Rejestracja  | Zaloguj

Poprzedni temat «» Następny temat
Hidden Legacy - Nevada Baylor
Autor Wiadomość
Oksa 
Gawron


Wiek: 31
Dołączyła: 07 Lut 2010
Posty: 1824
Skąd: a cholera go wie
Wysłany: 2013-11-03, 15:32   Hidden Legacy - Nevada Baylor

Tyle pojawiło się informacji na stronie autorów o ich nowym projekcie, że wstyd nie napisać czegoś więcej. Otóż pewne elementy świata przedstawionego zostały zapożyczone z uniwersum Silver Shark (nie ma sprawy, bardzo mi się podobał) oraz Of Swine and Roses (nie czytałam jeszcze, więc muszę uwierzyć na słowo, że warto cokolwiek stamtąd brać). Dodajmy do tego agencję detektywistyczną rodem z UF, doświadczenie Andrewsów jako rodziny związanej z wojskiem i voila - mamy Avon! :-D Alternatywny świat, w którym działa magia oraz bardzo potężne familie, tworzące korporacje.

Pierwszy, zwięzły opis tego świata Ilona przedstawia w ten sposób: "In a world much like our own, there are families with strong hereditary magic. These families own corporations, have their own territories within the cities, and influence politics. The more magic you have, the more powerful, the wealthier, and the more prominent you are. Some magic talents are destructive. Some are subtle. But no magic user should be taken lightly."

Czyli: „W świecie bardzo podobnym do naszego, istnieją rodziny z potężną magią, przekazywaną dziedzicznie. Rodziny te posiadają korporacje, własne terytoria w obrębie miast oraz możność wpływania na politykę. Im więcej magii władasz, tym jesteś bardziej potężny, bogaty oraz wpływowy. Niektóre talenty magiczne są destrukcyjne. Inne subtelne. Żaden z ich użytkowników nie powinien być jednak lekceważony.”

Poniżej snippet z prologu w trzeciej osobie, ale reszta książki ma być prowadzona w pierwszej.
Spoiler:

“I can’t let you do this. I won’t. Kelly, the man is insane.”

Kelly Waller reached over and touched her husband’s hand, looking for reassurance. He took his hand off the wheel and squeezed her fingers. Strange how intimate a touch can be, she thought. That touch, fueled by twenty years of love, served as her rock in the nightmarish storm of the past twenty-four hours. Without it, she would be screaming.

“He won’t hurt me. We’re family.”

“You told me yourself he hates his family.”

“I have to try,” she said. “They’ll kill our boy.”

Tom stared straight ahead, glassy eyed, guiding the car up the curve of the driveway. Old Texas oaks spread their wide canopies over the grassy lawn, sprayed with drops of yellow dandelions and pink buttercups. Connor wasn’t taking care of the grounds. His father would’ve had the weeds poisoned…

Her stomach churned. “I just want to wake up,” she prayed. “Dear God, I just want to wake up. Please, please let it all be a terrible dream.”

“It will be okay,” Tom said. “It will be okay. We will make it okay somehow.”

The driveway brought them to a tall stucco wall. She raked her memory. Sixteen years was a long time, but she was sure the wall hadn’t been there before.

A wrought iron gate blocked the arched entrance. This was it. No turning back. If Connor decided he wanted her dead, her magic, what little of it there was, wouldn’t be enough to stop him.

Connor was the culmination of the three generations of careful marriages aimed at bolstering the family’s magic and connections. He was supposed to be a worthy successor to the Rogan fortune. Much like her, he hadn’t turned out the way his parents planned.

Both of them had grown up in a world of strong magic and luxury, where duty to the family was absolute. Despite it being the twenty-first century, we hadn’t moved that far beyond medieval families, she reflected. Still marrying out of calculation, except instead of preserving bloodline and wealth now the goal was to strengthen magic. She hadn’t realized how confining those family chains were until she fell in love.

She was disowned and ostracized for her defiance. It was easy for the family to abandon her – she had very little magic, a trickle to Connor’s tsunami. Connor became a mass murderer sanctioned by the state and the family had no choice but to surrender to his power. His father was dead now, his mother became a recluse, and her own parents wanted nothing to do with her because she chose to marry a man who loved her. In a way, both she and Connor were orphans.

Tom parked the car. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do.” The dread that hung over her mugged Kelly, setting off a wave of overwhelming anxiety. Her hands shook. She swallowed, trying to clear her throat.

“At least let me come with you.”

“No. He knows me. He might see you as a threat. Tom, I don’t think anything bad will happen.” She swallowed again, but the clump in her throat refused to disappear. “If something does, if I don’t come out, I want you to drive away. I want you to go home to the kids. There is a blue folder in the cabinet over the small desk, the one in the kitchen. On the second shelf. Our life insurance policies are in there and the will…”

Tom started the engine. “That’s it. We’re going home. We’ll deal with it ourselves.”

She jerked the car door open, jumped out, and hurried to the gate, her heels clicking on the pavement.

“Kelly!” he called. “Don’t!”

She forced herself to touch the iron gates. “This is Kelly. Connor, please let me in.”

The iron gate swung open. Kelly raised her head and stepped inside. The gate slid shut behind her. She walked through the arch and up the stone path, weaving its way through the picturesque copses of oaks, redbuds, and laurels. The path turned and she stopped, frozen.

The large colonial beast of a house with snow-white walls and distinguished colonnades was gone. In its place stood a two-story Mediterranean style mansion, with cream walls and a dark red roof. Had she gone to the wrong property?

“Where is the house?” she whispered.

“I demolished it,” a male voice said next to her.



I na dokładkę fragment pierwszego rozdziału:
Spoiler:

All men are liars. All women are liars, too. I learned that fact when I was two years old and my grandmother told me that if I was a good girl and sat still, the shot the doctor was about to give me wouldn’t hurt. It was the first time in my life my young brain connected the unsettling feeling of my magic talent to the actions of other people.
People lie for many reasons: to save themselves, to get out of trouble, to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. Manipulators lie to get what they want. Narcissists lie to make themselves seem grand to others and themselves. Recovering alcoholics lie to safeguard their tattered reputation. And those who love us most lie to us most of all, because life is a bumpy ride and they want to smooth it out as much as possible.
John Rutger lied, because he was a scumbag.
Nothing about his appearance said, “Hey, I’m a despicable human being.” As he stepped out of the hotel elevator, he seemed like a perfectly pleasant man. Tall and fit, he had brown, slightly wavy hair with just enough grey on his temples to make him look distinguished. His face was the kind of face you would expect an athletic successful man in his forties to have: masculine, clean shaven, and confident. He was that handsome, well-dressed dad at the junior football league yelling encouragements at his kid. He was the trusted stock broker, who would never steer his clients wrong. Smart, successful, solid as a rock. And the beautiful redhead holding hands with him was not his wife.
John’s wife was named Liz, and two days ago she hired me to find out if he was cheating on her. She had caught him cheating before, ten months ago, and she told him that his next one would be his last.
John and the redhead drifted across the hotel lobby.
I sat in the lobby’s lounge area, half-hidden behind a bushy plant, and pretended to be absorbed in my cell phone, while the small digital camera hidden in my black crocheted purse recorded the lovebirds. The purse had been chosen precisely for its decorative holes.
Rutger and his date stopped a few feet away from me. I furiously shot birds at the snide green pigs on my screen. Move along, nothing to see here, just a young blond woman playing with her phone by some shrubbery.
“I love you,” the redhead said.
True. Deluded fool.
The pigs laughed at me. I really sucked at this game.
“I love you too,” he told her, looking into her eyes.
A familiar irritation built inside me, as if an invisible fly was buzzing around my head. My magic clicked. John lied. Surprise, surprise.
I felt so sorry for Liz. They had been married for nine years, with two children, an eight year old boy and a four year old girl. She showed me the pictures when she hired me. Now their marriage was about to sink like a Titanic and I was watching the iceberg approach.
“Do you mean that?” the redhead asked, looking at him with complete adoration.
“Yes. You know I do.”
Magic buzzed again. Lie.
Most people found lying stressful. Distorting the truth and coming up with a plausible alternative version of reality required a good memory and an agile mind. When John Rutger lied, he did it to your face, looking straight into your eyes. And he seemed really convincing.
My cousins had run his lineage. John wasn’t connected to any of the important magical families whose corporations owned Houston. He had no criminal history, but still something about the way he carried himself set me on edge. My instincts said he was dangerous, and I trusted my instincts.
We also ran a credit check. John couldn’t afford a divorce. His record as stockbroker was acceptable but not stellar. He was mortgaged up to his gills. What wealth he had was tied up in stocks and divvying them up would be expensive. He knew it too and he took pains to cover his tracks. He and the redhead arrived in separate cars twenty minutes apart. He’d probably let her leave first, and judging by the tense line of his back, this open display of affection in the lobby wasn’t part of his plan.
The redhead opened her mouth, and John bent down and dutifully kissed her.
Liz would pay us a thousand dollars when I brought her the proof. It was all she could get her hands on without John knowing about it. It wasn’t much, but we weren’t in position to turn down work, and as far as jobs went, this one was simple. Once they would walk out of the hotel, I’d leave through the side exit, notify Liz, and collect our fee.
The hotel doors swung open and Liz Rutger walked unto the lobby.
All my nerves came to attention. Why? Why don’t people ever listen to me? We had expressly agreed that she wouldn’t do any sleuthing on her own. Nothing good ever came from it.
Liz went white as a sheet. The redhead stared at her, horrified.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” John said.
It was exactly what it looked like.
“Hi!” Liz said, shockingly loud, her voice brittle. “Who are you? Because I’m his wife!”
The redhead turned and fled into the depths of the hotel.
Liz turned to her husband. “You.”
“Let’s not do this here.”
“Now you’re concerned with appearances? Now?”
“Elizabeth.” His voice vibrated with command. Uh-oh.
“You ruined us. You ruined everything.”
“Listen…”
She opened her mouth. The words took a second to come out, as if she had to force them. “I want a divorce.”
I’ve been working for the family business since I was seventeen, and I saw the precise moment adrenaline hit John’s system. Some guys get red-faced and start screaming. Some might freeze – those are your fear biters. Push too far and they will go crazy. John Rutger went flat. All emotions drained from his face. His eyes opened wide, and behind them a cold, calculating mind evaluated the situation with icy precision.
“Okay,” John said quietly. “Let’s talk about this. It’s more than us. It’s also the kids. Come, I’ll take you home.” He reached for her arm.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed.
“Liz,” he said, his voice perfectly reasonable, his eyes focused and predatory, like the hard stare of a sniper sighting his target. “This isn’t a conversation for the hotel lobby. Don’t make a scene. We’re better than that. I’ll drive.”
There was no way I could let Liz get into his car. His eyes told me that if I let him gain control of her, I would never see her again.
I moved fast and put myself between them.
“Nevada?” Liz blinked, thrown off track.
“Walk away,” I told her.
“Who is this?” John focused on me.
That’s right, look at me, don’t look at her. I’m a bigger threat. I body-blocked Liz, keeping myself between them.
“Liz, go to your car. Don’t drive home, go to a family member’s house. Now.”
Muscles on John’s jaw bulged as he locked his teeth.
“What?” Liz stared at me.
“You hired her to spy on me.” John shrugged his shoulders, turning his neck, like a fighter loosening himself for a fight. “You brought her into our private life.”
“Now!” I barked.
Liz turned and fled.
I raised my hands in the air and backed away, toward the exit, making sure the camera in hotel lobby had me in plain view. Behind me the door hissed as Liz made a break for it.
“It’s over, Mr. Rutger. I’m not a threat.”
“You nosy bitch. You and that harpy are in it together.”
At the desk the concierge frantically mashed buttons on a phone.
If I were on my own, I’d turn and run. Some people stand their ground no matter what. In my line of work, a stint at the hospital, coupled with a bill that you can’t pay because you’re not working, cured that notion really fast. Given a chance, I ran like a rabbit. But I had to buy Liz time to get to her car.
John raised his arms, bent at the elbow, palms up, fingers apart, as if he was holding two invisible softballs in his hands. The mage pose. Oh shit.
“Mr. Rutger, don’t do this. Adultery isn’t illegal. You haven’t committed any crimes yet. Please don’t do this.”
His eyes stared at me, cold and hard.
“You can still walk away from this.”
“You thought you could humiliate me. You thought you’d embarrass me.” His face darkened as ghostly magic shadows slid across his skin. Tiny red sparks ignited above his palms. Bright crimson lightning danced, stretching to the tips of his fingers.
Where the hell was the hotel security? I couldn’t take him down first – it would be an assault, and we couldn’t afford to be sued – but they could.
“Let me show you what happens to people who try to humiliate me.”
I dashed to the side.
Thunder pealed. The glass doors of the hotel shattered. The blast wave picked me up off the floor. I saw the chair from the lounge fly at me and threw my hands up, curling in mid-air. The wall smashed into my right shoulder. The chair hit my side and face. Ow.
I crashed down next to the shards of ceramic pot that held a plant two seconds ago and scrambled to my feet.
The red sparks ignited again. He was getting ready for Round Two.
They say a hundred and thirty pound woman has no chance against an athletic two hundred pound man. That’s a lie. You just have to make a decision to hurt him and then do it.
I grabbed the heavy pot shard and hurled it at him. It crashed against his chest, knocking him off balance. I ran to him, yanking the taser from my pocket. He swung at me. It was hard and fast and it caught me right in stomach. Tears swelled in my eyes. I lunged forward and jammed the taser against his neck.
The shock surged through him. His eyes bulged.
Please let him go down. Please.
His mouth gaped open. John went rigid and crashed like a log.
I knelt on his neck, pulled a plastic tie from my pocket and wrestled his hands together, tying them up.
John growled.
I sat next to him on the floor. My face hurt.
Two men burst from the side doors and ran to us. Their jackets said security. Well, now they show up. Thank God for cavalry.
In the distance police sirens blared.


W ostatniej informacji odnośnie nowej serii Ilona ogłosiła zmianę imienia protagonistki. Zdecydowała się na to ze względu na podobieństwo w imionach do innej fikcyjnej postaci UF, również prywatnego detektywa. Stąd mamy teraz Nevadę Baylor. :-)

Całość zapowiada się naprawdę ciekawie. :-)

EDIT

Piątkowy snippet. :-)
Spoiler:

Sgt. Munoz, a stocky man twice my age, peered at the security footage. He’d watched it twice already.

“I couldn’t let him put her into the car,” I said from my spot in the chair. My shoulder hurt and the handcuffs on my hands kept me from rubbing it. Being in close proximity to cops filled me with anxiety. I wanted to fidget, but fidgeting would make me look nervous.

“You were right,” Munoz said and tapped the screen, paused on John Rutger reaching for his wife. “That right there is your dead give-away. The man’s caught with his pants down and he doesn’t say, ‘Sorry, I fucked up.’ He doesn’t beg for forgiveness or gets angry. He goes cold and tries to get his wife out of the picture.”

“I didn’t provoke him. I didn’t put my hands on him either, until he tried to kill me.”

“I see that.” He turned to me. “That’s a C-2 taser you’ve got there. You do know range on those things is fifteen feet?”

“I didn’t want to take chances. His magic looked electrical to me and I thought he might block the current.”

Munoz shook his head. “No, this is Bellicus school. Courtesy of US Army. This guy is a vet.”

“Ah.” That explained why Rutger went flat. Dealing with adrenaline was nothing new to him. How in the world did Bern miss it in the background check? When I got home, my cousin and I would have to have words.

A uniformed cop stuck his head into the door and handed my license back to Munoz. “She checks out.”

Munoz unlocked my cuffs, took them off, and handed me my purse and camera. My cell and my wallet followed. “We have your statement and we took your memory card. You’ll get it back later. Go home, put some ice on that neck.”

Yes. I grinned at him. “Are you going to tell me not to leave town, Sarge?”

Munoz gave me a “yet another smartass” look. “No. You went up against a military grade mage for a grand. If you need the money that bad, you probably can’t afford the gas.”



Three minutes later I climbed into my five year old Mazda minivan. The paperwork described Mazda’s color as “gold.” Everyone else said it was “kind of champagne” or “sort of beige.” Coupled with unmistakable mom car lines, the minivan made for a perfect surveillance car. Nobody paid it any mind. I once followed a guy for two hours in it on a nearly deserted highway, and when the insurance company later showed him the footage demonstrating that his knee worked just fine as he shifted gears in his El Camino, he was terribly surprised.

I turned the mirror. A big purple bruise blossomed on my neck and the top of my left shoulder, like someone took a handful of blueberries and rubbed it all over me. An equally bright red welt marked my jaw on the left side. I sighed, readjusted the mirror, and headed home.

Some easy job this turned out to be. At least I didn’t have to go to the hospital. I grimaced. The welt decided it didn’t like me grimacing. Ow.

Baylor Agency started as a family business. We still were a family business, technically, except we were owned by someone else now, but they mostly left us alone. We had only three rules. Rule #1: we stayed bought. Once a client hired us, we were loyal to the client. Rule #2: we didn’t break the law. It was a good rule. It kept us out of jail and safe from litigation. And Rule #3, the most important one of all: at the end of the day we still had to be able to look our reflection in the eye. I filed today under Rule #3 day. Maybe I was crazy and John Rutger would’ve taken his wife home and begged her forgiveness on bended knee. But at the end of the day, I had no regrets and I didn’t have to worry about whether I did the right thing and whether Liz’s two children would ever see their mother.

Their father was a different story, but he was no longer my problem. He made that mess all on his own.

I cleared the evening traffic on I-290, heading north-west, and turned off south. A few minutes later I pulled up in front of our warehouse. Bern’s beat-up black Civic sat in the parking lot, next to mom’s blue Honda Element. Oh good. Everyone was home.

I parked, went to the door, and punched the code into the security system. The door clicked open, I let myself in and paused for a second to hear the reassuring click of the lock sliding home behind me.

When you entered the warehouse from this door, it looked just like an office. We built temporary walls with sheetrock, installed some glass panels and laid down high traffic beige carpet. That gave us three office rooms on the left side and a break room and a large conference room on the right. The drop ceiling completed the illusion.

I stepped into my office, put the purse and the camera on the desk, and sat in my chair. I really should do a write up, but I didn’t feel like it. I’d do it later.

The office was soundproof. Around me everything was quiet. A familiar faint scent of grapefruit oil in the oil warmer floated to me. The oils were my favorite luxury. I inhaled the fragrance. I was home.

I survived. Had I hit my head on the wall when Rutger had thrown me, I could’ve died today. Right now I could be dead instead of sitting here in my office, twenty feet from my home. My mom could be in the morgue, identifying me on a slab. My heart pounded in my chest. Nausea crept up, squeezing my throat. I leaned forward and concentrated on breathing. Deep calm breaths. I just had to let myself work through it.

In and out. In and out.

_________________
The problem with reading a good book is that you want to finish the book, but you don't want to finish the book.
  
 
     
Loleczka 
Weteran
dziecko losu


Wiek: 25
Dołączyła: 19 Sty 2010
Posty: 1180
Skąd: z bajki
Wysłany: 2013-11-04, 11:56   

Już nie mogę się doczekać! Nie wytrzymałam i przeczytałam dostępne fragmenty i łał!
Mam nadzieje, że pisanie szybko im pójdzie, wydawca nie będzie jęczał i szybko będzie dostępne. Sądząc po fragmentach, ta książka może stać się kolejną z moich ulubionych.
Ciekawe imię Ilona wymyśliła. Raczej rzadko spotykane, ale przynajmniej wpadnie w pamięć. Bardzo interesuję mnie ten alternatywny świat i szczerze mówiąc nie mogę doczekać się na więcej ;)
_________________
Jestem sobą. A kim innym powinnam być? Przecież nie zmienię się w ciebie.
 
     
Oksa 
Gawron


Wiek: 31
Dołączyła: 07 Lut 2010
Posty: 1824
Skąd: a cholera go wie
Wysłany: 2013-11-28, 11:46   

Też jestem bardzo ciekawa tego projektu. Z tymi familiami to kojarzy mi się trochę z Grace of Small Magics (bardzo fajna koncepcja świata swoją drogą).
Kolejny spnippecik, bardzo krótki:
Spoiler:

The muscles on his arms bulged. Magic clamped me, hard and painful.

“I’ve broken Majors in this trap,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact.

True.

“I’ll break you.”

“You will try.”

The pressure on my mind skyrocketed. The magic turned into a beast, chewing on me. Its teeth ripped a quiet moan from me. I stared at him, channeling all of my anger into my defenses.

Blood slipped from his nostrils and slid down his face. It hurt him too.

“Give up,” he growled.

“You first.



EDIT I kolejne fragmenty:
Spoiler:

A hint of movement on the stairs made me turn. A Himalayan cat, his fur cream and chocolate, ran down the stairs, followed by a raccoon and a white ferret.

“Excuse me,” Cornelius said.

The three animals ran to his feet and sat, staring at him.

“I take it Matilda is awake.”

Three heads bobbed in unison.

Cornelius rose, took a sippy cup with a bright red top out of the refrigerator, and washed it under the faucet. The racoon stood up on her hind legs. Cornelius held the cup out.

“Take the juice to her and entertain her until I come up.”

edwinaThe raccoon took the juice into her dark paws and ran up the stairs on her hind legs. The cat and the ferret followed.

“You are an animal mage.” They were so rare, I’ve only met one before.

“Yes. I’m not a Prime so you shouldn’t worry about me summoning a pack of wild wolves to rip you to shreds.”

“Why did you wash the cup?”

“Because if I don’t, Edwina will wash it for me. It’s instinct and she can’t help it. Unfortunately she can’t distinguish between the water from the sink and the water from the toilet, as both smell clean to her. Are we finished?”



A ten opisuje ponoć całkiem niezłego kandydata na konkurenta dla Hugh w ramach kategorii "bad ass psycho" :-D
Spoiler:

Takara’s website described it as an Asian Bistro, which in reality meant that they specialized in delicious sushi and had a couple of traditional Chinese and Korean dishes on the menu. The restaraunt occupied a large, modern building, all heavy brown stone and big windows. As I walked through the door, an eight-foot wall fountain greeted me. The color palette was creamy beiges and rich browns with a touch of metallic bronze here and there. The colors, the gentle sound of water, and the tasteful decor were soothing, yet the hostess in front of me and the three sushi chefs behind the counter looked distinctly freaked out.

I looked over the dark brown tables and saw Mad Rogan, wearing a grey suit over a white shirt opened at the collar. He sat toward the back, by the oversized bamboo shoots in a tall black floor vase. I knew the table. It let you look outside through the window, but the passersby couldn’t really see you clearly. It was the least noticeable table on the floor, but now it might as well be in on fire in the middle of the room. Mad Rogan was extremely difficult to ignore. He sat quietly, a well-dressed, well-mannered dragon, hiding his teeth and on his best behavior. Nobody was fooled. The place was empty, except for two young women and a middle-aged couple, and all four pretended their hardest not to watch him.

_________________
The problem with reading a good book is that you want to finish the book, but you don't want to finish the book.
 
     
mokika87
[Usunięty]

Wysłany: 2013-11-28, 16:00   

Też jak tak czytam wasze komentarze to nie mogę się doczekać :) oby szybko im to poszło.

AISA: Bardzo proszę o pisanie dłuższych wypowiedzi.
 
     
Oksa 
Gawron


Wiek: 31
Dołączyła: 07 Lut 2010
Posty: 1824
Skąd: a cholera go wie
Wysłany: 2014-11-05, 15:54   

A oto i oficjalna zapowiedź pierwszej części serii Hidden Legacy, "Burn For Me", która ma się ukazać 28 października 2014.



Opis: Nevada Baylor is faced with the most challenging case of her detective career—a suicide mission to bring in a suspect in a volatile case. Nevada isn’t sure she has the chops. Her quarry is a Prime, the highest rank of magic user, who can set anyone and anything on fire.

Then she’s kidnapped by Connor “Mad” Rogan—a darkly tempting billionaire with equally devastating powers. Torn between wanting to run or surrender to their overwhelming attraction, Nevada must join forces with Rogan to stay alive.

Rogan’s after the same target, so he needs Nevada. But she’s getting under his skin, making him care about someone other than himself for a change. And, as Rogan has learned, love can be as perilous as death, especially in the magic world.

EDIT

Pierwsza! :mrgreen:

To była świetna, bardzo szybka lektura, jak zwykle porządnie nakreślona i ciekawa budowa świata, bohaterowie, których od razu lubisz oraz wciągająca fabuła. Porównałabym tę serię trochę bardziej do Krawędzi ze względu na objętość, jaką zajmuje romantyczny wymiar relacji pomiędzy głównymi bohaterami, ale to wcale nie umniejsza jakości tej książki. Ok, niech będzie, Nevada trochę za często, jak na mój gust, roztkliwia się nad brutalną fizjonomią Rogana, ale idzie przeżyć. A to dlatego, że mimo wszystko napięcie pomiędzy nimi jest stopniowane z rozwagą i tak jak lubię, to znaczy czuć chemię. :-P

Muszę przyznać, że brakowało mi trochę magicznych stworzeń, legend i potworów. Świat Nevady jest bardzo podobny do naszego, gdyby dodać ten malutki fakt, że w XIX w. wynaleziono serum, które obudziło w ludziach potencjał magiczny i umieszczając ten aspekt obok dobrze nam znanych władzy, wpływów i pieniędzy.

Nevada to inteligentna i ogarnięta osóbka, bardzo przywiązana do rodziny i w pewnym sensie nadal niewinna. Ma łeb na karku, jest lojalna i nie jęczy po kątach, ale jest także dość zwyczajna, niechętnie ucieka się do przemocy - choć wie, że jest konieczna i nie waha się jej stosować w obronie życia swojego oraz jej bliskich. Wszystkie te cechy powodują, że o wiele łatwiej zwykłemu człowiekowi się z nią utożsamić.

Mad Rogan to taki Hugh, minus czerpanie przyjemności z torturowania innych oraz niszczenia cywilizacji dla samego niszczenia. :mrgreen: Nie mogę powiedzieć, że to socjopata, bo odczuwa, ale brak jakichkolwiek emocji po zakończeniu czyjegoś życia trochę mówi samo za siebie. Sceny, w których Nevada próbuje mu wyjaśnić, dlaczego zabicie kogoś tylko po to, żeby przyspieszyć śledztwo albo dlatego, że dana osoba go irytuje są bezcenne. Głównie przez to jak Nevada musi się nagimnastykować, żeby w prostych słowach przekazać mu esencję zagadnień, o których można by napisać kilka książek. A facet kwestionuje niemal wszystko. :lol:

Andrewsowie zachwycają mnie zawsze swoją umiejętnością stworzenia postaci drugoplanowych, które zaczynam uwielbiać na równi z głównymi. Jeszcze tego tutaj nie czuję, nikt mnie jakoś szczególnie nie przyciąga, chociaż wyczuwam potencjał w Augustinie. :-)

Znajdziecie w książce parę wolniejszych momentów, chyba nieuniknionych dla tomu wprowadzającego czytelnika do nowego świata, Nevada lubi ponadto odpływać niejednokrotnie myślami w przeróżnych kierunkach i dygresjach.

Ogólnie - nie podobało mi się tak bardzo jak np. Clean Sweep, ale uważam to za bardzo udany i zabawny wstęp do nowego cyklu. Na pewno przeczytam kolejne tomy. Polecam!

A tu macie pierwszy projekt okładki. :-)

_________________
The problem with reading a good book is that you want to finish the book, but you don't want to finish the book.
 
     
Sophie 
Moderator
Mały Tyran


Wiek: 23
Dołączyła: 24 Sie 2010
Posty: 2608
Skąd: skc
Wysłany: 2017-09-06, 10:11   

Ale wstyd, ale dopiero to przeczytałam. No i oczywiście mi się podobało - Ilona Andrews pisze przyjemnie, a jej książki wciągają. Tu było to samo. Aczkolwiek widać pewną powtarzalność w stosunku do Kate. Nawet dość konkretną - zarówno w kwestii wyglądu postaci (Ilona ma konkretne wyobrażenie przystojnego i silnego mężczyzny - zmienia im tylko kolor włosów :-P ), jak i ich charakteru. To może nie jest kropka w kropkę to samo, ale niewiele brakuje. Ale ja nie narzekam - lubię takich bohaterów. :-P
Mam nadzieję, że kolejny tom uda mi się przeczytać prędzej niż ten. :-)
_________________
Oh yes Daddy is home and he ain’t happy.
 
     
Majster 
Starszy Asystent Balsamisty


Wiek: 47
Dołączył: 10 Lut 2010
Posty: 242
Skąd: Piastów
Wysłany: 2017-09-20, 06:29   

Sophie napisał/a:
Aczkolwiek widać pewną powtarzalność w stosunku do Kate.

Bym powiedział, że może nie to jest problemem. Odnoszę wrażenie, że ta seria jest bardziej pisana jako romans. Oczywiście w stylu poranormalromance. Wątek, nazwijmy go miłosnym, jest prowadzony z umiarem, ale nie zmienia to faktu, że Hidden Legacy jest kierowana w stronę trochę innego odbiorcy.
Mam nadzieję, że to nie jest trwała tendencja.
 
     
Sophie 
Moderator
Mały Tyran


Wiek: 23
Dołączyła: 24 Sie 2010
Posty: 2608
Skąd: skc
Wysłany: 2017-09-20, 19:28   

Majster napisał/a:
Mam nadzieję, że to nie jest trwała tendencja.
Z tego, co mi się obiło o uszy (mogę się mylić), wynika to z faktu, że za Hidden Legacy jest odpowiedzialna tylko Ilona, tymczasem w serię Kate zaangażowany jest również Gordon. Ilona najwyraźniej woli bardziej romansowe klimaty. ;-) A już na pewno ma jasno określone, jak wygląda według niej przystojny mężczyzna. :-P
_________________
Oh yes Daddy is home and he ain’t happy.
 
     
Wyświetl posty z ostatnich:   
Odpowiedz do tematu
Nie możesz pisać nowych tematów
Nie możesz odpowiadać w tematach
Nie możesz zmieniać swoich postów
Nie możesz usuwać swoich postów
Nie możesz głosować w ankietach
Nie możesz załączać plików na tym forum
Możesz ściągać załączniki na tym forum
Dodaj temat do Ulubionych
Wersja do druku

Skocz do:  

Powered by phpBB modified by Przemo © 2003 phpBB Group
Styl created by enquish from Slums-Attack.org