Book shows minor use. Cover and Binding have minimal wear, and the pages have only minimal creases. Buchnummer des Verkäufers
Inhaltsangabe: Imagine a powerful North woodsman, unfairly accused, being relentlessly pursued by the police through the northern Rockies in one of the coldest winters on record. Imagine the fugitive, many days later, disappearing in an avalanche -- and the police declaring him dead. But is he? Could he survive, with the help from a magnificent wolf, his last friend on earth? Could he go on to realize his dream of a hidden valley for man and wolf? Imagine this hidden perfect world with no enemies, no killing, no animosity... There's more. The man has a teenage daughter back in Seattle. While the whole world (through the new medium, Radio) believes that "Trapper" is dead, Tandi is convinced that he is her father, and that he is still alive. Enter a dream and an old Indian. And the incredible journey of a girl through the fearsome, wild northlands (including an encounter with a grizzly), to find the man she's convinced is her father. And Eyes that Haunt presents another incredible event more mindful of the Nineteen Seventies or Nineties than the world of the Thirties. You'll find it hard to forget Trapper and the wolf as they conquer the challenges crossing over species and the supernatural to establish their wonderland on earth.
Auszug. © Nachdruck mit Genehmigung. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.: The girl completed her fast run down the mountain, whirling to a halt in front of the young man as some of the snow sprayed his legs. He put out his arms to help her come to a stop. "Whew! That was some skiing, Tandi!" She flipped up her goggles and, exhilarated, pushed back her white parka hood, allowing her long blond hair to drop to her shoulders. "You're doing pretty well yourself, Tom Stroup; how `bout one more trip?" They skied to the rope tow, hopped into the well-worn tracks, and held on for the free ride to the top. It was late afternoon, and few skiers remained on the slopes. Despite a near spill for Tom, they were soon back at the bottom—tired and hungry, but happy. "Would you like to go out for dinner?" he asked as they sat on a bench to remove their skis. She answered as he had hoped. "Why don't we just get a snack at the concession here... then we can have a drink at my place. I'm too tired to get dressed up and drive somewhere..." "That's why I love you, baby. You know I didn't want to go some place to wait in line and then share you with a lot of other people..." "Nonsense, Tom Stroup! You just want to come up to my room at the lodge..." Tom sat on the love seat, reading a magazine, but with one eye on the bathroom door. He'd set what might have been a world record for showering, shaving, and changing clothes, then had hustled over to her room. She had let him in, just ready to take her shower but, he cursed his luck, so completely hidden in robe and towel over her head, he'd hardly have known it was her and not some Egyptian mummy had he not known Egyptian mummies don't ski so well down snow-covered mountains. Tom Stroup was a six-footer, in perfect condition, not exactly handsome but not unhandsome either. A couple small facial football scars, a little more than nicks—one on his left cheek, one between his eyebrows—added an intriguing dimension, much in the manner of a Prussian overlord and his dueling scars. His well-combed hair was as dark as Tandi's was light. He was a good athlete— halfback for Washington and Jefferson College in Washington, Pennsylvania—but not muscle-bound. He was good in several sports, but knew he'd never be a great skier. Yet he had guts enough to go anywhere Tandi went, and she had been skiing for ten years to Tom's two. The sound of the shower stopped. After a moment, she called out, "Tom, hand me the things on the chair, please —and don't look!" "Ah, nuts," he said, but did as told. He'd found that this beautiful blond girlfriend of his meant what she said. She called out again, "Why don't you see if you can get some beer. I have some wine... but if you want beer, you'll have to get some." "Okay. I'll be right back!" She left the bathroom then, wearing panties and carrying her bra. She was tall, five-foot-seven, and her image almost filled the full-length mirror, in which she was glad to see that ten days of hard skiing had helped make her tummy nice and flat again. Of course, doing without lunch every day and eating lightly at dinner, conserving her money and Tom's, had contributed. She leaned forward to explore her face in the mirror. Her eyes, pale blue, were surrounded by light-colored lashes and topped by light brows—all of which, she felt, were doing very little for her otherwise lovely, oval face. I should add some mascara, she thought, but we're not going out and I don't want to turn Tom on more than necessary; no, some other time. Her long blond locks hung haphazardly about her bare shoulders and small but pert, rounded breasts. She put her hands on her hips and turned from side to side, pleased with herself all-in-all.
Titel: Eyes That Haunt
Verlag: Inkwater Press
Buchbeschreibung Inkwater Press. Paperback. Buchzustand: VERY GOOD. Very Good: Cover and pages show some wear from reading and storage. May have light creases on the cover and binding. Buchnummer des Verkäufers 2605882019
Buchbeschreibung Inkwater Press, 2005. Paperback. Buchzustand: New. book. Buchnummer des Verkäufers 1592991327