• Welcome to BookAndReader!

    We LOVE books and hope you'll join us in sharing your favorites and experiences along with your love of reading with our community. Registering for our site is free and easy, just CLICK HERE!

    Already a member and forgot your password? Click here.

The first sentence in the book you're reading

"Als die halbe Stunde verstrichen war, wusste er, dass er seine Tocher nie wiedersehen wuerde."

Die Therapie - Sebastian Fitzek
 
"It has always been my conviction that the house that sheltered their love, and later my own birth, was much closer to the night and its constellations than to the life of that vast country they had managed to escape without leaving its territory."

Requiem for a Lost Empire - Andrei Makine
 
Carlo Druze was a stone killer.
He sauntered down the old, gritty sidewalk with its cracked uneven paving blocks, under the bare-branched oaks. He was acutely aware of his surroundings.

Eyes Of Prey By John Sandford.
 
A thought sparked in the chaos of Bekker's mind.
The jury.
He caught it, mentally, like a quick hand snatching a fly from midair.
Bekker slumped at the defense table, the center of the circus. His vacant blue eyes rolled back, pale and wide as a plastic baby-doll's, wandering around the interior of the courtroom, snagging on a light fixture, catching on an electrical outlet, sliding past the staring faces. His hair had been cut jailhouse short, but they had let him keep the wild blond beard. An act of mercy: the beard disguised the tangled mass of pink scar tissue that crisscrossed his face. In the middle of the beard, his pink rosebud lips opened and closed, like an eel's, damp and glistening.
Bekker looked at the thought he'd caught: The jury. Housewives, retirees, welfare trash. His peers, they called them. A ridiculous concept: he was a doctor of medicine. He stood at the top of his profession. He was respected. Bekker shook his head.
Understand...?
The word tumbled from the judge-crow's mouth and echoed in his mind. "Do you understand, Mr. Bekker?"
What...?
The idiot flat-faced attorney pulled at Bekker's sleeve: "Stand up."
What...?
The prosecutor turned to stare at him, hate in her eyes. The hate touched him, reached him, and he opened his mind and let it flow back. I'd like to have you for five minutes, good sharp scalpel would open you up like a goddamn oyster: zip, zip. Like a goddamn clam.
The prosecutor felt Bekker's interest. She was a hard woman; she'd put six hundred men and women behind bars. Their petty threats and silly pleas no longer interested her. But she flinched and turned away from Bekker.
Click to expand...

Silent Prey by John Sandford, (and God help us,!! Bekker's BACK for seconds, ohhhhhh crap.!),
 
The house was filled with the warm aromas of chili powder and fried ground beef, the only leftovers from taco night.

Blind Rage by Terri Persons.
 
It was a rather cool morning for July;that, I guess, is what I was thinking as I stood on a stool in my attic room, head thrust out of the window,peering at a rainy sky.

Chantal Thomas-Farewell my Queen
 
All of this happened while I was walking around starving in Christiania-that strange city no one escapes from until it has left its mark on him. . . .


Hunger by Knut Hamsun
 
"A mile above Oz, the Witch balanced on the wind's forward edge, as if she were a green fleck of the land itself, flung up and sent wheeling away by the turbulent air."

Wicked - Gregory Maguire
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top