Somewhere in Egypt, in a temple, she stood opposite her fantasy man, on a dais at the top of steps that gleamed white. Her bridegroom was a warrior of high rank and clad accordingly, a short white wrap-around skirt bordered in gold and a wide leather sash fitted diagonally across his bare chest. A copper knife at his waist and a sheathed wood javelin, with a copper spearhead was fastened with leather thongs to his muscled arm and shoulder.She was a princess, her wedding robes woven from fibers so fine, it was nearly transparent.She was overjoyed and aesthetic to be joined to her warrior, more in love with him than any human being in her life. It was easy to love him, for his love for her was as strong and perhaps stronger.The Pharaoh sat on his throne, overseeing and blessing their union. A High Priest stood in front of her and her bridegroom. The High Priest held a corded flaxen rope woven with filigreed gold. As she and her warrior exchanged vows, he wrapped the cord around their joined hands and their wrists. The memory of the words he spoke was not as clear as those her bridegroom added. His voice was steady, strong and very clear. "I am yours to protect you, to love you, to guide you, in this life and all lives to come, for all eternity. This I swear before all the Gods we worship, including the Greatest of them all."Without reservation, she replied, "And I am yours to share my love, my loyalty and all my being, in this life and all others to come, for all eternity. This I swear before all the Gods we worship, including the Greatest of them all."She heard the High Priest's startled intake of breath. Her bridegroom also heard it. They glanced at the High Priest, and read a wary expression in his eyes. But he said nothing, only turned to gaze up at the Pharaoh, and observed his smile and a nod. A father's approving smile and nod, content to see his favorite daughter and his most loyal warrior, son of royalty as well, joined in marriage. The High Priest turned back to the couple. His words issued with an unyielding prophetic finality. "So have you both sworn. So is it ordained."A sudden shiver rose up her spine, not of fear, but of momentousness. She gazed into her bridegroom's eyes, and found the reassurance she sought, in the love and utter surrender she read in their expression, and breathed a sigh of relief. A salving mist rose about them as the dream faded. ... "Shhh," Estelle put a finger to her lips. Angie advised, "There's no one about in the hallway to hear me. It's too early for the other servants to be about. Your parents are still asleep, their drapes drawn tight.""What gave me away," Estelle asked."What gives you away, each time," Angie replied."The smile?"Angie nodded. "Where were you this time?" she asked."Not sure, but it was lovely. A rose garden on a terrace, overlooking the Mediterranean.""Were you alone'"He'd just started down the stone stairwell, toward the carriage on the grounds below, with a promise to be waiting for me tomorrow morning at the foot of the altar for our wedding.""The same man?" Angie said."Yes, though the settings may differ, the century, his clothes, the color of his hair, his name, his features. But I recognize him. It's the same man.""Dear, it's a dream, He's not real. A leftover fantasy from your childhood.""He's real," Estelle insisted. "To me," she whispered. "As real as the young bridegroom in the family portraits that hang along our stairwell, returning each century to find his beloved, remarry her and spend his life with her.""Please tell me," Angie pleaded, "you haven't yet outgrown the fantasy that you are her reincarnation?"Estelle didn't answer. What good would it do to argue? Angie still thought of her as an impressionable child who although she'd outgrown her belief in fairy tales some time ago, had merely exchanged that phase for a belief in the paranormal.
Sharon and the Beast - A clean, sensitive, inspirational, mystery romance, about two kindred spirits, one in torment, and the other searching for true inner beauty. Not your face, not your stature, not even your heart intrigues me. But the beauty of your soul mesmerizes me. (Paula Freda) Sharon wondered whatever had possessed her to follow, unnoticed by the tour guide and the tourists, the butler carrying the covered food tray through the hidden door behind the tapestry of the golden-haired prince robe in black and red velvet. The answer, of course, was her curiosity. Her yen to meet the elusive owner of the sixteenth century, moss-tinged, weatherworn, greystone edifice. His paintings intrigued her, and the myths and legend surrounding him. He'd inherited the castle ten years ago with the passing of his father. But unlike his late father, the son was a recluse who rarely left the castle. The warmth and beauty he expressed in his landscapes and portraits were not at all what she expected from an eccentric artist who signed his works, Beast He sold his works through an agent. And those few times he'd been spotted entering or exiting his black limousine, had been under the cover of night. Occasionally, he exhibited his works at gallery expos s usually held at local art museums, but only his agent participated at the exhibitions. Well, that wouldn't do, Sharon thought. She wanted to meet the man himself. Ergo, her presence this morning in the stygian darkness of the narrow hallway behind the tapestry and door she had just entered....
"Well, getting back to what it is you want to say to me," Jasper quickly recouped, "I'm listening." "All right," Janice said. She couldn't believe what she was about to ask him. A heartthrob, a regular, on a well-liked television soap who happened to be the son of her family's neighbors. Every girl on the block was in love with him. She, included, even if she refused to admit it, and too shy and timid to ask him out like the other girls had. "Just remember, I'll understand completely if you refuse." She took a deep breath, and with the words, "You see, I've drawn a million dollar lottery ticket, but I have this obsessive fear of the curse...." The words tumbled out and finally the request and the reasons she had chosen to ask him, his lucky nature and his disbelief in luck in general, to counterbalance any bad luck forthcoming. And finally, the offer to give him a percentage for his efforts, if he chose to do her the favor. Through all her spiel, he'd listened quietly, despite his clear astonishment. "Don't misread my astonishment for disrespect, please," he finally replied. "I'm honored that you would trust me enough to give me the ticket to cash for you, and I certainly don't need, and wouldn't in any case accept money to cash it for you, even if it didn't involve legal repercussions." She sensed a logical refusal coming, and before he uttered another word, she blurted, "Oh, for heaven's sake, if you didn't think so before, you definitely must think I'm crazy, now. You don't have to worry about how to refuse politely. Just ignore and forget everything I said. I'm beginning to think I am crazy, and no amount of money is worth that. I'll leave quickly, quietly." She started to stand intent on running, but he caught her arm. She was trembling, tears of frustration filling her eyes, glazing the dark brown irises to shimmering. "Wait, sit back down, take it easy," he soothed. "You're not crazy. Lots of folks believe in the curse associated with winning a lottery ticket of that amount." "I guess my only recourse is to go home and run the ticket through my shredder," Janice said, reverting to her initial decision." "Absolutely not," Jasper said. "Think of all the good you can do for your family." "Yes, I've heard that line. But I've also read about the many examples of sorry winners who cursed the day they ever bought the winning ticket in the first place." "Most examples of so-called cursed winners were already losers with self-destructive character issues long before they won. They entail a very small percentage of the winners. I don't believe in luck, either good or bad. We're responsible for our own lives. My trust is in the Lord. Not that I presume the Lord will make miracles for me at my beck and call. No, but I do know the Lord is always there, ready to lend me strength and His shoulder, or if you prefer, Her shoulder, to lean on and keep me going, no matter what life throws at me." It was true what they said about him, Janice thought, her heartbeat quickening with admiration and respect for this young man. He had a kind heart and a pure soul, the Lord's light shining through it. And he made sense, of course, she thought, resolving to follow whatever advice he gave her. "What do you advise me to do?" she asked. Jasper studied her visage. His gaze grew yielding and compassionate. His next words surprised her. "Do you know how lovely and desirable you are? "Me?" Janice asked. The shy mouse, she thought, with the obsessive fear of cashing in a million dollar winning ticket. Lovely and desirable? She controlled the urge to laugh. He was, no doubt, being kind, to ease her frustration.
Clean, inspirational romance for hearts of all ages. Janice draws a million dollar lottery ticket. Unfortunately, she believes in the bad luck curse that is rumored to afflict winners of huge amounts. Her younger sister convinces her to ask her neighbor's son, a soap opera star, known for his good luck and good nature, to cash the ticket for her. Not easy, when she is secretly in love with him. Excerpt: "Well, getting back to what it is you want to say to me," Jasper quickly recouped, "I'm listening." "All right," Janice said. She couldn't believe what she was about to ask him. A heartthrob, a regular, on a well-liked television soap who happened to be the son of her family's neighbors. Every girl on the block was in love with him. She, included, even if she refused to admit it, and too shy and timid to ask him out like the other girls had. "Just remember, I'll understand completely if you refuse." She took a deep breath, and with the words, "You see, I've drawn a million dollar lottery ticket, but I have this obsessive fear of the curse...." The words tumbled out and finally the request and the reasons she had chosen to ask him, his lucky nature and his disbelief in luck in general, to counterbalance any bad luck forthcoming. And finally, the offer to give him a percentage for his efforts, if he chose to do her the favor. Through all her spiel, he'd listened quietly, despite his clear astonishment. "Don't misread my astonishment for disrespect, please," he finally replied. "I'm honored that you would trust me enough to give me the ticket to cash for you, and I certainly don't need, and wouldn't in any case accept money to cash it for you, even if it didn't involve legal repercussions." She sensed a logical refusal coming, and before he uttered another word, she blurted, "Oh, for heaven's sake, if you didn't think so before, you definitely must think I'm crazy, now. You don't have to worry about how to refuse politely. Just ignore and forget everything I said. I'm beginning to think I am crazy, and no amount of money is worth that. I'll leave quickly, quietly." She started to stand intent on running, but he caught her arm. She was trembling, tears of frustration filling her eyes, glazing the dark brown irises to shimmering. "Wait, sit back down, take it easy," he soothed. "You're not crazy. Lots of folks believe in the curse associated with winning a lottery ticket of that amount." "I guess my only recourse is to go home and run the ticket through my shredder," Janice said, reverting to her initial decision." "Absolutely not," Jasper said. "Think of all the good you can do for your family." "Yes, I've heard that line. But I've also read about the many examples of sorry winners who cursed the day they ever bought the winning ticket in the first place." "Most examples of so-called cursed winners were already losers with self-destructive character issues long before they won. They entail a very small percentage of the winners. I don't believe in luck, either good or bad. We're responsible for our own lives. My trust is in the Lord. Not that I presume the Lord will make miracles for me at my beck and call. No, but I do know the Lord is always there, ready to lend me strength and His shoulder, or if you prefer, Her shoulder, to lean on and keep me going, no matter what life throws at me." It was true what they said about him, Janice thought, her heartbeat quickening with admiration and respect for this young man. He had a kind heart and a pure soul, the Lord's light shining through it. And he made sense, of course, she thought, resolving to follow whatever advice he gave her. "What do you advise me to do?" she asked. Jasper studied her visage. His gaze grew yielding and compassionate. His next words surprised her...
Along with the family, Henry congratulated Richard, his younger brother, on announcing his intention to join the Priesthood. Warm affection flooded him, but all the same, he had hoped for more for Richard. Marriage to a good woman, children. Nieces and nephews, cousins to the children he, himself, hoped to father someday together with the woman he chose. There was, however, the chance that once at the seminary, Richard might change his mind, Henry thought hopefully. Find the rules and regulations too stringent for a young man raised in a well-to-do family, who had never lacked for affection or material goods. Evie might change his mind. During his college years, Henry hadn't thought much about Evie. When she greeted him at the door, it was no surprise to him that she had filled out and grown into a lovely young woman. A freshman in his senior year in high school, and a regular attendee at his basketball games, Evie had had cheered the loudest of all the girls interested in him. Of course, like several of the girls in his school, she had a crush on him. He was, after all, one of the school's lead basketball players, tall and sinewy for his age. But she ought to be well over her crush for him by now. Evie was perfect for Richard. Brought up in an orphanage run by nuns. Held in high esteem by his parents. Just starting out on her own. There was something fresh and vibrant about her, that even he found appealing, although she was definitely not his type. No, he preferred attractive girls, on the sophisticated side, college-educated, with that certain aura of savoir-faire. Henry had a plan, a clever, ingenious plan, he thought, until he discovered that Evie's crush on him had never faded. It had grown, matured along with her into deep respect and admiration. She loved him. Oh, this did not bode well for Richard ... or for him.
Along with the family, Henry congratulated Richard, his younger brother, on announcing his intention to join the Priesthood. Warm affection flooded him, but all the same, he had hoped for more for Richard. Marriage to a good woman, children. Nieces and nephews, cousins to the children he, himself, hoped to father someday together with the woman he chose. There was, however, the chance that once at the seminary, Richard might change his mind, Henry thought hopefully. Find the rules and regulations too stringent for a young man raised in a well-to-do family, who had never lacked for affection or material goods. Evie might change his mind. During his college years, Henry hadn't thought much about Evie. When she greeted him at the door, it was no surprise to him that she had filled out and grown into a lovely young woman. A freshman in his senior year in high school, and a regular attendee at his basketball games, Evie had had cheered the loudest of all the girls interested in him. Of course, like several of the girls in his school, she had a crush on him. He was, after all, one of the school's lead basketball players, tall and sinewy for his age. But she ought to be well over her crush for him by now. Evie was perfect for Richard. Brought up in an orphanage run by nuns. Held in high esteem by his parents. Just starting out on her own. There was something fresh and vibrant about her, that even he found appealing, although she was definitely not his type. No, he preferred attractive girls, on the sophisticated side, college-educated, with that certain aura of savoir-faire. Henry had a plan, a clever, ingenious plan, he thought, until he discovered that Evie's crush on him had never faded. It had grown, matured along with her into deep respect and admiration. She loved him. Oh, this did not bode well for Richard ... or for him.
At the age of nineteen, Jessie eloped with Walt, a ranch hand she had met on the ranch of her mother's best friends, the Driscolls, in Montana. It took Jessie only three months into her marriage to learn the reason Walt had responded to her advances. Alone with her, his true nature surfaced. Right to her face, he told Jessie the real reason he'd married her, and how sick he was of her cloying, adolescent affection. Hurt and disillusioned, Jessie's rose-colored glasses shattered. But reality wasn't finished with her. She woke in the morning to find Walt missing. On his side of the bed, a two-sentence note. "I'm gone. Don't look for me." All the same, for two years she waited, with never a word, until one afternoon, the Driscolls brought her authenticated documents, proving that when he married her, Walt had a wife and two children under another name. Indoctrinated since childhood in fairytales with happy endings, her spirit, her view of life and the pursuit of happiness, severely scarred, especially regarding the story of Cinderella and Prince Charming. She swore off any future relationships, and turned her nose up at the need for a Prince Charming. Cinderella Ice. Like the Snow Queen. Jessie made up her mind. Yes, that's what I'll be from this day forth - Cinderella Ice." Excerpt: "Have you returned home to stay?" Michael asked. ... "For the time being. I need to re-define myself," Jessie said. "Where do I fit in? What is my goal in life? What do I hope to accomplish? How do I clear up the mess I've made of my life so far?" "That's a lot of riddles for a broken heart to solve. A lot of weight for a wounded spirit to carry," Michael said. "Maybe you should do what they advise swimmers who have overexerted themselves - Just float for a while." Just float for a while. Michael's words resonated with her unhappiness, along with his concerned attitude and his smile. She had always liked his smile, even when he wasn't as attractive in his teens, or as well dressed. The executive style suited him to a tee. Cinderella Ice frowned. Jessie reminded herself that although Michael wasn't a blood relation, he'd always been considered family, because of the strong friendship between their respective families. He was in the loop, as her elder sister Carol was used to say. "Just float for a while. Sound advice, Michael, that I'll take to heart. Thank you." His smile widened, and Jessie had to look away. Yes, definitely handsomer than she remembered him.
Sharon and the Beast - A clean, sensitive, inspirational, mystery romance, about two kindred spirits, one in torment, and the other searching for true inner beauty. Not your face, not your stature, not even your heart intrigues me. But the beauty of your soul mesmerizes me. (Paula Freda) Sharon wondered whatever had possessed her to follow, unnoticed by the tour guide and the tourists, the butler carrying the covered food tray through the hidden door behind the tapestry of the golden-haired prince robed in black and red velvet. The answer, of course, was her curiosity. Her yen to meet the elusive owner of the sixteenth century, moss-tinged, weatherworn, greystone edifice. His paintings intrigued her, and the myths and legend surrounding him. He'd inherited the castle ten years ago with the passing of his father. But unlike his late father, the son was a recluse who rarely left the castle. The warmth and beauty he expressed in his landscapes and portraits were not at all what she expected from an eccentric artist who signed his works, Beast He sold his works through an agent. And those few times he'd been spotted entering or exiting his black limousine, had been under the cover of night. Occasionally, he exhibited his works at gallery expos s usually held at local art museums, but only his agent participated at the exhibitions. Well, that wouldn't do, Sharon thought. She wanted to meet the man himself. Ergo, her presence this morning in the stygian darkness of the narrow hallway behind the tapestry and door she had just entered....
Focuses on Marianne and her relationship with Pierre, who must rethink his ideas about women in order to develop a relationship with this independent woman
Un homme, Pierre. Il a voyag , il est revenu de tout, et n' tait la nature qui l'entoure et qu'il aime, je dirai qu'il souffre de spleen. Face lui, une jeune fille, Marianne. Elle poss de une m tairie et y vit simplement. Elle est un myst re pour Pierre. Il la juge tr s h tivement, fustigeant "sa prudence calcul e" et "son dess chement volontaire". Lui-m me a des jugements l'emporte-pi ce sur les femmes: "d'o vient que Marianne se tourmente de devenir une exception ? Conna trait-elle comme moi le chagrin de n'avoir pas su utiliser sa propre valeur ?
"I'm what's been made of me, a product of someone else's depravity. There are scars going deeper than the eye can see, they're carved into our blood, placed there by the actions of others. You, of all people, should know this. Threatening Caius was the only way I knew of to assure your undivided attention. If you couldn't love me, at least you'd hate me. But you would notice me."What secrets hide in Marianne's past?After being thrown to a time portal by Nora Bell's magic, Marianne finds herself face to face with her own past, one she must now share with Marcus. Will witnessing the life events, that led to having met her at Stuart Harlow's mansion, change the way he sees her? And will his worry about having left Cai alone, back in their own time, allow him to stay focused and clear headed, around a woman who once held such allure over him?Will Cai and Nora find a way to bring Marcus back from the past?And will they condemn Marianne to stay locked there, with her own demons?
Marianne / Mme Andre Leo (Mme L. de Champceix)Date de l'edition originale: 1877Ce livre est la reproduction fidele d'une oeuvre publiee avant 1920 et fait partie d'une collection de livres reimprimes a la demande editee par Hachette Livre, dans le cadre d'un partenariat avec la Bibliotheque nationale de France, offrant l'opportunite d'acceder a des ouvrages anciens et souvent rares issus des fonds patrimoniaux de la BnF.Les oeuvres faisant partie de cette collection ont ete numerisees par la BnF et sont presentes sur Gallica, sa bibliotheque numerique.En entreprenant de redonner vie a ces ouvrages au travers d'une collection de livres reimprimes a la demande, nous leur donnons la possibilite de rencontrer un public elargi et participons a la transmission de connaissances et de savoirs parfois difficilement accessibles.Nous avons cherche a concilier la reproduction fidele d'un livre ancien a partir de sa version numerisee avec le souci d'un confort de lecture optimal. Nous esperons que les ouvrages de cette nouvelle collection vous apporteront entiere satisfaction.Pour plus d'informations, rendez-vous sur www.hachettebnf.fr
