That morning began like all the preceding mornings of the past two years with the tinny jangling of the little alarm clock on Robin Carews bureau. Opening his black eyes, he struggled into a sitting position on the narrow bed, reached out his hand and turned off the alarm. He yawned, swung his feet to the floor, rubbed his eyes. It was half past seven again of another workday morning. There was no inkling that this day would be any different from others. It was Monday again, which meant the start of the next five and a half days stretch of work. Sunday had come and gone, now just a memory of a walk in the citys small park and sitting on a bench under the afternoon sun reading a library book on astronomy. Well, there was no getting around it, Robin thought. The stars, the glory of the heavens-for him perhaps they would always be just a daydream of his idle hours, never to be more than a vision of the imagination, a thrill to be shared only by the printed words of other mens observations and doings. He got up, yawned his entire five foot three, stared in the tarnished mirror over the worn bureau. He looked blankly at himself, then suddenly winked. Ah, he thought, while theres life theres hope-and besides, he had to get to work. He ran a brush through his tousled brown hair, took off his pajamas, and climbed into his work clothes. Grabbing his towel and his toothbrush, he opened the door and went out into the hall toward the washroom...
Warm, soft and safe in the arms of Mam ... Baby swaddle wrap 3in1) After the spreading can be a warm blanket or mat to play on the floor, and a few years later become a blanket for beloved teddybear ). Yes Yes! THESE THINGS ARE REALLY happens! Sleeping in the warmth and soft swaddle wrap, you will provide comfort and calm sleep. At the first moments on this world, next to Mamas arm, this is only what he needs Dimensions approx. 75 x 75 cm - 2cm Materials 100% cotton, Filling antiallergic, 100% polyester-silicone nonwoven Matching elements available on our website. All other products you can see on the photos with the same collection of colours are available in our shop. All these elements together form a consistent, warm and stylish arrangement.
At the conclusion of The Monks Lover, Sister Angela, nun of Christ, gave herself to Abiron, High Priest of the Deity. But the road of their love is still thick with obstacles. Abiron and his mother, High priestess Ariana, must find a way to thwart the will of those who would wish to invade their land. Their opponents are many, their allies few and scattered. What surprises lie in store for Abiron, Angela, Paul, and Ariana on the day of The Maidens Choice? ----- Excerpt ----- When she turned back to him, Sean was stunned. Gone was the elegant woman of a moment before. In front of him was a wild creature, her dress ripped, showing vast expanses of her legs and bosom. Her hair was mussed and her chest rose and fell spasmodically, as if she had just been engaged in some desperate exertion. Oh Captain, she cried, hurling herself into his arms, Thank the Deity you came to save me from those vicious bandits! Her face was pressed against his chest, but her hands worked inside his shirt, caressing his muscled stomach. She lifted her face to look at him, and he could not help look down the length of her throat to the curves of her heaving breasts. However shall I thank you? Seans mind raced. Thanks are not needed, Lady Angela... Lady Angela? she exclaimed. I am not she. Do you not recognize me? I am Priestess Diana, whom you agreed to guide to my new temple. But I see now, my lord Captain, you are wounded. Did the blow on your head addle your wits? Only for a moment, my lady priestess, said Sean. He was beginning to see how the game was played. Pray, tell me, he continued, striving for the tone and rhythm of the plays he sometimes attended in the town, Are you well? You come to me so disheveled that I must think those bandits have done you an injury. Nay, my good Captain, for you arrived in time to save my virtue, if I had any virtue to be saved, she said with a throaty laugh. Her hands drifted lower, teasing his body. Indeed, I was impressed by the work you did with your...sword. Please, accompany me to yonder bower, where I may bathe your wounds and put you at ease. She led him out of the parlor and into the hall. Sean watched, amazed, as he walked beside her. Without breaking stride, Diana somehow managed to remove her gown. A loosening of a belt, a quick rip of a seam, and rags and tatters floated to the floor. Within moments, the priestess of the Wanton was strutting next to him, clad only in a pair of heeled sandals. Taking Sean by the hand, she led him to her private rooms. Early in her marriage to Paul, she had realized the time would come when she would need her own place. The Wanton was strong within her, and her wisdom foretold that one day she would take a lover other than her husband, and that their bedchamber would be a poor place to consummate a relationship. Indeed, this chamber was very much like her rooms in the temple of the Wanton. The bed was different, but no less magnificent, and she had managed to convince the temple to sell her many of her favorite tapestries. Lie down, brave captain, while I tend you, she said.
Bauart: Röhre · Leistung: 30 W · Kanäle: 2 · Lautsprecherbestückung: 1x 12´´ · Lieferumfang: Footswitch & Cover · Variable Wattage Control(1 W to 20 W) · Tube Mix (6V6 und EL84) · Balanced XLR Cabinet Voiced Line, Recording Output · Speaker Mute Mode for Silent Recording · Dimensions: 19´´ (W) x 15´´ (D) x 13´´ (H) · Weight: 42 lbs. Rebel-30 Mark II Upgrades · Channel 1: With Even More Clean Headroom With A Lower Noise Floor · Channel 2: Redesigned with Significantly Higher Gain · Industrial Grade Red FR4 Glass Epoxy Circuit Boards · Elite Transformers with Substantially Higher Headroom · TAD Ultra Low Noise Tube in First Gain Stage · Rebel-30 MKII Head is the next generation of the Rebel 30 with the features you’ve been asking for. We’ve upped the gain on channel 2 and given it a more aggressive tone and feel. Channel has even more clean headroom with a lower noise floor. Of course, we’ve kept the unique Egnater features such as the TUBE MIX knob, giving you access to an incredible variety of tones from American to British and the silent record mode that actually replaces the speaker with an internal load so all the great power tube character is retained. Channel 1 delivers rich cleans with controls for volume, treble and bass. Channel 2 dishes out powerful, touch-responsive overdrive with treble, middle and bass EQ, as well as a wide-range gain knob that takes you from growl to scream. Both channels feature Egnater’s signature BRIGHT and TIGHT switches and each channel has its own WATTS knob so you can access both low-wattage crunch and serious clean headroom, or any combination between 1 to 30 watts. Under the hood you will find the new Elite Transformers with substantially greater headroom and industrial grade red FR4 glass epoxy circuit boards with beefed up copper traces to name just a few of the improvements. The REBEL-30 MARK II back panel holds
She was in the habitat—actually in it, not seated at her workstation on the other side of the glass. She was standing before Napoleon in her white lab coat, which, inexplicably, she unzipped and shirked from her shoulders, allowing it to slide to the marshy floor. She didn´t know how she had gotten there or how time had rewound so that the habitat and its great glass window were still intact … she only knew she was there to take the experiment to the next level. And as Napoleon looked down at her with eyes that had become strangely human, she knew that he knew why she was there as well … And then she was awake as fast as she´d gone out, and she was standing, slowly, amongst the trees again … wondering why she would dream such a thing. And wondering, too, about the hidden obsessions each and every human being might harbor in the darkest recesses of their subconscious. And then she scanned the trees, realizing, suddenly, that they were swaying—even though there was no wind—and saw Napoleon glaring back at her.
(2013/ShuffleOne) 14 tracks (36:44) Traditional Country Dancehall Music - Highlight!***** - Jeff Woolsey was raised on traditional country music in the honkytonks, on the North side of Houston, Texas. He spent many Saturday nights listening to his step-dad’s band play all the great songs from Ray Price, Johnny Bush, George Jones, Mel Tillis, Faron Young and the many other great country music artists from the ‘50’s,‘60’s and ‘70’s. Jeff would sit on the side of the stage and watch as all of the dancers would pass by him and when one song was over…they would stand in the middle of the dance floor waiting for the next tune. Jeff sang his first song when he was four years old….Charley Pride’s, ´´Is Anybody Goin’ To San Antone”. From that moment on…he was hooked on singing and hooked on country music. He couldn’t wait until the next Saturday night when he could do it all over again.
This floor lamp, model Terra, is made of a nice green lacquered metal and anodized aluminium. The Sintesi line was designed in the early 1970s and consist of different models of table lamps, wall lamps, and floor lamps. Italian designer Ernesto Gismondi has been a lightning designer for Artemide since the early 1960s. Next to Ettore Sotsass, Gismondi played an important role in the Memphis movement. He was a designer, CEO, and financier of the avant garde movement that brought about a profound evolution in the design sector.
The Man Who Died I returned from the City about three oclock on that May afternoon pretty well disgusted with life. I had been three months in the Old Country, and was fed up with it. If anyone had told me a year ago that I would have been feeling like that I should have laughed at him; but there was the fact. The weather made me liverish, the talk of the ordinary Englishman made me sick. I couldnt get enough exercise, and the amusements of London seemed as flat as soda-water that has been standing in the sun. Richard Hannay, I kept telling myself, you have got into the wrong ditch, my friend, and you had better climb out. It made me bite my lips to think of the plans I had been building up those last years in Bulawayo. I had got my pile-not one of the big ones, but good enough for me; and I had figured out all kinds of ways of enjoying myself. My father had brought me out from Scotland at the age of six, and I had never been home since; so England was a sort of Arabian Nights to me, and I counted on stopping there for the rest of my days. But from the first I was disappointed with it. In about a week I was tired of seeing sights, and in less than a month I had had enough of restaurants and theatres and race-meetings. I had no real pal to go about with, which probably explains things. Plenty of people invited me to their houses, but they didnt seem much interested in me. They would fling me a question or two about South Africa, and then get on their own affairs. A lot of Imperialist ladies asked me to tea to meet schoolmasters from New Zealand and editors from Vancouver, and that was the dismalest business of all. Here was I, thirty-seven years old, sound in wind and limb, with enough money to have a good time, yawning my head off all day. I had just about settled to clear out and get back to the veld, for I was the best bored man in the United Kingdom. That afternoon I had been worrying my brokers about investments to give my mind something to work on, and on my way home I turned into my club-rather a pot-house, which took in Colonial members. I had a long drink, and read the evening papers. They were full of the row in the Near East, and there was an article about Karolides, the Greek Premier. I rather fancied the chap. From all accounts he seemed the one big man in the show; and he played a straight game too, which was more than could be said for most of them. I gathered that they hated him pretty blackly in Berlin and Vienna, but that we were going to stick by him, and one paper said that he was the only barrier between Europe and Armageddon. I remember wondering if I could get a job in those parts. It struck me that Albania was the sort of place that might keep a man from yawning. About six oclock I went home, dressed, dined at the Cafe Royal, and turned into a music-hall. It was a silly show, all capering women and monkey-faced men, and I did not stay long. The night was fine and clear as I walked back to the flat I had hired near Portland Place. The crowd surged past me on the pavements, busy and chattering, and I envied the people for having something to do. These shop-girls and clerks and dandies and policemen had some interest in life that kept them going. I gave half-a-crown to a beggar because I saw him yawn; he was a fellow-sufferer. At Oxford Circus I looked up into the spring sky and I made a vow. I would give the Old Country another day to fit me into something; if nothing happened, I would take the next boat for the Cape. My flat was the first floor in a new block behind Langham Place. There was a common staircase, with a porter and a liftman at the entrance, but there was no restaurant or anything of that sort, and each flat was quite shut off from the others. I hate servants on the premises, so I had a fellow to look after me who came in by the day. He arrived before eight oclock every morning and used to depart at seven, for I never dined at home. I was just fitting my key into the door when I noticed a man at my elbow. I had not seen him approach, and the sudden appearance made me start. He was a slim man, with a short brown beard and small, gimlety blue eyes. I recognized him as the occupant of a flat on the top floor, with whom I had passed the time of day on the stairs. Can I speak to you? he said. May I come in for a minute? He was steadying his voice with an effort, and his hand was pawing my arm. I got my door open and motioned him in. No sooner was he over the threshold than he made a dash
Jory has been a thorn in Elles side ever since he arrived to spend the entire summer with his twin brother. He has no scruples about using his raw male beauty to charm...and exploit. If only her pulse didnt race with breathless excitement every time he turns those gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes in her direction! But Jory is about to realize hes just met his match in sweet, soft-spoken Elle Sutherland. Will the angry sparks flying between them bond them together, or drive them apart forever? ------- Excerpt ------- Elles mind suddenly went blank when Jory closed the distance between them again, and curled his arms around her waist. Knock it off, Im trying to work here, she yelped-but even she could hear how feeble her protest sounded. Damn it, Jory, I mean it! He retreated...but very reluctantly. Hastily she put one of the massage couches between them. Youre as skittish as a newborn colt, he teased, lightly running one finger over her trembling bottom lip. Are you that way around all men? Or only me? Elles heart was pounding so loudly that she could barely even hear his mocking question-but there was no mistaking his intent as he leaned so close that she could feel the heat of his muscular body. I choose my own partners, she gasped, and wished that her whisper-soft voice wasnt so shaky. So if you want to help me finish decorating in here, thats fine. But if you have anything else in mind, you can kiss it goodbye. Id rather kiss you. His teeth flashed in another dazzling grin...then he startled her by cupping both hands around her face. His long fingers sizzled against her bare skin, and she gasped in surprise. Was this what Astra had felt when shed let Jared make love to her? Damn it, why did it have to be Jory? She didnt even like him! Every nerve in her body shattered as his mouth closed over hers in a hot, heady kiss. She never even heard the frantic whimper that tore from her throat as her fingers gripped his shirt like a lifeline, and her long body arched against his in wondering shock. Then his nimble hand rose to possessively cup her lush breast...and the next instant, he was writhing on the floor, moaning in helpless agony. Elle stumbled back in appalled shock. Oh God, what had she done? Reflex. Selena had taught them all how to defend themselves against attack. A necessary skill, shed insisted, for nine single, superbly stacked sorority sisters. The alliteration had made Elle laugh while shed been obediently practicing her kicks and blocks on the mat. But she wasnt laughing now. Jorys twisted features were a sickly green, and his helpless moan was an agonized rasp. Jesus, Elle! Fierce shudders racked his hunched frame as he rocked back and forth, desperately clutching himself. What the hell! I said I wasnt going to hurt you! And that makes it all right? Outrage rose in a choking wave, and her normally-soft voice rose with it. I told you no! You didnt listen! You never listen! What gives you the right to grab me against my will? Tears of sheer rage began to shimmer in her crystal-blue eyes as she backed away, clenching her small hands into fists. You think that since youre drop-dead gorgeous and sexy as hell, you can just take whatever woman you want, whether shes interested or not? You can go straight to hell, Jory Montrose!
Hauptmerkmale Funktionen Produkttyp Rennbodenmatte Produktfarbe Schwarz Anti-Rutsch-Basis Ja Gewicht & Abmessungen Breite 600 mm Tiefe 1650 mm Höhe 3 mm Gewicht 2 kg Verpackungsbreite 100 mm Verpackungstiefe 600 mm Verpackungshöhe 100 mm Paketgewicht 2 kg
Wine Adcocate (Robert Parker): 90/100 Punkte ´´D’Armailhac’s 2005 offers notes of cedar wood, forest floor, black and red currants, spice box and earth. It is medium-bodied, relatively soft for a 2005, and best drunk over the next 12-15 years.´´ Trinkgenuss: 2015 bis 2025 Wine Spectator: 90/100 Punkte ´´Exhibits blackberry, currant and licorice on the nose. Full and velvety, with plenty of good fruit. A balanced, fruity red. Best after 2012.´´ Weinwisser (René Gabriel): 18/20Punkte ´´Extrem dunkle Farbe, schwarze Reflexe. Sehr tiefgründig vom Ansatz her, schwarze Beeren, Korinthen, Teernoten. Im Gaumen fest, satt und mit einer überaus schwarzbeerigen Aromatik ausgestattet, feine und doch fleischige Tannine, Stielwürznoten und Rauch im langen Finale.´´ Trinkgenuss: 2012-2026
In the finale to this twisted tale of lust, Joe promises to give Courtney her money if shell do one last thing: Be his date to a company party and let him use her for a night-in every hole! Courtney agrees, but only because she knows Joe is the only man who can satisfy her own burning desire to be dominated. The fact that hes her sisters man only makes this bad girl hotter! ----- Excerpt ----- I did not expect the slap. It came so quickly, one minute I was leering at her, the next I was staring at the floor. I shook myself, and cocked my head back. Courtney still looked mad, but satisfied. Fair enough, I said. You can do that again, if you want. You... she started. Take them off. She remained planted to the ground, a buxom statue, a sweaty, organic embodiment of all my sexual demons. I wanted to peel off her clothes and taste every wet crevice she hid underneath them. What tickled me, though, insofar as I could be tickled, was the glimpses of superiority that I caught from her time and again. She knew I wanted her; there could be no mistaking that; but did she recognize how much I wanted her, how strenuously I needed to sink myself inside her, how badly I wanted to hold her, and squeeze her, and hear her curse me and groan? She thought I wanted her body. That was true enough. But did she know I wanted, inside her body, her ignorant, evil little heart? I didnt want to love her or be loved by her. I wanted the satisfaction of her loathing. I reached into my pocket. The hundreds appeared, slightly damp from the sweat of my body, but neatly folded in a metal clip. Courtneys eyes registered the cash, but her mouth betrayed her. It was surprise that I saw. I smiled and tucked the cash away again. You said that was just five hundred. No, thats all of it. I just didnt know how else to get you inside. And believe me, when I lose my clothes, youre free to take it all. Ill keep my word about that at least, I said. And youll get it. But the nights not over. No, she said. Take them off, Courtney. Without taking her eyes off me, she fiddled with her heel beneath her. I didnt break the stare. I watched her descend, heard the clop of her heel hit the ground, then the other. Her toes slid the shoes from her feet, and slid them behind her. The heels must have been several inches, because now her nose was about level with my chin. We stood there in silence for a moment, her seething, me enjoying the power. I could do anything with her, I thought. Malevolent thoughts swirled in my brain, but if I had to be honest, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. You know what youre here for? I said. Her lips hardened to a tight line. My eyes led down her chin to the stiff, proud neck, to her deep cleavage, and the sparkling black dress. I wanted to throw her down and make her say my name. She never would, I thought, with a nervous, thrilling flutter in my stomach. You going to say anything? I said. Lets get this over with, she said.