Storming Paradise
Книга "Storming Paradise", авторами которой являются Mary McBride}, Литагент HarperCollins EUR, представляет собой захватывающую работу в жанре Историческая литература. В этом произведении автор рассказывает увлекательную историю, которая не оставит равнодушными читателей.
Автор мастерски воссоздает атмосферу напряженности и интриги, погружая читателя в мир загадок и тайн, который скрывается за хрупкой поверхностью обыденности. С прекрасным чувством языка и виртуозностью сюжетного развития, Mary McBride позволяет читателю погрузиться в сложные эмоциональные переживания героев и проникнуться их судьбами. McBride настолько живо и точно передает неповторимые нюансы человеческой психологии, что каждая страница книги становится путешествием в глубины человеческой души.
"Storming Paradise" - это не только захватывающая история, но и искусство, проникнутое глубокими мыслями и философскими размышлениями. Это произведение призвано вызвать у читателя эмоциональные отклики, задуматься о важных жизненных вопросах и открыть новые горизонты восприятия мира.
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Table of Contents
10>TH ANNIVERSARY
Special thanks to our well-wishers, who have contributed their congratulations and support.
“The best historicals, the best romances. Simply the best!”
—Dallas Schulze
“Bronwyn Williams was born and raised at Harlequin Historicals. We couldn’t have asked for a better home or a more supportive family.”
—Dixie Browning and Mary Williams, w/a Bronwyn Williams
“I can’t believe it’s been ten years since Private Treaty, my first historical novel, helped launch the Harlequin Historicals line. What a thrill that was! And the beat goes on…with timeless stories about men and women in love.”
—Kathleen Eagle
“Nothing satisfies me as much as writing or reading a Harlequin Historical novel. For me, Harlequin Historicals are the ultimate escape from the problems of everyday life.”
—Ruth Ryan Langan
“As a writer and reader, I feel that the Harlequin Historicals line always celebrates a perfect blend of history and romance, adventure and passion, humor and sheer magic.”
—Theresa Michaels
“Thank you, Harlequin Historicals, for opening up a ‘window into the past’ for so many happy readers.”
—Suzanne Barclay
“As a one-time ‘slush pile’ foundling at Harlequin Historicals, I’ll be forever grateful for having been rescued and published as one of the first ‘March Madness’ authors. Harlequin Historicals has always been the place for special stories, ones that blend the magic of the past with the rare miracle of love for books that readers never forget”
—Miranda Jarrett
“A rainy evening. A cup of hot chocolate. A stack of Harlequin Historicals. Absolute bliss! Happy 10th Anniversary and continued success.”
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“Happy birthday, Harlequin Historicals! I’m proud to have been a part of your ten years of exciting historical romance.”
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—Karen Harper
For Cynthia MacDonald Gamblin, my gold friend
“We were discussing your dismissal, I believe,”
Libby said.
“All right.” Shad crossed his arms over his chest. “Go ahead.”
“I want you to leave.”
“You already said that.”
Libby crossed her arms now. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Go.” She angled her head toward the door. Once he was gone, she thought, she’d be able to breathe normally. However did he manage to suck up all the air in a room, leaving only scraps for everybody else to breathe?
But he wasn’t going. He seemed stuck to that backward chair as if he were glued to it by the seat of his pants. The pants—she couldn’t help but notice—that were pulled so taut across his thighs. She could actually see the power in those hard curves, could almost feel…Her eyes snapped back to his face, only to discover the most irritating grin she’d ever seen.
“You’ve got a lot to learn about firing, Miss Libby…”
Dear Daughters, Amos Kingsland wrote.
And then, because he was a blunt man, never known to hold his temper or his tongue, he continued. I’m dying.
As if to underscore the words he wrote, pain shot through his belly just then. Amos closed his eyes. The doctors in Corpus Christi wanted to slice him open and poke around inside, but he’d told them to ply their lily-fingered trade on somebody else. He’d already been cut twice—once by a blind-drunk Cajun in New Orleans, and once—worse—by a woman in Matamoros who didn’t like the word adios. Any more scars, he figured, and Saint Peter wouldn’t recognize him when he knocked on the pearly gates. Or Lucifer, when he pounded on the blazing portals of perdition.
He was sixty-two years old and didn’t particularly want to die, but—damn!—when the pain grabbed at his gut, he didn’t take much pleasure in living.
Not that his pleasures had ever come easy. He’d worked hard creating Paradise—battling Mexicans and Indians and wrong-headed whites, wrestling long-horns and mustangs and Mother Earth herself until he’d built the biggest, most prosperous ranch in Texas.
He’d lost a partner along the way. Good riddance. Hoyt Backus had taken his profits in cash and had set himself up on an adjoining spread that he’d named Hellfire just for spite.
And Amos had lost a wife and two daughters, as well. He’d barely flinched fifteen years ago when Ellen had taken their two little girls to Saint Louis. Good riddance on that count, too. He hadn’t missed them. A man didn’t miss what he didn’t need.
Until now.
He picked up the pen again.
I want you to come to Texas.
Dammit! What he wanted—what he needed—was a son. If he regretted anything, it was that. After Ellen walked out, he’d considered marrying again. But he’d found matrimony to be more hellish than holy. God knows, and the devil, too, that he hadn’t done right by his wife. He was too hot tempered, too set in his ways, too hard. All the qualities that had allowed him to wrest Paradise out of a harsh land didn’t add up to good husband material. Truth to tell, Amos just didn’t like women very much.
