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<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="1" width="100%" class="forumline"> <tr> <th class="thCornerL" width="22%">Autor</th> <th class="thCornerR">Wiadomość</th> </tr> <tr> <td width="22%" align="left" valign="top" class="row1"><span class="name"><a name=""></a><b>yoonsica</b></span></td> <td class="row1" valign="top"><table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tr> <td width="100%"><img src="http://picsrv.fora.pl/Elveron/images/icon_minipost.gif" width="12" height="9" alt="Post" title="Post" border="0" /><span class="postdetails">Wysłany: Czw 7:08, 20 Sty 2011<span class="gen"> </span> Temat postu: You Need A Brain</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><hr /></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><span class="postbody">Generatedby ABC Amber LIT Converter, /abclit.html <br />Copyright 2008 by Stephen^ Meyer All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright <br />Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by <br />any means,exclusive sweetheart taffeta beading ball gown quinceanera dresses, or stored in a database or retrieval system, <br />without the prior written permission of the publisher. <br />Little, Brown and Company <br />Hachette Book Group USA 237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Visit our Web site at <br /> <br />FirsteBook Edition: August 2008 <br />Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group USA,Inc. The Little, Brown name <br />and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group USA, Inc. <br />Epigraph for Book Three from Empire by Orson Scott Card. A Tor Book. Published by Tom Doherty <br />Associates,LLC. Copyright 2006 by Orson Scott Card. Reprinted with permission of the author. <br />The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or <br />dead, is <br />coincidental and not intended by the author. <br />ISBN: 978-0-316-03283-4 <br />Contents <br />BOOK ONE: BELLA <br />Preface <br />1. Engaged <br />2. Long Night <br />3. Big Day <br />4.Gesture 5. Isle Esme <br />6. Distractions <br />7. Unexpected <br />BOOK TWO: JACOB <br />Preface <br />8. Waiting For The Damn Fight To Start Already <br /> Page 1 <br /> <br /> Generatedby ABC Amber LIT Converter, /abclit.html <br />9. Sure As Hell Didn't See That One Coming <br />10. Why Didn't I Just Walk Away? Oh Right, Because I'm An Idiot. <br />11. The Two Things At The Very Top Of My Things-I-Never-Want-To-Do List <br />12. Some People Just Don't Grasp The Concept Of "Unwelcome^" <br />13. Good Thing I've Got A Strong Stomach <br />14. You Know Things Are Bad When You Feel Guilty For Being Rude To Vampires <br />15. Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock <br />16. Too-Much-Information Alert <br />17. What Do I Look Like? The Wizard Of Oz? You Need A Brain? You Need A Heart? Go Ahead. <br />Take Mine. Take <br />Everything I Have. <br />18. There Are No Words For This. <br />BOOK THREE: BELLA <br />Preface <br />19. Burning <br />20. New <br />21.First Hunt <br />22. Promised <br />23.Memories 24. Surprise <br />25. Favor <br />26.Shiny 27. Travel Plans <br />28.The Future <br />29. Defection <br />30. Irresistible <br />31. Talented <br />32. Company <br /> Page 2 <br /> <br /> Generatedby ABC Amber LIT Converter, /abclit.html <br />33 .Forever <br />34. Declared <br />35. Deadline <br />36. Bloodlust <br />37. Contrivances <br />38.Power <br />39. TheHappily EverAfter <br />Vampire Index Acknowledgments <br />This book is dedicated to my ninja/agent, Jodi Reamer Thank you for keeping me off the ledge. <br />And thanks also to my favorite band, <br />the very aptly named Muse, <br />for providing a saga's worth of inspiration. <br />BOOK ONE <br />bella <br />CONTENTS <br />PREFACE <br />1.ENGAGED <br />2. LONG NIGHT <br />3. BIG DAY <br />4.GESTURE <br />5. ISLEESME <br />6. DISTRACTION <br />7. UNEXPECTED <br />Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age <br />The child is grown, and puts away childish things. <br />Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies. <br /> Page 3 <br /> <br /> Generatedby ABC Amber LIT Converter, /abclit.html <br />Edna St. Vincent Millay <br />PREFACE <br />I'd had more than my fair share of near-death experiences; it wasn't something you ever really got used <br />to. <br />It seemed oddly inevitable, though, facing death again. Like I really was marked for disaster. I'd <br />escaped time and time again, but it kept coming back for me. <br />Still, this time was so different from the others. <br />You could run from someone you feared, you could try to fight someone you hated. All my reactions <br />were geared toward those kinds of killers��the monsters, the enemies. <br />When you loved the one who was killing you, it left you no options. How could you run, how could you <br />fight, when doing so would hurt that beloved one? If your life was all you had to give your beloved, how <br />could you not give it? <br />If it was someone you truly loved? <br />1. ENGAGED <br />No one is staring at you,I promised myself. No one is staring at you. No one is staring at you. <br />But, because I couldn't lie convincingly even to myself, I had to check. <br />As I sat waiting for one of the three traffic lights in town to turn green, I peeked to the right��in her <br />minivan, Mrs. Weber had turned her whole torso in my direction. Her eyes bored into mine, and I <br />flinched back, wondering why she didn't drop her gaze or look ashamed. It was still considered rude to <br />stare at people, wasn't it? Didn't that apply to me anymore? <br />Then I remembered that these windows were so darkly tinted that she probably had no idea if it was <br />even me in here, let alone that I'd caught her looking. I tried to take some comfort in the fact that she <br />wasn't really staring at me, just the car. <br />Mycar. Sigh. <br />I glanced to the left and groaned. Two pedestrians were frozen on the sidewalk, missing their chance to <br />cross as they stared. Behind them, Mr. Marshall was gawking through the plate-glass window of his little <br />souvenir shop. At least he didn't have his nose pressed up against the glass. Yet. <br />The light turned green and, in my hurry to escape, I stomped on the gas pedal without thinking��the <br />normal way I would have punched it to get my ancient Chevy truck moving. <br />Engine snarling like a hunting panther, the car jolted forward so fast that my body slammed into the black <br />leather seat and my stomach flattened against my spine. <br />"Arg!" I gasped as I fumbled for the brake. Keeping my head,simpal strapless a line gathering beaded taffeta designer wedding dress, I merely tapped the pedal. The car <br />lurched to an absolute standstill anyway. <br /> Page 4 <br /> <br /> Generatedby ABC Amber LIT Converter, /abclit.html <br />I couldn't bear to look around at the reaction. If there had been any doubt as to who was driving this car <br />before,white simply floor length tulle wedding dresses, it was gone now. With the toe of my shoe, I gently nudged the gas pedal down one half <br />millimeter, and the car shot <br />forward again. <br />I managed to reach my goal, the gas station. If I hadn't been running on vapors, I wouldn't have come <br />into town at all. I was going without a lot of things these days, like Pop-Tarts and shoelaces, to avoid <br />spending time in public. <br />Moving as if I were in a race, I got the hatch open, the cap off, the card scanned, and the nozzle in the <br />tank within seconds. Of course, there was nothing I could do to make the numbers on the gauge pick up <br />the pace. They ticked by sluggishly, almost as if they were doing it just to annoy me. <br />It wasn't bright out��a typical drizzly day in Forks, Washington��but I still felt like a spotlight was <br />trained on me, drawing attention to the delicate ring on my left hand. At times like this, sensing the eyes <br />on my back, it felt as if the ring were pulsing like a neon sign: Look at me, look at me. <br />It was stupid to be so self-conscious, and I knew that. Besides my dad and mom, did it really matter <br />what people were saying about my engagement? About my new car? About my mysterious acceptance <br />into an Ivy League college? About the shiny black credit card that felt red-hot in my back pocket right <br />now? <br />"Yeah, who cares what they think," I muttered under my breath. <br />"Urn, miss?" a man's voice called. <br />I turned, and then wished I hadn't. <br />Two men stood beside a fancy SUV with brand-new kayaks tied to the top. Neither of them was <br />looking at me; they both were staring at the car. <br />Personally, I didn't get it. But then, I was just proud I could distinguish between the symbols for Toyota, <br />Ford, and Chevy. This car was glossy black, sleek, and pretty, but it was still just a car to me. <br />CutTBook-�ֽ�TXTl��С˵������ <br />IXIAOU STUDIO /ixiaou <br />相关的主题文章： <br /> <br /> <br /> /space.php?uid=2161&do=blog&id=3748</span></td> </tr> </table></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2" height="1" class="spaceRow"><img src="http://picsrv.fora.pl/Elveron/images/spacer.gif" alt="" width="1" height="1" /></td> </tr> </table>
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