Resultados para "The Dead" en Romántica

Wed me. Bed me. Slit my throat. Born in dirt, raised in rot, I dig graves for the dead, while the living decay around me. When my brother coughs blood, he appears. A man too polished for the graveyard, with a bargain too cruel for the light: Seduce the King. Become the Queen. Die. And my brother...

Eden only wanted one thing—to see her dead boyfriend again. But when her summoning spell misfired, she didn't get closure. She got Malachi—a demon with horns, fangs, a bad attitude, and the emotional maturity of a bored arsonist. He wasn't supposed to cross the veil, definitely wasn't supposed to barge into her apartment, and absolutely wasn't supposed to enjoy the frantic little mortal who panics when he breathes near her. As Eden's grief cracks open and Malachi learns what it means to feel, the line between summoner and summoned begins to blue.

Emmanuel. Love is a weakness. You either kill it or it will kill you. I’ve been in love once, and that’s what I did. I killed it. I’ve managed to avoid the weakness throughout my entire life. And then I saw her. A ghost from my past, very much alive and right in front of me. When she tries to flee from my grasp, I hold tighter. Because dead or alive, Evie is mine. Evie. I’ve spent my life being put on display. Beautiful is a word I’ve heard a million times. Do I believe it? No. I might be shiny on the outside, but the inside… is a dark, scarred, bruised place.

Having been a camp counselor for the last three summers, I can handle most situations that come my way courtesy of rowdy children. This year shouldn't be any different, even with a new counselor who's everyone's type and too good to be true. But even so, Kayde Lane is nothing I can't deal with. Until I stumble upon him at night with an ax and sinister intentions towards the campers we're meant to protect.

I did a bad, bad thing. Thanks to a blank in my memory, I'm not sure what that thing was, but it was horrible enough to get me locked up in the mental ward for seven years. Horrible enough that my little sister won't even speak to me. But when I'm released back into a town determined to rub my unknown sins in my face, the past isn't the only thing that's haunting me. The four "imaginary" friends who made my childhood bearable barge into my life in a very real way.

Poppy had always loved the night, so it wasn't too much of a bother to wake one evening in an unfamiliar home far from London, weak and confused and plagued with a terrible thirst for blood, to learn that she could no longer step out into the day. And while vampirism presented several disadvantages, it more than made up for those in its benefits: immortality, a body that could run at speed for hours without tiring, the thrill of becoming a predator, the thing that pulls rabbits from bushes and tears through their fur and flesh with the sharp point of a white fang.

What do you get when you cross Carter Waters with a brain cell? Nothing. Because if that asshat had a single brain cell in that gorgeous head of his, he never would have broken my heart the way he did. Only one drunken night, he left me with little more than just regret. I'm going to be the mother of his child, and I'm determined to see this through. Carter told me, point blank, that he doesn't want children. So here I am, staring down the barrel of a shotgun, trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to do this on my own. Get back together with Carter Waters, you say? Over my dead body!

They say I'm a monster. Cold. Unfeeling. A man born to rule with bloodstained hands. They're not wrong. I don't feel guilt when I kill—only euphoria. There's nothing like the rush of holding someone's life in my hands, knowing I control the exact moment it ends. Life is weak. Fragile. Death is the only truth. Then I met Remi Cain. Quiet. Obsessed with the beauty of death, just like me. The second I see him, I want him. Not just his body, but his darkness—the parts no one else sees. I want to own him, break him, bind him to me with blood.

Florence Day è la ghostwriter di una delle più famose autrici romance del momento. Ma ha un problema: dopo una rottura terribile, non crede più nell'amore. Quando Benji Andor, il suo nuovo, affascinante editor, si rifiuta di concederle più tempo per consegnare il romanzo, Florence si prepara a dire addio alla sua carriera. Ma le cattive notizie, si sa, non viaggiano mai da sole: sua madre la chiama per avvisarla che il padre è venuto a mancare. Così, torna nella cittadina di provincia dove è nata e dove la sua famiglia gestisce un'agenzia di pompe funebri.

Obituary writer Nadine Barbault doesn’t mind being called “Lady Death”. It suits the ice queen persona she’s cultivated to survive the fast-paced Toronto Herald. So when Nadine learns that famous (and reclusive) author Dot Voline has died, she doesn’t hesitate to run the obituary…only to discover that Dot is very much alive. Nadine’s screw-up has brought Wesley Chen of the rival Spear no end of joy—she’s been a thorn in his extremely ambitious side for years. But the renewed interest in Dot also surfaced chatter about a mysterious past scandal.

All I’ve ever known is the Guild. They clothed me, fed me, raised me. They trained me. And in return I became their perfect weapon, their loyal soldier, their deadly asset. For as long as I can remember, the Guild has been my life. But now, it’s about to become my death. Not everyone is cut out to be a mercenary. I’ve watched countless colleagues fail in their missions and pay the ultimate price. I’ve watched peers lose their minds with the weight of the work we do, and pay with their lives to keep our secrets. I never thought I would become one of them.

The Hidden Dead is the fourth book in a hilarious series featuring Tanz, the accidental medium who, with the help of the dead, has become an unwilling crime-solver. When the dead call, she listens. . . On a night out in a London bar, our accidental medium Tanz meets Einar, a charismatic and sexy...

Divorced. Broke. Living with a pack of elderly roommates. And those hallucinations she’s diligently ignoring? Her tarot card-dealing mom is convinced they’re clairvoyant visions. Just when things can’t get worse, a so-hot-it-should-be-illegal private investigator shows up on her doorstep looking for a neighbor...who turns up murdered.

DEATH IS NOT THE END OF LOVE A queer, gothic horror romance set in a necromancy-tinged London, sure to entrance fans of The Death of Jane Lawrence and Mexican Gothic. London, December 1849­ Irene Shallcross Haley has dedicated her life to necromancy, a forbidden, reviled art that is passed...

Bane should have been king . . . But he was born four minutes too late. Though it was Bane who'd led armies to victory against the scourge of the undying, now he must watch as his undeserving twin claims yet another throne through marriage to a princess of a neighboring kingdom. A kingdom that Bane had saved. That throne should be his. So he'll take it. All Bane must do is deceive his twin's innocent bride.

Kidnapped by the notorious rebel group Provstat, Brexley finds her connection goes deeper than she ever imagined. Reunited with old acquaintances and an uncle she never knew, Brexley is thrown into the vicious world of politics, where human and fae leaders will do anything to come out on top. Here dangerous associations and meticulous plots are far more dangerous and cutthroat than any game she survived in Halálház. 

After losing everything to a curse that struck the kingdom of Galoth, Sarya just wants the world to leave her alone. Yet when a demon begins hunting the people in the forest near her village, staying hidden isn't an option. Neither is avoiding the warrior who helped saved all of Galoth. Bannin the Blowhard has never said a serious word in his life . . . and yet the warrior claims that he intends to marry Sarya. Now she's about to discover how serious Bannin can be when her happiness is at stake—and how completely devoted to her pleasure . . .

I'm not all that special, really. I'm sure there are a lot of girls with old gypsy blood who see the dead, have killer cults hunting their family, and turn into something that gets scary when they panic. Yep. I'm just an ordinary girl. I wish people would believe that. I've been labeled as one thing or another for most of my life: Death Girl. Crazy Gypsy Girl. Gothic Chick. Monster. It took my mother's death for me to finally start getting answers about what's really been going on. Unfortunately, most of the answers come from men...who aren't just men.

Mera never imagined she would have to face a necromancer without Bast, her fae partner, but the Captain decided to separate them on a whim - or so she thinks. Running against the clock to avoid an outbreak that could destroy the human borough, Mera is forced to work with Julian Smith, the man she used to love before the Night Prince came waltzing in her life. Not good. Not good at all. Meanwhile, Bast chases Poseidon with the help of his brothers, knowing it's the only way to ensure Mera's safety. He'll do anything to save her, even if it means his doom.

The last sounds Dean Wilson hears are a clock striking twelve and a killer’s taunting words. And his death is just the first. One by one, victims are stalked and shot at close range. Only the killer knows their sins, and who will be the next to die at midnight?