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Book Title: A Taste of Darkness|
The author of the book: Nina Bangs
Date of issue: May 1st 2006
ISBN 13: 9780843956344
Format files: PDF
The size of the: 591 KB
Edition: Leisure Books
Read full description of the books A Taste of Darkness:He'd lived a thousand years for this? It's enough to make a vampire want to rush outside to soak up some rays, order garlic mashed potatoes, or fall on a wooden stake.
The council, in its infinite stupidity, has made Reinn Mackenzie the Guardian of the Blood for his vampire clan. Talk about crappy jobs. He's supposed to run around lopping off the head of any Mackenzie dumb enough to mate with someone not on the council's approved list. Gotta keep the Mackenzie blood pure. Giant whoop. He's nothing but a glorified Weedwacker for the clan. So he's stuck at the Woo Woo Inn, skulking undercover while he looks for the right moment to off the clueless Mackenzie about to marry a sneaky, manipulating werecat. Reinn doesn't get it. Who'd be stupid enough to die for a deceitful, whisker-twitching shifter?
Kisa Evans has a boatload of problems. She's a virgin, someone is stalking her with the intent to keep her in cat form forever, she's a virgin, the deadly Guardian of the Blood is out to murder her sister's fiancé, and she's a virgin. Werecat law says that she can't mate with any male weaker than herself. Hello? She's not your usual lap kitty. There IS no male stronger than Kisa.
But minds were meant to be changed. When Reinn meets Kisa, he realizes that his sexy werecat is worth dying for. Kisa finally finds a male stronger than she is and admits that the enemy has become her love. Too bad that love can't erase the dangers surrounding them.
A happily ever after doesn't seem likely for Reinn and Kisa, but not to worry. Strange things are the norm at the Woo Woo Inn.
Read information about the authorTalk about misspent youth. What did I do during those lazy summer days of childhood when I could’ve been honing my writing skills? Nothing. Okay, so I spent a lot of time dreaming I was a cowgirl with a trusty black stallion. Oh, and I read every Walter Farley horse novel. I was an only child so I relied on my imagination to supply the excitement in my life.
By high school, I’d decided to trade in my lariat for a trench coat. I was into dark and dangerous. As an intrepid foreign correspondent, I’d stalk the mean streets of the world. Did I actually write anything? No, but I did read all of Agatha Christie’s mysteries.
I worked at a department store during college. My short stint in the accounting department taught me a lot about math. Three hundred-dollar shortages plus hysterical tears equaled instant move to gift-wrap. A career in math was not in my future. I didn’t care because I’d discovered “real” literature. I plowed through James Joyce’s Ulysses and Tolstoy’s War and Peace. If it didn’t make my eyes cross then it wasn’t worth reading. Yes, I admit it, I was a literary snob.
Nina and best buddy, Barbara Joyce.
Folk singers extraordinaire.
But there’s just so much “real” literature one person can take. I graduated from Rutgers University with a degree in English Literature and a determination to avoid books that induced eye crossing or had tragic endings. The only things I managed to write during those years were research papers.
I taught second grade for several years then spent two years in Dublin, Ireland. A friend and I supported ourselves by singing folk songs in Irish pubs. We weren’t great, but we were young, enthusiastic, and wore short skirts. It was obviously my destiny to be the next Judy Collins. I spent a lot of time poring through music books.
Returning to New Jersey and reality, I taught elementary school until I grew restless again. My cross-country odyssey included stays in Arizona, California, and Texas. Along the way, I indulged my love of horses. No black stallions, but I did have several beautiful Arabian mares. I read tons of books on breeding and showing.
Somewhere between California and Texas I grew addicted to romance novels and cats. The cat’s independent attitude was exactly the quality I admired in my romance heroes. And once I decided to try writing my own romances, I made sure a cat crept into each story.
Texas is my permanent home. I’ve come full circle. Born in San Antonio, I spent most of my life in New Jersey. Maybe the Texas in my blood accounts for my attachment to strong men, fast horses, and wide-open spaces. My love of cats? Haven’t a clue.
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