[Hearts of Palomino 01.0] Love Is Eternal

At the ripe old age of twenty-nine, Veronica Mason has given up on the very idea of love. After a childhood blighted by addiction and foster homes and an engagement that ended with no reason given, she's built walls so big it would take dynamite to destroy them. Then she meets Julie and those walls begin to crumble. At the age of twenty-two, Julie Summers is ready to embark on her last year of college. Positive, happy-go-lucky and drop-dead gorgeous, Julie has the world at her feet. And then she meets Veronica. She's instantly bewitched by her beauty and wants to be the one who chases all her shadows away. As both women learn more about each other, will it bring them closer together or drive them apart? **
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Blue Lights: Hot Work in the Soudan

There is a dividing ridge in the great northern wilderness of America, whereon lies a lakelet of not more than twenty yards in diameter. It is of crystal clearness and profound depth, and on the still evenings of the Indian summer its surface forms a perfect mirror, which might serve as a toilet-glass for a Redskin princess.
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Bête

A man is about to kill a cow. He discusses life and death and his right to kill with the compliant animal. He begins to suspect he may be about to commit murder. But kills anyway... It began when the animal rights movement injected domestic animals with artificial intelligences in bid to have the status of animals realigned by the international court of human rights. But what is an animal that can talk? Where does its intelligence end at its machine intelligence begin? And where might its soul reside? As we place more and more pressure on the natural world and become more and more divorced, Adam Roberts' new novel posits a world where nature can talk back, and can question us and our beliefs. Adam Roberts is an award-winning author at the peak of his powers and each new novel charts an exciting new direction while maintaining a uniformly high level of literary achievement.
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Fueling the Edge

EdgeI've only ever lived and breathed for one thing, and that was my club, my family.They're all I've ever had since I was a child. My birth parents were original Twisted Iron MC members who were among the slaughtered during an attack. The only mission I ever thought I'd find myself on was protecting this club—not my heart. Not the heart that beats within my chest, no, she has a name. Talia. She saved my life once, and I'm willing to risk it all if I can keep her safe. She thinks she can martyr herself to protect me, but I won't let her go that easily.TaliaHe was a living and breathing embodiment of everything I had been running from. Or so I thought, the day I found his near-lifeless body. It's true what they say. Looks can be deceiving. Every single horrible thing his physical appearance represented to me, turned out to be untrue. I was in hiding, on the run from my past. That's when the present, and my possible future,...
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Hollow Hills

Review'A real spell-binder' -- Sunday Telegraph 'Compulsive reading ... chases, battles, thrills and entertainment all the way' -- Daily Mirror 'A fascinating re-creation of the King Arthur legend' -- Newsweek 'It goes without saying that Mrs Stewart tells a marvellous story.' -- The Times 'Superb and lyrical.' -- Washington Times From the PublisherIf you haven't read Mary Stewart's Arthurian Saga, you don't know what you're missing. They are must reads for any romance reader, for any lover of Arthurian legend, for any history buff, for any voracious reader, and may be the books to get non-readers started. Basically, they should be read by everyone! Mary Stewart's research for these books is phenomenal. Her understanding of myth and its relationship to fact is remarkable. The books are complex, yet incredibly inviting and you will absolutely love the characters. They also weave together so beautifully that you won't be able to read only one. Two things I find particularly interesting in this series is the portrayal of Arthur and the fall of Camelot. Arthur represents all of humanity in these books as opposed to the more mythical figure you usually see. And the fall of Camelot is more internal rather than external--more about the passions and lusts in the heart rather than a more obvious loss of power. The books go in this order: The Crystal Cave, The Hollow Hills, The Last Enchantment, The Wicked Day. Shauna Summers, Senior Editor
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The Ghost and the Femme Fatale - Haunted Bookshop 04

The local Film Noir festival takes a dark turn when a legendary femme fatale is nearly killed. Now, bookstore owner Penelope Thornton-McClure enlists the help of Jack Shepard, P.I. - even though he and his license expired more than fifty years ago.
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No Less Days

David Galloway can't die. How many lifetimes can God expect one man to live? Over a century old, David Galloway isolates himself from the mortal humans who die or desert him by making a quiet life as a used bookstore owner in Northern Michigan. But then he spots a news article about a man who, like him, should be dead. Daredevil celebrity Zachary Wilson walked away unscathed from what should have been a deadly fall. David tracks the man down, needing answers. Soon David discovers a close-knit group of individuals as old as he is who offer the sort of kinship and community he hasn't experienced for decades—but at what cost? David finds himself keeping secrets other than his own. . .protecting more than himself alone. He'll have to decide what's worth the most to him—security or community. When crimes come to light that are older than any mortal, he fears the pressure is more than he can stand. What does God require of him, and is...
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The Unfinished Garden

James Nealy is haunted by irrational fears and inescapable compulsions. A successful software developer, he's thrown himself into a new goal—to finally conquer the noise in his mind. And he has a plan. He'll confront his darkest fears and build something beautiful: a garden. When he meets Tilly Silverberg, he knows she holds the key…even if she doesn't think so.After her husband's death, gardening became Tilly's livelihood and her salvation. Her thriving North Carolina business and her young son, Isaac, are the excuses she needs to hide from the world. So when oddly attractive, incredibly tenacious James demands that she take him on as a client, her answer is a flat no.When a family emergency lures Tilly back to England, she's secretly glad. With Isaac in tow, she retreats to her childhood village, which has always stayed obligingly the same. Until now. Her best friend is keeping secrets. Her mother is plotting. Her first love is unexpectedly, temptingly available. And then James appears on her doorstep.Away from home, James and Tilly forge an unlikely bond, tenuous at first but taking root every day. And as they work to build a garden together, something begins to blossom between them—despite all the reasons against it.About the AuthorBarbara Claypole White writes love stories about damaged people. She grew up in rural England, studied history at York University, and worked in London fashion before marrying an American professor she met at JFK airport. Today they live in the forests of North Carolina with their award-winning poet son. Despite detours through journalism and marketing, Barbara chased her dream of becoming a novelist and was thrilled to find a publisher months before turning 50. Never give up is her motto! Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.Tilly leaned over the railing and prodded the copperhead with the yard broom. Nothing much scared her these days other than snakes and hospitals, which she found oddly depressing. You needed jolts of fear, little hits of adrenaline, to appreciate the buzz of life.A tailless skink scurried past her gardening clog, and a pair of hummingbirds chittered as they raced to and from the feeder. In the forest, the hawk screeched for its mate.The venomous snake, however, refused to budge.Growing up in the English countryside, the most terrifying creature Tilly encountered was a Charolais cow. Isaac, her child guru of everything indigenous and nasty in rural North Carolina, had stared, gobsmacked, when she'd shared that gem five minutes ago.The porch vibrated as he pogoed up and down, no doubt rehearsing the pleasure of bragging to his chums: My copperhead's bigger than yours.So what if she didn't belong here, any more than that manky elderberry hiding behind her tropical plants? This was Isaac's universe, and she would never rip him away from it. She had failed her son three years earlier. She wouldn't fail him again. Although, once in a while, it might be refreshing to breathe air that wasn't as congealed as leftover leek and potato soup.Tilly panted through a sigh. The heat had sprung early this year, sideswiped her without the gradual warming of late spring. August weather in the first week of June? Bugger, her summer was set to revolve around watering. She should have been watering this afternoon—not trying to outwit a comatose snake. Or repotting perennials. Or planning to fire her assistant. Of course, firing Sari meant finding time to interview a replacement, since the business had been twirling beyond her control long before Sari had appeared as the opposing force that stops an object in motion. Isaac had been reading Newton! A Giant in Science! lately. Inertia was his topic of the week.If she'd paid more attention on the day Sari torpedoed into her life like a Norse berserker on Red Bull, Tilly would have realized Sari wasn't applying for a job; bloody woman was prowling for a cause. Just yesterday, she had tried to persuade Tilly to meet with some wealthy software developer about landscaping his new la-di-da property. Landscaping, really? Piedmont Perennials was a wholesale nursery. Besides, design clients would expect plans revealed in drawn-to-scale diagrams, and Tilly couldn't compile a functional grocery list.Isaac stopped bouncing. "What's next, Mom?"Damned if I know. Killing the snake was neither a thought she could follow nor an example she wanted to set for her critter-loving son. And no way could she find the courage to shovel up Mr. Copperhead and toss him toward the creek.Tilly grinned at Isaac. Sticks of flaxen hair poked out like scarecrow straw from under his faded cap, and the front of his T-shirt was caught in the elastic of his Spiderman underwear. As usual, his pull-on shorts rested halfway down his hips. He was small for an eight-year-old, and every time Tilly looked at him, she saw playground bait. Which was the real reason she kept him at the private Montessori, not the math skills or his inexplicable passion for science."I'm fixin' to find that varmint a new home," she said. "'Cos he sure as heck can't 'ave this one."As predicted, Isaac giggled through her English-accented Southern-speak. His laughter gave her precious seconds to think. No time to allow him to doubt, even for a millisecond, that his mother was able to handle every situation that rocked their lives. Except, of course, one involving snakes. And hospitals. But she wasn't going there in her mind, not today."What about calling that wildlife guy from the school field trip?" Isaac said. "Doesn't he rescue unwanted snakes?""Angel Bug, you're a genius. I guess I'll have to keep you around."She expected him to puff up with pride. Instead he frowned and looked so like David that Tilly had to bite her lip."What do you think Daddy would do about the snake?"Tilly no longer instigated the what-would-Daddy-do game, even though she screamed silently with memories: David waking from a nightmare, his voice full of need, "Promise you'll never leave me, babe"; David reaching for her with hot breath, greedy hands, and whispers of "Jesus. You make me so horny." David asleep on the sofa with baby Isaac tucked into his arm.Isaac was only five when David died. How many of their child's memories were regurgitated stories she fed him? Did Isaac remember his father's passion, his contagious energy, his insistence that she sprinkle mothballs around the sandbox to bar snakes? David had loathed the bugs and the snakes. Mind you, he'd hated everything about life in the South, although not his status as the youngest distinguished professor in the University of North Carolina system.A memory pounced, and Tilly smiled: David teetering on the sofa as he hurled an academic tome at a creepy-crawly moseying across the floor.Her husband had done nothing without panache."What would Daddy do?" Tilly scratched the burning itch of fresh chigger bites under her arm. "Pitch a wobbly, then insist we move to snake-free Manhattan."And once David chose a course of action, there was no U-turn."Daddy would have made us leave? That's awful."But was it? Tilly stared into the forest that isolated them at night behind a wall of primal noise. This property had been on the market for two years when she and David bought it. No one wanted the unfinished house that was falling to ruin, the overgrown creek clogged with decades of trash, or the forest littered with refuse from a builder who abandoned the site after his money ran out. And yet the first time Tilly saw this land, she fell in love. Wild jack-in-the-pulpits poked through the forest floor, and untamed beauty whispered to her. But she left England for one reason, and that reason no longer existed, despite the Daddy game.Tilly never talked about David's death, but the fact of it kept her company every day, like an echo. The ICU doctor had given her options and then asked how she would like to proceed. Like, a word that suggested choice. Funny thing, though, she never considered the choice was hers. One second of blind, misplaced faith, of assuming she knew what her husband wanted, of uttering one short sentence:"David has a living will." That's all it had taken to destroy both their lives.The phone rang inside the house, but neither Tilly, nor the copperhead, stirred.The forest smelled different on hot evenings, like an oven set to four hundred and twenty-five degrees and cooking nothing but air. Tilly sipped her gin and tonic, closed her eyes, and listened to the pounding of the basketball on the concrete slab."Mom?" Isaac stopped shooting hoops. "Are we expecting someone?"Please let it not be the chatty wildlife bloke returning with the copperhead. Please.A silver convertible—Alfa Romeo, fancy—swung into a flawless turn and stopped under the basketball hoop. Damn, too late to sneak back inside, lock the door and pretend no one was home. The bearded driver tugged off his sunglasses and sat, motionless, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose."Who is he?" Isaac whispered."Beats me," Tilly said. "Haven't got the foggiest."The driver opened the door but didn't emerge."He looks like Blackbeard." Isaac stepped behind his mother."He's most likely lost. Don't worry, Angel Bug. I've got this covered." She tottered forward, trying not to spill her drink. "Can I help you, sir?"The stranger, dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt—in this heat?—didn't reply. He had retrieved a backpack from the passenger seat and was fiddling with its zipper. Gradually, as if the movement were choreographed, he turned."You're barefoot." He made no attempt to hide his disapproval.She glanced into the driver's-side footwell. "And you aren't." Blimey, not so much as a sweetie wrapper on the floor of his car. Now that was impressive."James Nealy." Nealy.. was that Irish? James Nealy, a name you snapped out with a click of your tongue. A name, like James Bond, that meant business.He scowled at her, and she tried not to gawp. But really, he had the most stunning eyes. They were dappled with layers of light and dark like polished tiger's-eye. "I have a six o'clock appointment.""You're the software developer? Bugger. I thought I canceled you."Isaac tittered."Is that so?" Was there a hint of amusement in those eyes?"Sorry. I meant, oh dear, my lovely assistant was supposed to call and cancel. I'm a nursery owner, Mr. Nealy, not a landscaper for hire. Can't help, I'm afraid."That was it. Sari was so fired.James emerged from his litterless car and slung the backpack over his shoulder. He definitely had that piratical look, although his beard seemed more like week-old growth. And his grizzled hair, which was straight and floppy at the front where it hung to his eyes, yet a mess of curls at his neck, was too short for a buccaneer. For some reason, she thought of contradictions in weather—a downpour through sunlight or the clear, bright day after a tropical storm. Maybe it was the result of speeding along in a convertible, but his hair gave the impression of having recently broken free from a style. Could he be growing it? If so, bad decision. She stroked her damp nape. Hair that unruly needed to be tamed or snipped off.He turned to close the car door, pausing twice to tap a silent rhythm against his thigh with his index finger.Isaac sidled up to her. "He looks like Ms. Lezlie does when we're bouncing off the classroom walls. As if he's bu...
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Cruel Doubt

From the New York Times bestselling author of Fatal Vision comes a shocking true account of murder, family secrets, and final justice now available for the first time as an e-book...One hot summer night in 1988, Bonnie Von Stein's second husband was murdered in their bed, Bonnie herself stabbed, beaten, and left for dead beside him. It looked like a brutal but tragically typical case: Von Stein was newly wealthy, and Bonnie's troubled son Chris, seemed like the obvious suspect. But Chris turned out to have an air-tight alibi and new leads suggested the crime could be much more complex. The trail led to Chris's two strange new friends from college and a real-life enactment of a bizarre Dungeons and Dragons fantasy adventure, and it implicated Bonnie's teenage daughter as well. In Cruel Doubt, Joe McGinniss probes the dark heart of family life and small-town North Carolina society to uncover a fascinating and terrifying story...
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Colton Copycat Killer

USA TODAY bestselling author Marie Ferrarella starts off the new Coltons of Texas series with a bang--and a serial killer at large. Just moments away from marrying a woman he doesn't love, police detective Sam Colton discovers his bride brutally murdered. The only shocking clue: the MO matches another notorious killer--Sam's long-imprisoned father. A copycat? The victim's sister was the last to see her alive--and heard arguing with her. Sam would bet his life that shy, impossibly sexy librarian Zoe Robison had nothing to do with the murder. But when he learns what the argument was about, the former foster kid's heart hardens. Yet as Zoe is targeted by a madman, Sam discovers just how far he'll go to save her.
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Emily Taylor - The Teenage Mum

Having just turned fourteen, Emily is finding life as the only human on Camillo a little lonely. When she decides to start a family she has no idea just what she is letting herself in for... Contains mild swear words and oblique sexual references. Suitable 13 years and up.
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