean you want to be in charge." and seeing the cover and the fact extasy books published it, I started it thinking it would be erotica, or at least slightly but it wasn't.

The characters were OK but the plot wasn't really for me. I didn't connect with the characters and it didn't flow very well as well as it could have

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[U463.Ebook] Ebook Free Magic: A Novel, by Danielle Steel

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Magic: A Novel, by Danielle Steel

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Magic: A Novel, by Danielle Steel

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Magic: A Novel, by Danielle Steel

#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

It starts on a summer evening, with the kind of magic found only in Paris. Once a year in the City of Light, a lavish dinner takes place outside a spectacular landmark—the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame . . . a new setting each time. Selected by secret invitation, the guests arrive dressed in white, with tables and chairs, white linens, flowers, fine china, sparkling crystal, and an elegant dinner. As the sun sets, thousands of candles are lit. And when the night is over, hundreds of white paper lanterns, each with a flame within, bearing everyone’s fervent wishes, are released into the sky. Amid this wondrous White Dinner, a group of close friends stands at the cusp of change.
 
Jean-Philippe and Valerie Dumas are devoted to each other and their young children. He is a rising star in the financial world, she, an editor at French Vogue. But a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity in China may lead to separation—and temptation.
 
The epitome of a stylish power couple from Milan, Benedetta and Gregorio Mariani run a venerable Italian clothing empire. Gregorio projects strength, but has a weakness that will ignite a crisis in their company and their marriage.
 
Chantal Giverny, an award-winning screenwriter, and Dharam Singh, one of India’s most successful tech entrepreneurs, are singles paired for the evening. They arrive as friends, but their paths will be set on dramatically different courses before the White Dinner ends.
 
Spanning the globe, this breathtaking novel follows these indelible characters through a transformative year of successes and heartbreaks until the next White Dinner. From the world’s most beloved writer, here is a tale told with extraordinary tenderness and passion, as Danielle Steel explores what it really means to have magic in our lives.

  • Sales Rank: #38698 in Books
  • Brand: Steel Danielle
  • Published on: 2016-07-05
  • Released on: 2016-07-05
  • Ingredients: Example Ingredients
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 9.60" h x 1.10" w x 6.40" l, 1.29 pounds
  • Binding: Hardcover
  • 336 pages
Features
  • Magic

About the Author
Danielle Steel has been hailed as one of the world’s most popular authors, with over 650 million copies of her novels sold. Her many international bestsellers include The Apartment, Property of a Noblewoman, Blue, Precious Gifts, Undercover, Country, Prodigal Son, Pegasus, and other highly acclaimed novels. She is also the author of His Bright Light, the story of her son Nick Traina’s life and death; A Gift of Hope, a memoir of her work with the homeless; Pure Joy, about the dogs she and her family have loved; and the children’s books Pretty Minnie in Paris and Pretty Minnie in Hollywood.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1

The White Dinner is a love poem to friendship, joy, elegance, and the beautiful monuments of Paris. And each year it is an unforgettable night. Other cities have attempted to emulate it around the world, with little success. There is only one Paris, and the event is so revered and respected and perfectly executed that it is hard to imagine it in any other city.

It began some thirty years ago when a naval officer and his wife decided to celebrate their anniversary with their friends in a creative, unusual way, in front of one of their favorite monuments in Paris. They organized about twenty of their friends, everyone dressed in white. They arrived with folding tables and chairs, linens for the table, silver, crystal, china, maybe flowers, brought an elegant meal with them, set everything out, and shared a glorious celebration with their guests. The magic began on that night.

It was such a success that they did it again the following year, in a different but equally remarkable location. And each year ever since, the White Dinner has been a tradition, and more and more and more people attend, to celebrate the evening in the same way, entirely dressed in white, on a night in June.

The event remains by invitation only, which is respected by all, and over the years it has become one of the most cherished secret occasions held in Paris. The all-­white dress code is still mandatory, including shoes, and everyone makes a real effort to dress elegantly and follow the established traditions. Each year the White Dinner is held in front of a different Parisian monument, and the possibilities are vast in Paris. In front of Notre Dame, the Arc de Triomphe, at the feet of the Eiffel Tower at the Trocadero, in the Place de la Concorde, between the pyramids in front of the Louvre, in the Place Vendôme. By now the White Dinner has been held in a myriad of locations, each one more beautiful than the last.

Over the years, the White Dinner has grown so large that it is held now in two locations, with the total number of invited guests approaching fifteen thousand. It’s hard to imagine that many people behaving properly, arriving looking elegant, and following all the rules, but miraculously they do. “White food” and meals are encouraged, but above all a proper meal must be served (no hot dogs, hamburgers, or sandwiches). A real dinner is meant to be brought along, set out on a table on a white linen tablecloth, eaten with silver utensils, with real crystal and china, just as in a restaurant, or a home where honored guests are being entertained. Everything one brings must fit in a rolling caddy, and at the end of the evening, every scrap of garbage or debris must be put in white garbage bags and removed, down to the last cigarette butt. No sign of the revelers must remain in the beautiful locations chosen that year for the White Dinner. People must appear and disappear as gracefully as they arrive.

The police turn a blind eye to it, although no permits are taken out for the event, despite the vast number of participants (taking out permits would spoil the surprise), and remarkably, there are no crashers. An invitation to the White Dinner is much coveted and celebrated when received, but those who are not on the guest list never show up and try to claim they are. There have been no bad incidents or hostilities at the event. It is an evening of pure joy, reinforced by respect for fellow guests and love for the city.

Half the fun is not knowing where it will take place that year. It is a formal secret kept religiously by the six organizers. And wherever it will happen, people are invited in couples, and each couple must bring their own folding table and two chairs, both of regulation size.

The six organizers inform “subheads” of the evening of the first location where people are meant to gather. All invited guests are to show up with their caddies, tables, and chairs, at one of the initial sites at precisely eight-­fifteen p.m. The two groups will dine in two different locations. The excitement begins to mount when the first locations are revealed, which revelers are informed of only the afternoon of the event. It gives one some rough idea of where the actual dinner might be held, but it’s all guesswork, since usually there are several possible beautiful locations within easy walking distance of that first location. All day people try to guess where they will be having dinner. People arrive promptly at their first location, dressed all in white and equipped for the evening. Friends find each other in the crowd, call out to each other, and discover with delight who is there. Spirits are high for half an hour in the meeting place, and at eight-­forty-­five precisely the final destination is revealed, no more than a five-­minute walk from where they are.

Once the location is announced, each couple is assigned a space the exact size of their table, and they must set up in that space, in long neat rows. People often come in groups of couples, friends who have attended the event for years, and dine side by side with their individual tables as part of the long rows.

By nine o’clock, seven thousand people have reached the spectacular monuments that are the lucky winners for the night. And once they have arrived and been given their table location assignment, measured by the inch or centimeter, tables are unfolded, chairs set down firmly, tablecloths spread out, candlesticks produced, tables set as for a wedding. Within fifteen minutes, the diners are seated, pouring wine, happy, and beaming in anticipation of a spectacular evening among old and new friends. The excitement and the finally revealed secret of the location make the participants feel like children attending a surprise birthday party. And by nine-­thirty, the festivities are in full swing. Nothing could be better.

The dinner begins about an hour before sunset, and as the sun sets, candles are lit on the tables, and after nightfall the entire square or place where the event is held is candlelit, as seven thousand diners clad in white, toasting each other with shimmering crystal glasses, silver candelabra on the tables, are a feast for the eye. At eleven p.m., sparklers are handed out and lit, and a dance band plays halfway through the evening, adding further merriment. At Notre Dame the church bells toll, and the priest on duty offers a blessing from the balcony. And precisely half an hour after midnight, the entire crowd packs up and disappears, like mice scampering into the night, leaving no sign that they have been there, except the good time that will be remembered forever, the friendships that were formed, and the special time that was shared.

Another interesting aspect of the evening is that no money changes hands. No fee is charged to be invited, nothing has to be purchased or paid for. One brings one’s own meal and cannot buy one’s way into the White Dinner. The organizers invite whom they chose to, and the event remains pure. Other cities have tried to make a profit from doing similar dinners and immediately corrupt the event by including rowdy people who don’t belong, pay any price to be there, and spoil the evening for everyone else. The White Dinner in Paris has stuck to the original model, with great results. Everyone looks forward to it, as the date draws near. And in thirty years, the secret of where the actual dinner will be has never leaked, which makes it even more fun.

People wait all year for the White Dinner and are never disappointed by the event itself. And unfailingly, it is a night one could never forget, from the first moment to the last. The memories of it are long cherished by those who are lucky enough to be asked. And everyone agrees, magic happens there.

Jean-­Philippe Dumas had been attending the White Dinner for ten years, since he was twenty-­nine years old. And as a friend of one of the organizers, he was allowed to invite nine couples, to form a group of twenty seated together with their individual tables tightly placed side by side. He chose his guests carefully every year, and along with good friends he had invited before, he tried to include a few new friends who he thought would be respectful of the rules of the event, get along with his other guests, and have a good time. There was nothing haphazard or casual about his guest list. He took it very seriously, and if he included anyone who didn’t appreciate the evening, or wasn’t fun to be with, or tried to use it as a networking opportunity, which it emphatically wasn’t, he replaced them the following year with other friends. But mostly he brought back regulars who begged to come every year.

After Jean-­Philippe married seven years earlier, his American wife, Valerie, came to love the dinner as much as he did, and they carefully selected their guests together every year.

Jean-­Philippe worked in international investments at a well-­known firm. Valerie had met him two weeks after she moved to Paris. Now, at thirty-­five, she was the assistant editor of French Vogue, and the leading candidate to become editor-­in-­chief in two years, when their current one was slated to retire. Eight years before, Jean-­Philippe had fallen in love with her at first sight. She was tall, sleek, smart, with long, straight dark hair. She was chic without being tiresome about it, had a great sense of humor, and enjoyed his friends. She had been a wonderful addition to the group, she and Jean-­Philippe got on famously, and after they married, they had had three children, two boys and a girl, in six years. They were the couple every­one wanted to spend time with. She had worked at American Vogue in New York straight out of college, before she moved. She took her work seriously, but still managed to be a good wife and mother and somehow juggled it all. She loved living in Paris and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. She had made a big effort to learn French for him, which served her well at work too. She could speak to photographers, stylists, and designers now. She had a heavy American accent he teased her about, but her French was fluent. They took their children to her family home in Maine every summer, so their children could get to know their American cousins, but for Valerie, France had become home. She no longer missed New York or working there. And she thought Paris the most beautiful city in the world.

They had a wide circle of friends and a good life. They lived in a wonderful apartment. They entertained often, and sometimes cooked for friends, or hired a cook for informal dinner parties. Their invitations were much coveted, especially to the White Dinner.

Valerie had met Benedetta and Gregorio Mariani at Fashion Week in Milan right after she had gone to work at Paris Vogue. They hit it off immediately, and Jean-­Philippe loved them too. They had invited them to the White Dinner even before Jean-­Philippe married Valerie, when they were still dating. The Marianis had been regulars ever since and flew in from Milan every year. This year Benedetta was in a white knit dress she had designed that showed off her excellent figure, and high heels, and Gregorio was wearing a white suit he’d had made in Rome, with a white silk tie, impeccable white shirt, and immaculate white suede shoes. Gregorio and Benedetta always looked as if they’d just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Both their families had been involved in fashion for centuries, and they had managed to combine their talents to the benefit of both houses. Benedetta’s family had been making knits and sportswear that were famous around the world, and they were doing even better now than previously with her talent for design. And Gregorio’s family had been making the finest textiles in Italy for two hundred years. They had been married for twenty years, and Gregorio had been working with her ever since, while his brothers ran the family mills and supplied them most of their fabrics. They were slightly older than Jean-­Philippe and Valerie, Benedetta was forty-­two and Gregorio was forty-­four and they were always fun to be with. They had no children, as they had discovered that Benedetta was unable to conceive, and had chosen not to adopt. Instead, she lavished all her love and time and energy on their business and worked side by side with Gregorio, with impressive results.

Most helpful customer reviews

14 of 14 people found the following review helpful.
Great
By kymberly Bartlett Vincent
Ms. Steel another great book, I don't know how you do it. I read all your books and they just get better, if that's possible. Thanks once again. I look forward to your books and actually have them ordered before they come out. Thanks again !!!

29 of 31 people found the following review helpful.
Amazing as always
By Stephen Beck
I couldn't put it down from the first page, one if her best! I can't wait for the next one

7 of 7 people found the following review helpful.
Don't waste your money on this one.
By pj
Most boring book I have read by her lately; another older woman falls for younger man. Nothing suspenseful about the entire book. Full of descriptive paragraphs that go on and on and all you want to do is skip them and try to find where this book is going. If you left out all the boring, descriptive paragraphs book could have been finished in just 10 chapters. Nothing exciting happens; you know almost after the first couple of chapters what is going to happen. My advice - don't waste your money on this one. Maybe Steel needs to slow down and quit writing books so fast.

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Thursday, October 25, 2012

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Nauti Seductress (Nauti Girls), by Lora Leigh

#1 New York Times bestselling author Lora Leigh delivers the heat with another steamy novel featuring the Mackay sisters, following Nauti Enchantress and Nauti Temptress.

Zoey Mackay is as tough and savvy as anyone. But when an unknown assailant slips her a psychoactive drug, she descends into a literal nightmare of violence and blood. And even after she wakes, the horror haunts her, spurring her to learn how to defend herself. But her defense may not be enough for a different kind of opponent.

Enigmatic Homeland Security honcho Chatham Bromleagh Doogan is a man with power and the will to use it. When he rescues Zoey from the depths of her drug-induced delirium, he swears to find the bastards who almost destroyed her spirit and make them pay.�

But when the shadowy threat returns, will Zoey and Doogan have the strength to hold onto each other and survive the coming storm?

  • Sales Rank: #308444 in Books
  • Published on: 2015-11-10
  • Released on: 2015-11-10
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 8.26" h x .89" w x 5.44" l, 1.00 pounds
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 352 pages

Review
Praise for the books of Lora Leigh�

“Lora Leigh knows how to turn up the heat.”—Under the Covers

“Smoking hot.”—Fiction Vixen

About the Author
Lora Leigh is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Nauti Boys series and the Breed novels.

Excerpt. � Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Prologue


Something was wrong. It oozed through her senses like an oily presence, determined to overwhelm her, to overtake her.. Dark, invisible chains held her in that place between sleep and conscious awareness. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t push past the restraints tightening around her.

Panic raced through her. She knew she had to fight, knew she had to find a way to open her eyes, to force herself to fight. She had to. If she didn’t, then she could die there.

She had to open her eyes. She had to see who was doing this, had to remember. . . . But she couldn’t force them open, she couldn’t move or fight. With each second the sense of danger grew, wrapping around her with razor tipped bonds.

Hurting her..

Her blood began heating, almost boiling through her veins with so much pain, such agony. It began in her arm, and inch by inch worked along her body until even her brain was on fire.

She couldn’t scream. Her voice didn’t work, the screams and the pleas couldn’t find a path to emit the tortured sounds reverberating through her head.

Icy terror ricocheted through her.

All I have to do is accept it’s real. Just accept it isn’t a dream and the pain will go away. I just have to accept it. It’s not a dream. Accept it, and the pain will stop.

Just accept it.

Accept it and I won’t hurt anymore.

That wasn’t her voice. It wasn’t her thoughts.

What else could it be? If it wasn’t hers, then what could it be?

Oh God, the pain!

It was real. It was really happening. It was real.

The pain eased marginally. Boiling, lava-hot agony no longer ripped at her senses but the pain was still intense, excruciating.

She just wanted it to go away.

The whispers moved around her, voices in her head, or were they in the room with her? Demands that she accept it was real.

She was accepting. God, yeah, it was real. Every agonizing second of it was real.

She just couldn’t figure out how it was real. No one should be able to get to her here, at her mother’s inn. Her suite was the safest place she could be. Her mother’s lover, Timothy, was a retired federal agent and revered security gadgets. He would never allow anyone to hurt her like this. She had to wake up. She had to make it stop.

Pain exploded through Zoey’s head with the force of a blow connecting with it, sending shards of white-hot pain tearing through it.

This wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dream. It was real.

“Fight, Zoey . . .” It was a hiss of sound more than an actual order. “You have to fight. Harley will kill you . . .

Harley?

Why would Harley hurt her?

“Look at him, Zoey.” That hissing demand was like static at her ear. “Look at him. See Harley. See who’s hurting you, Zoey.”

Struggling to force her eyes open, she tried to cry out and couldn’t. Tried to deny it was happening.

Harley was on the bed with her, smiling, his gentle green eyes filled with laughter like they always were. Except he was naked. Naked and aroused and he was pulling at the elastic waistband of her pajama shorts, ripping the side of them, determined to remove them.

Dizzy, sick to her stomach with pain and confusion, she tried to fight, struggling against the harsh hands tearing at her clothes, ripping them from her and leaving her naked.

The air surrounding her was icy, sinking through her skin to her bones as she bucked against the hands holding her down.

Twisting beneath him, she managed to roll from the bed, scrambling to get to her feet, to get to the door of her suite and rush from the room. She had to get away. If she could just get Timothy’s attention, then he’d make Harley stop. He’d find out why her friend was trying to hurt her like this.

Before she could get to her feet, he tripped her, throwing her to the floor. He flipped her to her back and came over her again. Smiling, always smiling at her.

A flash of a darker expression, a darker face flickered across Harley’s features. A jagged scar across his eye, a mean, malicious gaze, and eyes that weren’t Harley’s.

Terror raced through her mind. What was happening to her?

She kicked, trying to cry, trying to scream . . .

Oh God, what was happening to her? Why couldn’t she scream? Cry?

It was like a dream where all sound becomes blocked, unable to struggle free. But it wasn’t a dream.

Terror resounded in her mind, darkened her vision, and stole consciousness. A deep, black void yawned around her, threatening to pull her into it, to smother her. She was going to die here. If she didn’t fight, then she would die in the darkness.

Awareness returned seconds later, voices whispering around her, evil, ugly voices.

“Fight me, Zoey,” Harley demanded, his voice harder, rougher, unrecognizable as he stared down at her with a gentle green gaze despite the hate-filled sound of his voice. “Mackay bitch. Come on, fight me. Maybe I won’t make it hurt so bad. Come on, Zoey, if you don’t fight me I’m going to kill you. I’ll fuck you so deep, so hard, it will kill you.”

Fight him. It wasn’t a dream. Oh God, it wasn’t a dream.

She fought, hoarse, terrified sobs trapped inside her, given no voice but echoing through her head with such terror she felt strangled by it.

“Come back here, you silly bitch . . .” She managed to kick out at him, struggling to get away from him.

Why was he doing this? What was happening to him? To her? Why would he hurt her?

What had she done? Why was he so angry? The thought was barely coherent.

“Bitch. Humiliate me again,” he snarled in that voice so unlike his. “You humiliated me, Zoey.”

She shook her head desperately, fighting the hands grabbing at her breasts, bruising her nipples as he pulled at them.

“Bitch. You don’t question me,” he snarled.

Fury exploded in her head. Fury, terror, and a determination to fight, to defy him. She was a Mackay. He might kill her, but she refused to make it easy for him.

“No” she wheezed, so desperate to scream, fighting for enough air to scream until her lungs burned with it. Curling her fingers, enraged growls left her throat as she fought to claw him, to dig her nails into his flesh and rip it open.

He laughed at her.

“You going to fight me, little whore? Mackay whore. I’ll make you my whore. You’ll beg me to hurt you, to show you who’s boss.”

The hell he would. She would die first.

She would kill him before she let him do something so vile to her.

Hard hands snagged her ankles, jerking her legs apart again as Harley tried to slide between them.

He was going to rape her just as he threatened, and no matter how hard she tried, how hard she fought, she couldn’t escape him.

Harley . . . ?

His features twisted, flashed from Harley’s face to something else. From Harley’s deep blue eyes eyes to cold, pale ice-blue eyes. From Harley’s youthful features, to a flash, so fast it made no sense, to harder, more mature features.

She fought him, trying to slap him, hit him, fighting to find something, anything to protect herself, as she kicked out at him, her foot caught him high on the thigh, his hold loosening, allowing her to scramble away from him.

“Fight, bitch,” he growled with such black malevolence it was terrifying. “Fight me. If you don’t fight I’ll just hurt you worse. Go ahead. Kick.”

Oh God why was he doing this to her? Harley wouldn’t do this..

Pain exploded against the side of her head. He hit her. His fist slamming against her skull, scattering her senses.

Oh God, it hurt so bad.

He struck her again. An open-handed slap to her face.

Enraged, furious growls were all she could push past her throat as tears spilled from her eyes.

“Fight, bitch.”

She was fighting. Kicking, twisting beneath him, her nails digging furrows into his face, his shoulders.

“Fight me or I’m going to fuck you, Zoey. Where’s your weapon? Find it, bitch.”

Find her weapon? What weapon?

A scream tore from her as he came over her again, moving between her legs, one hand gripping his penis, lining it up between her thighs.

No, Harley, please. Please no. Sobbing, reaching behind her, she fought to find a weapon.

“Did you find the knife, Zoey?” Insidious, malicious, that ugly voice whispered through her mind.

“It’s right there. It’s right by your hand.”

Her fingers closed over the hilt of the knife.

“I’m going to kill you,” Harley snarled. “I’ll rape you until you die, Zoey, and then I’ll kill that fucking Dawg. And his prissy baby girl, Laken? I’ll rape her next. I’ll fuck her until she begs me . . .” His eyes jerked open wide.

Rage beat at her head, hysteria lashed at her senses. Her fists were beating out at him, slamming against him. He made a gurgling sound, his eyes dimming, turning dull before he fell over to the floor.

Then she saw the blood.

So much blood.

All over her. The knife in her hand, over her naked body, the floor and Harley’s body. It stained the wall, the furniture in her living room.

“Ahh ahh God . . .” she sobbed, the knife clattering to the floor, terror gouging at her, tearing through her mind, slamming into it with such force that agony resonated through her head and stole her consciousness.

“You killed me, Zoey,” Harley whispered in that rough, unfamiliar voice, his green eyes lifeless, dull as he stared up at her. “You killed me with that knife. Don’t you ever forget you killed me, Zoey.”

She stared at him, blood flowing around her like a stream, sticky and hot, washing over her feet, then her ankles as she watched it in horror.

“Don’t you ever forget, Zoey. Don’t you forget, you killed me . . .”

Run.

Run. You have to escape here. Run to Lyrica. Run now. She’ll make sure you’re safe. Find Lyrica . . . Tell her to find Sam. Lyrica has to find Sam. Confess to Sam. Only Lyrica and Sam can save you . . .

She had to find Lyrica.

She was so cold and dizzy, her senses rocking, pitching her back and forth until she was throwing up, fighting to remain conscious.

She couldn’t black out again.

Not again.

“You killed me, Zoey.” She felt something wet wiping over her face, the smell of vomit no longer assaulting her senses. “Why did you kill me, Zoey?”

“You can’t tell Dawg, Zoey. You can’t tell him you killed me. You know he’ll tell Natches. Remember? Natches said he loved me like a son. I was his prot�g�. Remember how much Natches loves me, Zoey?”

Natches did love Harley. They were always hunting and shooting, and Natches said Harley was his heir to . . . To what? She couldn’t remember now. What was he Natches’s heir to?

The blackout came again, a vicious, agonizing explosion of pain that brought merciful blackness.

“I’m Natches’s heir,” dark and grating, the voice reminded her again. “Natches will kill you, Zoey. Like he killed his cousin Johnny all those years ago. Natches will kill you. He’ll pop your little head like a grape . . .”

“No,” she whispered, fighting to drag herself back to awareness. “No. Please . . .”

“Natches will kill you. Like he killed Johnny when Johnny tried to hurt Christa and Dawg. Remember, Zoey? You heard about it. Cousin Johnny tried to hurt Dawg and Christa and Natches popped his little head with a bullet. You killed me. You killed me, Zoey. Natches will enjoy killing you.”

Zoey forced her eyes open, blinking, pain raging through her head. She wasn’t in the suite she’d moved into at her mother’s Bed-and-Breakfast Inn any longer. The bedroom where she had killed Harley was gone. Instead, she was propped against the sliding patio door of her sister’s apartment just outside Somerset.

Lyrica.

Lyrica would help her. Her sister would help her, and maybe Natches wouldn’t kill her like he killed Johnny. She would find Sam, and she would tell Sam what happened. Sam would make sure Natches didn’t kill her.

“Lyrie.” She tried to knock at the door her head rested against.

The glass was cool against her temple but did nothing to help the pain. Her head felt scrambled, as if pieces had been rearranged inside it, leaving her with a feeling of disassociation and complete terror.

“Lyrie, please help me . . .” She tried to knock again, her voice hoarse, weak as she lay at her sister’s doorstep.

How had she gotten there?

Her breath hitched as sobs tried to escape yet still lay trapped inside her. She couldn’t scream or cry. Her voice was so raw and she was so weak. She wanted a drink of water so bad, but her stomach was still pitching, threatening to be sick again.

“Lyrie, please . . .” Where was her sister?

It was so cold. The cement of her sister’s small patio was like ice.

Oh God, was she dressed? Was she still naked?

She couldn’t tell. But she was so cold, so cold she was shuddering, icy from the inside out. Where was Lyrica? She was so scared. And she was so cold.

She needed to be warm again. Just for a minute. Just so she could think.

“Zoey?” It wasn’t her sister.

The voice was soft, gentle, as were the hands that pushed the hair back from her face with tender concern.

She forced her eyes open, staring into the confused, concerned gaze of her sister Lyrica’s neighbor, Samantha Bryce. The police detective, Samantha Bryce.

Sam. She had to tell Sam. Sam would keep her from dying.

Sam would take her away. She would lock her up and Zoey would never be free again.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Tell Momma I’m so sorry, Sam.”

“Come on, Zoey. Let’s get you inside before someone sees you.”

Long brown curls flowed around Zoey as Sam’s hair slipped over her shoulder and spilled against her own.

It was longer than Zoey thought. Spiral curls like her own. The long, loose, springy curls and deep waves were warm against her neck and shoulders.

Sam lifted her, cradling her in her arms and quickly moving from Lyrica’s patio door to the one next to it.

Icy air surrounded her, but she didn’t feel naked. She was in her shorts and tank she slept in. When had she dressed?

“Sam, I’m so scared,” she sobbed against the other woman’s neck. “I’m so scared.”

Sam’s heart was pounding hard and fast against Zoey’s arm beneath the tank she wore. And though Zoey knew the other woman should be warm, still, that icy freeze encased her.

She would never be warm again. Not ever.

“It’s okay, Zoey.” Sam whispered the promise, her voice deep, sounding thick, clogged. “I promise, we’ll make it okay.”

Sam laid her on a bed, easing her back and sitting down beside her.

“Zoey,” she whispered, her voice rough and worried. “Look at me, sweetie. Open your eyes.”

Zoey fought to open them, but it hurt so bad.

Her head hurt so bad.

“Tell Momma I’m so sorry,” Zoey begged, lifting her arm, trying to catch Sam’s arm, to make her understand.

Darkness washed over her again.

She thought she heard voices, not in her head but around her.

Sam was cussing at someone. “Fix it!” she demanded. “He’s a fucking nutcase,” she cried out. “Just do it. Hurry. If she dies we’ll all die . . .”

“He’ll pop my little head like a grape,” Zoey whispered. “Like Johnny. Just like Johnny.” She shuddered at the image and grew colder.

So cold. So icy. She had to tell Sam what she had done. She had to.

“I’m so sorry, Momma,” Zoey whispered, knowing her mother wasn’t there. So glad her momma couldn’t see her with so much blood on her.

Someone gripped her hand, holding it firmly as blankets were quickly pulled over her.

I’m here.

We’ll get you warm, little one.

. . . heated blankets. Electric blankets. Electric blankets would be so warm, wouldn’t they? Wrapped around you like the warmest skin. Holding you close . . .

That voice. She remembered that voice.

At a party. Dancing with him. He’d been just a little bit drunk that night. He’d strolled to her. Striding across the large room where everyone danced, his eyes on her, connecting with hers, heavy lidded, his gaze dark and hungry.

He’d held his hand out and though she’d laughed at him, she’d still accepted the silent demand to dance. To step into his arms. His warmth.

“Dance with me . . .” she sighed. “Hold me.”

All my warmth in the blankets around you. Feel it, little one. Feel how warm I’ll keep you.

Delicious warmth surrounded her, a cocoon of gentle heat sinking into her skin as the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers, easing her, easing the pain just a little bit.

He was her fantasy.

After that night, his image followed her into dreams and into masturbation. And she’d never seen him again.

She would be gone now if he came back. Taken away and locked up for killing Harley.

“I’m so sorry . . .” She had to force the words past her lips.

“Why? Why are you sorry, little one?” Her eyelid was lifted, light piercing her skull like a sword and causing her stomach to pitch and churn as she cried out with the pain.

The next eyelid was lifted, the lancing white light stabbing into her brain again. She was too weak to fight. She couldn’t fight anymore.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered, the blissful darkness finally returning. “Don’t hurt me more.”

“God. Zoey, honey, tell me what happened? Who hurt you, Zoey?” he demanded. “Tell me who hurt you.”

Tears slipped from her closed eyes, the horror of the nightmare images racing across her brain filling her with such a desperate, overwhelming need to hide.

“Where’s Sam?” She had to tell Sam.

“I’m here, Zoey.” Soft, gentle, and so sad. Sam was always so sad.

“Harley.” She shuddered in fear. “I killed Harley, Sam. I killed him. I have to tell you. I killed Harley.” She kept her eyes closed; she couldn’t bear to see the condemnation in Sam’s eyes. “I killed Harley, Sam . . .” Her breathing hitched with a cry. “I’m so sorry I killed him. I’m so sorry, but he was hurting me so bad . . .” Panic began welling inside her, racing through her veins, tearing through her mind. “He was hurting me so bad. . . . Please don’t let Natches kill me. Don’t let him . . .”

Detonations of pain ruptured her mind, sending waves of deep, black nothingness to surround her once again.

Just nothingness where she could hide.

It wasn’t cold here, though. The warmth that was wrapped around her stayed, like a pocket of soul-deep comfort amid the terror and icy chill.

“It was just a dream. This is all a dream, Zoey,” her fantasy whispered, his voice soothing, filled with the latent hunger she’d heard in it the night they danced. “It was a terrible, horrible nightmare, Zoey . . . It’s all okay. Remember, it’s all okay. You just had a terrible dream.”

The pain in her skull slowly eased. It wasn’t gone, but it eased. It wasn’t so deep or so agonizing. But she didn’t want to think yet. She didn’t want to remember yet.

“Zoey, Harley didn’t hurt you. You didn’t kill Harley. He’s fine.”

No, it wasn’t just a nightmare.

“Don’t let Natches kill me. I’m so scared. It was real. I know it was real.”

“It was a dream.” This time, her fantasy lover’s voice was so powerful and filled with demand, surrounding her, even on the inside, with a heat that began to melt the ice trying to overtake her. “This is just a nightmare. Nothing more.”

The sound of his voice pulled at her, drew her as it always did in her dreams, making her want to wrap it around her and hold him to her forever.

She could barely hear him, actually had to strain to make the words out, but the throb of power and the determined male force behind it was clearly apparent.

“You’re safe, Zoey. You’re safe. Harley’s safe. This is just a terrible, terrible nightmare.”

She couldn’t deny him. She didn’t want to deny him.

A nightmare.

A terrible dream.

It was more than that and she knew it. There had to be more to it. But she couldn’t make the voice understand . . .

“Zoey, do you hear me?” The dark, intently male voice pulled at her senses now as it always did. But only in her dreams. He was only in her dreams, because he’d left and he hadn’t come back after dancing with her.

She only knew this voice in her fantasies, and it soothed her, protected her without smothering her.

“Answer me, Zoey. Do you hear me?”

His voice was so strong. It wrapped around her and reminded her of the fantasies that filled her dreams. Fantasies of him. The knight who rescued the maiden, the tough warrior who fought side by side with the sorceress. The dream image of the lover who hadn’t yet become a lover.

“I’m scared . . .” She couldn’t wake up, she didn’t want to wake up, not yet. Not until something made sense. Nothing made any sense. “I’m so scared . . .”

“Don’t be scared anymore, Zoey.” Warm, callused fingertips eased from her temple to her jaw. “Listen to me, and everything will be okay. Do you understand me?”

The voice touched her with pure, raw power. It was so strong. Strong enough to hurt . . .

She whimpered at the thought. She didn’t want to hurt anymore. But she had to fight. And fighting it just made the pain worse. She had to remember everything. The strange voice and Harley’s face flickering with a darker, crueler face. Sam whispering something, then yelling at someone. And now her dream lover.

She had to remember.

Pain lanced at her head, ripping through it with such agony she wanted to scream. Oh God, it hurt so bad.

“Zoey?” he whispered again, his voice so low she had to strain to hear him. “You have to listen to me so the pain will go away. I can make it all go away, but you have to listen to me.”

He was holding her hand, palm turned up as he stroked the skin of her inner arm to the crook of her elbow. There, he massaged the skin, eased the joint. She felt something tighten, and then finally, blessedly, the agony in her head eased a little more.

“See, I’m going to make it better. Trust me, Zoey. Trust me to make it better.” he told her in that deep, rasping whisper she could barely hear. “To always take the pain away. I’ll take it all away.”

Just trust him. That was all she had to do was trust him.

The nightmare would go away then.

Slipping deeper into sleep, into the fantasy she sometimes created for herself, Zoey watched as the shadowy figure moved to her. Strong and tall, pulling her against his warm body. His arms holding her, his voice at her ear.

A sigh slipped from her.

Okay, this was better. The fantasy she had created for herself, the lover who came to her in her dreams and whose touch awakened a sexuality inside her that she didn’t possess while she was awake, he would protect her from the pain.

He was there with her now. His gaze was dark, filled with secrets and with hunger. His expression implacable, aristocratic, and filled with arrogance. And her fascination with him never waned.

“You came back . . . I kept watching for you . . . you’re only in my dreams now . . .” She fought to speak to him, to hold him in this place where everything was so out of control and filled with pain. “Hold me. Just hold me . . .”

If he would just hold her, take it all away . . .

“I have you, Zoey. I won’t let you go. Isn’t this part of the dream so much nicer?” There was a hint of sadness in his voice, in his dark eyes. “I always like this part of the dream better than I do the part that rips open my skull and leaves me wanting to scream, but I can’t find my voice to do so.”

They hurt him too?

No. He was warmth, protection without being smothered. How did she know that? Why did the nightmares come to him too? She fought to tighten her fingers around the hand holding hers. Struggled to find the strength but only succeeded for a moment.

“I hate that part of the nightmare,” he agreed, as though that faint pressure were all he needed. “See how much better this part is? See, that’s how you know it’s just a nightmare. I’ll be here with you and if I’m here, then the pain will go away. And if I’m here with you, nothing and no one can hurt you.”

Of course. It had to be a nightmare. A horrible, horrifying nightmare. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be dreaming of the shadowy lover who usually filled her dreams and kept her waiting for him.

“Just a nightmare . . . When you feel the pain, when it tries to come back, I’ll be here with you. The pain can’t touch you, Zoey. I’ll keep the pain away . . .”

“Don’t leave me.” She struggled to force the words past her lips, to convince him to stay this time. “Hold me.”

“Just for a little while.” His lips eased over her fingers. “But I’ll be back. If you promise me you’ll know it was just a nightmare.”

She would promise him anything. “Just a nightmare.”

But she knew something wasn’t right about that either. Something bad had happened. Something so terrible it was terrifying too, but she didn’t know how. She didn’t know what it was, or how it happened.

If it wasn’t real, then Harley was alive, she reminded herself as the voice stroked the pain from her head, kept her warm and tried to convince her that grass was blue and the sky was green . . . That it was all a nightmare.

“Sleep for me now, Zoey,” he whispered. “Sleep. And know when you wake up that everything’s going to be fine. It was just a nightmare.”

It was much more than a nightmare, she knew. She just didn’t know which part was real, and which wasn’t. She didn’t know and she was terrified to learn . . .

Chatham Bromleah Doogan the Third eased back from the bed and rested his elbows on his knees, watching Zoey painfully as Detective Sam Bryce stood still and silent at the bedroom door, her back to him.

How many times had he stood and watched this little imp over the past few years? She was intriguing, beyond beautiful, and she had mesmerized him from the first moment he’d seen her.

Whoever had done this to her would pay. He’d make damned sure they paid with their lives.

She was lucky Doogan was in town to meet with one of his agents, Graham Brock. Otherwise, Homeland Security as well as the Mackays might have found themselves involved in one hell of a mess.

But what would it have accomplished?

The young man in question didn’t work for Homeland Security, officially. Unofficially, Doogan had provided whatever help the younger man needed.

Harley and Zoey were friends, though. They’d had a little spat a few days ago, Harley had laughingly told him. Zoey had come to his apartment and caught him with a young woman he shouldn’t have been with. She’d been outraged. But they hadn’t really fought, and she’d hugged him before leaving the apartment’s parking lot afterward. Harley had indicated it was no more than a friendly disagreement.

Someone was determined to destroy Zoey with it, though.

On the bedside table were the vials of blood he’d drawn as soon as he’d arrived and the syringe that held the drug he’d used to ease the pain while he worked with the hallucinogenic he was positive had been used to convince her she’d killed her friend. And as he worked to reverse the nightmarish images planted in her head, his chest had ached while a dark, burning fury grew inside him.

What was it about those pale, pale green eyes and Zoey’s pleas not to leave her, to keep her warm, that caused the break in his control and in the wall he maintained around his emotions?

Rubbing his hands over his face and blowing out a hard breath, Doogan forced back the regret, the stirrings of anger. If he was going to help her, if he was going to fix this, then he had to keep his head.

Without saying anything more to Zoey he rose from the bed, his movements drawing the detective’s attention. Before she could speak, he motioned her to the other room.

He didn’t want Zoey’s memories further influenced by anything they might say between them. Her mind was so completely open at the moment, the effects of the hallucinogenic she’d been given at its height. Any suggestion, any discussion in her hearing could influence her thoughts and memories detrimentally.

Closing the door silently behind them, he pointed to the door of the guest room across the living room and followed her into that room. Once again securing the door, he breathed out heavily, wearily.

“Harley answer your text yet?” he demanded, keeping his voice low.

She gave a quick nod. “He asked to meet in another hour at Ziggler’s All Niter, the convenience store at the north end of town. He’s said he was hunting at the moment.”

Hunting. He was no wildlife hunter. Harley, despite his youth, was one of the best human trackers Doogan had ever had the discomfort of meeting.

Sam cleared her throat then, her hazel-green gaze wary, heavy with fear for the young woman now sleeping in her bedroom. Sam had a soft spot for the other young woman. It wasn’t lust, or love, but her affection for Zoey ran deep.

“I checked her arm,” he said, pushing his fingers through his hair. “There’s evidence of several injection sites made in the past few hours . . .”

“Zoey does not do drugs, Doogan,” she hissed, furious. Gathering the long curls that fell over her shoulder, she pushed them behind her as though preparing to battle.

“You didn’t allow me to finish, Detective,” he pointed out, berating her mildly. “As I said, the injection sites were made in the past few hours. She has all the signs of having been dosed with a powerful hallucinogenic. It literally rips the mind open and allows someone with the right training to convince the person something has occurred that didn’t. In this case, that she killed Harley for trying to rape her.”

Sam flinched.

She crossed her arms over her breasts, the gray ribbed cotton wife-beater tank she wore with loose gray shorts attesting to the lateness of the hour. She’d been asleep when the sound of a vehicle stopping outside her neighbor’s small patio awakened her. At least, that was what she told her father, director of Homeland Security John David Bryce.

“Why?” she demanded.

To that, Doogan shrugged. “She’s a Mackay; according to Timothy, trouble shadows them. Where’s her sister Lyrica? Doesn’t she have the apartment beside you?”

“She’s staying the weekend with Kye Brock, Graham’s sister.” Sam paced across the room. Turning back to him she watched him suspiciously. “What the hell’s going on, Doogan?”

Doogan pursed his lips thoughtfully. Sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he leaned a shoulder into the wall and considered her question for a moment.

“You would know that better than I do. What could the Mackay’s be involved in that framing Zoey for the murder of a friend, would profit someone?” he asked.

“Murder?” the detective snapped. “I just talked to him by text.”

“But Zoey believes she killed him. Harley said he was hunting,” Doogan agreed. “Harley doesn’t hunt four-legged prey, Sam. Despite his age, Harley’s the best damned human tracker I’ve ever heard of. He came to me when he tracked a killer to Somerset. That’s why he’s here, tracking a monster no one has been able to catch.”

Should he have anticipated this, Doogan asked himself?

But how could he have? Neither he nor Harley were connected to Somerset. His agents were based here, but Harley hadn’t known the Macka’s before following his target into the area. As for Doogan, he’d only seen Zoey only once, five years before. The target he and Harley were chasing couldn’t possibly know she was a weakness to Doogan?

“Who?”

Doogan let a grin touch his lips. “That’s why he’s good, Sam. Harley doesn’t know what his suspect looks like, he just knows the human ‘tracks’ his suspect leaves. He’s been trying to identify him for over a year now. But framing Zoey for his murder wouldn’t serve any purpose.”

“He and Natches are friends,” Sam pointed out. “Zoey’s Natches’ cousin and he’d never believe she killed him. Besides, she has an instant defense in her belief he was trying to rape her.”

“Makes no sense.” Doogan shook his head, one hand reaching back to rub at the back of his neck, irritation beginning to slip past his normally cool fa�ade.

“There has to be a reason. Something we’re not seeing,” he muttered.

“Damn, Dawg will lock her in a hole so deep and filled with Mackay brotherly love she’ll smother to death.” Sam grimaced. “Hell of a way to die. So you can forget figuring out why anyone targeted her.”

It was a running joke that the Mackay cousins, once the scourge of Pulaski County and surrounding areas for their sexual hijinks and penchants for troublemaking, made certain Dawg’s sisters lived totally different lives. Completely innocent, virginal lives.

“Dawg can’t know about this, Sam.”

She froze for long seconds, simply staring at him.

“Are you kidding me?” she almost wheezed with wide-eyed disbelief. “Dawg finds out we held this from him, Doogan, and he’ll kill both of us. And he will find out. Trust me.”

It amazed him how terrified everyone was of Dawg Mackay and his cousins. They were formidable enemies, agreeably, and no doubt, they’d be enraged when they learned Zoey had been in danger. But they’d never kill a woman..

“And when she dies of brotherly love and overprotection? Or whoever did this to her tonight finds a way to get to her again and ‘suggests’ she kill herself? Herself and her family? Her nieces? Is that a risk you’re willing to take?” he asked, barely managing to keep the cool, uncaring appearance he’d adopted over the past hellish year.

Could he bear seeing anything or anyone harming this innocent young woman? After all he’d lost, the thought of losing more threatened the hard-won control he’d managed to salvage in the past months.

Sam’s nostrils flared and she glared at him in silent fury and denial. It was evident she had no desire to risk their wrath in any way.

“Hate me all you want to,” he suggested, icy determination reflecting in his tone. “But before you go to Dawg, remember this. They got to her tonight. She’s in her pajamas, so she was obviously in her room, asleep. Right beneath Timothy’s nose they took her, Sam. They drugged her and tried to convince her she killed Harley Perdue. And if they convinced her, then she’ll confess to it. She’s a Mackay.” Swiping his fingers through his hair, he knew no matter what he said, Sam would still go with her gut. “It’s in their fucking blood or some shit.”

And he had no doubt the little Mackay now sleeping in Sam’s bed was a Mackay all the way to her soul.

He gave a short, approving nod when she said nothing more.

“Now, we have to get her back to her bed without anyone being the wiser. Especially her brother. Otherwise, she’ll never believe this was all a dream.”

Sam shook her head, one hand slapping to her forehead in a gesture of utter amazement before glaring at him, the disbelief growing.

“Wow, Doogan, that’s a hell of a fucking order,” she snorted, her hands propping on her hips then. “Why don’t we rob Fort Knox next?”

His brow arched mockingly. She could be a smart-ass, even as a child.

“I haven’t finished the plan for that one yet. The plan for this one is easy, though. We have about four hours before the sedative I gave her wears off and she wakes up. We’ll slip her into my truck and I’ll get her to the inn, where Eli can help me do the rest.”

A light brown, heavily mocking brow lifted slowly. “Eli hates you, Doogan. Worse than the rest of us do,” Sam warned him.

Honest little bitch of late, wasn’t she, he mocked silently.

“That’s really not true.” He denied the claim, amused. “But Zoey Mackay, he loves like a little sister and he hates what Dawg does to her. He’ll help her, even if he does have a few issues with me. Now, go make that meeting. I’ll take care of our little Mackay.”

Her lips thinned, her eyes suddenly narrowing in suspicion.

“How do you just happen to have syringes, sedatives, and everything needed to draw blood samples, Doogan? And you’re just conveniently here?” She held one hand out as her expression tightened with anger.

“I’m just prepared like that,” he assured her. And he actually was. “Would you like to come see the other supplies I carry in my pickup? You might be amazed.”

“I might want to shoot you even more than I want to do so now.”

And that was possible.

“You have things to do,” he reminded her. “I’ll call Elijah and get him over here. Hopefully, this can be accomplished without too much trouble.”

It was late morning when Zoey woke in her bed. Terror was a sickening taste in her mouth, the fear of what she would find when she looked around the room dragging a sob from her throat.

She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to see the carnage she was terrified awaited her.

Sitting up in the bed, she forced herself to look, though. Whatever had happened, whatever she’d done, she’d face it.

But oh God, she didn’t want to . . .

Biting back a sob, tremors racing through her, she sat up and opened her eyes.

Then blinked.

There was no body, there was no blood. No blood on the walls, no blood on her blankets and sheets as she remembered. Her sheets were wrinkled and tangled, the comforter trailing to the floor.

A whimper left her lips at the pain throbbing in her temples and echoing through her muscles. She hurt so bad. Every bone and muscle in her body screamed in protest as she slid her legs slowly over the bed and forced herself to stand, to check the rest of her suite.

Stumbling, holding on to the furniture to brace herself against the weakness that made her legs feel like jelly, Zoey forced herself to the bathroom. In that far-too-realistic dream she’d thrown up, more than once. If she had, there would be something in the bathroom. Some proof of it, surely.

But there was none.

It was as spotless as it had been the night before. There was nothing out of place; nothing had been moved. The shower door was open as she always left it, her used towel folded in half and hanging on the glass door.

Backing out of the smaller room, her steps halting, tentative, she pushed through the door to the sitting room.

It was similarly neat. Her sketch pad lay where she had placed it the night before, the canvas she was working on carefully covered and sitting on the easel. The plastic wrapper that covered a new paintbrush still lay under the coffee table where she’d forgotten to pick it up. It hadn’t been moved.

Forcing her steps backward again, Zoey returned to her bedroom and stood in the middle of it, shaking, shuddering at the knowledge that whatever had happened . . . hadn’t happened?

Fisting her fingers, she fought back the tears that would have fallen and looked down at her sore wrists. They were unmarred, no bruising, no scratches.

Covering her lips with one hand, Zoey bit back the scream tightening her throat. A whimper escaped, though. Low, drawn out, the sound was filled with fear.

Just a nightmare?

Zoey shook her head.

“It wasn’t just a nightmare,” she whispered, to assure herself she could speak. Because in those nightmarish memories, or dreams, she’d been unable to scream.

Something had happened, she just didn’t know what. Or why.

But she knew to the depths of her soul, something bad had happened.

Most helpful customer reviews

4 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
This was a fine addition to the Nauti series, with a complex plot, interesting, likable characters and off the charts sex scenes
By DiDi - Guilty Pleasures BR
This was a fine addition to the Nauti series, with a complex plot, interesting, likable characters and off the charts sex scenes.

Zoey McKay is the youngest of Dawg's sisters and the one most likely to leave Somerset for good if Dawg doesn't let up on his over-protectiveness. Especially when she connects with the one man guaranteed to make him intervene, Brom Doogan. But Doogan knows things about Zoey that no one else does-like the fact that someone has targeted her for destruction after injecting her with a hallucinogenic drug. He also knows he's beyond attracted to the little nuisance. When he first met her, he was married, but now he's free under horrific circumstances.
Can he move past his emotional demons and really connect with Zoey-and still keep her safe?

Zoey was a kick-ass heroines, feisty, strong and funny. Doogan is yummy even though his connections to Homeland Security make him a bad risk.

Following the plot takes a bit of concentration but its very well done. The book could use a bit of editing, but overall was extremely readable, although it helps to have read the previous books to keep the characters straight. My only quibble is how many bad people can Somerset house when the town is already filled with McKays?

Review copy provided for an honest review.

3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
Aaaarrrrggg!!!
By Lauri K.
There's entirely too much time in between these books! How DARE you leave me hanging with that epilogue!! Come on, Lora! I NEED the next book NOW!
Lora provides an excellent read, as always! Only took about 3 hours to read the whole thing! Gripping from start to finish!

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
3.75 stars--Zoey and Doogan
By Sandy S.
3.75 stars--- NAUTI SEDUCTRESS is the tenth installment in Lora Leigh’s contemporary, adult NAUTI erotic, romantic suspense series. This is Zoey MacKay (younger sister to Dawg, Rowdy and Natches), and Homeland Security Agent Chatham Bromleagh Doogan’s story line. NAUTI SEDUCTRESS can be read as a stand alone without any difficulty. Any important information from previous stories is revealed where necessary.

Told from several third person points of view NAUTI SEDUCTRESS focuses on the forbidden relationship between Doogan and Zoey. Zoey is Doogan’s latest assignment but one that finds our hero protecting the woman with whom he had fallen in love. One year earlier Zoey was attacked by an unknown assailant that left her drugged and believing she had killed someone close. Zoey is an artist; the over protected sister of the Mackay clan, and a woman who hides a secret that could very well end her life. Very few people were ever aware of the attack on Zoey including the men who would die before allowing anyone to hurt their younger sister. What ensues are the continued attempts against Zoey’s life, and Doogan’s dogged determination to protect Zoey from herself and those hoping to take her down.

The relationship between Zoey and Doogan began five years earlier when Zoey was first introduced to a man who walked away without a backward glance. Present day finds our couple in a sexually erotic relationship in which Doogan does not promise anything for the future, but for the here an now. The $ex scenes are erotic, graphic and intense. Life all of Lora’s story line, the sexual imagery is not intended for younger readers, and there are always questionable acts that are of concern as they pertain to the experience of the story line heroine.

The secondary and supporting characters include ALL of the MacKay brothers, and their families. NAUTI SEDUCTRESS has a large ensemble cast of characters, and the MacKay brothers are no less dangerous or protective of the people they love.

NAUTI SEDUCTRESS is a story of mystery and suspense with a few twist and turns that the reader will never see coming. The premise is dramatic; the characters are passionate and animated; the romance is provocative and seductive. Lora Leigh continues to build upon the Nauti series and the MacKay family dynamics.

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Wednesday, October 24, 2012

[V133.Ebook] PDF Download AngularJS UI Development, by Amit Gharat, Matthias Nehlsen

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AngularJS UI Development, by Amit Gharat, Matthias Nehlsen

AngularJS UI Development, by Amit Gharat, Matthias Nehlsen



AngularJS UI Development, by Amit Gharat, Matthias Nehlsen

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AngularJS UI Development, by Amit Gharat, Matthias Nehlsen

Design, build, and test production-ready applications in AngularJSAbout This Book

  • Design and customize applications with mobile users in mind using open source CSS3 frameworks
  • Use polished UI components written from scratch solely in AngularJS to build real-world applications with a comprehensive, step-by-step guide
  • Learn using a proven workflow from setting up the environment to testing in order to be productive in writing ambitious applications
Who This Book Is For

This book is for anyone who is interested in solving UI problems with AngularJS. Working knowledge of JavaScript, HTML, and CSS is assumed.

What You Will Learn
  • Use responsive layouts and powerful CSS3 frameworks such as Twitter Bootstrap and Foundation to design a mobile-friendly version of your application
  • Solve common UI problems with the AngularUI companion suite
  • Make your application dynamic with the integration of RESTful APIs in AngularJS
  • Get an overview of CSS-responsive frameworks, various UI widgets, and Angular internals to fuel your decisions for your next venture
  • Create animations, from fading elements in and out to more complex behavior
In Detail

AngularJS and its rich set of components solve many of the problems developers face when writing reliable single page applications in ways that would not be possible using other frameworks. This book will help you expand your horizons by teaching you the skills needed to successfully design, customize, build, and deliver real-world applications in AngularJS. We will start off by setting up a fully automated environment to quickly scaffold, test, and deploy any application. Along the way, we'll cover how to design and build production-ready applications to demonstrate how innovative and powerful AngularJS is. By leveraging CSS3 animations, we'll convert them into intuitive and native-like applications in no time. You will also learn how to use Grunt for application-specific task management, Bower to manage dependencies with external libraries/plugins, Git for better versioning, and Karma and Protractor for automated testing to build applications the way experts do.

You will learn all this by building real-world applications including a to-do application, Github dashboard, project management application, and many more.

  • Sales Rank: #1495958 in Books
  • Published on: 2014-11-17
  • Released on: 2014-10-24
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 9.25" h x .59" w x 7.50" l, .99 pounds
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 258 pages

About the Author

Amit Gharat

Amit Gharat is a full-stack engineer and open source contributor. He has built and made some of his personal projects open source, such as Directives, SPAs, and Chrome extensions written in AngularJS. He has an excessive urge to share his programming experiences in an easy-to-understand language through his personal blog in order to inspire and help others. When not programming, he enjoys reading, watching videos on YouTube, and watching comedy shows with his family. He has also written an article for Appliness and Sdjournal Magazine, Poland.



Matthias Nehlsen

Matthias Nehlsen is a freelance software engineer and passionate open source contributor with around 15 years of experience in Information Technology. His current focus is on web applications, and he frequently works with AngularJS. He also founded the Hamburg AngularJS Meetup. You can find his open source projects on https://github.com/matthiasn and his blog at http://matthiasnehlsen.com. You can also follow him on Twitter at @matthiasnehlsen.

Most helpful customer reviews

4 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
This approach can be either good or bad depending on the goal that you have ...
By david
The goal of this book is to help programmers become more effective at design and build Angularjs UI applications.

The first two chapters are focused on setting up the environment and on introducing the angularjs companion suite.
In the subsequent chapters, the readers are guided through some advanced topics such as: calendar and google-maps (ch. 3), data-grid (ch.4), animations (Ch. 5), Chart & graphics (ch. 6).
The final part of the book explains how to integrate Angularjs and Twitter Bootstrap (utilizing AngularUI Bootstrap project) and how to build a mobile SPA (single page application) with some suggestions on the optimization of the user experience.
Each topic is explained in detail and accompanied by examples and activities.
The book focuses more on the integration of angularjs with tirth party tools and less on the basics of the framework.
This approach can be either good or bad depending on the goal that you have in mind. In my opinion it can be a bit difficult and confusing for the novice but useful for anyone with more experience who has a specific problem to solve.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
All you need to start with the UI world from AngularJS perspective
By jose luis del alamo
Now when the web has evolved to a new experience for end users and the companies are putting more and more resources to those old page-based remote documents, that nowadays, can increase their profits and revenues; we, as developers can adopt a lot of frameworks and third parties library to do our jobs easiest and focus in our client's problems.

It's time for AngularJS, from the point of view of UI and a recently published book AngularJS UI Development from Packt publishing.

With this book in your hands you can learn how easy it's to implement front-end solutions with a touch of magic and straightforward. The book is divided in 10 chapter along which you can learn how UI modules for Angular work, the best modules for solving common problems, like using Calendars, google Maps, data grids; and easing transitions that give spectacular and nice effects to your applications.

The author prepares the environment to do a full complete application for AngularJS including Bower, Grunt, NodeJS, Protractor,Karma and Git. Of course, the book is about Angular, and those technologies are only for supporting a whole development environment. You don't need to follow every step to setting this environment, however it can be difficult to use the examples, otherwise; and sometimes the reading is based in how to incorporated one plugin or module for Grunt to make a build, or how to download it with Bower.

However, it gives to non beginners developers in front-end a complete guide to success making amazing and stunning web applications that solve common enterprise problems and brought to the forefront of the latest trends in functional design and style.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
New book 'AngularJS UI Development' by Amit Gharat from Packt Publishing
By Philip Arad
AngularJS framework is one of the most used web frameworks used today in Web development.
It solves many of the problems developers face when writing reliable single page applications.
If you are willing to dive into the framework, the new book 'AngularJS UI Development' by Amit Gharat from Packt Publishing
is the book you are looking for.
This book will teach you the skills needed to successfully design, customize, build, and deliver real-world applications in AngularJS.
You will learn to:
* Set up a fully automated environment to quickly test, and deploy any application
* How to design and build production-ready applications
* How to adapt and extend the AngularUI library and use UI Bootstrap
* Use CSS3 frameworks such as Twitter Bootstrap and Foundation
* Leverage CSS3 animations and convert them into intuitive and native-like applications
* Integration of RESTful APIs in AngularJS
* Use Grunt for application-specific task management
* Use Bower to manage dependencies with external libraries/plugins
* Use Git Versions System
* Use Karma and Protractor for automated testing

By following the detailed step-by-step instructions in this book, you be able to build applications the way experts do.

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