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Something hard hit him on the back of his head, on his shoulder, and across his left arm, but he ground his teeth against the pain and pushed on. Lie on your side on the ground next to it!
The Rebel’s Woman by Kaitlyn O’Connor
Cover your head! One off to his right, telling him. Possibilities whipped through her mind. What if the rubble pinning his legs had shifted and crushed him?
Worst-case scenarios filled her mind as she scooted closer to the cold cement separating them and fought against the panic threatening to drag her under. I, uh, lost my train of thought. I must have hit my head harder than I realized. What were you asking? Closing her eyes, she laid her cheek against the cement beneath her and tried to slow her pulse.
He was okay. A hysterical laugh filled her chest when she realized where her mind had gone, and she only just The debris around him had shifted. He blinked and tried to rub the grime from his eyes. Talk to me. Answer me. Muscles burning, he finally dropped his arm an He was itching to get out of here.
Itching to get back to Kelsey.
What the hell had he been thinking, kissing Kelsey like that? There was a bro-code there he knew better than to cross. He needed to get out of this hospital and find Kelsey, not just because she was technically his client at the moment, but because he needed to talk to her about that kiss. Explain Not worried, exactly, but standoffish, quiet, almost a little cold. She waited while Hunt slid a key into the panel outside the elevator and pushed a button.
Had his meeting with the Feds not gone well? Had her brother said something on the phone that had upset him? The elevator doors whooshed open, and Hunt held out a hand for her to enter the small car first. Stepping in, she turned to watch him, hoping for any sign he was stressed over something other than that kiss.
The elevator jolted as if it were a hundred years old, then hummed as it began to move. It was too quiet in this building. The walls were obviously some high-tech variety that blocked out city noise.
If she could just hear something other than her rapid pulse and erratic breaths, maybe she could get some damn sleep. Unable to stand the silence a moment longer, she pushed out of bed and crossed the floor. I became aware that there was a force: that I was being moved, and that spacelessness had, therefore, ceased, too.
There was nothing to show that I moved; I knew simply that I was being drawn. I felt happy because I knew there was something or someone to whom I wanted to be drawn.
I had no other wish than to turn like a compass needle, and then fall through the void But I was disappointed. No smooth, swift fall followed.
Instead, other forces fastened on me. I was pulled this way, and then that. I did not know how I knew it; there was no outside reference, no fixed point, no direction, even; yet I could feel that I was tugged hither and thither, as though against the resistance of some inner gyroscope. It was as if one force were in command of me for a time, only to weaken and lose me to a new force.
Then I would seem to slide towards an unknown point, until I was arrested, and diverted upon another course. I wafted this way and that, with the sense of awareness continually growing firmer; and I wondered whether rival forces were fighting for me, good and evil, perhaps, or life and death. The sense of pulling back and forth became more definite until I was almost jerked from one course to another.
Then abruptly, the feeling of struggle finished. I had a sense of travelling faster and faster still, plunging like a wandering meteorite that had been trapped at last Better make a note of that on her card.
What's the number?
Oh, only her fourth time. Yes, certainly make a note. It's all right. Northern California, during the violent end of the s. Hidden in the hills, their sprawling ranch is eerie and run down, but to Evie, it is exotic, thrilling, charged--a place where she feels desperate to be accepted.
Oral Sex That'll Blow Her Mind
As she spends more time away from her mother and the rhythms of her daily life, and as her obsession with Suzanne intensifies, Evie does not realize she is coming closer and closer to unthinkable violence, and to that moment in a girl's life when everything can go horribly wrong. Emma Cline's remarkable debut novel is gorgeously written and spellbinding, with razor-sharp precision and startling psychological insight.
The Girls is a brilliant work of fiction--and an indelible portrait of girls, and of the women they become.
The Girls is a brilliant work of fiction. Praise for The Girls "Spellbinding.
A seductive and arresting coming-of-age story hinged on Charles Manson, told in sentences at times so finely wrought they could almost be worn as jewelry.
She gives us the fictional truth of a girl chasing danger beyond her comprehension, in a Summer of Longing and Loss. The most remarkable quality of this novel is Cline's ability to articulate the anxieties of adolescence in language that's gorgeously poetic without mangling the authenticity of a teenager's consciousness. The adult's melancholy reflection and the girl's swelling impetuousness are flawlessly braided together. For a story that traffics in the lurid notoriety of the Manson murders, The Girls is an extraordinary act of restraint.Published on Mar 6, Successfully reported this slideshow.
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Rolling to her back, she blinked several times and squinted to see who was mumbling. Views Total views. So here it is.
The most remarkable quality of this novel is Cline's ability to articulate the anxieties of adolescence in language that's gorgeously poetic without mangling the authenticity of a teenager's consciousness.
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