Ergebnis für "C C Hunter" in Klassiker

Sue Quentin has reached the end of her rope - she's desperate, and there's only one way out. Her plan doesn't include falling for Tony, the mysterious hit man she hires. He listens when she speaks and somehow convinces her that maybe her problems aren't entirely insurmountable. He even thinks her little potbelly is sexy. So he's a werewolf - everyone has flaws! Sue enjoys being coddled by Tony, and, for his part, Tony likes the way Sue moans when he touches her. She begins to think she and Tony might have a shot at a future together, despite his unorthodox profession...and even though she doesn't know his real name.

Christmas is fast approaching, and Lizzie Grace and her witch familiar, Belle Kent, are hoping it’s going to be a quiet one. But those hopes are dashed when, on a quest to find a customer’s errant husband, Lizzie comes across the body of a witch and a dark circle of power neither she nor Ashworth can break. Then werewolves begin to turn up dead - skinned. As the body count rises, and the hunters become the hunted, it’s evident there’s a new evil in town. One that is determined to claim the reservation - and the wild magic - for his own.

At the heart of Dark Romanticism is its brooding, pessimistic tone, its emphasis on the supernatural and the sins of humanity, and its use of iconic symbols and horrifying imagery. The classic Dark Romantic authors (Edgar Allan Poe, Nathaniel Hawthorne and Herman Melville) are represented in the stories and poems in this volume, as well as some authors who are not commonly included in this genre.

Milos Vesely, aka Cowboy, kills Nazis. After the events of SecondWorld, a failed attempt by modern Nazi forces to carry out a worldwide genocide and claim the planet for the Aryan nation, he now hunts down the enemy. Most of them are running for cover. But others, as Cowboy discovers beneath the sands of Tanis, Egypt, are searching for a way to strike again.

"I've been told that the entire continent of Antarctica groaned at the moment of my birth. The howl tore across glaciers, over mountains and deep into the ice. Everyone says so. Except for my father; all he heard was Mother's sobs. Not of pain, but of joy, so he says. Other than that, the only verifiable fact about the day I was born is that an iceberg the size of Los Angeles broke free from the ice shelf a few miles off the coast."