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James Gould Cozzens

Men and Bretheren

Steve Cash

Meq #01 - The Meq

<div><h3>From Publishers Weekly</h3><p>Anyone who can get past the trite opening scenes of country singer Cash's fantasy debut will be pleasantly surprised as the stilted prose becomes the accented speech of a fluent foreigner and the sketchy characters turn into solid people. As the orphan Zianno searches the world for the mysterious Sailor, he soon meets other Basque children who share his true heritage: they are the Meq, who stay 12 years old until they meet their soul mates and choose to attain mortality together. Zianno's almost-romance with the beautiful and mortal Carolina and his friendships with other Meq are described with a deep tenderness that plays up the brutality of the Fleur-du-Mal, an ancient renegade Meq who kills Carolina's sister and kidnaps her daughter. As Zianno, Sailor and their companions hunt the Fleur-du-Mal, the vividly painted landscape of the early 20th century unfolds around them, populated by many famous people (from T.S. Eliot to Scott Joplin) and events from the 1904 World's Fair to the 1918 influenza epidemic. Those expecting a conventional tale of immortality's woes or a coming-of-age story won't find either, but as light and engaging historical fiction with a fantasy twist, the novel works well. FYI:_In the 1970s, the author was a member of the Ozark Mountain Devils band and composed the hit pop song "Jackie Blue."_ <br>Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. </p><h3>From</h3><p><em>Starred Review</em> Cash's first novel is a surprisingly ingenious, lushly detailed story that turns fantasy on its head. Yes, it features a battle of good against evil, magic amulets, and a group on a quest to discover its long-forgotten heritage. But beyond that, it soars into new territory. The Meq is a race that has lived anonymously among humans throughout the centuries. But when Meq turn 12, they remain that age, in body if not in mind, until they each meet the one other Meq who is their soul mate. The day he turns 12 in 1881, Ziannio Zezen, known as Z, loses his parents in a tragic train wreck, knowing only that he must keep the baseball his father gave him and must find Umla-Meq and Sailor. As he embarks on the search, various humans as well as other Meq befriend him, and they unite in trying to stop the evil Meq known as the Fleur-du-Mal. As years pass, the plot encompasses the 1904 St. Louis World's Fair, China's Boxer Rebellion, and other turn-of-the century events with a you-are-there flavor, and also dips back into antiquity through the memories of Meq who have been alive for centuries. The drama is intense, the characterizations are fully realized, and the very cadence of the language infuses a rich sense of time, place, and historical context that draws one in. <em>Sally Estes</em><br><em>Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved</em></p> </div><

Steve Cash

Meq #02 - Time Dancers

<div><p class="description">SUMMARY:<br>Steve Cash created “an absorbing [and] intriguing saga” (The San Diego Union-Tribune) in his debut novel, The Meq. Outwardly indistinguishable from human beings, but with abilities no human can claim, the Meq search for their lost history and face a mysterious prophesied reckoning. . . .It has been thirty-eight years since Zianno–known as Z–turned twelve. In appearance, he has not aged a day. Like all Meq, Z has become accustomed to a near immortal existence, possessing an uncanny ability to recuperate from injury and resist disease. Like only four others of his kind, he holds one of the fabled Stones, the Stone of Dreams. These bearers believe it is their destiny to guide the Meq toward and through the Remembering, where it is said that they will recall their long-forgotten origins and purpose.But the rogue Meq assassin called the Fleur-du-Mal threatens their efforts and their lives. Pursuing rumors of a lost Sixth Stone, he is intent on finding the legendary talisman and eliminating anyone, Meq or human, who stands in the way. Z and his allies–Opari, Sailor, Geaxi, Nova, Ray, Mowsel, Carolina, Jack, and others–embark on a desperate quest spanning decades and continents to track down the stone before their lethal adversary gets to it first. Along the way, every belief they have about themselves will be challenged and shaken–and a new, even deadlier enemy will arise.</p> <p class="description">SUMMARY:<br>Steve Cash created “an absorbing [and] intriguing saga” (The San Diego Union-Tribune) in his debut novel, The Meq. Outwardly indistinguishable from human beings, but with abilities no human can claim, the Meq search for their lost history and face a mysterious prophesied reckoning. . . .It has been thirty-eight years since Zianno–known as Z–turned twelve. In appearance, he has not aged a day. Like all Meq, Z has become accustomed to a near immortal existence, possessing an uncanny ability to recuperate from injury and resist disease. Like only four others of his kind, he holds one of the fabled Stones, the Stone of Dreams. These bearers believe it is their destiny to guide the Meq toward and through the Remembering, where it is said that they will recall their long-forgotten origins and purpose.But the rogue Meq assassin called the Fleur-du-Mal threatens their efforts and their lives. Pursuing rumors of a lost Sixth Stone, he is intent on finding the legendary talisman and eliminating anyone, Meq or human, who stands in the way. Z and his allies–Opari, Sailor, Geaxi, Nova, Ray, Mowsel, Carolina, Jack, and others–embark on a desperate quest spanning decades and continents to track down the stone before their lethal adversary gets to it first. Along the way, every belief they have about themselves will be challenged and shaken–and a new, even deadlier enemy will arise.</p></div><

Harlan Coben

Mickey Bolitar #01 - Shelter

<p>A young adult debut from internationally bestselling author Harlan Coben<p>Mickey Bolitar's year can't get much worse. After witnessing his father's death and sending his mom to rehab, he's forced to live with his estranged uncle Myron and switch high schools.<p>A new school comes with new friends and new enemies, and lucky for Mickey, it also comes with a great new girlfriend, Ashley. For a while, it seems like Mickey's train-wreck of a life is finally improving - until Ashley vanishes without a trace. Unwilling to let another person walk out of his life, Mickey follows Ashley's trail into a seedy underworld that reveals that this seemingly sweet, shy girl isn't who she claimed to be. And neither was Mickey's father. Soon, Mickey learns about a conspiracy so shocking that it makes high school drama seem like a luxury - and leaves him questioning everything about the life he thought he knew.<p>First introduced to readers in Harlan Coben's latest adult novel, Live Wire, Mickey...<

Catherine Coulter

Midnight Star

<p>English heiress Chauncey Fitzhugh travels to San Francisco to take revenge on Delaney Saxton, whom she believes is responsible for her father's bankruptcy. But Saxton is far from a cold-hearted villain, and Chauncey finds herself fighting a powerful attraction.<

Ramsey Campbell

Midnight Sun

<div><h3>From Publishers Weekly</h3><p>"Trees grow," wrote the dying Edward Sterling in the frozen earth of the forest in Stargrave, England, that became his burial ground. As his grandson Ben learns, in Campbell's beautifully poetic horror novel, the elder Sterling was answering a call from a primordial species of snow that devours humans. Ben becomes a conduit for the gluttony of this creeping arctic cold, slowly losing his reason with each victim that the entity claims, as he succumbs to its promise of immortality in exchange for the lives of his neighbors. This icy menace can succeed only through manipulating Ben's consciousness, and he cooperates--until it hunts his family. Campbell's ( Ancient Images ) artful use of metaphor paints a frightening portrait of a world tilting into chaos and the price that must be paid to save it. This absorbing novel again demonstrates the author's mastery of the horror genre. <br>Copyright 1990 Reed Business Information, Inc. </p><h3>From School Library Journal</h3><p>YA--Midnight Sun is not of the slasher, gorefest variety that passes for horror in much of the genre today. Instead, Campbell has skillfully crafted an intellectual, poetic, yet very readable thriller. Children's book writer Ben Sterling has returned to his boyhood home in the remote English country town of Stargrave. It was there that his grandfather, folklorist Edward Sterling, was found frozen to death and Ben's parents died under mysterious circumstances. Ben, now married with children, is drawn back to Stargrave by an ancient, alien lifeforce that takes possession of him as a gateway to control the world. Campbell expertly uses language to create a coiled, tense atmosphere and produce a chilling tale in the tradition of John Wyndom's Midwich Cuckoos (Ballantine, 1957; o.p.) or John Christopher's Possessors (S. &amp; S., 1964; o.p.) A welcome addition to any horror collection.<br><em>- John Larson, Fairfax County Pub . Lib . , VA</em><br>Copyright 1991 Reed Business Information, Inc. </p></div><

Catherine Coulter

Midsummer Magic

<p>From the #1 <i>New York Times</i> bestselling author—a match made in hell becomes a marriage made in heaven.<

Diane Chamberlain

The Midwife's Confession

<h3>Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.</h3><p><em>Noelle</em></p><p><em>Wilmington, North Carolina September 20I0</em></p><p>She sat on the top step of the front porch of her Sunset Park bungalow, leaning against the post, her eyes on the full moon. She would miss all this. The night sky. Spanish moss hanging from the live oaks. September air that felt like satin against her skin. She resisted the pull of her bedroom. The pills. Not yet. She had time. She could sit here all night if she wanted.</p><p>Lifting her arm, she outlined the circle of the moon with her fingertip. Felt her eyes burn. <em>"I love you, world," </em>she whispered.</p><p>The weight of the secret pressed down on her suddenly, and she dropped her hand to her lap, heavy as a stone. When she'd awakened this morning, she'd had no idea that this would be the day she could no longer carry that weight. As recently as this evening, she'd hummed as she chopped celery and cucumbers and tomatoes for her salad, thinking of the fair-haired preemie born the day before—a fragile little life who needed her help. But when she sat down with her salad in front of the computer, it was as though two beefy, muscular arms reached out from her monitor and pressed their hands down hard on her head, her shoulders, compressing her lungs so that she couldn't pull in a full breath.</p><p>The very shape of the letters on her screen clawed at her brain and she knew it was time. She felt no fear—certainly no panic—as she turned off the computer. She left the salad, barely touched, on her desk. No need for it now. No desire for it. She got everything ready; it wasn't difficult. She'd been preparing for this night for a long time. Once all was in order, she came out to the porch to watch the moon and feel the satin air and fill her eyes and lungs and ears with the world one last time. She had no expectation of a change of heart. The relief in her decision was too great, so great that by the time she finally got to her feet, just as the moon slipped behind the trees across the street, she was very nearly smiling.</p><p>Tara Going upstairs to call Grace for dinner was becoming a habit. I knew I'd find her sitting at her computer, earbuds in her ears so she couldn't hear me when I tried to call her from the kitchen. Did she do that on purpose? I knocked on her door, then pushed it open a few inches when she didn't answer. She was typing, her attention glued to her monitor. "Dinner's almost ready, Grace," I said. "Please come set the table."</p><p>Twitter, our goldendoodle, had been stretched out beneath Grace's bare feet, but at the mention of "dinner" he was instantly at my side. Not so my daughter.</p><p>"In a minute," she said. "I have to finish this."</p><p>I couldn't see the screen from where I stood, but I was quite sure she was typing an email rather than doing her homework. I knew she was still behind. That was what happened when you taught at your child's high school; you always knew what was going on academically. Grace had been an excellent student and one of the best writers at Hunter High, but that all changed when Sam died in March. Everyone cut her slack during the spring and I was hoping she'd pull it together this fall, but then Cleve broke up with her before he left for college, sending her into a tailspin. At least, I assumed it was the breakup that had pulled her deeper into her shell. How could I really know what was going on with her? She wouldn't talk to me. My daughter had become a mystery. A closed book. I was starting to think of her as the stranger who lived upstairs.</p><p>I leaned against the doorjamb and studied my daughter. We had the same light brown hair dusted with the same salon-manufactured blond highlights, but her long, thick mane had the smooth shiny glow that came with being sixteen years old. Somewhere along the way, my chin-length hair had lost its luster.</p><p>"I'm making pasta with pesto," I said. "It'll be done in two minutes."</p><p>"Is Ian still here?" She kept typing but glanced quickly out the window, where I supposed she could see Ian's Lexus parked on the street.</p><p>"He's staying for dinner," I said.</p><p>"He might as well move in," she said. "He's here all the time, anyway."</p><p>I was shocked. She'd never said a word about Ian's visits before, and he only came over once or twice a week now that Sam's estate was settled. "No, he's not," I said. "And he's been a huge help with all the paperwork, honey. Plus, he has to take over all Daddy's cases and some of his records are here in his home office, so—"</p><p>"Whatever." Grace hunched her shoulders up to her ears as she typed as if she could block out my voice that way. She stopped typing for a second, wrinkling her nose at her screen. Then she glanced up at me. "Can you tell Noelle to leave me alone?" she asked.</p><p>"Noelle? What do you mean?"</p><p>"She's always emailing me. She wants me and Jenny to—"</p><p>"Jenny and me."</p><p>She rolled her eyes and I cringed. <em>Stupid, stupid. </em>I wanted her to talk to me and then I critiqued what she said. "Never mind," I said. "What does she want you and Jenny to do?"</p><p>"Make things for her babies-in-need program." She waved her hand toward her monitor. "Now she's on this 'community work will look great on your college applications' kick."</p><p>"Well, it will."</p><p>"She's such a total whack job." She started typing again, fingers flying. "If you could compare her brain with a normal brain on an MRI, I'm sure they'd look completely different."</p><p>I had to smile. Grace might be right. "Well, she brought you into the world and I'll always be grateful for that," I said.</p><p>"She never lets me forget it, either."</p><p>I heard the timer ringing downstairs. "Dinner's ready," I said. "Come on."</p><p>"Two seconds." She got to her feet, bending over the desk, still typing furiously. Suddenly she let out a yelp, hands to her face. She took a step back from the keyboard. "Oh, no," she said. "Oh, <em>no!</em>"</p><p>"What's the matter?"</p><p>"Oh, no," she said again, whispering the words this time as she dropped back into her chair, eyes closed.</p><p>"What is it, sweetie?" I started toward her as if I might somehow be able to fix whatever was wrong, but she waved me away.</p><p>"It's nothing." She stared at her monitor. "And I'm not hungry."</p><p>"You have to eat," I said. "You hardly ever eat dinner with me anymore."</p><p>"I'll get some cereal later," she said. "Just…right now, I have to fix something. Okay?" She gave me a look that said our conversation was over, and I backed away, nodding.</p><p>"Okay," I said, then added helplessly, "Let me know if there's anything I can do."</p><p>"She's having a meltdown," I said to Ian as I walked into the kitchen. "And she's not hungry."</p><p>Ian was chopping tomatoes for the salad but he turned to look at me. "Maybe I should go," he said.</p><p>"No way." I spooned the pesto-coated rigatoni into my big white pasta bowls. "Someone needs to help me eat all this food. Anyway, it's not you that's keeping her away. It's me. She avoids me all she can." I didn't want Ian to leave. There was comfort in his company. He'd been Sam's law partner and close friend for more than fifteen years and I wanted to be with someone who'd known my husband well and had loved him. Ian had been my rock since Sam's death, handling everything from the cremation to the living trust to managing our investments. How did people survive a devastating loss without an Ian in their lives?</p><p>Ian set the bowls of pasta on the kitchen table, then poured himself a glass of wine. "I think she worries I'm trying to take Sam's place," he said. He ran a hand over his thinning blond hair. He was one of those men who would look good bald, but I knew he wasn't happy about that prospect.</p><p>"Oh, I don't think so," I said, but I remembered Grace mentioning that he might as well move in. Should I have asked her why she said that? Not that she would have answered me.</p><p>I sat down across the table from Ian and slipped the tines of my fork into a tube of rigatoni I didn't really feel like eating. I'd lost twenty pounds since Sam died. "I miss my little Gracie." I bit my lip, looking into Ian's dark eyes behind his glasses. "When she was younger, she'd follow me everywhere around the house. She'd crawl into my lap to cuddle and I'd sing to her and read to her and…" I shrugged. I'd known how to be a good mother to that little girl, but she was long gone.</p><p>"I imagine everyone feels that way when their kids become teenagers," Ian said. He had no kids of his own. Forty-five and he'd never even been married, which would be suspect in another man but we'd all just accepted it in Ian. He'd come close long ago—with Noelle—and I didn't think he'd ever quite recovered from the sudden ending of that relationship.</p><p>"Sam would have known what to say to her." I heard the frustration in my voice. "I love her so much, but she was Sam's daughter. He was our…our translator. Our intermediary." It was true. Sam and Grace had been two quiet souls with no need to speak to each other to communicate. "You could feel the connection between them when you'd walk into a room where they were sitting, even if one of them was on the computer and the other reading. You could <em>feel </em>it."</p><p>"You're such a perfectionist, Tara," Ian said. "You have this expectation of yourself that you can be a perfect parent, but there's no such thing."</p><p>"You know what they loved to do?" I smiled to myself, stuck in my memory, which was where I was spending a lot of my time lately. "Sometimes I'd have a late meeting and I'd come home and find them sitting in the family room, watching a movie together, drinking some coffee concoction they'd invented."</p><p>"Sam and his coffee." Ian laughed. "All day long. He had a cast-iron gut."</p><p>"He turned Grace into a caffeine... </p><

Jennifer Connors

Miles' Lesson

Darcie Chan

The Mill River Recluse

<h3>Review</h3><p>"Chan's sweet novel displays her talent." ~ _<strong>Kirkus Reviews</strong>_ </p><p>"...a real page-turner." ~ _<strong>IndieReader.com</strong>_ </p><p>_<strong>Now a New York Times and USA Today bestseller!</strong>_</p><h3>Product Description</h3><p>Disfigured by the blow of an abusive husband, and suffering her entire life with severe social anxiety disorder, the widow Mary McAllister spends almost sixty years secluded in a white marble mansion overlooking the town of Mill River, Vermont. Her links to the outside world are few: the mail, the media, an elderly priest with a guilty habit of pilfering spoons, and a bedroom window with a view of the town below. </p><p>Most longtime residents of Mill River consider the marble house and its occupant peculiar, though insignificant, fixtures. An arsonist, a covetous nurse, and the endearing village idiot are among the few who have ever seen Mary. Newcomers to Mill River--a police officer and his daughter and a new fourth grade teacher--are also curious about the reclusive old woman. But only Father Michael O'Brien knows Mary and the secret she keeps--one that, once revealed, will change all of their lives forever. </p><p>_<strong>The Mill River Recluse</strong>_ is a story of triumph over tragedy, one that reminds us of the value of friendship and the ability of love to come from the most unexpected of places. </p><

Douglas Anthony Cooper

Milrose Munce and the Den of Professional Help

Robin Cook

Mindbend

Melissa De La Cruz

Misguided Angel

James Hadley Chase

Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief

James Hadley Chase

Miss Shumway Waves a Wand

Hal Clement

Mission of Gravity

<p>Cover Artist: Ed Emshwiller Mission of Gravity is an sf novel by Hal Clement. The title is a play on words, one meaning "the force which pulls" &amp; the other being "extremely serious or important". It was serialized in Astounding Science Fiction, 4–7/53. Its 1st cloth publication was in '54. It was 1st published in paper in '58. Along with the novel itself, many editions (&amp; most recent editions) of the book also include "Whirligig World", an essay on creating the planet Mesklin that was published in the 6/53 Astounding. He published two sequels, a '70 novel called Star Light &amp; a '73 short story called "Lecture Demonstration". Mission of Gravity was nominated for a Retro Hugo Award for '54. For a profit &amp; adventure Barlennan would sail thousands of miles across uncharted waters, into regions where gravity played strange tricks. He'd dare the perils of strange tribes &amp; stranger creatures--even dicker with those aliens from beyond the skies, tho the concept of another world was unknown to the inhabitants of the planet of Mesklin. But in spite of the incredible technology of the strangers &amp; w/out regard for their enormous size, Barlennan had the notion of turning the deal to an unsuspected advantage for himself--a considerable enterprise for a being very much resembling a 15" caterpillar!</p><

James Hadley Chase

Mission To Siena

Orson Scott Card

Mithermages #01 - The Lost Gate

Adam Castle

A Mixture of Genius

Who, but the imaginative young, shall inherit the stars?<

Rowan Coleman

Mommy By Mistake

Robert Crais

The Monkey's Raincoat

Larry Correia

Monster Hunter Alpha

<p class="description">SUMMARY:<br>Dirty Harry meets Twilight.  #3 in the break-out series and a follow-up to Monster Hunter International and Monster Hunter Vendetta.  Earl Harbinger may be the leader of Monster Hunter International, but he’s also got a secret. Nearly a century ago, Earl was cursed to be werewolf.  When Earl receives word that one of his oldest foes, a legendarily vicious werewolf that worked for the KGB, has mysteriously appeared in the remote woods of Michigan, he decides to take care of some unfinished business. But another force is working to bring about the creation of a whole new species of werewolf. When darkness falls, the final hunt begins, and the only thing standing in their way is a handful of locals, a lot of firepower, and Earl Harbinger’s stubborn refusal to roll over and play dead.Here’s a sample of Larry Correia’s prose punch from series opener, Monster Hunter International:  “I didn’t wake up that morning and decide that I was going to kill my boss with my bare hands.  It was much more complicated than that.” About Monster Hunter International“[A] no-holds-barred all-out page turner that is part science fiction, part horror, and an absolute blast to read.”–  Bookreporter.com About the “Monster Hunter” series:“If you love monsters and action, you’ll love this book.  If you love guns, you’ll love this book.  If you love fantasy, and especially horror fantasy, you’ll love this book.” – Knotclan.com</p><

Robyn Carr

Moonlight Road

<h3>Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.</h3><p>In the two weeks Aiden Riordan had been in Virgin River, he'd hiked over a hundred miles and grown himself a pretty hefty dark red beard. With his jet-black hair and brows and his bright green eyes, this legacy of his ancestors gave him a wild look. His four-year-old niece, Rosie, who sported a full head of red curls to go with her green eyes, had said, "Unca Aid! You're a Wide Iwish Rose, too!"</p><p>For a man without a mission for the first time since he could remember, this lay-back time was working out to his liking. Since undergrad in premed, he hadn't been without incredibly stiff goals. Now, at age thirty-six, after fourteen years in the navy, he was between jobs, completely unsure where he'd land next, and he felt <em>good </em>about it. <em>Motivation interruptus </em>had turned out to be a delightful state of being. The only thing he was certain of, he wasn't leaving Virgin River before the middle of summer. His older brother Luke and sister-in-law Shelby were expecting their first child, and he damn sure wasn't going to miss that. His brother Sean would soon be home from Iraq and planned a short leave before heading with his wife, Franci, and daughter, Rosie, to his next assignment, and Aiden looked forward to a little time with him, as well.</p><p>The June sun beat down on him. He wore fatigue pants, hiking boots and a tan T-shirt with salty perspiration rings under the arms. He was wet down his chest and back and smelled pretty ripe. He carried a camouflage backpack for protein bars and water, and strapped to his belt, a machete for clearing any brush that got in his way. He had a ball cap on his head and his black hair had already started to curl out from under the edges. A four-foot-tall walking staff had become his constant companion, and since a chance encounter with a too-confident mountain lion, he now carried a bow and a quiver of arrows. Of course, if he ran into a real cranky bear, he could be toast.</p><p>He wandered up a winding dirt road. It looked like it could be someone's driveway or an abandoned logging road, he was never sure which. He was aiming for a ridge he'd seen from below. At the end of the drive, he came face-to-face with what appeared to be an abandoned cabin. Experience had taught him the difference—if the path to the outhouse facilities was overgrown and it was especially run-down, it was probably vacant. There were no guarantees on that, however. He'd made that assumption once and an old woman had leveled a shotgun at him and ordered him to scram. Now, he gave the place a wide berth and walked through the woods toward the ridge.</p><p>Of course, there was no path; he used the machete to chop away some of the overgrowth. He came out of the other side to the most amazing, intoxicating sight. A woman wearing very short khaki shorts was bent over at the edge of her deck, backside pointed right at him. Even given his expertise in that department, he couldn't tell her exact age, but that was one beautiful booty on top of a couple of magnificent, long, tan legs. By the collection of ceramic pots and a watering can on the deck, he assumed she was potting plants. One flowerpot was balanced on the deck railing above her. She appeared to be digging in the earth, scooping dirt into a big pot.</p><p>He did know a couple of things. That butt and those legs belonged to someone under the age of fifty and there didn't appear to be a shotgun in sight. So, he chopped his way through the trees intending to say a friendly hello.</p><p>Still bent over, she looked at him through her legs. A beautiful strawberry blonde, which made him smile. She let out a huge, bloodcurdling scream, straightened abruptly and hit her head on the deck railing, knocking off a ceramic pot, which hit her on the noggin. And down she went. <em>Splat!</em></p><p>"Damn," he muttered, running toward her as fast as he could. He dropped the machete and staff about halfway there.</p><p>She was sprawled facedown, out cold, so he gently rolled her over. She was <em>stunning. </em>Her face was as gorgeous as the rest of her. Her pulse was beating nice and strong in her carotid artery, but her forehead was bleeding. He'd seen the pot hit her in the back of the head, but she must have struck her forehead on the sharp edge of the deck going down, because in the center of that lovely brow, right at her hairline, there was a gash. And it was gushing, as head wounds like to do.</p><p>Aiden pulled out his handkerchief, which was, thankfully, clean, and pressed his hand over her cut to stanch the bleeding. She moaned a bit, but didn't open her eyes. With his thumb, he peeled back her lids one at a time; her pupils were equal and reactive to light, a good sign so far.</p><p>While applying pressure to the wound, Aiden shrugged off his backpack, quiver and bow. Then he scooped her up in his arms and carried her across the deck and through the French doors that were standing open, into the cabin. "Anybody home?" he called as he walked inside. Since there was no answer, he assumed the woman lived here alone and that the big Lincoln SUV was hers.</p><p>The leather sofa looked like a good bet—better than a bed or even what appeared to be a very new and expensive designer area rug and not something she'd want to bleed on. He placed her carefully on the couch, her head slightly elevated.</p><p>He looked around. From the outside, the place looked like an ordinary old cabin with new siding and a freshly painted, covered, railed deck with chairs. Inside, it was a richly furnished, very classy showplace.</p><p>He gingerly lifted the handkerchief; the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. There was blood on her white T-shirt, however. The first matter at hand was ice, then a bandage of some kind. He was in a large combination living/dining/kitchen area. A table sat in front of the opened French doors out of which he now saw the view he'd been in search of. He'd been so taken with that fine butt, he hadn't noticed the cabin was built right on the ridge.</p><p>Aiden looked around for a phone, but didn't see one. Then he washed his hands and rummaged through the freezer for ice, which he wrapped in a couple of dish towels—one for the front of her head, one for the back. The dish towels still had price tags on them. He propped her head against one ice pack and laid the other on her forehead. Even the application of cold didn't rouse her, so off he went in search of a bandage.</p><p>The kitchen was on the west end of the cabin, but on the opposite side were two doors. The one on the left led to a good-size bedroom, and on the right, a large bathroom. From the bathroom, the most obvious place to find first-aid supplies, another door connected to the bedroom.</p><p>Sure enough, under the sink, he found a blue canvas zipper bag with <em>First Aid </em>emblazoned in white on the canvas. He grabbed it and hurried back to the woman. In his experienced hands, it took only seconds to apply a little antibacterial cream and a butterfly to close the wound, covered by a Band-Aid. He reapplied the ice pack.</p><p>The next immediate order of business was getting her to an emergency room for a head CT; the loss of consciousness after a blow to the head could mean trouble. The longer she stayed unconscious, the more it concerned him, but he had moved fast—she hadn't been out more than a couple of minutes so far. He saw a purse on the kitchen counter and went to rifle through it for a phone, car keys, ID, anything. He unceremoniously dumped the contents and was bent over the counter, sifting through the loose items, when a shriek rent the air. His head came up sharply and he whacked it on the cupboards that hung over the counter. "Ah!" he yelled, grabbing the back of his head. He pinched his eyes closed hard, trying to get a grip through blinding pain.</p><p>But she continued to scream.</p><p>He turned toward her. She was scooting away from him on the leather couch, screaming her head off, her ice packs spilled to the floor.</p><p>"Shut <em>up!" </em>he ordered. She stopped abruptly, her hand covering her mouth. "We're both going to have brain damage if you don't stop doing that!"</p><p>"Get out of here!" she commanded. "I'll call the police!"</p><p>He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Great idea. Where's the phone?" He lifted a cell phone from the things on the counter. "This one has no signal."</p><p>"What are you doing here? Why are you in my house? In my purse?"</p><p>He walked toward her, her purse hanging in his hand. "I saw you hit your head. I brought you inside and put ice and a bandage on the wound, but now we have to—"</p><p>"You hit me in the <em>head?" </em>she screeched, digging at the sofa with her heels to scoot away again.</p><p>"I didn't hit you—apparently I startled you when I came out of the forest and you jumped. You hit the back of your head on the deck railing and one of your pots fell on your head. I think you got the cut on your forehead when you hit the deck on the way down. Now where's the phone?"</p><p>"Oh God," she said, her fingers going to the bandage, touching it carefully. "The phone's going to be installed tomorrow. Along with my satellite dish. So I can have Internet and watch movies."</p><p>"That isn't going to help much. Listen, it's a small cut. Head wounds bleed a lot. I doubt it'll even leave a scar. But losing consciousness is—"</p><p>"I'll give you money if you just won't hurt me."</p><p>"I bandaged your head, for God's sake! I'm not going to hurt you and I don't want money!" He lifted the purse in his hand. "I was looking for your car keys—you need a CAT scan. Maybe a couple of stitches."</p><p>"Why?" she asked, her voice quivering.</p><p>He sighed. "Because you lost consciousness—not a good sign. Now, where are your keys?"</p><p>"Why?" she asked again.</p><p>"I'm going to drive you to the emergency room so you can get your head examined!"</p><p>"I'll do it," she said. "I'll drive myself. You can just go now. Right now."</p><p>He took a couple of steps toward her. He crouched so he wouldn't be looking down at her, but didn't get too close because he wasn't su... </p><

Wilkie Collins

The Moonstone

The Moonstone was published in 1868 and concerns the huge yellow diamond of the title that was once stolen from an Indian shrine. Rachel Verrinder receives the stone as a gift and does not realize that it has been passed to her in a sinister form of revenge by John Herncastle who, it transpires, acquired the moonstone by means of murder and theft. The jewel also brings bad luck. The stone disappears on the very night it is given to Rachel, though, and the tale concerns the unveiling of the culprit after the intervention of Sergeant Cuff, a famous London detective. A maid who is under suspicion commits suicide and Rachel herself seems reticent when it comes to aiding the investigation. Mysterious Indians appear frequently and there is an air of confusion and the unknown until the mystery is eventually solved.<

Dana Cameron

More Bitter Than Death

James Hadley Chase

More Deadly Than The Male

<div class="ff"><div class="spacer">Written as Ambrose Grant<br> <br>George Fraser is a lonely man, and a bored man. But he has exciting dreams. In his dreams, he lives in a thrilling world of gangsters, guns, fast cars and beautiful women. And of course, in his dreams, he is the toughest gangster of them all. George Fraser prefers his dream world to his real, ordinary life so he begins to boast about it, pretending that he is, in fact, a hardened and ruthless gangster. But George Fraser boasts to the wrong people and suddenly his dream world becomes all too real. </div></div><

C J Cherryh

Morgaine #01 - Gate of Ivrel

C J Cherryh

Morgaine #02 - Well of Shiuan

C J Cherryh

Morgaine #03 - Fires Of Azeroth

C J Cherryh

Morgaine #04 - Exile's Gate

Rachel Caine

Morganville Vampires #01 - Glass Houses

<p>From the author of the popular Weather Warden series. Welcome to Morganville, Texas.<p>Just don't stay out after dark.<p>College freshman Claire Danvers has had enough of her nightmarish dorm situation, where the popular girls never let her forget just where she ranks in the school's social scene: somewhere less than zero.<p>When Claire heads off-campus, the imposing old house where she finds a room may not be much better. Her new roommates don't show many signs of life. But they'll have Claire's back when the town's deepest secrets come crawling out, hungry for fresh blood.<

Rachel Caine

Morganville Vampires #02 - The Dead Girls' Dance

Rachel Caine

Morganville Vampires #03 - Midnight Alley

<p>Claire Danvers's college town may be run by vampires but a truce between the living and the dead made things relatively safe. For a while. Now people are turning up dead, a psycho is stalking her, and an ancient bloodsucker has proposed private mentoring. To what end, Claire will find out. And it's giving night school a whole new meaning.<

Rachel Caine

Morganville Vampires #04 - Feast of Fools

<p>The wait is over. dig into the feast...<p>In the town of Morganville, vampires and humans live in relative peace. Student Claire Danvers has never been convinced, though—especially with the arrival of Mr. Bishop, an ancient, old-school vampire who cares nothing about harmony. What he wants from the town's living and its dead is unthinkably sinister. It's only at a formal ball, attended by vampires and their human dates, that Claire realizes the elaborately evil trap he's set for Morganville.<

Rachel Caine

Morganville Vampires #07 - Fade Out

<h3>Review</h3><p>'Dump Stephenie Meyer's Twilight books and replace them with the Morganvilles' SFX Magazine 'Addictive and hypnotic' The Eternal Night </p><h3>Product Description</h3><p>Without the evil vampire Bishop ruling over the town of Morganville, the resident vampires have made major concessions to the human population. With their newfound freedoms, Claire Danvers and her friends are almost starting to feel comfortable again... </p><p>Now Claire can actually concentrate on her studies, and her friend Eve joins the local theatre company. But when one of Eve's castmates goes missing after starting work on a short documentary, Eve suspects the worst. Claire and Eve soon realize that this film project, whose subject is the vampires themselves, is a whole lot bigger-and way more dangerous-than anyone suspected. </p><

Rachel Caine

Morganville Vampires #08 - Kiss of Death

<h3>Review</h3><p>'Dump Stephenie Meyer's Twilight books and replace them with the Morganvilles' SFX Magazine 'Addictive and hypnotic' The Eternal Night </p><h3>Product Description</h3><p><strong>A new chapter in the <em>New York Times</em> bestselling Morganville Vampires saga. </strong> </p><p>Vampire musician Michael Glass has attracted the attention of a big- time producer who wants to cut a demo and play some gigs-which means Michael will have to enter the human world. For this, he's been assigned escorts that include both a dangerous immortal as well as Michael's all-too-human friends. And with that mix of personalities, this is going to be a road trip from hell... </p><

Rachel Caine

Morganville Vampires #09 - Ghost Town

<h3>From Booklist</h3><p>College student Claire enjoys living in Morganville, even if it is controlled by vampires. When a rave goes wrong and both humans and vamps end up dead, including one executed by Claire (it was self-defense), her punishment is to find a way to repair the failed machine that guards the borders. Her marathon work session seems to fix the problem—until people start losing their memories, beginning with her boss, Myrnin, a notoriously unstable vampire who now wants to eat her and won’t give her access to the workshop to save the town. This fast-paced adventure in the Morganville Vampires series features Claire and her housemates—goth princess Eve; Eve’s vampire boyfriend, Michael; and Claire’s boyfriend, Shane—battling to keep themselves and their community safe. The memory losses allow for character backstories to develop and for some older series plotlines to resolve. Claire’s tough-girl attitude may remind adult readers of Rachel Morgan and her world of human-vampire interactions. A tremendously popular series. --Jessica Moyer </p><h3>Review</h3><p>'Dump Meyer's Twilight books and replace them with the Morganvilles' SFX Magazine </p><

Rachel Caine

Morganville Vampires #10 - Bite Club

<h3>From Wikipedia</h3><p>The Morganville Vampires is a series of young adult urban fantasy/vampire novels written by Rachel Caine. The novels feature Claire Danvers, a student at Texas Prairie University, and her housemates in the vampire-controlled city of Morganville, Texas. While the mayor of Morganville is human, unbeknownst to most of the population the town is actually run in cooperation with a group of vampires. Morganville is also home to an unusually large number of second-hand thrift stores. Several of the novels have made the New York Times bestseller list. In September 2009, Caine announced that she had signed a contract with Signet to write books 10, 11, and 12 in the series. In January 2010, she revealed that beginning with book 9, Ghost Town, novels in this series will first be released in hardback. Read more - Shopping-Enabled Wikipedia on Amazon</p><p>      <strong>In the article: </strong>Series | Characters | Synposis | Key locations | Adaptations</p><h3>Review</h3><p>'A first-class storyteller' Charlaine Harris 'Thrilling, sexy, and funny! These books are addictive. One of my very favourite vampire series.' Richelle Mead, author of the international bestselling Vampire Academy series. </p><

Rachel Caine

Morganville Vampires #11 - Last Breath

With her boss preoccupied researching the Founder Houses in Morganville, student Claire Danvers is left to her own devices when she learns that three vampires have vanished without a trace. She soon discovers that the last person seen with one of the missing vampires is someone new to town-a mysterious individual named Magnus. After an uneasy encounter with Morganville's latest resident, Claire is certain Magnus isn't merely human. But is he a vampire-or something else entirely?<

C R Corwin

Morgue Mama

<h3>From Publishers Weekly</h3><p>In Corwin's witty and engaging caper, the start of a new series, newspaper archivist Dolly Madison Sprowls (called Morgue Mama "behind her back") and a determined cub reporter, Aubrey McGinty, team up to investigate the poisoning of TV evangelist Buddy Wing at the Heaven Bound Cathedral in "the Hallelujah city" of Hannawa, Ohio. Part satire and part social commentary, the story is far from a standard whodunit, since Aubrey, rather than finding the culprit, seems bent only on clearing the name of convict Sissy James, the badly abused ex-girlfriend of a rival preacher. The irrepressible, 67-year-old Maddy (as she prefers to be called), a lonely divorcee clinging to her post as manager of the Hannawa Herald-Union's morgue, helps Aubrey search the newspaper's records, which yield a multitude of suspects, some amusing and some tragic, but each adding an intriguing dimension to the ever more complex case. Small town politics and office love affairs entangle almost everyone except poor Maddy, whose existence before now has revolved around filing news articles in steel cabinets for brash reporters to paw through. Her matchup with Aubrey brings her and the reader genuine excitement right through the stunning conclusion to this lively adventure.<br />Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc. </p><h3>Review</h3><p>"An ambitious young Ohio crime reporter teams up with the wise old curmudgeon heading up the newspaper's morgue. Dolly Madison Sprowls, 67, thinks she'll be teaching newcomer Aubrey McGinty, 24, a thing or two about proper Hannawa Herald-Union procedure when she comes looking for file clips on the Buddy Wing murder. But Aubrey immediately convinces the acerbic Morgue Mama to help her prove the televangelist wasn't poisoned by Sissy James, even though she confessed. High on their list of new suspects are Tom Bandicoot, Sissy's lover and the former assistant pastor at the Heaven Bound Cathedral until Buddy cast him out, forcing him to start up the rival New Day Epiphany Temple; his wife, Annie, desperate to have him reclaim his former eminence; Guthrie Gates, the new golden boy at Heaven Bound; disgruntled parishioner Wayne F. Dillow, whose wife died despite healing sessions with Buddy; several Kent State students working at the Cathedral as part-time interns; and Elaine Albert, who's responsible for getting the reverend's sermons on the air. Verbally abrasive Dolly and seductively manipulative Aubrey are soon offending town nabobs, cops, managing editors, rival reporters, and each other before newcomer Corwin throws in a couple of twists.... That's unfortunate, because the wry handling of the irrepressible Dolly, and her takes on aging, youth in heat, and diner specials, are very appealing indeed." --Kirkus Reviews</p><

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