This is default featured slide 1 title
Go to Blogger edit html and find these sentences.Now replace these sentences with your own descriptions.This theme is Bloggerized by Lasantha Bandara - Premiumbloggertemplates.com.
This is default featured slide 2 title
Go to Blogger edit html and find these sentences.Now replace these sentences with your own descriptions.This theme is Bloggerized by Lasantha Bandara - Premiumbloggertemplates.com.
This is default featured slide 3 title
Go to Blogger edit html and find these sentences.Now replace these sentences with your own descriptions.This theme is Bloggerized by Lasantha Bandara - Premiumbloggertemplates.com.
This is default featured slide 4 title
Go to Blogger edit html and find these sentences.Now replace these sentences with your own descriptions.This theme is Bloggerized by Lasantha Bandara - Premiumbloggertemplates.com.
This is default featured slide 5 title
Go to Blogger edit html and find these sentences.Now replace these sentences with your own descriptions.This theme is Bloggerized by Lasantha Bandara - Premiumbloggertemplates.com.
Showing posts with label Nora Roberts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nora Roberts. Show all posts
O'Hurley's Return: Skin Deep\Without A Trace (The O'hurleys) by Nora Roberts pdf download
The house was big and cool and white. In the early-morning hours, a breeze came through the terrace doors Chantel had left unlatched, bringing in the scents of the garden. Across the lawn, hidden from the main house by trees, was a gazebo, painted white, with wisteria climbing up the trellises. Sometimes, when the wind was right, Chantel could catch the perfume from her bedroom window.On the east side of the lawn was an elaborate marble fountain. It was quiet now. She rarely had it turned on when she was alone. Near it was the pool, an octagonal stone affair skirted by a wide patio and flanked by another, smaller, white house. There was a tennis court beyond a grove of trees, but it had been weeks since she'd had the time or the inclination to pick up a racket.
Surrounding the estate was a stone fence, twice as tall as a man, that alternately gave her a sense of security or the feeling of being hemmed in. Still, inside the house, with its lofty ceilings and cool white walls, she often forgot about the fence and the security system and the electronic gate; it was the price she paid for the fame she had always wanted.
The servants' quarters were in the west wing, on the first floor. No one stirred there now. It was barely dawn, and she was alone. There were times Chantel preferred it that way.
As she bundled her hair under a hat, she didn't bother to check the results in the three-foot mirror in her dressing room. The long shirt and flat-heeled shoes she wore were chosen for comfort, not for elegance. The face that had broken men's hearts and stirred women's envy was left untouched by cosmetics. Chantel protected it by pulling down the brim of her hat and slipping on enormous sunglasses. As she picked up the bag that held everything she thought she would need for the day, the intercom beside the door buzzed.
She checked her watch. Five forty-five. Then she pushed the button. "Right on time."
"Good morning, Miss O'Hurley."
"Good morning, Robert. I'll be right down." After flipping the switch that released the front gate, Chantel started down the wide double staircase that led to the main floor. The mahogany rail felt like satin under her fingers as she trailed them down. Overhead, a chandelier hung, its prisms quiet in the dim light. The marble floor shone like glass. The house was a suitable showcase for the star she had worked to become. Chantel had yet to take any of it for granted. It was a dream that had rolled from, then into, other dreams, and it took time and effort and skill to maintain. But then she'd been working all her life and felt entitled to the benefits she had begun to reap.
As she walked to the front door, the phone began to ring.
Damn it, had they changed the call on her? Because she was up and the servants weren't, Chantel crossed the hall to the library and lifted the receiver. "Hello." Automatically she picked up a pen and prepared to make a note.
"I wish I could see you right now." The familiar whisper had her palms going damp, and the pen slipped out of her hand and fell soundlessly on the fresh blotter. "Why did you change your number? You're not afraid of me, are you? You mustn't be afraid of me, Chantel. I won't hurt you. I just want to touch you. Just touch you. Are you getting dressed? Are you—"
With a cry of despair, Chantel slammed down the receiver. The sound of her breathing in the big, empty house seemed to echo back to her. It was starting again.
Minutes later, her driver noticed only that she didn't give him the easy, flirtatious smile she usually greeted him with before she climbed into the back of the limo. Once inside, Chantel tipped her head back, closed her eyes and willed herself to calm. She had to face the camera in a few hours and give it her best. That was her job. That was her life. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with that, not even the fear of a whisper over the phone or an anonymous letter.
By the time the limo passed through the studio gates, Chantel had herself under control again. She should be safe here, shouldn't she? Here she could pour herself into the work that still fascinated her. Inside the dozens of big domed buildings, magic happened, and she was part of it. Even the ugliness was just pretend. Murder, mayhem and passion could all be simulated. Fantasyland, her sister Maddy called it, and that was true enough. But, Chantel thought with a smile, you had to work your tail off to make the fantasy real.
She was sitting in makeup at six-thirty and having her hair fussed over and styled by seven. They were in the first week of shooting, and everything seemed fresh and new. Chantel read over her lines while the stylist arranged her hair into the flowing silver-blond mane her character would wear that day.
"Such incredible bulk," the stylist murmured as she aimed the hand-held dryer. "I know women who would sell their blue-chip stocks for hair as thick as this. And the color!" She bent down to eye level to look in the mirror at the results of her work. "Even I have a hard time believing it's natural."
"My grandmother on my father's side." Chantel turned her head a bit to check her left profile. "I'm supposed to be twenty in this scene, Margo. Am I going to pull it off?"
With a laugh, the stringy redhead stood back. "That's the least of your worries. It's a shame they're going to dump rain all over this." She gave Chantel's hair a final fluff.
"You're telling me." Chantel stood when the bib was removed. "Thanks, Margo." Before she'd taken two steps, her assistant was at her elbow. Chantel had hired him because he was young and eager and had no ambitions to be an actor. "Are you going to crack the whip, Larry?"
Larry Washington flushed and stuttered, as he always did during his first five minutes around Chantel. He was short and well built, fresh out of college, and had a mind that soaked up details. His biggest ambition at the moment was to own a Mercedes. "Oh, you know I'd never do that, Miss O'Hurley."
Chantel patted his shoulder, making his blood pressure soar. "Somebody has to. Larry, I'd appreciate it if you'd scout up the assistant director and tell him I'm in my trailer. I'm going to hide out there until they're ready to rehearse." Her co-star came into view carrying a cigarette and what Chantel accurately gauged to be a filthy hangover.
"Would you like me to bring you some coffee, Miss O'Hurley?" As he asked, Larry shifted to distance himself. Everyone with brains had quickly figured out that it was best to avoid Sean Carter when he was dealing with the morning after.
"Yes, thanks." Chantel nodded to a few members of the crew as they tightened up the works on the first set, a train station, complete with tracks, passenger cars and a depot. She'd say her desperate goodbyes to her lover there. She could only hope he'd gotten his headache under control by then.
Larry kept pace with her as she crossed the set, walking under lights and around cables. "I wanted to remind you about your interview this afternoon. The reporter from Star Gaze is due here at twelve-thirty. Dean from publicity said he'd sit in with you if you wanted."
"No, that's all right. I can handle a reporter. See if you can get some fresh fruit, sandwiches, coffee. No, make that iced tea. I'll do the interview in my dressing room."
"All right, Miss O'Hurley." Earnestly he began to note it down in his book. "Is there anything else?"
She paused at the door of her dressing room. "How long have you been working for me now, Larry? "
"Ah, just over three months, Miss O'Hurley."
"I think you could start to call me Chantel." She smiled, then closed the door on his astonished pleasure.
The trailer had been recently redecorated for her taste and comfort. With the script still in her hand, Chantel walked through the sitting room and into the small dressing area beyond. Knowing her time was limited, she didn't waste it. After stripping out of her own clothes, she changed into the jeans and sweater she would wear for the first scene.
She was to be twenty, a struggling art student on the down slide of her first affair. Chantel glanced at the script again. It was good, solid. The part she'd gotten would give her an opportunity to express a range of feeling that would stretch her creative talents. It was a challenge, and all she had to do was take advantage of it. And she would. Chantel promised herself she would.
When she had read Strangers she'd cast herself in the part of Hailey, the young artist betrayed by one man, haunted by another; a woman who ultimately finds success and loses love. Chantel understood Hailey. She understood betrayal. And, she thought as she glanced around the elegant little room again, she understood success and the price that had to be paid for it.
Though she knew her lines cold, she kept the script with her as she went back to the sitting room. With luck she would have time for one quick cup of coffee before they ran through the scene. When she was working on a film, Chantel found it easy to live off coffee, a quick, light lunch and more coffee. The part fed her. There was rarely time for shopping, a dip in the pool or a massage at the club until a film was wrapped. Those were rewards for a job well done.
She started to sit, but a vase of vivid red roses caught her eye. From one of the studio heads, she thought as she walked over to pick up the card. When she opened it, the script slid out of her hand and onto the floor. "I'm watching you always. Always."
At the knock on her door, she jerked back, stumbling against the counter. The scent of the roses at her back spread, heady and sweet. With a hand to her throat, she stared at the door with the first real fear she'd ever experienced.
"Miss O'Hurley…Chantel, it's Larry. I have your coffee."
With a breathless sob, she ran across the room and jerked open the door. "Larry—"
"It's black the way you—What's wrong?"
O'Hurley's Return: Skin Deep\Without A Trace (The O'hurleys) by Nora Roberts pdf download
The
house was big and cool and white. In the early-morning hours, a breeze
came through the terrace doors Chantel had left unlatched, bringing in
the scents of the garden. Across the lawn, hidden from the main house
by trees, was a gazebo, painted white, with wisteria climbing up the
trellises. Sometimes, when the wind was right, Chantel could catch the
perfume from her bedroom window.On the east side of the lawn was an
elaborate marble fountain. It was quiet now. She rarely had it turned
on when she was alone. Near it was the pool, an octagonal stone affair
skirted by a wide patio and flanked by another, smaller, white house.
There was a tennis court beyond a grove of trees, but it had been weeks
since she'd had the time or the inclination to pick up a racket.
The Witness by Nora Roberts
Daughter of a controlling mother, Elizabeth finally let loose one night, drinking at a nightclub and letting a strange man's seductive Russian accent lure her to a house far away. The events that followed changed her life for ever.
Twelve years later, the woman known as Abigail Lowery lives on the outskirts of a small town in the Ozarks. A freelance programmer, she designs sophisticated security systems - and supplements her own security with a fierce dog and an assortment of firearms. She keeps to herself, saying little, revealing nothing.But Abigail's reserve only intrigues police chief Brooks Gleason. Her logical mind, her secretive nature, her unromantic viewpoints leave him fascinated but frustrated. He suspects that Abigail needs protection from something - and that her elaborate defenses hide a story that needs to be revealed.
I've not read a Nora Roberts book for the longest time. This one though, when it came through for review really did appeal. I like crimey novels and the fact that the Russian mafia is involved and the witness is on the run...well, needless to say, my interest was piqued.
It's a quick read, in the sense that it makes you turn the pages really fast, which is great. The writing is good, not great or fantastic, but it's the characters that genuinely appeal. In Elizabeth we have a more human version of Tempe Brennan from Kathy Reichs' books.
Elizabeth has lived a sheltered life in the sense that, for all her vast intelligence, she is kept away from other kids. She's on course to become a doctor, like her mother, and instead of having a summer off, for herself, she's forced to take part in a course her mum has decided for her. She rebels, throws a proper strop and her mother, who comes across as a superb cow, leaves Liz to stew in her angry juices, packs her bags and goes off on a business trip.
Liz finds herself in the mall and decides to go on a bit of shopping spree - buying jeans and t-shirts and make-up. Stuff she is never ever allowed to buy or wear as her mother buys and approves her clothes. At the mall Liz makes friends with a girl she recognises from high school, they end up doing a bit more shopping and Liz agrees to make fake IDs for them to get into a local nightclub.
The girls dress up and set off for a night on the town. It's when they get to the nigh club and they are chatted up by the owner and his manager that alarm bells start ringing. Liz is only sixteen, a few weeks from her seventeenth birthday and although she is highly intelligent, she has no real concept of relationships and the bigger scale of things.
She lets herself be dragged along for a party at the one guy's house and once there, she becomes violently ill. She falls asleep on the patio and is woken by harsh words being exchanged. And sees a murder committed. Liz runs. She rings the police, they find her, she tells them everything that's happened, they take her into protective custody because basically she's handed them, on a platter, the local Russian mafia's right hand man on a platter.
Things progress from here quite rapidly and the story unfolds easily - Liz becomes more likeable as she is forced to deal with mundane people and her security team, a bunch of great sounding cops. She is contrasted well but never held as truly odd - her remarks are taken at face value and soon the cops realise how clever she is, how completely isolated and how her mum had basically treated her as an experiment and not as a daughter.
Bad things happen and Liz runs, leaving the house in flames behind her, two of her security detail dead and one more wounded.
We skip ahead in time and place and meet Abigail. Very soon we realise who Abigail really is. She's a recluse, living with a giant dog for protection and she works from home in a small town in the Ozarks - it sound fantastic and I personally would love to visit there. As a programmer she has no real reason to travel around a lot as all of her work can be done from home but it's when she goes into the local town to buy some ingredients for her cooking, that she draws the attention of the local chief of police. He's intrigued by this young woman who lives on the outskirts of town who is so incredibly private and almost painfully shy. Or so he thinks, at least.
Slowly but surely he - Brooks - makes friends with her. Then his mum turns up at Abigail's place and is kind towards her. Abigail is thrown in turmoil - she doesn't know how to do the friends thing. The small talk thing, the whole relationship thing.
Part of the charm of The Witness is seeing how Ms. Roberts contrasts Abigail/Liz and Brooks and his insane family. How she teases out Abigail's reticence to make friends, to be friendly to others. We are given a whole picture of a young woman who, although wonderfully successful and highly intelligent, is so socially inept she researches barbecue etiquette online and throws fit when she realises she's expected to take along a covered dish of food to the barbecue.
The relationship that develops between Abigail and Brooks is so well done - I fell in love with them as a couple. The small-town shenanigans that go on formed a strong colourful secondary story to Abigail's story and when she eventually tells Brooks of her past, how she's been running and hiding, he fully stands by her and together they decide to make work of the old unresolved case.
The Witness is tightly plotted and it felt like I got to spend a great deal of time with the characters, getting to know them and like them. The world Ms. Roberts created is rich and populated with strong well thought out characters.
The conclusion was good too - I thoroughly approved of it and it made me close the covers with a smile. I would love to see this book turned into a movie as it has some great moments which i think would translate well to the screen. Abigail/Liz is a resourceful, charming, funny, intelligent and wise character and Brooks is just swoon-worthy and cool and honest and all good things you want from a hero.
If Ms. Roberts' other books are as well written and as much fun as The Witness, I may have become a fan. I highly recommend The Witness as a great summer read. It will make you forget about airport lounges, the annoying child screaming for his parents around the pool, and it will carry you off to have an adventure with Abigail and Brooks and some Very Bad Men indeed. Sadly, the cover lets it down, as it is quite bland and says pretty much nothing, but if you look past the obviousness of it, the book is a lovely surprise. Definitely recommended!The Witness by Nora Roberts
Daughter
of a controlling mother, Elizabeth finally let loose one night,
drinking at a nightclub and letting a strange man's seductive Russian
accent lure her to a house far away. The events that followed changed
her life for ever.
Twelve
years later, the woman known as Abigail Lowery lives on the outskirts of
a small town in the Ozarks. A freelance programmer, she designs
sophisticated security systems - and supplements her own security with a
fierce dog and an assortment of firearms. She keeps to herself, saying
little, revealing nothing.
Born In Shame By Nora Roberts
Publish Year : 1996
Download :
DOWNLOAD (.mobi)
Born In Shame By Nora Roberts
Publish Year : 1996
Download :
DOWNLOAD (.mobi)
Inner Harbor By Nora Roberts
Publish Year : 1999
Download :
DOWNLOAD (.mobi)
Inner Harbor By Nora Roberts
Publish Year : 1999
Download :
DOWNLOAD (.mobi)
Homeport By Nora Roberts
Publish Year : 2009
Download :
DOWNLOAD (.mobi)
Homeport By Nora Roberts
Publish Year : 2009
Download :
DOWNLOAD (.mobi)
From The Heart By Nora Roberts
Description : In this stunning collection of novels, america's favorite writer (new yorker) illuminates the dreams that lead us toward destiny and the desires that rule over our hearts. tonight and always when a renowned anthropologist agreed to help a writer research his new novel, she wasn't prepared for the passion their collaboration would spark, a matterof choice aninternational smuggling ring traps a beautiful antiques dealer and a new york city cop in a web of danger and desire.Publish Year : 2010
DOWNLOAD (.mobi)
From The Heart By Nora Roberts
Publish Year : 2010
DOWNLOAD (.mobi)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
