The Best Medicine: assistancedogseurope.info: Christine Hamill: Books
I think women deserve more love and reverence, and I think that the unmet knowledge and tradition, and it's become a big part of my everyday life. Christine: We have a book on the site with all of the ingredients, and. The Celebrity Wishmaker Simonetta Lein Meets Fiction & Romance Author Christine Brae - The Wishmaker assistancedogseurope.info This happened to me as well regarding my first book: while I was writing I think fashion is the most creative way to express oneself. **I am a big fan of self expression. Evolution of a Corporate Idealist: When Girl Meets Oil [Christine Bader] on I came to the book a decided skeptic about whether major corporations ever see it in . often the business-case-after-the-fact information that is often what we "think ".
He was ashamed of that. It was nearly all he thought about and that made him the sickest fuck out there. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her figure had matured. All that thick, tawny hair, those large green eyes. So green it was like looking into an emerald sea. His entire body clenched, and he pushed aside the women lying sprawled over the top of him.
The Demons had come for the weekend, bringing their women with them and the two clubs had partied hard. The endless cycle that got him nowhere because he fucking lived in hell. The woman who could have changed all that was leaving. Walking away from him—again.
No, make that running away from him. Across the room, Ice and Storm where pushing women off their cocks and rising to their feet. Steele was right behind them, practically shoving them out of the way just in time to see the gates slam shut, effectively stopping pursuit as her truck backed out onto the street in a furious rush.
You stay on her. Three years older now, but it was her. He shook his head absently at the woman who tried to drape herself over him. He gave her a friendly slap on her ass as he expertly avoided her hand. Need you to get on home, wherever the fuck that is. He picked up the envelope and turned it over. It was plain white.
No writing on the outside. Steele took it out of his hand and went striding out of the common room to the hall where their private rooms were. He needed to get dressed fast and get on his bike.
He had to find her. He hesitated as he grabbed a pair of jeans. Urgency made him yank up his jeans and drag a shirt over his head. He could explain later. He grabbed his colors and slid into them, feeling whole the moment he put them on.
Ice and Storm, Maestro, Keys and most of his other brothers joined him as he half ran out of the clubhouse to his bike.
The Demons had rallied, news sweeping through the compound that something was up, and they were supportive of their new allies, immediately offering help. Player was already directing the search, sending bikes in various directions. The prospects had said they saw her truck turning south, toward the Bay Area, so that was the direction he was going. Absinthe had gotten her license plate number off the camera continually sweeping their parking lot.
Steele threw his leg over his bike and had it roaring within seconds. Then the wind was in his face and his brothers were at his back as he tore down the highway looking for his woman.
He increased his speed, straightening out curves and hurtling down the highway as fast as he could travel without putting himself in the ocean. He was risking doing just that, but to find her, to see her again, the risk was worth anything.
His brothers were with him every step of the way. He slowed a fraction, just enough to be safe as they searched for the one woman he knew had cut out his heart and kept it. It sounded like a saw rasping over the paint and would yank her out of her dozing over and over.THINK BIG: FULL VIDEO - Ben Carson, M.D.
She climbed out of the truck only when it was absolutely necessary, and she had to use the bushes. Each time, she forced herself to drink more water.
She drank water and that meant more trips outside the truck which meant she was at risk. The sky turned all shades of golden and then orange spread through the low clouds drifting overhead. She had to admit, as sunsets went, it was pretty spectacular. She could have settled here in Northern California. Truthfully, she needed to be in a city, to disappear. There, no one cared or noticed a waitress working in a diner.
In a smaller town, like Caspar or Sea Haven, everyone would notice. She had been so careful, keeping her head down, working, nothing else. Just staying off the radar and as far from the club life as possible. The life was insidious, and once in, it seemed there was no way out. She was crying again and that always gave her a vicious headache and annoyed her. She had stopped, got on her feet and took care of business. Then her world fell apart and she had no choice but to make certain Steele got that letter.
Everything depended on him getting it and following the instructions. That was important and yet, she knew, following instructions was a very unlike Steele thing to do. The sun plunged into the sea and she immediately began preparations for leaving. It was nearly time. She climbed out of the window and began removing the branches and vines from around her pick-up. She had to back the truck straight along the road for a good thirty feet before there was a wide enough area for her to turn around.
She made it the thirty feet without using lights as the darkness was only just becoming inky streaks running through the very dim light. As she started up the road, heading away from the ocean and toward the main highway, she saw that a small tree had fallen across the dirt track. Fortunately, the round trunk looked more like a sampling rather than a mature tree, one she could handle by herself.
Sighing, she turned on her headlights to illuminate the area, so it would be easier to shift the fallen tree. Pulling gloves out of her glove compartment she pushed open her door with the soles of her boots and slid out.
She was tired, afraid and anxious to be gone from Torpedo Ink territory. Just the thought of that dangerous ride along the highway was terrifying. She planned to take the Comptche-Ukiah road leading away from the coast. It would take her off the highway. Bitterness nearly choked her. She detested MCs and all they stood for. She crouched, took a breath and reached down for the trunk.
The moment she had her hands on the tree, arms reached around her, caught her wrists and yanked them behind her back. He grunted when she smashed into his chest, but he had already secured her wrists with zip ties. You forgot all my training, babe. She had forgotten, damn him. He blocked the kick hard, numbing her leg when he defended himself by striking down on her shin to deflect the blow. She tried again, and he blocked a second time with equal power. The breath hissed out of her lungs and she bent forward as far as she could, drawing her hands up as high as possible, intending to slam them back down as she came upright fast in order to break the zip ties.
Before she could straighten, his hand was on her back, holding her down. You have no right to lay one finger on me.
Just get the hell away from me. I looked at the tapes we had of your ride. There was no way it could have gotten that far ahead of us, even if we were a minute or two behind which the prospects were. I also remembered you as being extremely patient when you needed to be. That meant you were going to hide out until nightfall. It gave me plenty of time to track you down. He had to let her up sometime. Fear shot through her and she went very still, no longer resisting or struggling to get free.
If anything, she tried to make herself smaller, frozen like a little mouse with a big predator about to pounce. I showed some restraint by not going near the truck because I might have strangled you. Let him kill her.
Vengeance Road by Christine Feehan
She was dead anyway. I begged you to let me stay with you. It was humiliating, and I still did it. Then I begged you to go with me when it was obvious you wanted me gone.
You made it abundantly clear that I was nothing to you. A whore for the club that kept you warm at night. The thumb pressed into her chin. His other hand bunched her hair in his fist and slowly pulled her into a standing position. She stared up at his set features. He was even more gorgeous than she remembered, and she dreamt of him every night. That made her a masochist.
Unlike most of the others he rode with, he had few scars on his face. They were mostly on his body, covered with ink. She knew every scar, every tattoo.
She had traced every one of those scars and tattoos with her tongue. She wore his tattoo on her skin. The ink beads dripped down onto her buttocks, both cheeks, but high up, the intertwining lace wove his name there declaring her his property.
It had meant something back then. Now, not so much. She had been shaking, and he held her hand and whispered to her, beautiful, loving things, things that made her laugh or want to cry with happiness. All the while his friend Ink had tattooed the custom design on her. It had felt intimate. She often thought of that day and the way, for the first time in her life, she felt important and loved by someone.
You managed to fall right back into it once I was gone, or were you still participating while we were together? I should have known it would take more than one woman to satisfy you. You always had such an appetite. The color of his eyes was unusual, in that they were so dark one had stare at them a long while before realizing they were actually blue.
His hair was wild and always out of control. Nothing took the cold from his eyes. I came here and left you a letter detailing how I planned to kill you all. In the distance she heard the sound of pipes as two Harleys approached.
She saw their lights once they rounded the bend. She raised her gaze to his once more. Let me get out of here. Just let me go. Her only hope was to convince Czar she was no threat to anyone. Czar had been the enforcer and very trusted. No one suspected, not for one moment, that he—and the others—were plotting to assassinate the international president and bring the club to its knees. Of course, she was gone by then. The motorcycles reached them. She recognized Maestro on one with Keys riding behind him.
Ink was on the second bike. She shook her head, trying not to feel desperate. A few hours could cost her everything. She looked up at Steele again, to catch him watching her.
She should have known. Steele could be so completely still, it felt like he could disappear. His energy would get that low so one could forget he was in your space. He never missed anything when he was like that. He took in the smallest detail. He was a good six feet, all muscle, but not bulky about it.
The definition was there, and not an ounce of fat. Now, it was more like he was about to shred her to pieces. She remained silent when he nodded toward the truck.
What was there to say? She started toward it, Steele pacing along beside her, one hand on her arm as if he feared she would bolt for the cliff and toss herself over it.
- Meet The Perennial – Christine Marie Mason
- Eight Goodbyes
- Christine Taylor-Butler, loves science
She should have just shot him and then made her run. He yanked open the passenger door, put his hands on her waist, lifted her and tossed her easily onto the seat. Christine's writing continues to get better with each release, making me always eager to see what she'll come up with next.
I wish I could bottle up the feelings this novel gave me to revisit constantly. Though this is a seemingly simple story about two lovers making their own rules for their relationship, it dives even further by conveying important messages about life and love.
Simply, we must make the most of our lives and there is no time to waste on pride, selfishness, or anything besides loving those who are closest to us. As usual, Christine's writing cuts right to the core, making me feel every word and evaluate my own life.
I questioned whether I was living each moment as if it were precious and whether I was actively loving those dear to me in the way they deserved to be. I have to give major kudos regarding many aspects of this novel, the main one being the characters. I simply cannot choose a favorite!
Initially, I loved Simon and couldn't wait for a bit of cheer to find its way to his life. He was deep, brooding, and intellectual, while carrying a sadness I was eager to understand. There are many layers to his character that take time to unearth, making him endlessly interesting. At times he emulated the witty and sarcastic humor of the English I have grown to love.
Meet The Perennial – Christine Marie Mason – The What with Gina Pell and Amy Parker
Tessa reminded me of myself more than almost any character I have ever read before, personality-wise. Her life has been trying, she's lost people close to her and feels reluctant to be vulnerable again. Her inability to voice her feelings to those she cares about was like looking in a mirror. As a romance novelist, it's easy to put the words on paper to create stories people can't help but grasp ahold of with their hearts, but verbalizing love feels like visiting another planet.
Instead, she builds walls around her heart and chases the world's beauty to every corner of the Earth, never settling down. Not only were the main characters of this novel outstanding and relatable, the secondary characters felt like real-life friends or family.