FAIRY TALES REVISITED ON SILVERY EARTHKissing a prince awake might not be the smartest thing Kerrien ever did in his life. Especially since he's now stuck with the beautiful sleeper with a puppy disposition, and has no idea of who sent him to sleep and why.ColorsWhite as snow, as Nerian's skin and pure heart.Black as ebony, as the Sorcerer King's clothes and soul.Red as blood, the blood of confrontations meant to happen.Yellow as honey, as Riander's eyes, as the golden crown restored to the rightful heir.Blue as the sky, the freedom, the bright future.A fairy tale revisited, a sweet m/m romance, a Silvery Earth novella.Cinder BoyRohan, also known as Cinder Boy, has found a warm pond in the forest behind his late father's manor. And one day a handsome stranger disturbs his bath.Prince Kurtis is back after three years and tournaments are held in his honor. The Nameless Knight beats him but... Views: 612
*THIS BOOK WAS PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED AS PART OF AN ANTHOLOGY ***
Lynn is tracking a dangerous, wounded animal, which turns out to be a big, sexy alien instead. And he’s the hottest guy she’s ever met.
Coto’s trip to Earth takes a dangerous turn. He is attacked and injured. The only high point is the courageous woman who tends his wounds. Coto desires her and he will never let her go. Views: 612
Haunted by memories of her dead sister and childhood home, Reva meets her sister's then-boyfriend, Suveer, every year for a day in a friendship that seems to offer each of them a way to come to terms with the past. Suveer is reporting an election story of 'dishousing' on a bungalow belonging to a Muslim businessman in a Hindu-dominated area of Gandhinagar. Unable to remain objective when the mob turns on Mahnoor, a young Muslim woman, he is beaten up and hospitalised. Without a second thought Reva leaves her husband and goes to him. Suveer and Reva seek shelter with Mahnoor and her husband Zahyan, who find the life they'd painstakingly constructed is slowly unravelling.This gripping story asks the question: where is home? Reva and Suveer, Zahyan and Mahnoor, be it in circumstances of love or loss, ever seek a path to return by. Views: 611
Journal: day 317It rains every day here. Every now and then it slows to a trickle and the sun peeks through broken clouds for a few moments, but mostly it falls in great torrents of rain; constant, pounding, maddening. I listen to it, day and night, as it falls outside. The sound of it hitting the metal roof is a constant. Ting, ting, ting, it goes day after day and night after night.Journal: day 1My name is Jack Timmerson, and this is my journal. I have been assigned to Sarguss II as Technician 1st class. I am responsible for running the pumping station located on the planet, and if anything goes wrong I fix it. I am numero uno, the man in charge. Sounds impressive until you find out that I am also the only person on the station, on the planet in fact, and the pumping station is completely self-repairing. I am the proverbial third wheel, an appendix assigned more from tradition than need.Earth: Two years earlierThe human race had almost ended its sovereignty as the dominant species on earth. Centuries of pollution and wanton ecological madness had seen to that. They had tried to fix it, they really had tried; the atmosphere was actually in pretty good shape. The trouble was the water. That was beyond fixing. They’d stopped the pollution, but not the water consumption; free water was disappearing faster than it could be replaced. More and more water was being diverted from lakes and rivers to agriculture, industry, and humanity’s insatiable need and desire for it. On a world that was 75% covered with water they were dying for the lack of it. Some genius had come up with a way to desalinate the oceans. That was all well and good but the oceans, just like everything else, were a limited resource and part of a closed ecosystem. The planet was dying, terminal, irreversible. The first water riots had started over a century ago. They were growing worse as the water grew scarcer. Not a day passed without one and the world council had adapted harsher and harsher means of dealing with them. It was now a capital offense to participate in one, and thousands had died in the street from the effects of gas and bullets. It didn’t help, the people were too scared, too hopeless, and the rioting continued. Then a miracle happened.Dr. Henry Fredricson, NAS Spokesman – speaking at the opening of the Space Elevator“Certainly, nanoscience and technology isn't a secret. It's about the ability to see and to control individual atoms and molecules. Everything on Earth is made up of atoms—the food we eat, the clothes we wear, the buildings and houses we live in – our own bodies, but something as small as an atom is impossible to see with the naked eye. In fact, it’s impossible to see with most microscopes. It is only within the last century that the microscopes needed to see things at the nanoscale were invented. Making materials at the nanoscale level takes advantage of their enhanced properties; such as higher strength, lighter weight, increased control of light spectrum, and greater chemical reactivity than their larger-scale siblings. The Space Elevator was made possible by using nano-engineered carbon tubules for its creation. One end is anchored to a large station in the ocean, and the other end to an asteroid already in orbit. The cable running between these two points needed to be made of the strongest, yet lightest, material possible and nanocarbon fits the bill perfectly. With this elevator mankind will be able to receive water from Sarguss II.”Journal: day 105It’s raining again. That isn’t unusual, of course, it rains here all the time. Every day. Incessantly. Constantly. Maddeningly. It rains. Views: 611
This is a fictional story about a little girl who became accidentally lost on a train. Her mother was on another train going in the opposite direction. All the little girl knew is that she lived on Main Street in Skin Your Neck Today. Was she be able to be reunited with her family. Of course, she did. This story has a happy ending. But exactly how? You'll love this tale!When Nachiketa is 23 his father reveals to him that his mother is the reclusive Swedish film star, “Harriet Brown” (the alias Greta Garbo often used). No one knows this and no one must ever know.Nachiketa and Harriet do eventually meet and together embark on a decades-long spiritual journey of sporadic meetings, prolonged silences, and extraordinary, shared experiences complete with ancient snakes, trolls, and a mysterious white horse, that originally belonged to Mark Helprin. And the boy who was once given away will become the person who knows his mother best.This is all a lie, of course, but a lie that tells the truth.====PrologueWhen my mother was twelve years old, directing imaginary plays from the little outhouse roof in her tenement back yard, she knew that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the world.Standing by her living room window, catching a brown and watery glimpse of the East River these many years later, she knew it to be a bad place.Whether this knowledge had gathered little by little over the intervening years—cloud by cloud, regret by regret—and just now let on; or whether it had sprung: gray horizon to horizon upon an unsuspecting sky just moments ago, since breakfast, she couldn’t tell. Only that it was so obvious now.But she mustn’t let this ruin her day. She slipped into her beige duffle coat, donned her sunglasses, covered her head with a gray and black scarf, patted her coat pocket to hear the keys tinkle, made sure she had her cigarettes, and her lighter, and without as much as a word of good-bye to Claire, headed out for her morning walk.====A GiftMy mother gave me away when I was two weeks old. Yes: I was a gift. That’s what she later told me: a gift. Of course, I was also the unthinkable, in a world that must never know about me, at least not the world which knew and celebrated her. I was to be hidden from it.Later I realized that I was also to be hidden from her, the deeper the better.“And given sounds so much better than hidden, don’t you think?” she said once after I had come to know her. “And so much better than unthinkable.”The original benefactee—if I can be permitted to invent a word—was my father. His name was Jiddu and at that time (I was born April 10, 1928) he was a reasonably well known mystic. Indeed, he was quite famous in his day, even though today, if remembered at all, he seems more myth than man. Still, he has left a bit of a legacy, along with not a few schools and foundations scattered here and there about the world. But the man on the street, were you to mention his name, would look at you blankly, take his time, and then shake his head.At first Jiddu argued that she should keep me. “Children should be with their mothers,” he said. “That’s why women give birth and not men.” Besides, would a child not be in his way as much as in hers? This, however, he soon had to admit—even to himself—simply was not true. Sure, to him I would be a burden, an inconvenience and an embarrassment, but to her I would be the end of a career, the end of a successful life.So in the end he relented—though, from what she later told me, not all that gracefully—and accepted me: a gift to be hidden.You could plainly see that I was his and her son. The color of my hair and the color of my skin were his; the color of my eyes, and the shape of my nose and mouth were hers. If my father had entertained any thoughts of contesting his involvement, he must have abandoned them the moment he saw me. Very much his, and very much hers. Not that I cared then. Views: 611
Isabella Anders isn't ready to accept that her mother is guilty of murder, and with the help of Kai, she might be able to find out the truth.
Over the last month, Kai’s feelings for Isa have grown. He knows he’s in love with her and will do just about anything to protect her. But by helping Isa, he’s putting his own life at risk.
Kai isn’t the only one in danger, though.
Isa is being stalked by someone who knows what really happened the day her mother was accused of murder, and they’ll do just about anything to keep her from discovering the truth. Views: 611
A sea going tale of courage, struggle, and never giving up.“You know what keeps those boats from sailing away and never coming back? Ropes with knots.” “But you can cut ropes.”Advisory: This book contains language and violence.A seagoing tale of courage, struggle, and never giving up. “Is that where they keep foster kids?” “Right. It’s really just a step before juvenile hall. State program.” “You know what keeps those boats from sailing away and never coming back? Ropes with knots.” “But you can cut ropes.”Advisory: This book contains language and violence. Views: 611
Having vanquished his political enemies. Rhyan Cason is anxious to get home to beloved Carianne. Then he receives word that an anthrax outbreak threatens his ranch. Even as he ponders how he can afford to take a wife, dark secrets from the distant past shakes his beliefs to the core and convince him he'll never be able to find forgiveness or make Carianne happy.Carianne is stunned when Rhyan breaks their secret engagement. She leaves Sallano, the beautiful ranch house that she loves almost as much as its owner, and returns home to Westerfield. While waiting for her shattered heart to heal, she shifts her attention to building the library she's promised the town.Even though Colt Holliman offers her a courtship, circumstances keep drawing her back to Sallano and Rhyan. Torn between her affection for Colt and love for Rhyan, Carianne realizes almost too late Rhyan's troubles lie deeper than saving the ranch. He fights an evil that threatens more than his love for her - one only God can defeat. Views: 611
In a volatile society ruled and divided by its citizens' zodiac signs, a serial killer is on the loose: is it a misguided revolution or something more sinister?A starting new thriller with one of the most original concepts in years, where the line between a life of luxury and an existence of poverty can be determined by the stroke of midnight.In San Celeste, a series of uniquely brutal murders targets victims from totally different walks of life. In a society divided according to Zodiac signs, those differences are cast at birth and binding for life. All eyes are on detective Jerome Burton and astrological profiler Lindi Childs—divided in their beliefs over whether the answer is written in the stars, but united in their conviction that there is an ingenious serial killer executing a grand plan.Together, they will unravel a dark tale of betrayal, lost love, broken promises and a devastating truth with the power to tear their world apart . . Views: 611
This Book which has 26 differently titled Poems , is actually Part 16 of the Book titled – You die; I die – Love Poems ( 1600 pages ) .Poems symbolizing the immortality of love and at times its fickleness. Parekh takes the reader through a paradise naturally embellished with the ingredients of eternal romance and its sporadic failures. As they say life and death are two sides of the coin, similarly with every true anecdote of love there also comes fretful divorce—a thing which has been most sensitively described throughout this great collection of poems for the heart. Written and dipped in each ingredient of his passionate blood, Parekh comes out with startling revelations about the truest of love stories and their failures. Each verse has been delicately intertwined with a boundless aspects of relationships, romance, cheating, betrayal and goes on to prove that Immortal Love towers over every shattered heart. A start to finish with some of the most heart-rendering love poems ever, this makes a great collection for ever true lover breathing and desiring to be loved on earth and beyond. This collection of poems aims at perpetually uniting every heart on this Universe in the spirit of Immortal love and friendship. Because these are the two quintessential ingredients to lead life till its last breath. Irrespective of whatever color, faith or religion, it is only the rainbow of love which can transform the ghastliest monsters and perpetrators of humanity into peaceful lovers. Therefore this book inexhaustibly endeavors to speak and preach the language of love even after its last embossed alphabet. Views: 611
