sreda, 28. februar 2018


Title (Naslov): STILL
Author (Avtor): Camilla Monk
Genre (Kategorija): New Adult (mladi odrasli), Paranormal (paranormalno), Urban Fantasy (urbana fantazija)

Publishing date (Datum izida): February 28th 2018 (28. februar 2018)


It always started like this, a pulse inside me, like a warning before the tide surged, roared… and froze everything.

Twenty-year old Emma just landed in Rome, to find the father who walked out of her life more than a decade ago and was too busy eating pizza to call. Traveling with her is a secret she’s carried alone since childhood: sometimes, around her, time stops. People and cars freeze, rain hangs still in the air and there’s only her left in the silence.

To make things worse, instead of her dad, Em runs into a past she’d rather forget in the person of Lily, her step-sis. Kind, beautiful, Harvard honors student Lily: the perfect daughter Em never was. As the two of them reconnect, Em starts to pick up some creepy vibes from Katharos, the mysterious archaeological foundation Lily works for—and more specifically the ancient stone table they’re digging up near the coliseum…

Faust, the blind hobo Em keeps running into, might be the key to piercing Katharos’s secrets. Actually, he might even have something to do with that pesky time-freezing thing. With Lily’s life on the line and no one else to turn to, Em chooses to trust this unlikely ally, but behind his charming smile and lunar antics, the guy comes with some serious fine print…

Vedno se je začelo tako, pulz mi je narasel, kot opozorilo preden je plima narasla, buč zamrznila vse.

Dvaindvajsetletna Emma je pravkar prispela v Rim, da bi poiskala očeta, ki je pred več kot desetimi leti odšel iz njenega življenja in bil preveč zaposlen z jedjo pice, da bi jo lahko poklical. Potovanje z njo je skrivnost, ki jo nosi s sabo že od otroštva: včasih se okoli nje čas ustavi. Ljudje in avtomobili zamrznejo, dež ostane v zraku, samo ona ostane sama v tišini.

Da bi se stvari poslabšale, namesto svojega očeta, Em steče v preteklost svoje polsestre Lily, ki bi jo raje pozabila. Prijazna, lepa, ponosna študentka Harwarda Lily: perfektna hči, kakršna Emma nikdar ni bila. Ko se prepoznata, začne Em sprejemati grozljive vibracije od Katharosa, skrivnostne arheološke fundacije kjer dela Lily - natančneje od starodavne kamnite mize, ki so jo izkopali zraven kolizija...

Sezonski delavec Faust, ki steče skozi Em, bi lahko bil ključ, ki odpira Katharosovo skrivnost. Pravzaprav ima neko povezavo s to problematično časovno zamrznitvijo. Lilyjino življenje je na nitki, Em pa se nima na koga obrniti, zato se odloči zaupati temu neverjetnemu zavezniku. Vendar se za njegovim šarmantnim nasmehom in norčijami skriva nekaj resnega...

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Officially, this is not my story. It’s not my face you saw on CNN and Rai News after it was all over. I didn’t lose my mother at a young age; as far as I know, she’s still alive, probably doing fine. My paternal grandfather wasn’t a world-class historian, and I didn’t enroll in Harvard at seventeen to follow in his footsteps—I was never really good with books and studying. Just didn’t have the brains for that.
But I was there. I went to Rome to visit my dad at the time—booked a round trip ticket and six nights in a budget guesthouse with my tips from Tuna Town. I know, I know . . . Keep your jokes; I’ve heard them all. We had the cheapest tuna rolls on Broadway, though, and fresh most of the time. Anyway, I hadn’t seen my dad since I was seven, so it might sound like the adventure of a lifetime. It could even have been my story: this girl who decides to burn her meager savings on a trip to Italy to find the mysterious genitor she hasn’t heard from in thirteen years. There’s a tearful reunion, they sort out their issues, and she moves to Rome at the end—to start a new life and all.
I’ll get to that part, but let’s start with the afternoon right after I landed. I was sitting on a bench in a tiny park square tucked by the Piazza di San Marco—little more than a patch of grass under a few parasol pines. With my ripped jeans, my old Eastpak, and a can of beer tucked between my knees while I munched on a two-euro slice of margherita, I probably looked like your average gutter punk to the untrained eye. The October sun was warm in my hair—a messy bun dyed a washed-out turquoise. I liked that color, even if my blonde roots looked a little greenish.
Washing down the pizza with a slow sip, I watched over the rim of my can as buses came and went from a station on the square. Tons of buses, white and red, vomiting families of tourists coming to visit Roman ruins and that castle thing overlooking the piazza. It kinda looked like a Greek temple, with columns everywhere, white marble, and a statue of a guy on a horse in front of it. Old stuff, very nice. I took a couple of pics, mostly to pass the time because I couldn’t muster the courage to hop on a bus and go knock on my dad’s door.
I had his address saved in Google Maps; well, I hoped it was his, anyway. I’d found it not long after discovering his Facebook profile a few weeks ago, but he hadn’t replied to my friend invite. Maybe social media wasn’t his thing. He must be in his mid-fifties after all, which, to my twenty-year-old self sounded like some sort of pre-mummification stage. I set my beer down on the bench and took out my phone to check my Facebook feed for the hundredth time. I chewed on my nails. No new notification.
A few taps and a tiny profile pic of a fifty-something guy with graying blond hair appeared. Big grin, a tan, and sunglasses—taken during a vacation, I gathered.
Gabriele Lombardi.
Lombardi . . . the last name I had never worn. The name of a quiet Italian dude who’d sometimes visit our Brooklyn flat on Sundays and take me to Coney Island for the afternoon. We never did any rides, just strolled up and down the Boardwalk and shared a hot dog. He didn’t know what to say to a six-year-old, so he’d be like, “Guarda, gabbiani!” Look, seagulls! Meanwhile, I’d eat my half of our hot dog in dignified silence because I already knew what a seagull was. I would have wanted to hear about his job instead, or if he’d left Rome because of all the slavery there, like in Gladiator. And maybe, if I’d been brave enough, I’d have told him about the secret weighing in my chest and keeping me up at night, but I was too shy—too awkward for any of that.
I had no idea, back then, that Italy was even farther than Florida, and that this occasional Sunday dad of mine didn’t have legit visitation rights because he’d never filed for paternity in the first place. I didn’t know there’d be one too many fights with my mom over alimony, one too many threats of suing his lazy ass, one last Sunday, one last hot dog, and that I’d never see him again after that afternoon, when the seagulls paused in their flight above our heads for a short eternity.
Whatever. Tough shit, I guess. I chugged another gulp of beer and listened to the city’s noise, the cars, and the laugh of strangers, getting reacquainted with what little Italian I’d learned from my dad as a kid, like a song I wouldn’t remember well, but whose melody lingered. The notes threaded with Roman voices to fill the gaping holes in my vocabulary, and I could tell that those two women worked in a hospital, or that the guys sitting in the grass were checking their phone to see how to get to Quartaccio—wherever that was. Not bad for a high school dropout with a record 0.6 GPA. I gave a snort when I noticed an ad on the side of a bus with the words test di admissione. College, the final frontier . . .
I manspread wider on the bench with a bitter sigh and craned my neck to look up at the azure sky. Maybe I should message him again, and say “Hey, I’m here in Rome”? But what if he thought I was a stalker and he freaked out? What if he didn’t want to be found? Okay, that one was far-fetched; he was on Facebook, after all. And yet goose bumps bloomed under my hoodie in a familiar mix of shame and dread. It was kind of too late for that, but I was starting to realize I’d fucked up—again. I’d pictured myself starring in my very own Lifetime movie and blown $700 on a stupid impulse. Now I couldn’t even find the balls to call him and simply ask, “Do you remember me? Do you want to see me?”
“Okay,” I announced, to no one in particular—scared a couple of pigeons though.
I slammed my beer on the bench. Night wouldn’t fall for another couple of hours, at least. Museum tickets and tourist stuff were expensive, but I could always take a stroll around the piazza to clear my thoughts—the forum with the old Roman ruins was right behind that palace with the horseman. No need to pay for a ticket to check it from the street and snatch a few pics. I grabbed my backpack and beer. I frowned down at the almost-full black can. Honestly, that shit tasted worse than a Natty Daddy you drink alone for breakfast, and I didn’t want to be the girl who drowns her sorrow in grandma’s rubbing alcohol.
But I didn’t like to waste either. I decided to leave it up for whoever wanted to grab it—a bit of street solidarity never hurt. I’d barely shrugged on my backpack before this old guy with dirty track pants and gaping sneakers popped up behind me. Bumdar alert: dude hadn’t even bothered removing the cardboard sign around his neck—a few lines in Italian hastily scribbled with a Sharpie. I made no attempt to decipher it; his toothless grin spoke for itself. I flourished my hand toward the can with a wink.
He took the can and toasted me with it, chewing out a few words in a raspy singing voice. It took me a couple of seconds to make sense of the jumbled syllables—he wanted to know what a nice girl like me was doing in Rome.
My lips parted to reply. No sound came out. A loud and familiar beat in my chest muted my voice. His. Everyone else’s.
Oh God. Oh no . . .
It always started like this: a pulse inside me, like a warning before the tide surged, roared . . . and froze everything. The bum had raised my beer to his lips; golden drops remained still in the air above his open mouth. The tourists stood paralyzed mid-stride. The children’s grins were empty masks; their legs were coiled, ready for a jump that wasn’t coming, like birds about to fly away. The cars and the buses had stopped. Over the suffocating silence, all I could hear was the blood drumming in my ears, my neck. I staggered back, buried my face in my hands. I didn’t want it anymore—this hideous disease I could tell no one about.
It’d been weeks, perhaps even months since the last time, and like always, I’d almost allowed myself to believe it’d never happen again. How the fuck do you sit down in front of a shrink—or worse, your social worker—and tell them that you’re doing great, except when time stops, and everyone and everything is frozen but you? Don’t worry, though, it’s been like this since I was a kid; I’m used to it. I mean, sure, I freak out a teensy bit when I wake up at night, and I see a drop of water hanging midair from my kitchen faucet, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. Nothing the right kind of meds and a straitjacket can’t fix, right, Doc?
It wouldn’t last. It never did. I massaged my skull and kept my eyes screwed shut, repeating the words in my head like a mantra: It’s almost over. It never lasts. Never. Just long enough to make me freak out in the middle of Central Park among frozen joggers and their dogs. Wax statues everywhere whose clothes wouldn’t wrinkle when I tried to touch them, water that wouldn’t wet my hands, and the silence, the silence drilling into my eardrums. I breathed through my nose. In. Out. Slowly, ticking endless seconds in my head until the hallucination passed.
Reality rushed back to me in a deep exhale. A car honked somewhere across the piazza, and the bum chugged down the rest of my can with a reassuring gurgle. A fat kid bumped into me; I was so out of it that I was the one who kept apologizing over and over as I stumbled away from the bench and toward the sidewalk. I needed to get away from the noise, the people. Right now. Scratch tourism; my new plan was to run straight to the guesthouse, check into my room, and stay curled in the dark until tomorrow.
Fighting the urge to climb on the first bus I saw, I resolved to ask for directions instead. Because my day hadn’t been shitty enough yet, might as well stack some cringeworthy social interaction in a language I hadn’t spoken in over a decade on top of it. I waved awkward fingers at a sweaty driver who sat slouched behind his wheel. “Quale . . . Autobus . . . Appia Alba?” Which . . . bus . . . Appia Alba?
My stuttering efforts were rewarded with a compassionate wince before he motioned at another station across the park with a doughy arm. “Si può prendere l’ottantasette.” I remained stuck in place, my jaw hanging limply as I slowly processed his instructions. “Ottantasette,” he repeated, before thankfully adding, “Eighty-seven.”
I gave an eager nod. “Grazie mille, signore.” Thank you very much, sir.
Well, things were looking up. If the bus didn’t freeze on its way to my guesthouse, I might even consider the trip a small victory. I strode toward the station at a brisk pace, passing the bum I’d given my beer to earlier. Dude had collapsed on the bench, using his cardboard sign to shield his leathery face from the sun while he napped. I thought of that old Phil Collins song: “Just Another Day in Paradise,” but I wasn’t really sad for him because I knew there were good and bad days on the streets, and to him, a sunny afternoon and free beer probably made for a good one.
Lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t pay attention to the elegant silhouette catching up with me until a soft voice said, “Em? Is that you?”


CAMILLA MONK is a French native who grew up in a Franco-American family. After finishing her studies, she taught English and French in Tokyo before returning to France to work in advertising. Today, she builds rickety websites for financial companies and lives in Montreal, where she keeps a close watch on the squirrels and complains on a daily basis about the egregious number of Tim Hortons.
Her writing credits include the English resumes and cover letters of a great many French friends, and some essays as well. She’s also the critically acclaimed author of a few passive-aggressive notes pasted in her building’s elevator.

CAMILLA MONK je francoske narodnosti, ki je odrasla v Francosko-Ameriški družini. Ko je zaključila s študijem, je poučevala angleščino in francoščino v Tokiu, nato pa se je vrnila v Francijo in začela delati v oglaševanju. Danes izdeluje spletne strani za finančne družbe. Živi v Montrealu, kjer opazuje veverice in se dnevno pritožuje glede velikega števila Tim Hortonsa (restavracija podobna McDonald'su).
Njeno pisanje vključuje angleške povzetke in pisma številnih francoskih prijateljev, kot tudi esejev. Prav tako je kritično priznana avtorica nekaj pasivno agresivnih opomb v svojem podjetju.

Connect with Camilla Monk (Camillo Monk lahko spremljate na njenih družbenih omrežjih): 

Did you like the chapter 1? Kakšno se vam zdi prvo poglavje?
Happy reading, Knjigoljubka Maja

ponedeljek, 26. februar 2018


Author (Avtor): E.K. Blair
Genre (Kategorija): Student/Teacher Forbidden Romance (študent/profesor prepovedana romanca)

Publishing date (Datum izida): February 26, 2018 (26. februar 2018)


This wasn’t supposed to happen.
But it did.
This wasn’t supposed to be my life.
But it was.

I was just a typical girl, living a typical life. Nothing was out of the ordinary until tragedy threw me into a turnstile I couldn’t see my way out of. That was, until him.

I never could’ve imagined my heart falling the way it did. Hard, fast, and with unbounding beauty.

The only problem?
He was off limits.

But he became my everything, and I became his, so we risked it all. It was only a matter of time until I realized that our risk came with unimaginable consequences.

My name is Camellia Hale and his is David Andrews, and this is our love story.

To se naj ne bi zgodilo.
Ampak se je.
To naj ne bi bilo moje življenje.
Ampak je.

Bila sem običajno dekle, živela tipično življenje. Nič ni bilo nevsakdanje, dokler me ni srečala tragedija, iz katere nisem mogla pobegniti. To je bilo pred njim.

Nikoli si nisem predstavljala, da se bo moje srce tako odzvalo. Močno, hitro in z nevezano lepoto.

Kaj je problem?
On je nedosegljiv.

Ampak zame je postal vse in jaz zanj, zato sva tvegala. Bil je potreben samo čas, kakšne posledice nama bo to tveganje prineslo.

Moje ime je Camellia Hale, on je David Andrews in to je najina ljubezenska zgodba.

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New York Times, USA Today, and International bestselling author, E.K. BLAIR, takes her readers on an emotional roller coaster with her books. Blair tends to drift towards love stories that are deeply layered with emotional angst. Give her a character and she will dig into their core to find what lies beneath.
Aside from writing, E.K. Blair finds pleasure in music, drinking her Starbucks in peace and spending time with her friends and family. She's a thinker, an artist, a wife, a mom, and everything in between.

Najbolj prodajana pisateljica na svetu E.K. BLAIR popelje svoje bralce na čustven vlak smrti s svojimi knjigami. Poskrbi, da jih odnese proti ljubezenski zgodbi, ki so globoko čustveno tesnobne. Dajte ji lik in ustvarila bo vse kar se skriva pod njim.
Poleg pisanja najde užitek v glasbi, pitju Starbucksa v miru ter preživljanju časa s prijatelji in družino. Ona je mislec, umetnica, žena, mama in vse kar se najde vmes. 

Connect with E.K. Blair (E.K. Blair lahko spremljate na njenih družbenih omrežjih): 

Do you like forbidden love romance? Ali radi berete romance s temo prepovedane ljubezni? 
Enjoy reading, Knjigoljubka Maja

sreda, 21. februar 2018


Title (Naslov): Rebel Heir
Book One in the Rush Series duet (prva knjiga v duetu Rush)

Author (Avtor): Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland
New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Authors

Genre (Kategorija): contemporary romance (sodobna romantika)

Model (model): Micah Truitt
Photographer (fotograf): Leonardo Corredor
Cover designer (oblikovanje naslovnice): Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative

Release date (Datum izida): 4/9/2018 (9.4.2018)


How to kick off a great summer in the Hamptons:

Snag a gorgeous rental on the beach. Check. 

Get a job at a trendy summer haunt. Check.

How to screw up a great summer in the Hamptons:

Fall for the one guy with a dark leather jacket, scruff on his face, and intense eyes that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the tony looking crowd. A guy you can’t have when you’ll be leaving at the end of the season.

Check. Check. Check.

I should add—especially when the guy is your sexy, tattooed God of a boss.

Especially when he not only owns your place of employment but inherited half of the town.

Especially when he’s mean to you.

Or so I thought.

Until one night when he demanded I get in his car so he could drive me home because he didn’t want me walking in the dark.

That was sort of how it all started with Rush.

And then little by little, some of the walls of this hardass man started to come down.

I never expected that the two of us, seemingly opposites from the outside, would grow so close.

I wasn't supposed to fall for the rebel heir, especially when he made it clear he didn’t want to cross the line with me.

As the temperature turned cooler, the nights became hotter. My summer became a lot more interesting—and complicated.

All good things must come to an end, right?

Except our ending was one I didn’t see coming.

Rebel Heir is the first book in the Rush Series Duet. Book Two, Rebel Heart, will release six weeks later on May, 22, 2018.

Kako preživeti najboljše poletje v Hamptonsu:

Najeti krasno hišo na plaži. Kljukica.

Dobiti službo v popularnem poletnem lokalu. Kljukica.

Kako si uničiti najboljše počitnice  v Hamptonsu:

Zaljubiti se v fanta s temno usnjeno jakno, čudovitim obrazom in izrazitimi očmi, ki se ne ujemajo z vso ostalo postavo. Fant, ki ga ne moreš imeti, ker boš ob koncu sezone odšla.

Kljukica. Kljukica. Kljukica.

Morala bi si dati- še posebej, ko je fant tako seksi, tetovirati God of a boos (šef Bogov).

Še posebej, ker on ni samo lastnik lokala kjer delam, ampak je podedoval polovico mesta.

Še posebej, ker je nesramen do mene.

Tako sem mislila.

Do tiste noči, ko je zahteval, da me pelje domov s svojim avtom, ker ni želel, da hodim po temi.

Tako se je z Rushem vse začelo.

Potem so se zidovi okoli njega počasi začeli spuščati.

Nikoli si nisem mislila, da bi se midva, na pogled čisto drugačna, lahko tako zbližala.

Nisem se nameravala zaljubiti v uporniškega dediča, še posebej, ko mi je jasno povedal, da ne želi prečkati svoje meje z mano.

Ko se je temperatura ohladila, so noči postale toplejše. Moje poletje je postalo veliko bolj zanimivo- in komplicirano.

Vendar se vse dobre stvari enkrat končajo, kajne?

Razen, da najinega konca nisem videla.

Rebel Heir je prva knjiga v zbirki the Rush series Duet. Druga knjiga Rebel Heart bo izšla šest tednov kasneje, 22. maja 2018.



VI KEELAND is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and Today Bestselling author. With more than a million and a half books sold, her titles have appeared in over ninety Bestseller lists and are currently translated in twenty languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six. 

VI KEELAND je ena izmed najbolj prodajanih pisateljic po svetu. Prodala je milijon in pol knjig. Njene knjige so se pojavile na devetdesetih listah najbolj prodajanih knjig po svetu in so prevedene v dvajset jezikov. Z možem in tremi otroki živi v New Yorku. Našla je svoj "Skupaj za vedno" s svojim možem, ki ga je spoznala pri šestih letih.

Connect with Vi Keeland (Vi Keeland lahko spremljate na njenih družbenih omrežjih): 

PENELOPE WARD is New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She grown up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resided in Rhode Island with her husband, son and beautiful daughter with autism. With over a million books sold, she is a seventeen-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over fifteen novels, including RoomHate which hit #2 on the New York Times bestseller list and #1 on the Wall Street Journal bestseller list. Other New York Times bestsellers include Stepbrother Dearest, Neighbor Dearest, Drunk Dial, Cocky Bastard, Stuck-Up Suit, Playboy Pilot and Mister Moneybags (the latter four co-written with Vi Keeland). 

PENELOPE WARD je ena izmed najbolj prodajanih pisateljic po svetu. Odrasla je v Bostonu skupaj s petimi brati. V svojih dvajsetih letih je delala na televiziji kot gostiteljica novic. Stanuje na Rhode Islandu z možem, sinom in prelepo hčerko z avtizmom. Prodala je na milijone knjig, sedemnajstkrat postala najbolj prodajana pisateljica po New York Timesu. Skupaj je napisala petnajst romanov, tudi RoomHate, ki kraljuje na prvih mestih lestvice Wall Street Journal Bestseller. Ostale najbolj prodajane knjige so Stepbrother Dearest (Prepovedana Romanca), Neighbor Dearest, Drunk Dial, Cocky Bastard, Stuck-up Suit, Playboy Pilot in Mister Moneybags (zadnje štiri je napisala skupaj s pisateljico Vi Keeland).

Connect with Penelope Ward (Penelope Ward lahko spremljate na njenih družbenih omrežjih): 
FACEBOOK      FACEBOOK GROUP      WEBSITE      TWITTER      INSTAGRAM (@penelopewardauthor)      GOODREADS

Happy reading, Knjigoljubka Maja

ponedeljek, 19. februar 2018


Title (Naslov): GENTLEMAN NINE
A standalone (samostojna knjiga)
Author (Avtor): Penelope Ward, New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
Genre (Kategorija): contemporary romance (sodobna romantika)

Publishing date (Datum izida): 2/19/2018 (19.2.2018)


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From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new, sexy standalone novel.

Growing up, the three of us were friends. 
He was the nerd. 
I was the playboy. 
She was the beauty.

Deep down, I only ever wanted her. I kept it inside because Rory and I made a pact that our friend, Amber, was off-limits. 
He lied.

I went off to college, and he got the girl. 
Amber never knew how I felt. 
They were together for years—before he broke her heart.

Through it all and across the miles, she and I casually stayed in touch. 
When my job sent me to Boston for a three-month contract position, Amber let me stay in her spare room.

Still reeling from her breakup, she’d sworn off men. 
One night, I opened her computer to find the shock of my life. She’d hesitantly contacted a male escort company. Afraid to date and get her heart broken again, she was looking for sex with no strings. 
Every emotion imaginable ran through me: protectiveness, jealousy—curiosity.
Amber had chosen Gentleman Number Nine and sent him a message. 
She opened up to him, confessing, among other things, her physical attraction to her friend— me. But she considered me off-limits—and she thought I was a manwhore. (Ironic, considering the circumstances.) 

Eventually, she set up a date to meet Gentleman Number Nine at a hotel. 
When she showed up several nights later to meet him, she got the surprise of her life to see me standing there—with an offer I hoped she wouldn’t refuse. 

Najbolj prodajana pisateljica na lestvici New York Times, Penelope Ward pripravlja nov seksi samostojen roman.

Mi trije smo bili prijatelji med odraščanjem.
On je bil obsedenec.
Jaz sem bil playboy.
Ona je bila lepotica.

Globoko v sebi sem si vedno želel samo njo. To sem skrival zaradi Rory in sklenil sem pakt, da je najina prijateljica prepovedana.
On je lagal.

Odšel sem na fakulteto in on je dobil dekle.
Amber ni nikoli vedela kaj sem čutil.
Bila sta skupaj več letpreden ji je strl srce.

Skozi ves ta čas in te razdalje sva ostala v stiku.
Ko sem moral poslovno priti v Boston za tri mesece, mi je Amber dovolila, da sem ostal v njeni prazni sobi.

Še vedno se je oklepala razhoda, zato se je moškim odpovedala.
Neko noč sem odprl njen računalnik in zadel me je največji šok v življenju. Kontaktirala je podjetje za moško spremstvo. V strahu, da bi bila ponovno prizadeta, je iskala seks brez obveznosti.
Vsa čustva sem si lahko predstavljal na sebi: protekcionističen, ljubosumen—radoveden.
Amber je izbrala gospoda Gentleman Number Nine (Kavalirja številka devet) in mu poslala sporočilo.
Odprla se mu je, mu priznala, med drugim tudi njeno fizično privlačnost do svojega prijatelja mene. Vendar me je obravnavala kot prepovedanega— in mislila je, da sem moška prostitutka. (Ironično glede na okoliščine.)

Navsezadnje je postavila datum, da se sreča z Gentleman Number Nine v hotelu.
Ko se je čez nekaj dni dobila z njim, je dobila presenečenje življenja, ko je mene zagledala kako stojim pred njo, s predlogom in upam, da ga ne bo zavrnila.


PENELOPE WARD is New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She's a seventeen-time New York Bestseller. Her novels are publisher in over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world. Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 13-years-old girl with autism and 12-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.

PENELOPE WARD je ena izmed najbolj prodajanih pisateljic po svetu. Na lestvici New York Bestseller je bila že sedemnajstkrat. Njeni romani so bili prevedeni v različne jezike in se prodajajo po vsem svetu. Odraščala je v Bostonu skupaj s petimi brati. V svojih dvajsetih letih je delala na televiziji kot gostiteljica novic, potem pa se je odločila za družini bolj prijazno kariero. Je ponosna mama 13 letne deklice z avtizmom in 12 letnega fantka. Z družino živi na Rhode Island-u.

Connect with Penelope Ward (Penelope Ward lahko spremljate na njenih družbenih omrežjih): 
FACEBOOK GROUP      FACEBOOK      WEBSITE      TWITTER      INSTAGRAM (@penelopewardauthor)

Happy reading, Knjigoljubka Maja

nedelja, 18. februar 2018


Ponovno je na Litsyju je potekala mednarodna izmenjava knjig z imenom #CupidGoesPostal. Prijavili smo se konec decembra in imeli cel januar čas, da pošljemo svoj paket. Navodila so bila, da pošlješ 2 do 3 knjige plus kakšen dodatek po svoji izbiri. Izbiral si med različnimi temami. Sama sem izbrala teme presenečenje, ljubezenske zgodbe, čokolada in kava. Zraven si lahko dopisal svoje priljubljene pisatelje ali knjige, ter stvari, ki jih ne želiš prejeti. Po želji si lahko še kaj zapisal sam. Na email si dobil podatke o svojem obdarovancu. Ponovno posodabljaš svoj profil na Litsyju, da lahko oseba vidi kaj imaš rad in kaj bereš. Vedno me je vznemirilo, ko sem dobila kakšnega novega sledilca. Morda je prav on moj Litsy Cupid. 😊
Preden paket pošlješ, objaviš sliko na Litsy in dodaš hashtag #CupidGoesPostal in #ValentinesBookExchange. Enako narediš, ko prejmeš svoj paket in nato ponovno, ko ga odpreš. Tokrat smo svoje pakete odprli na Valentinovo, 14. februarja in vsi skupaj razkrili kaj smo dobili. Vedno z veseljem spremljam objavo ostalih, ko objavijo svoje fotografije. 

Moj paket je ponovno prišel iz Nemčije, tokrat štirinajst dni pred Valentinovim.  Bila sem že nestrpna, da bo prišel dan, ko ga bom lahko odprla. In z velikim veseljem sem na Valentinovo jutro, seveda po popiti jutranji kavi, odprla svoj paketek. Najprej me je presenetil čudoviti rdeči darilni papir s srčki (na zgornji sliki). 

Ponovno bom začela s sladkarijami 😋 Okrogli Valentinovi bonboni s srčki. Priznam, da sem morala takoj enega poizkusiti. So trdi bonboni za lizat, sladki in dobri, nič posebnega. Čokoladica LOVE, me še vedno čaka. Nisem je še poizkusila, ker ima tako zanimiv videz, da mi jo je škoda uničiti. Na žalost je med potovanjem počila (na sliki se sicer ne opazi). Yogurette LEBE. LACHE. LIEBE. so mini čokoladice z okusom jagode in jogurta. So zelo slastne, zato sva jih z boljšo polovico po slikanju takoj pojedla. 😊 Privat Kaffee Brazil Mind pa je kava v zrnju. Nisem je še poizkusila, ker si moram najprej kupiti mlinček, da jo zmeljem. Diši po božansko pravi kavi (vonj se čuti skozi kartonsko vrečko) in ne dvomim da bo dobra.

Ni mi bilo jasno kaj je tale rdeča zadeva. Kmalu sem ugotovila, da so to konfeti v obliki srčkov. Embalaža deluje na bat. Odpreš pokrovček, stisneš bat in konfeti se vsujejo ven. Zanimivo! Mislim, da je bilo bolj všečno mojemu dragemu kot meni, saj se je kar nekaj časa igral z njo. V paketu je bil še zvezek, vijoličen z zlatimi svetlečimi ornamenti in napisom NOTES. Dodan je bil kemični svinčnik, ki ima različne barve. Spominjam se, da bili taki svinčniki popularni v času moje osnovne šole in vsak je moram imeti enega. Potem pa si samo menjal barve. Kako čudovito, da še vedno obstajalo. Sem postala kar malo nostalgična. Priložena je bila še bela svečka z rdečim srčkom, ki mi prav pride v tem romantičnem času, da popestri kakšno fotografijo. In še trak z motivi srčkov. 

Najboljše vedno pride na koncu. Najprej poglejte ti dve čudoviti knjižni kazalki. Desna je z motivi srčkov in na njej je napis ALL I NEED IS LOVE. Leva pa je za ljubitelje kave, saj vsebuje napis ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE OR MAYBE COFFEE. Obe sta prav posebni. Na koncu pa nimata traka ampak elastiko, ki se lahko zatakne za platnico knjige, da vam kazalka ne pade ven. Obe sta čudoviti.
Naj vam predstavim še knjigi. O pisateljici Jenny Han sem že veliko slišala in njene knjige so na moji TBR listi. Always and Forever, Lara Jean je tretja knjiga v zbirki To All the Boys I've Loved Before. Gre za sodobno mladinsko romantiko in komaj čakam, da dobim še preostali dve in preberem celotno trilogijo. Druga knjige je River of London pisatelja Bena Aaronovitha, za katero še nisem slišala. Je prva knjiga v zbirki Peter Grant. Spada pod fantazijski misterij in ima zelo zanimiv opis. V paketu pa je bila še Valentinova voščilnica s čudovitimi željami.

Z vsemi darili sem zadovoljna. Najbolj me je razveselila knjiga Always and Forever, Lara Jean. In pa seveda knjižni kazalki. Ti paketi me vedno razveselijo, še posebej, ker se vsi tako lepo potrudijo in zavijejo svoja darila. Vsi si vzamejo čas, da nekoga osrečijo z malenkostmi. Res zelo lepo. Vam pa izdam, da sem se že prijavila na naslednjo izmenjavo. 😊

Za konec vam še pokažem kaj sem kupila za svojo Valentinovo izbranko. Moj paket je ponovno potoval v Združeno Kraljestvo. Moja Valentina je napisala, da ima rada presenečenje, čokolado in kavo, ter da ima majhnega otroka. Temu primerno sem izbrala tudi darila.
-knjiga The Pretector (Jodi Ellen Malpas)
-knjiga Madame Bovary (Gustave Flaubert)
-otroška slikanica Frozen
-2 čokoladi Milka (Caramel in Noisette)
-knjižne kazalke (Best friend on the world, Follow your heart in koledar knjigarne Felix)
-lonček za kavo Unicorn
-magneti Unicorn
-3 igračke za v banjo (labod, račka in ribica)
-Haribo bonboni
-kemični svinčnik
-Kinder čokolada
-Cappuccino Chocolate in kava Black'n'easy
-Valentinova čestitka

Upam da bo uživala v darilih, tako kot sem jaz v nakupovanju in zavijanju.

Kakšne se vam zdijo tele mednarodne izmenjave knjig?
With love, Knjigoljubka Maja