Caroline Linden

[sunshine]

fakt cos kojarzę

[aniazlipca]

Oby szybko u nas wydali zapowiada się ciekawie

[LiaMort]

;D no to czekamy..xD

[•Sol•]

jak na szpilkach

[Papaveryna]

A ja po okropnej dwójce jakoś nie. Nie pali mi się żeby czytać o tym wrzodzie na tyłku.

[•Sol•]

Very, ale musisz przeczytać bo jestem mega ciekawa jak bardzo będziesz go wyzywać

[Papaveryna]

Myślisz, że moja kreatywność do tworzenia brzydkich wyrazów rozwinie się przy tej książce?

[•Sol•]

myślę że zdecydowanie jest taka szansa

[Papaveryna]

Zapewne Ale serio nie wyobrażam sobie czytania o tym lamusie jako o pozytywnym bohaterze. Po tym jaki był dla Sebastiana i wszystkich świństwach jakie zrobił, wsadziłabym mu w tyłek rozżarzony pręt. A teraz będzie łaził i się wdzięczył i żył długo i szczęśliwie...Łeee

[•Sol•]

może odpokutuje grzechy?

[LiaMort]

ja bym go nie skreślała tak od razu.

[•Sol•]

ależ ja też uważam że należy mu się szansa. Pen mu może dać nieźle popalić

[sunshine]

Ja tam tez go nie skreślam
bo mnie ciekawi jak Pen da mu popalić
może być płomiennie

[•Sol•]

na to liczę bo Pen jest charakterna

[sunshine]

Dokładnie
rany chyba sie nie doczekam tego

[•Sol•]

skąd ja znam ten ból
też bym chciała już, ale cóż i fajne jest jeszcze wiesz co?
Że spotkamy Sebastiana i Abby na bank bo to rodzina

[Papaveryna]

Nie lubię Abby, nie chcę jej spotykać Sebastiana mogę.

[sunshine]

Very jaki foch
weź wyluzuj

Sol dokładnie
Miło będzie

[•Sol•]

Very, Abby się może wyrobi

Sun, nawet może być bardzo miło

[Papaveryna]

Abby w ogóle nie ma charakteru, nie to co jej siostra. Żeby tylko nie była z tym siusiakiem. Buuu

[•Sol•]

no będzie niestety
ale zobaczysz, zrobi mu szkolenie

[sunshine]

Noo właśnie
będzie git majonez

[Lilia ❀]

kolejna część z cyklu Skandal

First look at SIX DEGREES OF SCANDAL! Coming March 29, 2016

Olivia Townsend heard the footsteps behind her as she reached the last turn toward her cottage. She caught her breath and listened: it was a heavy tread, a man in boots whose longer stride was gaining on her. It could be anyone hurrying home after a long day, and yet…

Her heart nearly stopped and her lungs felt crushed as other possibilities streaked through her mind. If Lord Clary had somehow found her, followed her and discovered her here alone, in this narrow lane away at the edge of town…

Her hands fisted in the folds of her cloak. No, no, no. If she let herself think too much of that, he would win. The man had spent months trying to seduce her, with increasing degrees of coercion and manipulation. If he’d tracked her to Gravesend in the middle of winter, he wouldn’t be refused again.

Now her blood was running and her feet sped up as anger flowed freely through her veins. She was so tired of this—a decade of her life had been ruined by men manipulating or forcing her into doing what they wanted her to do, with no thought at all to her wishes. First her father, then Henry’s father, followed by blasted Henry himself, that unctuous solicitor, and now the Devil incarnate, Simon Clary. Olivia had had enough.

She hated Clary. He hated her, too. If he didn’t want under her skirt so badly, he probably would have already engineered some sort of ‘accident’ to dispose of her. For all she knew, he’d finally got over wanting her and now just wanted to get rid of her.

An abandoned building was just ahead. It had once been been a gatehouse, but the tall fence keeping people from the woods behind it were long gone, and the cottage itself was crumbling into rubble. Just beyond it lay the way to her own rented house, up the winding path and over the hill. But in the desiccated remnants of the overgrown hedge, the moonlight picked out a familiar and welcome shape: the handle of a shovel.

Her eyes riveted on it. The shadows swayed and fluttered with every burst of wind, and if she looked away she might never located that shovel again. Footsteps still followed on behind her, not gaining but not receding, either. Perhaps her pursuer was just waiting until they were unquestionably out of sight of the town; once she rounded the gatehouse a spinney of beeches would hide her from sight of every window in Gravesend. Not that anyone would be watching, but there would be no hope of help, let alone rescue. This lane was deserted, dark and lonely with a frosty wind blowing in her face. Clary would do what he willed with her and no one would even discover her body before spring.

But that shovel stood there, haphazardly propped against the stone wall. She said a quick prayer it still had a blade and wouldn’t fall apart the moment she touched it. Things tended to do that when left out in the open air this near the ocean. It was her only hope, though, and she meant to use it in any way possible.

She waited until she was only a few steps away. Thus far she’d moved at a brisk walk but no faster; now she bolted, letting her cloak fly out behind her. Fearful that the shovel would be stuck in a mass of undergrowth, she seized it and yanked, almost stumbling when it came free without protest. She whisked around the corner of the house and flattened herself against the wall in the shadows, trying to quiet the loud rasp of her breath.

The footsteps paused. She gripped the handle, her heart pounding viciously and her eyes fixed on the place in the lane where her pursuer must step if he meant to follow her. Go away, she silently begged. As much as she wouldn’t mind seeing Clary dead, she didn’t know if she’d have the stomach to beat him to death herself.

He spoke. The whining wind blew away his words, scattering them among the rustling of the trees, but it was unquestionably a man’s voice. A step crunched closer, then another.

Cold sweat trickled down Olivia’s temple. She raised the shovel as one might hold a cricket bat. Her arms shook, and she clenched her jaw to steady herself. Only one of us can walk away from this, she reminded herself. If she swung at him and missed, Clary would probably kill her on the spot with this same shovel.

The light faded as a cloud blew across the round face of the moon. She would be harder to see, but so would he. Olivia carefully braced her feet for balance, wishing the man would either prove himself innocent and walk away, or prove himself guilty and come around the damn house. Standing here waiting, poised in terror, was torture.

A step, then another. A tall shadowy shape appeared around the corner of the house. His hat shielded his face, but there was just enough moonlight to gleam on the barrel of the pistol in his hand.

Olivia sucked in a deep breath and swung with all her might.

He was tall and standing on the path, while she was not as tall and stood in the hollowed shell of the cottage garden. The shovel cracked squarely into him with an impact that almost knocked her off her feet. He must have been expecting something, because he managed to turn, taking the blow on his arm even as he tried to grab the edge of the shovel. The pistol, though, flew out of his hand and into the shadows. Wildly Olivia swung again, this time hitting him square across the stomach. She had to keep him from locating the gun.

“Stop,” the man gasped, flinging up one hand as he collapsed to his knees. “Wait!”

Arms raised, heart racing, Olivia registered the voice just in time to keep herself from slamming the shovel into him again. Not Simon Clary. Not anyone who would hurt her, in fact. “J-Jamie?” she stammered in disbelief.

He tilted back his head as the cloud drifted past the moon and gave her enough light to see his face beneath the brim of his hat. “Good evening, Livie,” wheezed James Weston with a weak attempt at a smile, before he folded over and vomited into the spindly skeleton of a blueberry bush.

[•Sol•]

o zupełnie nowych bohaterach czy mi sie wydaje?

[Lilia ❀]

jak przeczytam trójkę to ci powiem