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! Ebook Free Kingdom Of Moonlight, by Josie Litton

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Readers were first captivated by the tantalizing kingdom of Akora in Josie Litton’s breathtaking Dream Island. Now the legendary nation renowned for the strength of its warriors--and the allure of its women--faces a threat to its future. Only the forbidden passion between an outsider and its own young princess can determine its fate....

Kingdom of Moonlight

It is the first trip abroad for Kassandra, the courageous princess of Akora. Enamored of all things English, the exotic beauty is eager to mingle with London society--and meet her first English gentleman. But the striking man she discovers in her brother’s home is quite the opposite of what she expected. Powerful and commanding as an Akoran warrior, he hardly resembles the sensitive knight she’d envisioned--yet he is exactly what she will need. For Kassandra’s journey is about to bring her face-to-face with both the man of her dreams and her most terrifying fear....

Sales Rank: #1698983 in Books
Brand: Brand: Bantam
Published on: 2002-06-25
Released on: 2002-06-25
Original language: English
Number of items: 1
Dimensions: 7.00" h x .75" w x 4.25" l, .40 pounds
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
400 pages

Features

Used Book in Good Condition

From Publishers Weekly
A sequel to Litton's Dream Island, this overwrought entry follows Kassandra, the princess of Akora (a fantasy island civilization), as she leaves her homeland to visit England for the first time. In the household of her brother, Alex, and his wife, Joanna, she learns the nuances of Regency society and meets Joanna's brother, Royce, the earl of Hawkforte, who bears more resemblance to an Akoran warrior than a dandified English gentleman. Kassandra discovers how truly warrior-like Royce is when a volatile political situation makes London unsafe and Alex asks Royce to accompany her, Joanna and his infant daughter back to Akora. Violence also erupts in Akora, injuring Kassandra's other brother, Atreus. While Atreus lies in a coma, Kassandra leads her bewildered country in spite of a vision she has portending her own demise. Inevitably, Royce defeats the man who threatens her and all of Akora. Litton's flowery prose makes for lugubrious reading, especially since she fails to ignite a real romantic fire between Kassandra and Royce, who are too one-dimensional to sustain a blaze. With its awkward juxtaposition of Regency England and Akora, a bizarre civilization that reeks of Rome and contemporary America, this fanciful tale falls flat.
Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information, Inc.

From Booklist
Kassandra, the princess of the mysterious island kingdom of Akora, is visiting her brother, Alex, and sister-in-law, Joanna, in London. An anglophile, Kassandra finally gets a chance to see the country with which she's always been enamored. Royce has come by to see his sister, but is instantly fascinated by Kassandra, and doesn't harbor any ill will toward the princess of the kingdom where he was held captive for nine months. Kassandra's visit is cut short by civil unrest in the city because her brother, fearing for the safety of his wife, new daughter, and sister, sends them packing to Akora. Royce comes along, and soon they're caught up in dangerous doings. Kassandra keeps Royce at arms-length as she follows her destiny, and saves her homeland from the forces that threaten it. More mystical than the first novel in the series and with less intrigue, Litton's latest is still a great story, and it leaves the reader eager for the next chapter in the trilogy. Maria Hatton
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

From the Inside Flap
Readers were first captivated by the tantalizing kingdom of Akora in Josie Litton?s breathtaking Dream Island. Now the legendary nation renowned for the strength of its warriors--and the allure of its women--faces a threat to its future. Only the forbidden passion between an outsider and its own young princess can determine its fate....

Kingdom of Moonlight

It is the first trip abroad for Kassandra, the courageous princess of Akora. Enamored of all things English, the exotic beauty is eager to mingle with London society--and meet her first English gentleman. But the striking man she discovers in her brother?s home is quite the opposite of what she expected. Powerful and commanding as an Akoran warrior, he hardly resembles the sensitive knight she?d envisioned--yet he is exactly what she will need. For Kassandra?s journey is about to bring her face-to-face with both the man of her dreams and her most terrifying fear....

Most helpful customer reviews

1 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
Disappointing follow-up to Dream Island
By A Customer
Having read (and enjoyed) all of Ms. Litton's other books, I was looking forward to this latest effort. Unfortunately, it's a bit of a disappointment. I loved "Dream Island" where we first met Alex's sister Kassandra and Joanna's brother Royce but I did not particularly care for Royce's character so I suppose I should have known. If you read "Believe in Me" you might think of Royce as a less likable version of Hawk - autocratic, authoritarian, with little sense of humor. And though Kassandra had the potential to lighten him up, the circumstances in the book throw her into such serious situations that we see little of the sprite Kassandra may have appeared at the beginning of the book and in "Dream Island". She is weighed down by an tragic vision of her future that she unswervingly believes is inevitable and inescapable, though when her visions are of others' futures, it is only "one possible path of many" and so not definite. Heh?
And there is little chemistry or passion between these characters. I was not sure what attracted them to one another. I really had to force myself to stick with this book and that's something I have never had to do with any of the author's other books. It almost seemed that this book existed mainly to advance the story of Akora and to set up the story for the next book "Castles in the Mist" about Alex and Kassandra's half brother Atreus (which, from the exerpt looks more promising than this one). The book concentrates too much on the situation on Akora - the rebels that may or may not be behind the unrest, on Kassandra's stepping in as Vanax (leader of Akora) while Atreus is in a coma after an assasination attempt - to the detriment of the love story between the two main characters.
I will, however, continue my faith in the author and look forward to the last book in the trilogy, Atreus' story.

4 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
unusual yet stimulating Regency romantic suspense
By A Customer
In 1812, England worries about possible wars with Napoleon and the former colonies. In London, though their siblings have been married for a year and his sister is pregnant, Lord Royce Hawkforte and Princess Kassandra of Akora meet for the first time under happier circumstances.
Just after Joanna gives birth, Royce kisses Kassandra, leaving both stunned by their reaction. Kassandra informs Royce she sees multiple futures, but the individual has opportunities to change the most likely path that might occur. Because of further unrest, Kassandra's other brother Atreus orders her to come home. Alex puts his sister, his wife, and his daughter on an Akoran ship accompanied by Royce.

As Royce overcomes his bad memories of his imprisonment on Akora, he and Kassandra fall in love. However, the rebels continue to cause havoc insisting on a return to tradition while another group of protesters wants a more open government. This leaves little room for Royce and Kassandra to explore a future together as that seems like the least likely path for what is good for Akora and England.

Though Akora seems too perfect as a nineteenth century Utopian modernization of Ancient Athens, KINGDOM OF MOONLIGHT is an unusual yet stimulating Regency romantic suspense that will send new readers seeking DREAM ISLAND, the first book in the trilogy. The story line absorbs the full attention of the audience as the delightful lead couple struggles between love and duty. Fans who enjoy a different type of historical story will want to read Josie Litton's strong entry that daringly refreshes the sub-genre as few books do.

Harriet Klausner

1 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
Marginal
By J. Greenwood
I'll say up front that I don't tend to like romances, and it takes a very well written one to hold my interest. This one was not, and I found myself skimming sections and reading as fast as I can just to get it over with (having an unfortunate compulsion to finish books I start, and having started this one because it was the only one on hand when I desperately wanted something to read). That is my fault and not the author's. I gave this review one star more than I wanted to, to offset my genre prejudice.

Apart from my lack of appreciation for romances, this one was quite irritating because the author couldn't seem to make up her mind whose perspective she was representing. It's one thing to have the habit (and she does) of spelling out everything a character is thinking or feeling. It's another thing to have the narration be at times too descriptive of all circumstances, implications and reasons for a character's thoughts or actions (it's called the "omniscient" viewpoint and is a mark of unprofessionalism). But the most maddening point is that the author switchs between major character's viewpoints literally within the same paragraph, as if she couldn't decide whose head she wanted to be inside. And as to heads the reader would want to be inside, I couldn't bear any of them. Apart from some slightly witty reparte between them towards the beginning of the book, the characters were so flat and one-dimensional they held no interest for me.

Advice to writers: 1. Hint or allude to character thoughts/feelings through their words and actions rather than through reading their minds. Say nothing about what's inside their heads at all rather than explain too much. 2. Give the reader some credit for intelligence and imagination -- don't fall into the trap of spelling everything out for them in the narration. It's insulting and boring. 3. If you want to write in multiple viewpoints -- and that can be a very effective tool when used well -- make some kind of narrative break at that view shift. Start a new chapter or a new section. And DON'T forget numbers 1 and 2 above when you do.

This is the kind of guidance anyone who has taken an undergraduate level creative writing class learns early on.

See all 13 customer reviews...

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~~ Download The Tiger Warrior (Jack Howard), by David Gibbins

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Two ancient cultures, a lost treasure from the distant past: what powerful secrets does it conceal—and how far will some go to possess them? Dive into a new full-throttle hunt from master of the action-adventure thriller David Gibbins, as he unleashes…

The trail starts in the Roman ruins and leads to a shipwreck off the coast of Egypt. Soon the world’s top marine archaeologist, Jack Howard, and his team of scientific experts and ex-Special Forces adventurers are pushing their way through the mysterious jungles of India, following in the footsteps of a legendary band of missing Roman legionnaires. Meanwhile, at a remote lake in Kyrgyzstan, a beautiful woman has found evidence of a secret knowledge that has cost the lives of countless seekers through the centuries. And what Jack uncovers will lead him to dig not only into the ancient past but into his own family history. For over a century earlier his great-great-grandfather returned from an archaeological expedition in India forever traumatized by what he’d experienced. And in order to lay the past to rest, Jack will have to unearth an artifact that might have been better left buried—and with it a power that some of history’s most ruthless tyrants have sought to rule the world….

Sales Rank: #729954 in Books
Brand: Gibbins, David
Published on: 2009-06-23
Released on: 2009-06-23
Original language: English
Number of items: 1
Dimensions: 6.87" h x 1.14" w x 4.18" l,
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
502 pages

About the Author
David Gibbins has worked in underwater archaeology all his professional life. After earning a Ph.D. from Cambridge University, he taught archaeology in Britain and abroad, and is a world authority on ancient shipwrecks and sunken cities. He has led numerous expeditions to investigate underwater sites in the Mediterranean and around the world. He currently divides his time between fieldwork, England, and Canada, and is at work on a new novel about the further adventures of Jack Howard and his team in Egypt.

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

The Red Sea, present-day

Jack, you're not going to believe what I've found."

The voice came through the intercom from somewhere in the blue void ahead, where a silvery stream of bubbles rose from beyond a rocky ledge to the surface of the sea nearly fifty meters above. Jack Howard took a last look at the coral-encrusted anchor below him, then injected a burst of air into his buoyancy compensator and floated above the thick bed of sea whips bending in the current, like tall grass in the wind. He powered forward with his fins, then spread his arms and legs like a skydiver and dropped over the ledge. The view below was breathtaking. All down the slope he had seen fragments of ancient pottery, Islamic, Nabatean, Egyptian, but this was the motherlode. For years there had been rumors of a ships' graveyard on the windward side of the reef, but it had been just that, hearsay and rumor, until the unusually strong tidal currents in the Red Sea that spring had scoured the plateau and revealed what lay before him. Then there had been the rumor that set Jack's heart racing, the rumor of a Roman shipwreck, perfectly preserved under the sand. Now, as he saw the shapes emerging from the sediment, row upon row of ancient pottery amphoras, their tall handles rising to wide rims, he exhaled hard, dropping faster, and felt the familiar excitement course through him. He silently mouthed the words, as he always did. Lucky Jack.

The voice crackled again. "Fifteen years of diving with you, and I thought I'd seen everything. This one really takes the cake."

Jack turned toward the far edge of the plateau. He could see Costas now, hovering motionless in front of a coral head the size of a small truck, the growths rising several meters higher than him.

Two more heads rose behind the first, forming a row. Beyond them the water was too deep for coral to flourish, and Jack could see the sandy slope dropping off into an abyss. He flicked on his headlamp and swam toward Costas, coming to a halt a few meters before him and panning his light over the seabed. It was an explosion of color, bright red sponges, sea anemones, profusely growing soft corals, with clownfish darting among the nooks and crevices. An eel drooped out of a hole, mouth lolling, eyeing Jack, then withdrew again. Jack looked down through a waving bed of sea fans and saw fragments of amphoras, so thickly encrusted as to be almost unrecognizable. He peered again, saw a high arching handle, a distinctive rim. He turned to Costas, his headlamp lighting up his friend's yellow helmet and the streamlined backpack that held his trimix breathing gas.

"Nice find," he said. "I saw sherds like this coming down the slope. Rhodian wine amphoras, second century BC."

"Switch off your headlamp." Costas seemed riveted by something in front of him. "Take another look. And forget about amphoras."

Jack was itching to swim over to the wreck he had seen in the sand. But he lingered in front of the coral head, stared at the dazzle of color and movement. He remembered the words of Professor Dillen, all those years ago at Cambridge. Archaeology is about detail, but don't let the detail obscure the bigger picture. Jack had already known it, since he had first gone hunting for artifacts as a boy. It had always been his special gift. To see the bigger picture. And to find things. Lucky Jack. He shut his eyes, flicked off his headlamp then opened his eyes again. It was as if he were in a different universe. The profusion of color had been replaced by a monotone blue, shades of dark where there had been vivid purples and reds. It was like looking at an artist's charcoal sketch, all the finish and color stripped away, the eye drawn not to the detail but to the form, to the overall shape. To the bigger picture.

And then he saw it.

"Good God."

He blinked hard, and looked again. There was no mistaking it. Not one, but two, sticking out of the sand, curving upward on either side of the coral head, symmetrical, gleaming white from centuries of burial in the sediment. He remembered where they were. The Red Sea. The eastern extremity of Egypt, the edge of the ancient Graeco-Roman world. Beyond here lay fabled lands, lands of terror and allure, of untold treasure and danger, of races of giants and pygmies and great, lumbering beasts, beasts of the hunt and of war that only the bravest could harness, beasts that could make a man a king.

They were tusks.

"I'm waiting, Jack. Explain your way out of this one."

Jack swallowed hard. His heart was pounding with excitement. He spoke quietly, trying to keep his voice under control. "It's an elephantegos."

"A what?"

"An elephantegos."

"Right. An elephant. A statue of an elephant."

"No. An elephantegos."

"Okay, Jack. What's the difference?"

"There's an amazing papyrus letter, found in the Egyptian desert," Jack said. "Maurice Hiebermeyer emailed it to me on Seaquest II as we were sailing here. I asked him for anything in the papyrus records that might refer to a shipwreck. It's almost as if he had an instinct we'd find something like this."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Costas said. "He's an oddball, but I've got to hand it to him."

Jack's mind was racing. He reached out and touched the tip of the nearest tusk. It was silky-smooth, but powdery, like chalk. "The letter mentions a shipwreck. It's one of very few ancient documents to mention a shipwreck in the Red Sea. Maurice knew we were planning to dive here, on our way up to his excavation at Berenike."

"I'm listening, Jack."

"It tells how a ship dispatched from the port at Berenike had sunk. The letter was meant to reach a place called Ptolemais Theron, Ptolemais of the Hunts. That was an outpost somewhere to the south of here on the coast of Eritrea. It was where the Egyptians procured their wild animals. Because of the shipwreck, the men in the outpost hadn't received their grain. The letter assures them that another elephantegos was under construction at Berenike, and would soon be on its way with all the supplies they needed."

"Elephantegos," Costas murmured. "You mean . . . "

"Elephant transporter. Elephant-ship."

"Jack, I'm getting that funny feeling again. The one I always get when I dive with you. It's called disbelief."

"Have you looked beyond? There are two more coral heads. Exactly the same size. Three of them, in a row. Just the number you'd expect. Chained and roped down just as they would have been in a hull."

"You're telling me this thing in front of me is an elephant. A real elephant. Not a statue."

"We know ivory can survive burial underwater, right? We've found tusks and hippo teeth in the Mediterranean. And the coral around here grows pretty fast, quicker than it would take for an elephant skeleton to crumble. There may be no bones left inside there now, but the coral preserves the shape."

"I need a moment, Jack. Remember, I'm just an engineer. I need to stare this thing in the face. This could be the one archaeological discovery that finally does it for me, Jack. I think I might cry."

"You can handle it." Jack floated back and stared at the ghostly apparition that loomed in front of them, one of the most amazing things he had ever seen underwater. He switched on his headlamp again. "Those tusks aren't going to survive long. We need to get them reburied. But before that we need a film team down here, pronto. This is headline stuff."

"Leave it to me, Jack. I've got a channel open to Seaquest II."

Jack glanced at his wrist computer. "Seven minutes left. I want to have a look at those amphoras in the sand. I'll be within visual range."

"I think I've had enough excitement for one dive."

"I'll meet you halfway for the ascent."

"Roger that."

Jack drifted back toward the sandy plateau, letting the current take him. It had picked up slightly during their dive, raising a pall of fine silt that hung a meter or so over the seabed, briefly obscuring the amphoras from view. Ahead of him a school of glassfish hung in the water like a diaphanous veil, parting to reveal a reef shark swimming languidly along the slope. He heard the muffled roar of the Zodiac boat on the surface gunning its outboards, circling to keep position. A banging from the boat marked their five minute warning. He glanced back at Costas, now some twenty meters away, then dropped down into the suspended sediment. Costas might not be able to see him, but Jack's exhaust bubbles would be clearly visible. He stared ahead, concentrating on his objective, his arms held out in front of him with his hands together, his legs slowly kicking a frog stroke. He was in perfect control of his buoyancy. Suddenly he saw them, a row of four amphoras, intact and leaning in the sand, another row poking up beyond. He exhaled hard, emptying his lungs, knowing his life depended on his equipment delivering that next breath, the edge of danger that made diving his passion. He dropped down, then inhaled just above the seafloor, regaining neutral buoyancy. The amphoras were covered with fine sediment, sparkling with the sunlight that streamed through the water from the surface forty-five meters overhead.

He saw more rows of amphoras, then a scour channel with darkened timbers protruding below. He drew in his breath. "Well I'll be damned."

"Got something?" Costas' voice crackled through.

"Just another ancient wreck."

"Couldn't beat an elephantegos," Costas retorted. "My elephantegos."

"Just some old pots," Jack said.

"It's never just old pots with you. I've seen you empty the gold inside to get at the pot. Typical archaeologist."

"The pots are where the history lies," Jack said.

"So you keep telling me. Personally, I'll take a sack of doubloons over a pot any day. So what have you got?"

"Wine amphoras, about two centuries later than the Rhodian ones with the elephantegos. These date from the time of Augustus, the first Roman emperor. They come all the way from Italy."

Jack finned toward the row of amphoras. His excitement mounted. "These are outward-bound, no doubt about it. They've still got the mortar seals over the lids, with the stamp of the Italian estates that made them. This is Falernian wine, vintage stuff. Costas, I think we've just hit pay dirt." He looked back. Costas had swum up from the coral head and was hanging in the water at the halfway point, already rising a few meters above the seafloor. "Time to go, Jack. Two minutes to our no-stop limit."

"Roger that." Jack's eyes were darting around, taking in everything possible in the remaining moments before the alarm bell sounded. "Each of these wine amphoras was worth a slave. There are hundreds of them. This was a high value cargo. A Roman East Indiaman."

"You mean actually going to India?" Costas flicked on his headlamp, bringing out the colors in the seabed around Jack. "Doesn't that mean bullion? Treasure?"

Jack touched one of the amphoras. He felt the thrill that coursed through him every time he touched an artifact that had lain beyond human hands since ancient times. And shipwrecks were the most exciting finds of all. Not the accumulated garbage of a civilization, castoffs and rubbish, but living organisms, lost in a moment of catastrophe, on the cusp of great adventure. Adventure that always came with risk, and this time the dice had fallen the wrong way. This had been a ship heading out into a perilous monsoon, for a voyage of thousands of miles across the Indian Ocean. Jack knew the draw of the east from his own ancestors who had sailed there in the time of the East India Company. They had called it The Enterprise of the Indies, the greatest adventure of all. Untold treasure. Untold danger. And for the ancients, the stakes were even higher. Somewhere out there lay the fiery edge of the world. Yet along its rim, as far as you could go, were to be found riches that would humble even a mighty emperor, and bring him face-to-face with the greatest secrets imaginable, with sacred elixirs, with alchemy, with immortality.

The alarm sounded, a harsh, insistent clanging that seemed to come from everywhere. Jack took a deep breath and rose a few meters above the amphoras, then began to fin toward Costas. They would excavate. So much of archaeology was below the radar of recorded history, about the mundane residue of day-to-day life, but here perhaps they had found something momentous. It was a shipwreck that might have been a turning point in history, that might have determined whether Rome would ever rule beyond the Indian Ocean. He looked at Costas, who was staring down into the pool of color in his headlight, reflecting off the sand. Jack checked his dive computer, then saw Costas still staring, transfixed. He followed his gaze, and looked down again.

Then he saw it. Yellow, glinting. Sand, but not just sand. A fantastic mirage. He blinked hard, then exhaled and sank down again until his knees were resting on the seabed. He could scarcely believe what he was seeing. Then he remembered. A Roman emperor's lament, two thousand years ago. All our money drained off to the east, for the sake of spice and baubles.

He looked up at Costas. He looked down again.

The seabed was carpeted with gold.

He picked up a glittering piece, held it close. It was a gold coin, an aureus, mint, uncirculated. The head of a young man, strong, confident, a man who believed that Rome could rule the world. The emperor Augustus.

"Holy cow," Costas said. "Tell me this is true."

"I think," Jack said, his voice sounding hoarse, "you've got your treasure."

"We need to put this site in lockdown," Costas replied, flicking a switch on the side of his helmet. "All outside radio communication off. We don't want anyone else picking up what we say. There's enough gold here to fund a small jihad."

"Roger that." Jack flipped off his switch. He savored the moment, holding the gold coin, looking at the glittering spectacle in front of him, the rows of amphoras in the background. Costas was right. Jack was an archaeologist, not a treasure hunter, but in truth he had scoured the world for a discovery like this, good, old fashioned treasure, an emperor's ransom in gold. And it was Roman.

He looked up, saw the Zodiac far above, sensed the darker shadow of Seaquest II a few hundred meters offshore. He flashed an okay signal to Costas, and jerked his thumb upward. The two men began to ascend, side by side. Jack glanced back at the receding seafloor, the details now lost in the sand, the amphoras indistinguishable from rock and coral. He had dreamed of this for years, of finding a wreck that would take him back to the greatest adventure the ancient world had ever known, a quest for treasures of unimaginable value, treasures that were still beckoning explorers to this day. His whole spirit was suffused with excitement. This had been the dive of his life. They had found the first ever treasure wreck dating from ancient Roman times. He saw Costas looking at him through his face mask, his eyes creased in a smile. He whispered the words again. Lucky Jack.

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Five Stars
By auwingit
Love this author's stories.

10 of 10 people found the following review helpful.
Informative, but not gripping
By Richard Gazala
David Gibbins' novel, The Tiger Warrior, reveals the author is an intelligent, educated and worldly man. The novel brims with historical and archaeological facts and theories spanning in time and place from the birth of the unified Chinese empire in 221 BCE to Caesarean Rome to British colonial rule on the Indian subcontinent to present day Afghanistan. Most of these facts and hypotheses are intriguing, and all are patently the result of Gibbins' commendably deep research, study and thought.

Unfortunately, none of the above renders Gibbins a master of character, dialogue, or narrative pacing in the art of storytelling. With rare exceptions, his characters are uniformly dull. These characters do not converse with each other so much as they lecture at one another. They often speak for hundreds of words at a time in single stultifying paragraphs that frequently fill more than an entire page before being subjected to an equally bloviated and professorial response. Real people do not talk this way, and wading through lecture after lecture churned out by one flat character after another makes for tedious reading and slows the story to a crawl.

Had Gibbins paid as much attention to character and dialogue as he did to his excellent research, this book would be enjoyable, rather than merely informative. He did not, and accordingly the novel reads far more like a textbook than a good story told well.

12 of 14 people found the following review helpful.
Archaeology Thriller
By Mary L. Barnich
I was horrified as I read the other reviews of The Tiger Warrior. I strongly disagree! This was one of the best books I've read in years. Instead of being all mindless, unbelievable action/adventure, this book was educational. I loved the historical context and the connections to other times and other places. I was so inspired I did the web thing, printing a map of Kyrgyzstan, Afghanistan, India, etc., to better follow the path of the story. I learned so much that my #1 travel destination is now Issyk Kul in Kyrgystan, a lake on the Silk Road that figures prominently in this book!

The characters are not particularly deep, which leaves more time to savor the context, which is rich with archaeological intrigue and historical truths and possibilities. I did not know about the lost Roman Legion, nor did I know that the Romans made it all the way to the east side of India. The parts of the book dealing with Afghanistan and, especially because of the current US involvement there, show the futility of fighting the Afghan tribes.

The action scenes in the book are believable, unlike most action/adventure novels that I read. Jack Howard is no Dirk Pitt, thank god!

David Gibbons has tremendous, inspiring credentials to write this kind of novel, being a PhD archaeologist, from Cambridge, no less. His speciality is sunken cities. Using some characters based on his own incredible family just adds more awe. If you are looking for an exciting, interesting, educational read, one that will remain with you long after you're done, this is the one I'd recommend. If you're just looking for lazy, mindless action, give it a skip. I've read everything David Gibbons has written and now must face a long time yearning for his next one, The Mask of Troy, which won't be out until 2010.

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@ PDF Ebook The Wealth of Nations (Bantam Classics), by Adam Smith

PDF Ebook The Wealth of Nations (Bantam Classics), by Adam Smith

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The Wealth of Nations (Bantam Classics), by Adam Smith

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The Wealth of Nations
by Adam Smith

It is symbolic that Adam Smith’s masterpiece of economic analysis, The Wealth of Nations, was first published in 1776, the same year as the Declaration of Independence.

In his book, Smith fervently extolled the simple yet enlightened notion that individuals are fully capable of setting and regulating prices for their own goods and services. He argued passionately in favor of free trade, yet stood up for the little guy. The Wealth of Nations provided the first--and still the most eloquent--integrated description of the workings of a market economy.

The result of Smith’s efforts is a witty, highly readable work of genius filled with prescient theories that form the basis of a thriving capitalist system. This unabridged edition offers the modern reader a fresh look at a timeless and seminal work that revolutionized the way governments and individuals view the creation and dispersion of wealth--and that continues to influence our economy right up to the present day.

Sales Rank: #3736 in Books
Published on: 2003-03-04
Released on: 2003-03-04
Original language: English
Number of items: 1
Dimensions: 6.92" h x 2.04" w x 4.21" l, 1.28 pounds
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
1264 pages

Review
"Adam Smith's enormous authority resides, in the end, in the same property that we discover in Marx: not in any ideology, but in an effort to see to the bottom of things."
--Robert L. Heilbroner

From the Inside Flap
The Wealth of Nations
by Adam Smith
It is symbolic that Adam Smith's masterpiece of economic analysis, The Wealth of Nations, was first published in 1776, the same year as the "Declaration of Independence.
In his book, Smith fervently extolled the simple yet enlightened notion that individuals are fully capable of setting and regulating prices for their own goods and services. He argued passionately in favor of free trade, yet stood up for the little guy. The Wealth of Nations provided the first--and still the most eloquent--integrated description of the workings of a market economy.
The result of Smith's efforts is a witty, highly readable work of genius filled with prescient theories that form the basis of a thriving capitalist system. This unabridged edition offers the modern reader a fresh look at a timeless and seminal work that revolutionized the way governments and individuals view the creation and dispersion of wealth--and that continues to influence our economy right up to the present day.

From the Back Cover
"Adam Smith's enormous authority resides, in the end, in the same property that we discover in Marx: not in any ideology, but in an effort to see to the bottom of things."
--Robert L. Heilbroner

From the Trade Paperback edition.

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Classic book and made to read efficiently
By Tallon Howie
Classic political economy book. You don't have to read the book to understand his main points, but if you want to understand how he reaches his conclusions it's very interesting. You can skip over most of the chapters and read selectively.

The condition of the book was okay. There are cool side columns that summarize each paragraph if you want to skim through some parts or find a particular section.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Great intro to economics from the guy who founded it
By Amazon Customer
Great intro to economics from the guy who founded it. Provides a very intuitive foundation for all the economics that emerges from 1776 to now. Only problem is all the examples are from a bygone economy and not readily familiar to contemporary readers. Also, I could do without 70 pages chronicling the price of silver from 1400 until 1770. Maybe the abridged version would do.

5 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
Great book, but Modern Library's Kindle edition is poorly formatted
By Zeldock
After some 6 months of buying Kindle books, I've found that the better-known publishers as often as not DON'T do a better job of formatting their titles for Kindle. The Modern Library's Kindle version of "The Wealth of Nations" is a case in point. The footnotes, which appear at the end of each chapter, are all run together in one big paragraph, without any numbers to show where each footnote begins. Moreover, while the footnote references in the text are linked, the links take you only to the start of the footnotes for that chapter, rather than to the pertinent footnote itself. A lesser problem is that the paragraphs in the text do not begin with indents; thus, the only way to tell when a new paragraph starts is if you come to a line that extends only halfway across the screen.

On the plus side, this edition does include the explanatory call-outs of the original (in italics at the end of each section they pertain to) and the lengthy 1906 explanatory introduction by Edwin Cannan (though for some reason not the introduction by Robert Rubin to the recent Modern Library paperback).

But it's a shame that Modern Library didn't do a better job with the formatting, especially since other Kindle publishers have made TWON available at a fraction of what Modern Library charges.

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Minggu, 17 Mei 2015

** Get Free Ebook James Herriot: All Creatures Great and Small/All Things Bright and Beautiful/All Things Wise and Wonderful/the Lord God Made Them All/Boxed

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All Creatures Great and Small))All Things Bright and Beautiful))All Things Wise and Wonderful))The Lord God Made Them All))4

Sales Rank: #370209 in Books
Brand: Brand: Bantam Dell Pub Group (Trd)
Published on: 1990-09
Original language: English
Dimensions: 7.00" h x 4.25" w x 4.00" l,
Binding: Paperback

Features

Used Book in Good Condition

Most helpful customer reviews

13 of 13 people found the following review helpful.
All Emotions Great and Small
By Andrea
Since I want to become a vet, I thought that this would be a great book to read. From the first sentence to the last I was enthralled. The words James Herriot uses in his books make you feel like you are standing right beside him when he is talking. This book will make you literally laugh out loud and also will make you cry. The story in this book is not one easily forgotten.

11 of 11 people found the following review helpful.
Great account of the life of an English country Vet!
By Amazon Customer
I've read the whole series several times over, and it really brings to life images of English country farms. Cold frosty mornings, gruff country farmers, the rolling hills and dales of the countryside are all beautifully illustrated through Jame's Harriot's wonderful prose. It evokes thoughts of simpler times and whisks you away from the hustle and bustle of modern city life. A bonus if you love animals, but not necessary to enjoy these books!

14 of 15 people found the following review helpful.
A book I remember years later...
By A Customer
I had a dear aunt give me a copy of "All Things Great and Small" as a kid. I began to read it out of boredom as it was summer and school was out. I remember how each chapter was it's own story--some sad and some quite humorous and in my mind James Herriot allowed me a accompany him on each vetinarian visit. Trully a wonderful book series. Now as a parent I can see how this book might make for a great bed-time story book for children.

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Sabtu, 16 Mei 2015

** Ebook The Game: A novel of suspense featuring Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes (Mary Russell Novels), by Laurie R. King

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Laurie R. King’s bestselling mystery series featuring Mary Russell and her husband and partner, Sherlock Holmes, is beloved by readers and acclaimed by critics the world over. Now the illustrious duo returns for their most dangerous exploit yet, in a rich and atmospheric tale that takes them to India to save the life of one of literature’s most fabled heroes.

It’s the second day of the new year, 1924, and Mary Russell is settling in for a much-needed rest with her husband, Sherlock Holmes. But the fragile peace will be fleeting—for a visit with Holmes’s gravely ill brother, Mycroft, brings news of an intrigue that is sure to halt their respite. Mycroft, who has ties to the highest levels of the government, has just received a strange package. The oilskin-wrapped packet contains the papers of a missing English spy named Kimball O’Hara—indeed, the same Kimball who served as the inspiration for Rudyard Kipling’s famed Kim.
An orphaned English boy turned loose in India, Kim long used his cunning to spy for the Crown. But after inexplicably withdrawing from the “Great Game” of border espionage, he’s gone missing and is feared taken hostage—or even killed.

When Russell learns of Holmes’s own secret friendship with Kim some thirty years before, she knows the die is cast: she will accompany her husband to India to search for the missing operative. But even before they arrive, danger will show its face in everything from a suspicious passenger on board their steamer to an “accident” that very nearly claims their lives. Once in India, Russell and Holmes must travel incognito—no small task for the English lady and her lanky companion. But after a twist of fate forces the couple to part ways, Russell learns that in this faraway place it’s often impossible to tell friend from foe—and that some games must be played out until their deadly end.

Showcasing King’s masterful plotting and skill at making history leap from the page, The Game brings alive an India fraught with unrest and poised for change—and an unpredictable mystery with brilliance and character to match.

From the Hardcover edition.

Sales Rank: #802329 in Books
Published on: 2005-03-01
Released on: 2005-03-01
Original language: English
Number of items: 1
Dimensions: 6.86" h x .97" w x 4.17" l,
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
480 pages

From Publishers Weekly
The seventh Mary Russell adventure (after 2002's Justice Hall) may well be the best King has yet devised for her strong-willed heroine. It's 1924, and Kimball O'Hara, the "Kim" of the famous Rudyard Kipling novel, has disappeared. Fearing some kind of geopolitical crisis in the making, Mycroft Holmes sends his brother and Mary to India to uncover what happened. En route, they encounter the insufferable Tom Goodheart—a wealthy young American who has embraced Communism—traveling with his mother and sister to visit his maharaja friend, Jumalpandra ("Jimmy"), an impossibly rich and charming ruler of the (fictional) Indian state of Khanpur. With some local intelligence supplied by Geoffrey Nesbit, an Englishman of the old school, and accompanied by Bindra, a resourceful orphan, the couple travel incognito as native magicians (Mary, it goes without saying, learns Hindi on the voyage out). Ultimately, their journey intersects with the paths of the Goodhearts and the mysterious Jimmy. At times, travelogue and cultural history trump plot, but the sights, smells and ideas of India make interesting, evocative reading (Mary's foray into the dangerous sport of pig-sticking is particularly fascinating). If for some Mary Russell is too perfect a character to be as enduringly compelling as Holmes, all readers will appreciate the grace and intelligence of King's writing in this exotic masala of a book.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From School Library Journal
Adult/High School–Once apprentice, now investigator, Mary Russell travels to India in 1925 with her former mentor, now husband, Sherlock Holmes. In this seventh adventure, the duo is searching for Kimball O'Hara, the Kim of Rudyard Kipling's eponymous novel. On a mission from Sherlock's brother Mycroft, long involved in British espionage, they are tasked with finding Kim or evidence of his status as victim or traitor. Sailing to India on a luxury liner, they meet an American family with a debutante daughter, a social-climbing mother, and a left-leaning son, who of course reappear at a strategic moment. Upon their arrival, Mary and Sherlock disguise themselves as native traveling magicians and seek out an anti-English and very sadistic maharaja, "Jimmy." With her usual thorough research, King imbues the mystery with lots of historical detail and a real sense of time and place. This is one of the best in the series and can easily be read on its own, though readers will then want to go back and see how the strange, but surprisingly plausible, meeting and union between a young Mary and a considerably older Holmes actually occurs. Likewise, a previous reading of Kim is unnecessary, but teens will likely be intrigued enough to go on to read that as well. A sure bet for mystery lovers and historical fiction fans.–Susan H. Woodcock, Fairfax County Public Library, Chantilly, VA
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From Booklist
*Starred Review* It's New Year's Day 1924, and Mary Russell knows that the summons to her brother-in-law Mycroft's home can bode naught but ill. So the brilliant, young half-American Jewish wife of Sherlock Holmes finds herself and her spouse on the way to India, and the person they search for there is none other than Kimball O'Hara--the grown-up British agent who was once the Kim of Rudyard Kipling. This intriguing premise allows King room to develop a series of voluptuous set pieces: about the learning of language, prestidigitation, and disguise; about shipboard mores among the upper classes; about the daily habits of a maharaja's many-splendored guests and how they are housed, fed, and entertained. All the while and underneath these musings develops a wondrously taut mystery, ticking away like a malevolent clock. The whole builds and explodes into a deadly finale: a hunt for wild boar and a daring rescue (of Holmes) with unlikely saviors in the persons of a beggar child and a languid, snarky American. King scored another critical triumph earlier this year with her stand-alone thriller Keeping Watch [BKL Ja 1&15 03], but devotees of the Russell series will be overjoyed at this return to familiar ground. Fabulous reading, breathless excitement, and the myriad pleasures of watching great minds at work. GraceAnne DeCandido
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Most helpful customer reviews

32 of 34 people found the following review helpful.
Not a one-trick pony, but not the best yet
By 3rdeadly3rd
Laurie R King's series of Sherlock Holmes adventures in which the great detective is joined by his parter (now wife) Mary Russell have seen the two lead characters travel to various locations, most notably Palestine. "The Game" continues this exoticism, placing the adventure in British India - quite possibly in what is now Pakistan, although King tactfully avoids actually locating the fictional Khanpur on a map.

"The Game" is an example of that interesting sort of novel in which other authors' characters turn up - in this case, Conan Doyle's Holmes is joined by Rudyard Kipling's Kim. That is to say, Holmes and Russell are sent to India to find Kim and his spirit definitely pervades their adventures.

I use "adventures" advisedly, since King tends to avoid the traditional Holmes setup of having the detective lounging in Baker Street and identifying the villain by the unusual paint marks on his hatband. Here, Holmes' skills run to Morse code and relative fluency in Hindi, but none of the deductive powers he is normally associated with. To be fair, the traditional Holmesian deductions are one of the more difficult literary tricks to pull off, and were King to try them too often she would be accused variously of writing pastiches of the real Holmes or (worse) of getting the deductions wrong in the first place.

King's strengths lie in the construction of an interesting adventure story, and "The Game" does not disappoint on this level. Holmes and Russell adventure through Aden briefly, before taking in Delhi and much of rural India en route to Khanpur. The princely state itself is an unusual creation, although it is quite possible to imagine a bored maharajah treating his ancestral home like the giant country house this one turns into. While the Indian travelogue digressions might seem a little overdone, it could be argued that this is how the country appeared to Russell - who was of course a product of her times, no matter how enlightened she and her husband were in relative terms.

"The Game", however, is not the strongest of Russell-and-Holmes novels. Several of the characters in Khanpur are quite interesting, but only turn up as diversions to the main action. One would hope that in future instalments of the series one or more of these characters will play a more central role - and given King's traditional links between novels, this could well happen.

The exotic adventure story plot is well-engineered, but in places it seems like a rehash of "O Jerusalem". This is particularly true in Aden, which could just as easily pass for part of Palestine in the earlier novel. King even admits as much, when she has Russell explain that dressing as a Muslim presented no real challenges because she'd done so before and could recite the obligatory prayers in Arabic already.

The novel also seems to end abruptly, almost as if the various narrative strands were getting out of hand. Everything is tidied up - in ways which may or may not make sense given the politics of the time - but the ending seems a little too convenient. Perhaps this means that some of this plot will reappear in future adventures, too.

All in all, a solid entry in the series. Far from the heights of the earlier novels, but still a good read in one of the more interesting series in recent fiction.

19 of 19 people found the following review helpful.
The Game
By Marc Ruby™
As is often the case, Mycroft Holmes, who is ill and abed, turns to his detective brother to do what the entire British Secret Service cannot, track down Kimball O'Hara, who has disappeared into India. Of course, Kimball, who is the original for Rudyard Kipling's Kim, has always been disappeared into India. He has been a British agent, worked for the betterment of his adopted country of India, and been something of a mystic. He is often missing, but this time Mycroft is convinced that there has been foul play.
Holmes is selected because he spent time in India during his own great disappearance, has met O'Hara, and, I suspect, because his wife is Mary Russell. Mary is every bit Holmes equal, and in some ways his better. First as a team, and then separately, they adventure to Northern India and the Principality of Khanpur, where they must face corruption, insanity, and sedition in an adventure that becomes quite a bit more than a rescue mission.
King does her usual best to mix plenty of fact into her fiction, so that 'The Game' becomes a travelogue and a sociological record in addition to an adventure. There is less deduction in this novel than in some of her other Russell/Holmes stories. Due mostly to the fact that the clues always lead in one direction and the real excitement becomes the tricks, feats, and disguises that enable the team to survive and conquer. King also excels at developing a supporting cast, and as one might expect from a book set in India, that cast is almost numberless.
My only real criticism is that the story is very slow paced. Indeed, it is timed more like a travel diary than an adventure novel. I'm comfortable with an author that lavishes a wealth of detail on an interesting story, but for those that prefer a brisker pace this may be a bit off-putting. Kings ability to capture both the culture of the Asian subcontinent and the artificiality of the British presence, right at the time when India was in a crisis between the desire for independence, the influence of the Raj, and the menace of a Russia looking hungrily over the Himalayas.

41 of 46 people found the following review helpful.
Adventure Abounds
By D. Lacy
Mary Russell, the much younger, part jewish and equal on all terms, wife of Sherlock Holmes is on another exciting case. This one takes them to India via cruise ship in search of Kimball O'Hara, the now grown up Kim of Kipling fame. On the way, the meet a suspicious American, with mother and sister in tow; a precocious youth who joins them in their quest and an Indian Price who is more than meets the eye.
The games afoot!
I love these books for their adventure, the history and the characters. Ms. King remains as true to the original Holmes as I would ever want and creates new stories with the fabulous character of Mary Russell.
If you are new to this series, I'd start at the beginning with The Bee Keeper's Apprentice. If not, I would get this book as quickly as possible.

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Jumat, 15 Mei 2015

! Ebook Download Made to Be Broken, by Kelley Armstrong

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The author of the acclaimed Women of the Otherworld series returns with her latest novel featuring an exciting heroine with a lethal hidden talent. This time she’s hot on the trail of a young woman no one else cares about—and a killer who’s bound to strike again.

Nadia Stafford isn’t your typical nature lodge owner. An ex-cop with a legal code all her own, she’s known only as “Dee” to her current employer: a New York crime family that pays her handsomely to bump off traitors. But when Nadia discovers that a troubled teenage employee and her baby have vanished in the Canadian woods, the memory of a past loss comes back with a vengeance and her old instincts go into overdrive.

With her enigmatic mentor, Jack, covering her back, Nadia unearths sinister clues that point to an increasingly darker and deadlier mystery. Now, with her obsession over the case deepening, the only way Nadia can right the wrongs of the present is to face her own painful ghosts—and either bury them for good, or die trying. Because in her book everyone deserves a chance. And everyone deserves justice.

Sales Rank: #700073 in Books
Brand: Armstrong, Kelley
Published on: 2009-02-24
Released on: 2009-02-24
Original language: English
Number of items: 1
Dimensions: 6.88" h x 1.12" w x 4.18" l, .45 pounds
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
416 pages

Review
Praise for Exit Strategy:

“Armstrong’s expert plotting never falters, and she’s able to keep ramping up the intensity throughout…top-notch entertainment sure to seduce fans of tough heroines.” – Publishers Weekly

“Original, dark, and gritty, with enough humanity to keep you caring about its antiheroes and enough suspense to keep you turning the pages.” – CodyMcFadyen, author of Shadow Man

About the Author
Kelley Armstrong is the author of nine books of the Otherworld. She lives in Ontario, Canada, with her family.

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

Below the belfry, the city sparkled, the late afternoon sun glinting off the skyscrapers, every surface dripping from a brief shower. A spectacular view . . . even through the scope of a sniper's rifle.

A pigeon landed on the ledge beneath the belfry, squawking about the rain. My eye still fixed to the scope, I reached into my pocket and tossed a handful of dried corn into the courtyard below. A flapping of wings told me he'd gone for it. The pigeons were the one drawback to this perch. Fortunately, I'd noticed them when scouting and came prepared. I didn't want a sudden flurry of birds from the belfry telling onlookers exactly where the shot had come from.

The doors below opened onto the quiet side street and at exactly five-thirty, out walked Grant Beecham. A creature of habit, like most people. He was alone. I expected that, but found myself instinctively looking for bodyguards or well-armed friends. I was used to Mafia thugs who knew there was a mark on their heads and never set foot outside alone.

But Beecham had no reason to think his life was in danger. He was just a pharmaceutical company researcher. Yes, he'd suppressed reports of fatalities in a new multiple sclerosis drug study. But his confession came only after evidence was found in an illegal search, so it'd been ruled inadmissible, the case thrown out. He hadn't even been fired; he was too valuable.

Sure, there were devastated families who'd lost loved ones, but this wasn't the Wild West. Injured parties seek financial restitution through the courts, and you take the money and shut up. You don't use your payoff to hire a hitman.

Beecham's car rounded the corner. A Lincoln with a driver to take him to his big house in Forest Hill, maybe with a stop along the way to convince another desperate family that he could provide—under the table and for the right price—the suppressed miracle drug.

I pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through the base of his skull, killing him instantly.

I didn't wait to see him crumple to the sidewalk. Or to watch passersby look over warily, assessing the cut of his suit before deciding he hadn't just fallen down drunk. By the time someone took out a cell phone, I'd be halfway down the belfry stairs.

I moved as quickly and silently as I could. Not easy when the steps were so ancient each one protested under my weight.

Dust whirled in my wake. I was wearing disposable booties, the kind considerate furniture deliverers wear. They'd eliminate prints, but did nothing for the dust reaching my nose and eyes. At my second stifled sneeze, a head popped around the bottom flight. Quinn, aka the Boy Scout—though the latter wasn't used by anyone who wanted to get on his good side.

Beecham was Quinn's job. Vigilante work was the only kind he did, hence the unflattering alternate nom de guerre. Among professional killers, a vigilante—even one as solid as Quinn—is viewed with the same disdain a veteran beat cop has for an idealistic, college-educated young detective. A prissy boy who wants to do a man's job without getting his hands dirty.

At six foot two, with a solid linebacker's physique, square face, stubborn jaw, and piercing eyes, Quinn didn't fit anyone's image of a "prissy boy." But few of the hitmen who scorned him had ever seen him. Like me, Quinn kept to himself, and for good reason. Killing criminals wasn't the only way Quinn pursued justice. He was a federal agent. What branch, I had no idea. I didn't ask.

Most people in my profession would have a problem partnering with a cop, even one moonlighting as a hitman. I didn't. I came from a long line of law-enforcement officers. My life goal had been to join that family tradition. And I had . . . until seven years ago, when I shot a suspect point-blank, made national headlines, and saw my life crash and burn.

As I rounded the last flight, Quinn backed inside. Gaze still fixed on the trash-cluttered courtyard, he unbuttoned his dark overcoat to reveal a suit. I passed him the fake briefcase that housed my takedown rifle. As I tugged off my shoes, he backed in another step and gave me his arm for support. Off with the sneakers, and on with pumps more suited to my slacks and blazer. There was more to our disguises than clothing, but that was all we changed.

I let go of his arm, then slung the leather knapsack with my gear onto my shoulder. Quinn took my hand. We walked quickly through a narrow alley, then slowed to a stroll as we stepped into a paved passage between office towers. At the end, we merged with the commuter crowd heading to the subway.

As we stepped onto the subway stairs, the distant wail of sirens was almost swallowed by the roar of rush-hour traffic.

There are many names for what I do. Want to channel your inner Godfather? Go for hatchet man or hired gun. Prefer an air of legitimacy? Try professional killer or contract killer. Add an air of mystery and intrigue? Use assassin. I like it plain and simple. Hitman. Hitwoman or even hit-person, if one wants to be PC, but if you ask me, "politically correct" and "killer" are two terms never meant to go together.

I moonlight as a hitman to keep my business—a wilderness lodge—open. After the crash of my life seven years ago, the lodge is my lifeline to sanity, and if killing traitors for a small New York crime family keeps it running, then that's fine with me. I know it shouldn't be. But it is.

Quinn doesn't need the money; he needs to scratch the itch that can come with immersing yourself in a justice system that doesn't always see justice done. I exploded on the job and watched my career implode. Quinn found a better way.

I met him six months ago. My mentor, Jack, put together a team to go after a hitman whose foray into serial-killer-hood put us at risk. He'd invited Quinn to keep us abreast of the federal investigation.

Quinn and I had exchanged almost weekly e-mails since. Then, two weeks ago, he said he had a job in Toronto, could use a second pair of hands and eyes, and, knowing I lived somewhere in Ontario, would I be interested.

I'd insisted on taking the shot. I'd been distance shooting since high school and narrowly missed being on the Olympic team. Quinn had started three years ago. When he balked, I'd reminded him that he was risking my safety on his marksmanship. That made him back down.

"Hey, there's the CN Tower," he said as we emerged from the subway. "Earlier it was hidden in the fog."

"Smog."

"I didn't think you got that up here."

"We get everything up here. Except HBO."

He peered up at the tower as we moved away from the commuter crowd. "Nice and clear now, though. Good night to eat in that revolving restaurant."

I made a face. "Overpriced tourist food."

He went quiet. I looked over to see him scratching his chin.

"Unless you want to, of course," I said quickly. "You are a tourist. It might be tough without reservations . . ." I caught his look. "You made reservations."

"Kind of. Yeah."

"Shit. I'm sorry. Really, I'd love to try it. I've just never had the cash to go."

"I should have asked you first. You're the local. I wanted to take you someplace nice, to say, you know . . ."

"Thanks for pulling my hit?"

A sharp laugh. "Yeah. I tried finding a Hallmark. They say they have a card for every occasion, but they seem to have missed that one. I thought we could have a quiet dinner, maybe talk about that thing I mentioned."

"Sure."

When I'd arrived, Quinn had announced he needed to talk to me about something personal. It was almost certainly about where our relationship was heading. Now, even as he mentioned it, my heart thumped double time. With anticipation or dread? I honestly wasn't sure. Fear probably covered it either way.

Last year, Quinn had made it clear he was interested in me. Very clear and very interested. Stoked by the case, I'd reciprocated. He was fun and sexy and we had a lot in common. And, yes, I'll admit it, I'd been flattered. I'm a thirty-three-year-old wilderness lodge proprietor. The closest thing I get to a pass these days is married guys with beer breath cornering me in the boathouse and saying they think I'm "kinda cute."

After the job ended, we had to go our separate ways, so we'd stepped back into friendship.

Months passed and, as much as we communicated, there'd been no whiff of anything but friendship. Maybe I should have been disappointed. But I wasn't. I was almost . . . relieved.

I have an odd relationship with risk. I grew up looking each way twice before crossing the road. Then, after my life-crash, one day I found myself perched at the hatch of an airplane, parachute on my back. Today, I couldn't live without the adrenaline rush of white-water rafting or rappelling down a cliff. But I still look both ways—twice—before crossing. I have tidy boxes for the risk in my life, and Quinn doesn't fit into them.

I like him. I think we could have something. As weird as it sounds, he could be exactly what my life needs. But even now—walking with him, enjoying his company, sneaking peeks and liking what I see—I can't feel what I want to feel. I'm sure it will come. I just don't want to rush into a decision. So I'm praying that whatever he needs to talk about, it isn't that.

We were still in disguise at dinner. That's the downside of socializing with colleagues in this job. You can never just be yourself. Quinn had briefly seen me without a disguise last fall accidentally, but that was no excuse to leave it off now. With Quinn, I wasn't Nadia, I was "Dee." Yes, that was my nom de guerre. I'd have preferred one with a little more flair, but Jack had picked it. Jack didn't do flair.

We'd just stepped inside the base of the CN Tower when Quinn's cell phone buzzed. I wandered over to read one of the displays while he took the call. Likely business—the legitimate kind. He'd arranged the Beecham hit to coincide with a work trip. I wasn't sure that was wise, but trusted he knew what he was doing.

When he was done with his call, we went up the tower, where I was pleasantly surprised to find that the "revolving restaurant" didn't revolve very fast. I don't know what I expected: a merry-go-round? It moved so slowly you didn't notice until you looked up and realized the view had changed. And it was a good thing the motion didn't cause queasiness, because the prices certainly did. After I choked on the thought of paying fourteen dollars for a Caesar salad, Quinn confiscated my menu and read me the choices.

Through the appetizers and into the entrees we talked about our ski seasons, comparing stories and injuries.

"I have to admit," Quinn said. "When I first mentioned getting together, that's what I had in mind. A ski trip. I had a place in Vermont picked out. Even scanned a brochure to e-mail you. Then I chickened out."

"How come?"

He stabbed a pearl onion with his fork, his gaze fixed on his plate. "I guess I took another look at the brochure—couples in hot tubs, couples sipping hot chocolate, couples in front of blazing fires—and it just seemed so . . . couple-ish."

"Which isn't what you had in mind."

"I know I rushed things last time. The job was intense, and that spilled over."

"No kidding, huh?" I gave a small laugh. "Look, I totally understand—"

I broke off as his cell rang again. A murmured apology to me and he pulled it out. A matron at the next table shot me a glare, as if to say I shouldn't tolerate such behavior. Obviously she'd never dated a cop.

"Work," he said as he glanced at the display.

"I'll go to the washroom while you—"

He laid his hand on my arm as I rose. "Sit. Eat while it's warm. If I need to, I'll step outside, but it's probably the same as last time. He can't find a file."

I'd rather have had the excuse to leave for a minute, gather my thoughts, prepare for what was coming. Because I knew now that it wasn't good.

Since we'd met that morning, Quinn hadn't flirted with me, hadn't even given me one of his sexy grins. That was not the Quinn I remembered. I'd thought he was just trying to play it cool until after the job, having been chewed out by Jack last year for acting unprofessional. But now, with his admission about the ski lodge, I knew I was about to get the infamous "Maybe we should just be friends" speech.

I should have been happy. Hadn't I been thinking the same thing? But it still stung. To have a guy be interested, then back off once he got to know me better? I only wish I could say it was the first time that ever happened.

Quinn's brows furrowed as he listened to his call. "What?"

Pause.

"When?"

Pause.

"Goddamn it!"

A furtive look my way, then a slight rise in color as he caught the glower of the woman beside us. He mouthed an apology.

I tried not to eavesdrop, focusing my attention on his free hand, drumming the table. He had square hands, big and broad. Smooth, but with ghosts of calluses and tiny scars, as if he'd worked with them once, maybe teen summers in construction.

He'd stopped drumming now, fingers gone still, tips raised a quarter-inch above the table, as if halted midtap. His fingers curled under, clenching as his voice went brittle before his fingers unfolded and collapsed, palm flat, to the tablecloth.

It took a moment to realize he'd hung up and was watching me, waiting until he had my attention. When I looked over, the crease between his brows was still there, now joined by faint lines at the corners of his mouth.

"You have to go," I said.

He nodded. "It's a case. I'm booked on a flight in two hours."

"Should we get the bill?"

"No, no. We're finishing. I get through security a little faster than the average tourist."

We ate for another five minutes before I said, "So what did you want to talk to me about?"
He moved a mushroom aside. "It wasn't important."

Before I could prod, he launched into the story of getting snowbound driving to a ski hill, and I realized I wasn't getting a better answer. Not tonight.

Most helpful customer reviews

26 of 28 people found the following review helpful.
Second book in the series doesn't disappoint!
By C. Vandehey
I picked up the first book in the Nadia Stafford series mainly on the strength of Kelley Armstrong's name - I've been a fan since Bitten first came out in the US. I love her writing, and having enjoyed books by authors like Greg Rucka, I knew a book featuring a female hitman as the point of view character was something I might like.

Since I haven't reviewed the first book, I'll say something brief about it here. You should definitely read it first before picking up this one! Exit Strategy kept me engaged the whole way through, and introduced several complex and richly three-dimensional characters to follow. Nadia is the POV character, the cop who came from a family of cops, only to have to leave her chosen profession under a cloud of disgrace. She turns to her new profession (hitman) as a way to make money, and satisfy the urge she can't quite control for vigilante justice. Then there's her older, experienced, and taciturn mentor, simply known as Jack, with whom she shares an unacknowledged and unresolved tension that could possibly lead to more, if either of them wanted it to. Nadia doesn't get along quite so well with his mentor, the "retired" hitwoman Evelyn, bent on manipulating and controlling everyone around her. And then there's Quinn, the cop who moonlights as a hitman and has instant and palpable chemistry with Nadia, much to Jack's displeasure.

The interplay between them begins in Exit Strategy and picks up again without missing a beat in Made to be Broken. There is still that unspoken tension between Nadia and Jack, something neither of them are comfortable acknowledging, despite Evelyn's pushing. Quinn has remained a presence in Nadia's life, and clearly wants more. Nadia does, too, though her unresolved feelings for Jack interfere.

When one of Nadia's employees disappears along with her three month old baby, Nadia can't let it go like the rest of her small town, who seem content to believe that a 'bad apple' like Sammi just ran off. The case takes on new and deadly implications when Nadia's investigation reveals the involvement of another pro - the sort that like Jack, Nadia, Evelyn, and Quinn, takes a lot of money and the right connections to hire.

The case itself also stirs old memories for Nadia, an incident from her childhood that has haunted her ever since. It's responsible for the events that disgraced her as a cop, and it's a large part of why she is who she is, and why she turned to professional hits in the first place. Only Jack knows some of the details, pieces that she trusted him with in the past. Now, Nadia's remembering more than she ever has about that long ago night, answering some questions for the reader and for Nadia, while also raising new ones.

A satisfying read, this sequel further develops the characters and their relationships, while delivering a solid story for them to work through. The end of this book will leave you eager for more, and wondering when the next Nadia Stafford book is due to hit shelves. Once again, Kelley Armstrong delivers!

8 of 9 people found the following review helpful.
Made to Be Broken by Kelley Armstrong
By jjmachshev
"Made to Be Broken" is a taut read by Kelley Armstrong. It's book two in her series about a female contract killer and is a far cry from her 'Underworld' paranormal urban fantasy series. These books are a combination of murder, mystery, action, and suspense that grab you from the first page and carry you along as you delve into, not just the mystery, but the psyche of the lead characters and their decision-making processes. As a fan of her 'Underworld' books, when I picked up "Exit Strategy", the first Nadia Stafford book, I was taken aback by how different it was from what I was expecting. But Armstrong's sharp writing and keen character building kept me turning page after page. I just couldn't put the sucker down!

With "Made to Be Broken", I knew what I would be getting into and was curious as to whether the author could keep me reading about a character whose morals and motivations are so different than the norm. In this book, Nadia becomes involved with the disappearance of a local unwed, teen mother and her baby. Other than one friend, nobody in the small town expresses real concern about her disappearance; after all, she's the Canadian version of 'trailer trash'. But for Nadia, this disappearance brings back memories of a tragedy in her childhood and she'll have to face the demons that still haunt her while struggling to come to terms with what her life is now and what her future will look like.

I was riveted to the scenes of Nadia's equivalent of soul-searching. So far, all her kills have been 'bad' people. But to be a contract killer and protect her 'other', normal life...will that have to change? Can she justify killing on demand? And if not, where exactly does she draw the line?

All this is wrapped up in the mystery of the teen mom and baby. Nadia's also dealing with two men, both of whom she has feelings for...but different feelings. Both men can accept Nadia for what she is, both now know about her two separate lives, and both want something from her. But figuring out what they want and what she herself wants is part of this story, so I'll just leave it there.

I wasn't in the least disappointed with book two of Nadia's story. In fact, I'm greedy now for book three. If tense, pseudo-psychological murder mysteries interest you, I highly recommend Kelley Armstrong's Nadia Stafford series.

5 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
refreshing
By A Customer
To finance her Red Oak Lodge in the Kawathas, two hours from Toronto, she is a part time hit-woman contracted mostly by the Tomassinis mob. Nadia Stafford's partner on her current job is a Federal Agent, but Quinn sees that justice is done by playing vigilante. Nadia's mentor in how to be a successful hit-woman is Jack, a mercenary for hire with few scruples.

When Nadia returns to her prime business she has a fight with her employee. Seventeen year old Sammi Ernst lives with her little daughter Destiny who accompanies her on her job. Sammi pays more attention to her child than her work so a frustrated Nadia explains her duties to the teen mother. When the mother and daughter vanish, Nadia searches for a grave. With Jack's help she finds it, but Destiny remains missing. Since the cops believe Sammi ran away, they refuse to look for her. Nadia, Jack, and Quinn discover there are other crimes when a disenfranchised teenage mom with a baby disappears. Mindful of an incident in her past, Nadia wants to take out those who caused Sammi's death and find the still missing infant. Jack and Quinn assist her on her avenging quest for justice.

Known for her Otherworld tales, Kelly Armstrong also writes exciting refreshing and enthralling sagas that are every bit as great as her urban fantasy sagas. The protagonist believes everyone she kills deserves their fate so when the Canadian legal system fails she becomes an avenging Lady Justice if the case is personal. However, she is not someone to role model after as she also kills in cold blood as a means of making money. Though not admirable, she is refreshing and fascinating as are her two cronies. MADE TO BE BROKEN is filled with twists and blind cul de sacs, but it is the lead trio especially the lodge owner who turn this into an entertaining thriller.

Harriet Klausner

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Selasa, 19 Mei 2015

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Minggu, 17 Mei 2015

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Sabtu, 16 Mei 2015

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Jumat, 15 Mei 2015

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