At all. She is my favorite heroine in this series. She can be funny, snarky, a bit spoiled. The only constant in her life is her friendship with Ava. Their loyalty to each other is amazing! But now she is getting married. I loved seeing their friendly interactions, her sadness at losing her friend or so she thought. They are hilarious together, they get each other in all their quirkiness.
Even though he fights going further. We revisit the alien trafficking storyline in this book instead of the Schon queen. She was completely absent here and I just wonder what happened with her. We do get somewhat of an answer to Dallas vision but there is still an open question about it at the end. I think I just heard Dallas saying he is ready to have his book written.
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It was hysterical. And just as we had best friends forever Ava and Noelle, we also see a small glimpse of my favorite bromance: Devyn and Dallas. Pretty much the whole cast shows up in this book. We also see Jaxon and Mia as well as McKell obviously. Together, AIR solves a case of missing girls aaaaaaannnnmnnd in the process a blast from the past character reappears! So what are you waiting for? You know you want to see Hector burn holes in brick walls, burn through gloves and burn down a house!!!! Speaking of funny looks.
You mean lewdness. As in, indecent. Complete my first mission successfully — check. Lose my best friend — check, check, fucking check, and scribble and crumble the notepad and slam it into the trash. Gena Showalter is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty books in paranormal and contemporary romances, as well as young adult novels. Her novels have appeared in Cosmopolitan Magazine, and Seventeen Magazine, and have been translated all over the world.
Series: Alien Huntress 6. Genres: Romance , Science Fiction. Both were human. One was tall, muscled, with dark hair and a busted-up face.tf.nn.threadsol.com/wavyb-mobile-phone.php
Gena Showalter – Alien Huntress Series Reading Order
His syn-cotton shirt was torn, his jeans dirty, and his boots scuffed. There were telltale weapon bulges under his arms, at his wrists, and at his ankles. Clearly, he was the bodyguard. The other wore a perfectly tailored silk business suit, his Italian loafers freshly polished. His sun-kissed hair was expensively coiffed, and the only bulge he sported was the one in his pocket, where he kept his wallet. Clearly, he was the money. Acrid wind shrieked as if someone had cranked a hard rock song on a radio, dancing thick dirt granules in every direction, Money radiated impatience mixed with glee—until two other men materialized a few feet away, and the impatience vanished.
The newcomers had appeared in a blink, without walking a single step: a white-haired Arcadian—an otherworlder with the ability to teleport, among other things—and another human, this one wearing a suit as well, only his was ill-fitting and made from a cheap synthetic fiber.
He smelled of pungent fear and urine. Poor bastard must have pissed himself. Without a word, the Arcadian pushed the trembling male to his knees. The rust-colored sky appeared swollen, the storm-drenched clouds ready to burst. In the center, the sun was a hemorrhaging hook of gold, offering only a fraction of light. That hardly mattered to the witness. From high in the gnarled trees surrounding the field, his gaze cut through the gloom as easily as a knife through flesh. Another gust of wind created that perfect background music.
Better prices? You have to believe me. No question, he was a man used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it.
Dark Taste of Rapture (Alien Huntress 6)
He held out his hand, and Bodyguard smacked the butt of a pyre-gun onto his palm. I swear! Kneeler shook his head, perhaps to dislodge the cloth, perhaps to attempt another plea for mercy. Either way, he failed. A muffled scream of agony pierced the air. As Kneeler toppled to the ground, twitching, dying as his organs fried to a crisp, Money returned the gun to Bodyguard and wiped his hands in a job well done.
- Dark Taste of Rapture.
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Some were in their late teens and had just graduated from AIR High, but most were in their early twenties, male, and obviously overwhelmed by the line of instructors watching unabashedly as they carried their bags to their new digs: a rundown, luxuries-are-a-thing-of-the-past bunkhouse in the middle of an isolated valley. Isolated, and ugly. There was dirt, dirt, and more dirt, with the occasional knotted, naked tree to spice things up.
Review: Dark Taste of Rapture by Gena Showalter - Under the Covers Book Blog
The few females to disembark, well, they were in their early twenties, too, and just as overwhelmed. Except for the last two. They just appeared eager. Poor, dumb kids.
Thirteen years ago, Agent Hector Dean had ridden in that bus himself. Everyone on it had been yelled at, demoralized, and slapped around, all in an effort to weed out the pussies. The yelling, the demoralizing, and the slapping were just precursors for what was to come. Poor, dumb, about-to-be-traumatized kids. Ava Sans and Noelle Tremain. Ava, a twenty-three-year-old fluff of femininity who was barely five nothing in a pair of heels. She had curly brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. Cute in a Sunday school teacher kind of way.
Which was ironic.