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Angelo pulled up in front of Jenny's house. Why are all the lights out? she wondered. Surely she hadn't gone to bed so early. Jenny knew she was going to be stopping by to see her tonight. She reached for her cell phone, but remembered it was dead. Getting out of the car, she walked up the front path. She noticed a set of footprints in the snow. The snow had been falling fast, but not fast enough to cover them completely. They were made maybe a half an hour ago. She followed the fading but large, definitely male footprints. They did not go up to the front door, but around the back. Something was definitely amiss. Tracking them to the rear yard, she spied the phone box, its wires cut. Oh, damn! The footprints ended at the fence. Angelo looked around to see it they backtracked, but they did not. Looking up, she could see the door ajar on the second floor deck. She had to get up there. Climbing the fence, she pulled herself up and onto the deck. She peered into the darkened room. If only I had a lousy flashlight! My kingdom for a flashlight. Pulling her firearm, she opened the door and crept inside. In the pitch black darkness, she made her way over to the door. She leaned an ear to the door, listening. She could hear voices across the hall. A man's voice and a very frightened woman's. Slowly opening the door, praying it wouldn't squeak and alert them, she moved down the hall toward the voices. She could smell tobacco. He was here. She knew it-and damn it-so was Jennifer. Fearing that Jenny would be hurt in the crossfire if she used her weapon, she secured it. She was equally dangerous without it. She moved closer to the door and listened at the master bedroom. She could hear Jennytrying to talk to her assailant. He seemed to be getting impatient with her stalling. On the bed, now! he ordered. Angelo could hear Jenny being tossed down on the bed, its mattress springs creaking. She tried the door, but found it locked. Now! Angelo thought as she kicked in the bedroom door. She crashed inside, taking both Jenny and the man by surprise. He jumped up as Angelo charged him. He was as solid as a rock. It was like running into a brick wall. Angelo was not a small woman by any standard, having more muscle than fat on her lean body, but he swatted her away with a backhand. Rolling away from the punch, she charged him again. Jenny screamed. The man was quicker than Angelo anticipated and he hurled the bedside lamp at her.
A skeleton in the vineyards of the Segantino family leads Sofia on a wild chase from California to Italy in search of her great-uncle Angelo, who disappeared years ago. Local gangsters are also in pursuit of Angelo. Can Sofia outsmart them?
High above the rooftops of Rome, Angelo begins his work restoring the façade of a once glorious church. There, among the sticks and feathers, he discovers a wounded bird. Angelo becomes the bird’s reluctant savior. As the church nears completion, Angelo begins to worry about the future of his avian friend. “What will become of you? Where will you go . . . where will you . . . live?” he asks her. Through his artistry as a master craftsman he answers the questions for his humble friend and assures that he, himself will not be forgotten.
“This dark, pitch-perfect novel about our dependence on technology for validation and human connection is as addictive as social media itself.” —People Magazine Orla Cadden is stuck in a dead-end job, writing clickbait about movie-star hookups and influencer yoga moves. Then Orla meets Floss, who has a plan for launching them both into the high-profile lives they dream about. So what if Orla and Floss’s methods are shady—and sometimes people get hurt? Their legions of followers can’t be wrong. Thirty-five years later, in a closed California village where government-appointed celebrities live every moment of the day on camera, a woman named Marlow dreams of fleeing the corporate sponsors who would do anything to keep her on-screen. Despite her massive popularity—twelve million loyal followers—when Marlow discovers that her whole family history is based on a lie, she summons the courage to run in search of the truth. Followers traces the paths of Orla, Floss and Marlow as they wind through time toward a cataclysmic event that sends America into upheaval. This darkly funny story reminds us that even if we obsess over famous people we’ll never meet, what we really crave is genuine human connection. “Terrific writing about terrifying ideas.” —Washington Post “An engaging confection wrapped around a thoughtful critique.” —USA Today “Dazzling.” —Time “Razor-sharp.” —Entertainment Weekly “Big Brother meets Ingrid Goes West.” —theSkimm “[An] intelligent page-turner.” —Wall Street Journal “Dark, witty, astute.” —Slate “Black Mirror fans are going to love Megan Angelo’s Followers.” —PopSugar “Engrossing.” —NPR “Fascinating.” —Publishers Weekly (starred review) “Intricate and brave.” —Booklist (starred review) “Addictive.” —KirkusReviews (starred review)
A Navy SEAL on leave. A neuroscientist in danger. And a dance that might give them a second chance... Catherine A stranger has been warning me about my research for the government. My coworkers tell me not to worry, but it bothers me. I can't let it show, though. This is my first time as a project lead. At least, a weekend wedding in Newport promises a much needed escape. But when I come face to face with Angelo DeMarchis, that illusion shatters. He's the one who got away. And he's grown even sexier after all these years. That's when I realize I'm in even more trouble. And once again, the price might be my heart. Angelo I've needed this leave for a long time, but the memories haunt me no matter where I go. Even at a wedding--a happy occasion--where I run into a woman from my past. Catherine has become even hotter since high school. I wouldn't mind spending every minute I'm home with her. There's only one problem. Her research has gotten her into trouble. She downplays the warnings, but I'm not buying it. I have ten days to make sure she's safe. She's mine and I won't let anyone get to her. This time I'm playing for keeps. Meet the DeMarchis brothers in this series by USA Today bestselling author Lisa Carlisle. Navy SEALs, Marines, and hometown heroes -- Each encounters his most complicated mission yet when a woman from his past challenges his plans for his future.
When Eliza Westbrook stumbled into my arms at her father’s funeral, I wanted nothing more than to help the beautiful, broken girl. I wanted to take away the pain in her eyes and heal her fractured, lonely heart. My presence was the last thing she needed, yet I couldn’t stay away. What started out as a mild obsession quickly turned into a game of survival. Unexplainable events threatened us at every turn, but was it because of my dark past, or the man intent on taking her life? I wanted to keep her safe, to give into the pull I felt tugging me toward her from the moment we first met. But would I be able to push my demons aside to save her, or will she have to fix me first?
Angelo pulled up in front of Jenny's house. Why are all the lights out? she wondered. Surely she hadn't gone to bed so early. Jenny knew she was going to be stopping by to see her tonight. She reached for her cell phone, but remembered it was dead. Getting out of the car, she walked up the front path. She noticed a set of footprints in the snow. The snow had been falling fast, but not fast enough to cover them completely. They were made maybe a half an hour ago. She followed the fading but large, definitely male footprints. They did not go up to the front door, but around the back. Something was definitely amiss. Tracking them to the rear yard, she spied the phone box, its wires cut. Oh, damn! The footprints ended at the fence. Angelo looked around to see it they backtracked, but they did not. Looking up, she could see the door ajar on the second floor deck. She had to get up there. Climbing the fence, she pulled herself up and onto the deck. She peered into the darkened room. If only I had a lousy flashlight! My kingdom for a flashlight. Pulling her firearm, she opened the door and crept inside. In the pitch black darkness, she made her way over to the door. She leaned an ear to the door, listening. She could hear voices across the hall. A man's voice and a very frightened woman's. Slowly opening the door, praying it wouldn't squeak and alert them, she moved down the hall toward the voices. She could smell tobacco. He was here. She knew it-and damn it-so was Jennifer. Fearing that Jenny would be hurt in the crossfire if she used her weapon, she secured it. She was equally dangerous without it. She moved closer to the door and listened at the master bedroom. She could hear Jennytrying to talk to her assailant. He seemed to be getting impatient with her stalling. On the bed, now! he ordered. Angelo could hear Jenny being tossed down on the bed, its mattress springs creaking. She tried the door, but found it locked. Now! Angelo thought as she kicked in the bedroom door. She crashed inside, taking both Jenny and the man by surprise. He jumped up as Angelo charged him. He was as solid as a rock. It was like running into a brick wall. Angelo was not a small woman by any standard, having more muscle than fat on her lean body, but he swatted her away with a backhand. Rolling away from the punch, she charged him again. Jenny screamed. The man was quicker than Angelo anticipated and he hurled the bedside lamp at her.
Sofia embarks on a wild journey from California to Tuscany to claim the vineyard she inherited and meet the sister she doesn't know. As if this wasn't turmoil enough, someone is out to kill her.
This collection of nine essays examines some of baseball's most elusive mysteries. Topics include the discovery of the body of Ed Delahanty at the bottom of Niagara Falls, the suicide of Chick Stahl, the strange death of National League president Harry Pulliam, the case of a game that may never have been played, three gambling scandals (one involving Hall of Famers), the facts concerning the legendary matchup of Satchel Paige and slugger Josh Gibson, and the intrigue behind the Brooklyn Dodgers' move to Los Angeles.