検索キーワード： 著者 "JT Lawrence" すべてのカテゴリー

War has arrived, and with it the only chance for peace may be gone forever if Asha can't get her rear end in gear. Barely recovered from the trauma she's suffered at the hands of the elven sister, she's on a mission to save the kidnapped girls - but success is far, far from guaranteed.

The orcs are marching to war, and Asha's pleas to listen to reason reach a deaf—and corrupted—ear. She's got problems of her own, though, as a supposedly-dead foe continues to haunt her from the grave—and the results could be deadly for not just her, but everyone she loves. Meanwhile, the kidnappings have reached a fever point as her ward is scooped up off the street and spirited away to an unknown location. Without hesitation, Asha takes on a suicidal rescue mission that has certain doom written all over it....

Will there be light at the end of the birth canal? Does the word endometriosis make you want to stick a fork in your eye? No? Then perhaps this book isn’t for you. It’s funny, and (sometimes alarmingly) frank. It contains an impressive array of synonyms for "vagina", and it’s certainly NSFW.

If you're a fan of Roald Dahl or Gillian Flynn you'll love these unsettling stories with a twist in the tale. Are you ready to stay up all night with USA Today best-selling author JT Lawrence? Click now to start listening.

It'll take more than a lie to keep Kirsten safe. A creative assassin. A hit list hidden in a Doomsday seed vault. A woman with an unusual gift who has to untangle the conspiracy...before it kills her. When Kirsten digs into her mother’s past she discovers a shocking betrayal that derails her life. Will she uncover the mystery before the hitman finds her?

Daiki finds a flash drive in his office, which leads him to a truth he is not ready to hear.

“Maybe,” says Margaret, “when you see this place you’ll understand. It’s like Club Med! There’s a heated pool and a rec centre and a cocktail bar and everything. They have 24-hour room service!” Andrew guffaws. “A cocktail bar? At a nursing home? What’s next? Happy Hour?”

A man makes a horrific discovery in the crim colony silo he's imprisoned in.

“There’s the drive back home, invariably in the dark. Not safe.” “She has plenty of space. We could have just stayed over.” Linda shook her head. “No. Not allowed. Against the rules.” “What do you mean?” Andrew took off his glasses and frowned at her. “Hodgey was always begging us to stay the night. I’ve never understood - " Linda drummed her fingers on her knees.“It’s just a thing, okay? An agreement.” Andrew’s furrows deepened. “Between you and Hodge?” “Between Peter and I. We sibling-swore.”

The last thing I remember is Lorin’s scream as my roadster smashes into the guardrails and flips into the air. There was Lorin’s terrible wail, and then being silently airborne. Then there was nothing. Later, some bright lights shone through - hospital ceilings, I guess - and doctors' terse commands. I piece together the clues I overhear. The crash, the rocks, the fire. Agony like I've never experienced before burns my every organ and bone. Pipes and palpations. Needles, catheters, and a heart monitor that sounds like a ticking time bomb.

Red Riding Hood, retold by the (fictional) AI Millenniarellabot after being fed fairy tales and texts on euthanasia.

A man knows he deserves to be haunted for what he has done; he just didn't expect it to happen this way.

We pulled into a makeshift parking lot in the middle of a huge herd of sheep. There were two or three cars, but not a cave or another person in sight. We watched the sheep for a while, not sure what to do, when we saw people walk past us, making their way up the hill. That’s when we realized that we would be working hard for our little bit of fertility magic: We had to hike to get to the cave.

Betty arrives at work slippery with sweat. She has no option but to run to her grind at Propag8 now that the taxi drivers are trying to kill her. She bought an electric car, but they keep trying to booby-trap it. Every time she puts her thumb on the ignition switch, she closes her eyes and waits for the explosion. Every time the car starts without blowing up, she knows it's just a matter of time. That she has bought one more day. That they are watching her, waiting for the perfect time to detonate her life.

The priest turned his back on the old man so he wouldn’t notice if his fingers shook while pouring. He would have poured himself a drink before the impromptu meeting, to steady his nerves, but he knew he’d be driving that night, so he had reluctantly abstained. When he sat down, a sigh escaped the priest’s lips. “I assume you know why I asked to see you,” said the bishop, his long wiry eyebrows knitting in an accusing way. His raptorial eyes were unblinking. “Yes, Your Excellency,” Father Sanderson said. “It is unfortunate”.

Welcome to the lesser-known country of The Kingdom of Moldavia, known for its overgrown jungles, giant pineapples, venomous bronze-fanged adders, and the finest butterfly silk in the world. It’s home to tigers so ferocious and so vain that the only way to survive an attack is to dangle your pocket mirror in front of their trembling fish-gut whiskers. It’s a place where firebugs will put on a pyrotechnic show for you and, while you are watching, the satin-smooth hands of vervet monkeys will swipe your wallet.

They stride over the broken paving of the sidewalk, stepping over tree roots and potholes. Susman trips over the nub of a tree stump, and De Villiers catches her hand without thinking. She regains her balance and snatches it back. “Sorry,” he says. She thanks him in an annoyed way, and plunges her hands back into her pockets and they keep walking.

By the time I realized I’d missed a couple of periods and my breasts were tender, it was too late. The black dread bloomed in my stomach, eroding my appetite and my sleep. I thought about killing myself. If I killed myself, no one would find out what had happened. If I took my life, I wouldn't have to harbor the parasite growing inside my body. The only thing that stopped me from slitting my wrists was the knowledge that my mom and dad would be prosecuted. The State didn’t take kindly to people committing suicide.

Junichuro Matsumato is a handsome 42-year-old man: dark-haired, wealthy, and devastated. He stares forlornly at the small glass buddha statue illuminated by the blue LED light behind it. There are thousands of the buddhas behind the glowing panes of glass, five hundred per wall. For easy identification, the light behind his wife’s buddha glows a different hue as he swipes his card to enter.

A soldier fighting from the trenches in France in 1916 writes letters to his love. If you're a fan of historical fiction, you might enjoy this wartime epistolary romance.