Arch rivals on the race track, Jake Walker and Missy Sheridan have found themselves tangled in a web of family lies that could get them both killed. In an attempt to form an alliance on the track, they must put aside their differences. However, when heat and attraction take over, keeping their minds on the race becomes harder than ever. As the stakes grow, can they race against each other allowing the best racer to win when they know that the cost to cross the finish line might be one of their lives? Views: 36
Isabel is the best bunjitsu artist in her class. She can throw farther, kick higher, and hit harder than anybunny else. But her strongest weapon is her mind.This fourth Bunjitsu Bunny book follows Isabel as she makes friends, faces her fears, and fights her toughest opponent yet—herself! Views: 36
Poland, 1906 On a warm spring night, in the small Jewish cemetery of Zokof, Friedl Alterman is wakened from death. On the ground above her crouches Itzik Leiber, a reclusive, unbelieving fourteen-year-old whose fatal mistake has spurred the town's angry residents to violence. The childless Friedl rises to guide him to safety-only to find she cannot go back to her tomb. Now Friedl is trapped in that thin world between life and death, her brash decision binding her forever to Itzik and his family: she is fated to be forever restless, and he, forever haunted by the ghosts of his past.Years later, after Itzik himself has gone to his grave, his son, Nathan, knows nothing of his bitter father's childhood. When he begrudgingly goes to Poland on business, Nathan decides on a whim to visit his ancestral town. There, in Zokof, he meets the mysterious Rafael, the town's last remaining Jew, who promises to pass on all the things Itzik had failed to teach his son-about Zokof, about his faith,... Views: 36
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.France, present dayAscher Vallois unlocked the trunk of his car. The hydraulics squeaked as the trunk yawned open. He was ready for a new car, but given the finances, the ten-year-old Renault Clio would have to serve.He set a practice épée and mask onto the trunk bed. Tearing the Velcro shoulder seams open on his jacket, he then tugged that off.Wednesday afternoons demanded he wear the leather-fronted plastron. The teenage students he taught were overly confident about their lunges. Actually, they thought themselves indestructible. They didn't give consideration to their teacher's destructibility. That was why he also wore a full mask. The scar on his jaw had been a lesson to ensure he wore complete protection around kids at all times.Tomorrow he planned to bring his collection of instructional videos to the studio. The students could learn the importance of a well-designed weapon from watching a master forge a blade. As well, there was much to be gained from watching fencing masters in competition.Ultimately, he wanted to have a camera set up in the studio so he could record students, and then play back their practice matches for them to study. The best way to learn was by observing your own bad habits and then correcting them.All things in good time, he told himself. And if his latest expedition proved successful, the aluminum fencing piste he'd been dreaming about could become reality. It was wireless, which would be more practical for movement and scorekeep-ing, considering he hadn't the cash to hire an assistant.He slammed the trunk shut. It was well past sunset, yet a rosy ambiance painted the horizon, reminding him of a woman's blush. An autumn breeze tickled the perspiration at the back of his neck, drying his sweaty hair.The noise of traffic from the main shopping stretch had settled. Sens had relaxed and let out its belt. The citizens of the French city were inside restaurants chattering over roasted fowl and a bottle of wine, or at home watching the nightly news or shouting at the quiz shows.Shoving a hand in his pants pocket, Ascher mined for his keys, but paused. A tilt of his head focused his hearing behind him and to the left.He was not alone.Swinging a peripheral scan, he paused only a quarter of the way through his surroundings.Standing at the front left corner of the Clio, a tall thin man with choppy brown-and-blond hair rapped his knuckles once upon the rusted hood of the vehicle. A silver ring glinted, catching the subtle glow from an ornamental streetlight up the street. Small bold eyes smiled before the man's mouth did.Ascher felt the salute in that look. A call to duel. The foil had been raised with a mere look. He stood in line of attack.From where had the man come? This narrow street was normally quiet, save for the business owners who parked in the reserved spaces where Ascher now stood.Suddenly aware that others had moved in behind him, Ascher stiffened his shoulders but kept his arms loose, ready. He jangled his keys. A tilt of his head, left then right, loosened his tensing muscles.The air felt menacing, heavy, as if he could take a bite out of it.The smiling man offered a casual "Bonsoir."Wary, yet not so foolish as to leap into a fight—this may be nothing more than a man asking directions—Ascher offered a lift of his chin in acknowledgment."Mr. Vallois, I am a friend," the man offered.His French accent wasn't native, and he looked more Anglo than European, Ascher thought. A dark gray suit fit impeccably upon a sinewy frame. Probably British, he assumed from the slim silhouette of the man's clothing.He knew his name? Caution could be a fencer's downfall. Confidence and awareness must remain at the fore."I have many friends," Ascher said forcefully, lifting his shoulders. "I know them all upon sight. I do not know you."Sensing the potential threat level without moving his head to look, Ascher decided there were two men behind him. Bodyguards for the man standing before him?Ascher eyed the practice épée through the window of the Clio. "Are these gentlemen behind me my friends, as well?""You amuse me, Mr. Vallois. And yes, if you wish it, they can be your very best friends. More preferable than enemies, wouldn't you say?"What the hell was going on? He'd been keeping his nose clean. In fact, the past few years Ascher had gone out of his way to remain inconspicuous. There was nothing like a run-in with the East Indian mafia over rights to claimed treasure to cool a man's jets."Jacques Lambert." The man thrust out a thin hand to shake—an advance that put him to lunge distance—but Ascher did not take the bait. This guy was not British. An American using a French name perhaps? "My business card claims me CEO of BHDC, a genetic-research lab in Paris. You have not heard of us."No need to verify that one. Ascher's interests covered anything athletic, sporting or adventurous. Science? Not his bag. "Genetic research? I don't understand," Ascher said."It is a difficult field to get a mental grasp on," Lambert replied. "But the beauty of it is that you don't have to understand. Simple acceptance is required.""Sorry, I gave at the office.""I'm not on the shill, Vallois. In fact, I have an interest in financing your current dig."The dig? But he'd only that morning gathered a small crew of fellow archaeologists online. They weren't set to convene in Chalon-sur-Saône for another two weeks.Who had brought in this fellow without consulting him?Ascher trusted the two men he had chosen to assist on the dig. Jay and Peyton Nash had accompanied him before. They were his age, far more knowledgeable in archaeology than him, and also enjoyed a challenging mountain bike course, like the one they'd conquered in Scotland's Tweed Valley.Although… he'd recruited another. A woman. He did not know her beyond what he'd learned while chatting with her online. And admittedly, knowledge of her character had been not so important as her figure and those bewitching amber-green eyes."I'm sorry, Mr. Lambert, if you have been led to believe—"The sudden heat of breath hissing down the back of his neck did not disturb Ascher so much as piss him off. He stood tall, not about to back down or cringe from the bully behind him.If the trunk were still open…but it was not. The only weapon he had to hand was his ring of three keys and a rudimentary grasp of martial arts. He slipped the ignition key between his forefinger and middle finger, point out."I have been following your research online for months," Lambert said. "Fascinating how you tracked the Fouquet journals in the Bibliothèque Nationale."Ascher thought about the days spent in the huge Paris library that he had genuinely enjoyed. "I haven't posted that information publicly," he said."Yes, I know. You made it very difficult, but once I tracked your conversations with the Nash brothers, I continued to follow them."So his friends hadn't invited this man. Yet they had inadvertently lured an outsider."I've hired all the men required for the dig, I'm afraid.""You misunderstand, Vallois." Lambert made eye contact with the thugs over Ascher's shoulder. He went for the riposte, slipping something out of his suit coat's inner pocket. It unrolled with a shake. Lambert then slid one hand into the surgical glove. "I—" he gave the glove a crisp snap "—have a keen interest in the sword."Ascher's intuition screamed this was not the place he should be at this moment. Sometimes it was better to run, and risk injury, than to stick around and risk death. Fencing skills aside, now was the time to employ street smarts.Ascher jabbed an elbow backward, catching one of the thugs in the ribs.A meaty arm snaked about Ascher's neck. A vicious squeeze choked off his cry of surprise. Levering his foot against the door of his car, he tried to push off the man, but his attacker leaned into the force, making escape impossible."No, no, mustn't struggle," Lambert said calmly, as if directing a child afraid of the dentist's drill. He tugged the fingertip of one glove, snapping it smartly into place. "This is not what you might suspect.""I suspect everything," Ascher hissed. "I know I do not like you—"Chokehold released, Ascher's arms were wrenched behind him and upward. His shoulder muscles were forced beyond their limit, and his deltoids stretched painfully. Bent forward, he intended to kick backward, but Lambert's next move stopped him.Further utilizing the dread calm of a looming dentist, Lambert withdrew a vial from inside his suit coat."The musketeer's sword has been tops on my list of plunder for quite some time. I believe you have discovered the only possible resting place for the sword, Mr. Vallois." Lambert tapped the finger-size vial against his wrist. There was something inside, white, stick-like. "Surprising, the conclusions you made about the location, but when I thought about it awhile, very believable. I wish you great success.""The sword is not for sale," Ascher said."When one acquires plunder, sir, one does not pay for it. But I am willing to put forth something for your efforts. You will require cash to finance your dig.""Already taken care of.""Your check bounced at the bank. My guess? You should start seeing the overdrafts immediately. I know you are two months behind on rent for that little fencing salon around the corner. Pity. The children will be deprived of your witty yet charming teaching manner," Lambert said.Ascher grunted against the increasing force straining his muscles."As for that cottage you call a mansion out of town, I've made it my business to know your electricity will be shut off two days from now." He bent close to Ascher's face. "Allow me to ease your financial strain.""There is no amount you can offer for the sword."Ascher twisted. Two meaty hands held firmly. It was quite embarrassing how easily he'd been wrangled. As long as his aggressor held his arms back at such a painful angle, he could not escape."That sword is somet... Views: 36
A golden boy goes bad...When Cain Parker struck gold, he won a whole mess of trouble. The attacks on his wagons got so bad that he called on his old friend Skye Fargo for help. Skye knows all the signs of a set-up, but not even he could have guessed Cain’s own son was in on it. The Trailsman remembers Daniel Parker as a little boy—but now he’s about to face him man to man... Views: 36
SUMMARY: PURE. UNPLANNED. PERFECT. Those were Nick’s summer plans before Sasha stepped into the picture. With the collateral damage from his parents’ divorce still settling and Dani (his girl of the moment) up for nearly anything, complications are the last thing he needs. All that changes, though, when Nick runs into Sasha at the beach in July. Suddenly he’s neck-deep in a relationship and surprised to find he doesn’t mind in the least. But Nick’s world shifts again when Sasha breaks up with him. Then, weeks later, while Nick’s still reeling from the breakup, she turns up at his doorstep and tells him she’s pregnant. Nick finds himself struggling once more to understand the girl he can’t stop caring for, the girl who insists that it’s still over. Views: 36
No matter how many light years you run, the past is never far behind. Tired of a life on the run, Kiwi has put down roots on a science vessel. She finds more than she bargained for in the form of cocksure, overachieving, too-sexy-for-his-own-good Dr. Conell Ballou. His arrogance is infuriating--which, strangely, makes her want him more. Since the tiny spitfire of a mechanic boarded his vessel, Conell hasn’t been able to focus on much of anything except her. Kiwi’s mere presence pulses through every synthetic and humanoid part of his body. And, unknown to both Kiwi and Conell, her past is entwined with his. But a deranged captain of the Vanos, the alien race from which they’re defending mankind, is still hunting for Kiwi. Against all the odds, Conell and Kiwi have a second chance at happiness--if the enemy doesn’t find them first. Warning: Warning, this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language, kick ass, strong-willed heroine, partially rebuilt sexy alpha males with bionics, who are bigger, stronger, faster and a hell of a lot harder to deal with. Views: 36
A rainy night in London. Shots are fired into a car which swerves on to the pavement and ploughs into a bus stop. It seems that an act of casual gang violence has cost an innocent victim their life. But the reality is even more chilling . . . One life is wiped out and others are changed forever. A pregnant woman struggles desperately to uncover the truth, and makes herself a target in the process. Two weeks from giving birth, how will she survive in a world where death is an occupational hazard? In a city where violence can be random or meticulously planned, where teenage gangs clash with career criminals and where loyalty is paid for in blood, anything is possible. Secrets are uncovered as fast as bodies, and the storyís final twist is as breathtakingly surprising as they come. Views: 36
Nicholas and his family are hatching eggs for his school's Easter Fair. But the eggs keep going missing and their new rabbits, Saucepan and Nibblewibble, are causing havoc in the garden. Perhaps Cilla, their nosy new neighbour, is even more trouble than she seems? Views: 36
