Stacking the Shelves #299

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Stacking the Shelves is a meme hosted by Tynga’s Reviews

 

La Chambres des Murmures (Jane Hawk, 2) – Dean Koontz

Jane Hawk face à la confrérie secrète
« Il n’est plus temps d’attendre… »
Tels sont les mots qui résonnent dans l’esprit de Cora Gundersun, une enseignante appréciée de tous, au matin du « grand jour ». Juste avant qu’elle commette un attentat-suicide au volant de son 4×4 bourré de jerrycans d’essence.
« Accomplis la mission qui t’incombe… »
L’effroyable contenu du journal intime de Cora corrobore l’hypothèse de la démence. Lorsque de nouveaux cas surviennent, Jane Hawk, inspectrice du FBI en disponibilité, comprend que chaque seconde compte. À jamais marquée par le deuil de son mari, un marine qui s’est mystérieusement donné la mort, elle sait qu’elle n’a plus rien à perdre.
« … et tu seras célèbre et adulée ! »
Sa traque va conduire Jane sur la piste d’une confrérie secrète dont les membres se croient au-dessus des lois. Une quête de justice à la mesure de sa soif de vengeance…
Power Play (Blades Hockey, 1) by Maria Luis
He (was) the hottest player on the ice.

She’s a (struggling) sports journalist looking for her big break.

Charlie Denton has been handed the most impossible assignment from her stick-in-the-mud boss: get an exclusive interview with the NHL’s golden boy, Duke Harrison.

The catch? She’s got eight days or she’ll be demoted. Fired. Kicked to the curb – No way is she letting her future rest on the broad shoulders of a goalie who is at least three seasons past his prime.

She has eight days to convince Duke that the loyal fans of The Cambridge Tribune (annual circulation: 1,000) are dying to know about his life, on and off the ice. Eight days to stand toe to toe with a man who is pure sex on a stick. Eight days to remember that every mind-blowing kiss is nothing but a power play.

What could go wrong?

Two Witches and a Whiskey (The Guild Codex: Spellbound, 3) by Annette Marie
Three months ago, I landed a job as a bartender. But not at a bar—at a guild. Yeah, the magic kind.

I’m not a badass mage like my three smokin’ hot best friends. I’m not a sorcerer or an alchemist, or even a wussy witch. I’m just a human, slinging drinks like a pro and keeping my non-magical nose out of mythic business. Seriously, I know my limits.

So why am I currently standing in a black-magic ritual circle across from a fae lord?

Somewhere behind me, my three mage friends are battling for their lives. Somewhere near my feet is the rogue witch I just knocked out with a stolen spell. And I have about five seconds to convince this very angry sea god not to shmoosh me like a bug.

I’m pretty sure this wasn’t part of the job description.

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