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Dream Makers: Untamed\Less Of A Stranger, by Nora Roberts
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Untamed -- Jo Wilder had the heart of a lion and the temper of a wildcat. And when Keane Prescott crossed her path, she bated her claws. Jo was certain her charming new boss imperiled everything she cared for, but she couldn't deny the attraction between them. Though Keane's kisses left her breathless, it was his tenderness that threatened to tame her heart.
Less of a Stranger -- Confident and colossally arrogant, David Katcherton swept into Megan Miller's life and awakened feelings that had long been lying dormant. But she wasn't about to fall for this irresistible stranger who was after her grandfather's business. As Katch challenged her to fulfill her dreams, he also aroused passions she'd never known before . . .
- Sales Rank: #974072 in Books
- Published on: 2006-10-01
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 1.11" h x 4.23" w x 6.80" l,
- Binding: Mass Market Paperback
- 416 pages
Review
"Roberts has a warm feel for her characters and an eye for the evocative detail." -- Chicago Tribune
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
At the crack of the whip, twelve lions stood on their haunches and pawed the air. On command, they began to leap from pedestal to pedestal in a quick, close-formation, figure-eight pattern. This required split-second timing. With voice and hand commands the trainer kept the tawny, springing bodies moving.
"Well done, Pandora."
At her name and the signal, the muscular lioness leaped to the ground and lay down on her side. One by one the others followed suit, until, snarling and baring their teeth, they stretched across the tanbark. A male was positioned beside each female; at a sharp reproof from the trainer, Merlin ceased nibbling on Ophelia's ear. "Heads up!" They obeyed as the trainer walked briskly in front of them. The whip was tossed aside with a flourish, then, with apparent nonchalance, the trainer reclined lengthwise across the warm bodies. The center cat, a full-maned African, let out a great, echoing bellow. As a reward for his response to the cue, his ear was given a good scratching. The trainer rose from the feline couch, clapped hands and brought the lions to their feet. Then, with a hand signal, each was called by name and sent through the chute and into their cages. One stayed behind, a huge, black-maned cat who, like an ordinary tabby, circled and rubbed up against his trainer's legs.
Deftly, a rope was attached to a chain that was hidden under his mane. Then, with swift agility, the trainer mounted the lion's back. As the door of the big cage opened, lion and rider passed through for a tour of the practice ring. When they reached the back door of the ring barn, Merlin, the obliging lion, was transferred to a wheel cage.
"Well, Duffy." Jo turned after the cage was secured. "Are we ready for the road?"
Duffy was a small, round man with a monk's fringe of chestnut hair and a face that exploded with ginger freckles. His open smile and Irish blue eyes gave him the look of an aging choirboy. His mind was sharp, shrewd and scrappy. He was the best manager Prescott's Circus Colossus could have had. "Since we open in Ocala tomorrow," he replied in a raspy voice, "you'd better be ready." He shifted his fat cigar stump from the right side of his mouth to the left.
Jo merely smiled, then stretched to loosen muscles grown taut during the thirty minutes in the cage. "My cats are ready, Duffy. It's been a long winter. They need to get back on the road as much as the rest of us."
Duffy frowned. As circumstances had it, he stood only inches higher than his animal trainer. Widely spaced, almond-shaped eyes stared back at him. They were as sharp and green as emeralds, surrounded by thick, inky lashes. At the moment they were fearless and amused, but Duffy had seen them frightened, vulnerable and lost. He shifted his cigar again and took two quick puffs as Jo gave a cage hand instructions.
He remembered Steve Wilder, Jo's father. He had been one of the best cat men in the business. Jo was as good with the cats as Wilder had been. In some ways, Duffy acknowledged, even better. But she had the traits of her mother: delicate build; dark, passionate looks. Jolivette Wilder was as slender as her aerialist mother had been, with bold green eyes and straight, raven black hair that fell to just below her waist. Her brows were delicately arched, her nose small and straight, her cheekbones high and elegant, while her mouth was full and soft. Her skin was tawny from the Florida sun; it added to her gypsy-like appearance. Confidence added spark to the beauty.
Finishing her instructions, Jo tucked her arm through Duffy's. She had seen that frown before. "Somebody quit?" she asked as they began to walk toward Duffy's office.
"Nope."
His monosyllabic reply caused Jo to lift a brow. It was not often Duffy answered any question briefly. Years of experience told her to hold her tongue as they moved across the compound.
Rehearsals were going on everywhere. Vito the wire walker informally sharpened his act on a cable stretched between two trees. The Mendalsons called out to each other as they tossed their juggling pins high in the air, while the equestrian act led their horses into the ring barn. She saw one of the Stevenson girls walking on stilts. She'd be six now, Jo mused, tossing the hair from her eyes as she watched the young girl's wavering progress. Jo remembered the year she had been born. It had been that same year that she had been allowed to work the big cage alone. She had been sixteen, and it had been another full year before she had been permitted to work an audience.
For Jo, there had never been any home but the circus. She had been born during the winter break, had been tucked into her parents' trailer the following spring to spend her first year and each subsequent one of her life thereafter on the road. She had inherited both her fascination and her flair with animals from her father, her style and grace of movement from her mother. Though she had lost both parents fifteen years before, they continued to influence her. Their legacy to her had been a world of restlessness, a world of fantasies. She had grown up playing with lion cubs, riding elephants, wearing spangles and traveling like a gypsy.
Jo glanced down at a cluster of daffodils growing by the side of Prescott's winter office and smiled. She remembered planting them when she had been thirteen and in love with a tumbler. She remembered, too, the man who had stooped beside her, offering advice on bulb planting and broken hearts. As Jo thought of Frank Prescott, her smile grew sad.
"I still can't believe he's gone," she murmured as she and Duffy moved inside.
Duffy's office was sparsely furnished with a wooden desk, metal filing cabinets and two spindly chairs. A collage of posters adorned the walls. They promised the amazing, the astounding, the incredible: elephants that danced, men who flew through the air, beautiful girls who spun by their teeth, raging tigers that rode horseback. Tumblers, clowns, lions, strong men, fat ladies, boys who could balance on their forefingers; they brought the magic of the circus into the drab little room.
As Jo glanced over at a narrow pine door, Duffy followed her gaze. "I keep expecting him to come busting through there with some crazy new idea," he mumbled as he began to fiddle with his prize possession, an automatic coffee maker.
"Do you?" With a sigh Jo straddled a chair, then rested her chin on its back. "We all miss him. It's not going to seem the same without him this year." She looked up suddenly, and her eyes were angry.
"He wasn't an old man, Duffy. Heart attacks should be for old men." She brooded into space, touched again with the injustice of Frank Prescott's death.
He had been barely into his fifties and full of laughter and simple kindness. Jo had loved him and trusted him without reservation. At his death she had grieved for him more acutely than she had for her own parents. In her longest memory he had been the core of her life.
"It's been nearly six months," Duffy said gruffly as he studied her face. When Jo glanced up, he stuck out a mug of coffee.
"I know." She took the mug, letting it warm her hands in the chilly March morning. Resolutely, she shook off the mood. Frank would not have wanted to leave sadness behind. Jo studied the coffee, then sipped. It was predictably dreadful. "Rumor has it we're following last year's route to the letter. Thirteen states." Jo smiled, watching Duffy wince over his coffee before he downed it. "Not superstitious, are you?" She grinned, knowing he kept a four-leaf clover in his billfold.
"Pah!" he said indignantly, coloring under his freckles. He set down his empty cup, then moved around his desk and sat behind it. When he folded his hands on the yellow blotter, Jo knew he was getting down to business. Through the open window she could hear the band rehearsing. "We should be in Ocala by six tomorrow," he began. Dutifully, Jo nodded. "Should have the tents up before nine."
"The parade should be over by ten, and the matinee will start at two," Jo finished with a smile.
"Duffy, you're not going to ask me to work the menagerie in the side show again, are you?"
"Should be a good crowd," he replied, adroitly skirting her question. "Bonzo predicts clear skies."
"Bonzo should stick with pratfalls and unicycles." She watched as Duffy chewed on the stub of a now dead cigar. "Okay," she said firmly, "let's have it."
"Someone's going to be joining us in Ocala, at least temporarily." He pursed his lips as his eyes met Jo's. His were blue, faded with age. "I don't know if he'll finish out the season with us."
"Oh, Duffy, not some first of mayer we have to break in this late?" Jo demanded, using the circus term for novice. "What is he, some energetic writer who wants an epic on the vanishing tent circus? He'll spend a few weeks as a roustabout and swear he knows all there is to know about it."
"I don't think he'll be working as a roustabout," Duffy muttered. Striking a match, he coaxed the cigar back to life. Jo frowned, watching the smoke struggle toward the ceiling.
Most helpful customer reviews
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful.
A Circus Freak and a Carnival Geek
By bhr
This is a collection of two of NR's older Silhouettes.
The first is the story of Jolivette (isn't that a prison near Chicago?), a lion trainer (don't you dare call her a tamer) in a traveling circus. She speaks dozens of languages, can fly through the air with the greatest of ease, has spunk, and is, of course, cute as a button. Keane, the new owner of the circus doesn't stand a chance. Too bad she hates him from the beginning. Or does she? (wiggle eyebrows here)
The second is the story of Meg, the sculptor who works in her grandfather's carnival in South Carolina. Katch wants to buy the carnival, and he wants to bed Meg. Insert much hot tension, but no resolution. For an 80's Silhouette, each of these stories are very innocent, in a charming way.
Both heroes are strong, dependable men who quickly realize just what they need (the heroines). Both heroines are emotionally reluctant orphans, self-reliant and strong, yet strangely vulnerable. The stories are firmly entrenched in early 80's Harlequin (parent of silhouette) rules - the man must be strong and overbearing; the woman must be fiery, strong, and independent, yet yield to the stronger boffo male in the end. Yet NR does put a bit of her own twists in (the men are slightly vulnerable and the women don't yield all, as they would in most harlequins of this time.)Both stories are decent, light NR, with shades and echoes of some of her greater, later works.
(*)>
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Formulaic Silhouette Romances
By Jane J.
Okay, I may have to rethink my goal of reading all of Nora Roberts' books from the beginning of her career. And the reason is because they are formulaic Silhouette Romance books.
I mean, I'm tired of the same-old, same-old. The heroine's parents are both dead. If the heroine is not completely ditzy, she's confused and/or cutesy dumb, and she lets past failed relationships rule her heart & won't let the new man into her life almost to the point of losing him altogether. Mind you, this is not just Roberts' books written in the 1980s; it's also books by now well-known mainstream romance writers who also started out writing these formulaic romances, whether they were Harlequin or Silhouette Romances.
Because of Roberts' newer books (and also the books from Jill Shalvis, to mention one of my other favorite authors), I am now used to reading about strong, smart heroines who know their minds, know what they want from life, and go after it, whether it's a career or a man. None of this confused simpering, AND their parents are still living, which sometimes adds to the heroine's (or the hero's) stress & day-to-day juggling act. Quite often, there are other family members involved, too, as is usually the case with the average family. It all helps to make a more entertaining story. And on top of that, the hero's not always rich. He's more than likely just an average hard-working Joe. Same with the heroine. What a breath of fresh air the modern mainstream romances are compared to the old formulaic Harlequin & Silhouette Romances!
I realized early on, that I'd already read both "Untamed" and "Less of a Stranger" (the books included in the "Dream Makers compilation), but went ahead and finished reading "Less of a Stranger" because the story was less familiar. In other words, I couldn't remember exactly how it went & how it ended (although I knew it was going to be a happy ending--after all, that's one reason why I read romances!). But only 11 pages into "Untamed," I stopped reading. "Oh, no, I thought. Parents are dead, rich hero is about to make an entrance, & the heroine, for whatever reason, already hates him." Was it because they'd already met & didn't hit it off, or was it for some other inane reason? Plus, "Untamed" is a circus story, and I don't like books about circuses. So, I promptly closed it, took another Roberts' book from my bookcase with higher hopes for this one, which is part of the MacGregor family series. These two books were published in 1985, but I already know from reading other books in this series that at least the parents are still alive & a big part of the two main characters lives.
So, I'll at least START reading this compilation as hope springs eternal. Why else would I read romance in the first place, right?
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
I Liked it
By Danix15
I really did like this book. This wasn't the first collection of stories by Nora Roberts I've read, so don't think I'm an amateur at this by any means. This was a two-in-one collection, with one story being better than the last.
UNTAMED // this was a cute story about a lion trainer that had been devoted to the circus all of her life. Sadly, the owner of the circus dies, & to Jo's dismay, leaves it to his arrogant & uncaring son, Keane! *gasp* As the story goes on, Jo's hatred for Keane grows less & less...
LESS OF A STRANGER // I liked this more than the first, actually. It was a pretty entertaining read. This time the story circles around Megan & the man who tries to win her (& her grandfather's amusement park) over. His name is Katch, & he's a very charming man. At first, all Megan sees is cockiness & money, but as the story goes on, she finds herself SCULPTING him?! Wondering what I mean? Read the book. =]
So, I don't know. I liked it, & it served its purpose as a romance. It left me with a happy feeling, which it was supposed to do. I'm not easily won over, but this book did it.
If this happened to be the first Nora Robert's collection you read, I'd also recommend IRISH HEARTS (Irish Thorougbred & its sequel Irish Rose), IRISH DREAMS (Irish Rebel-the sequel to IT & IR & Sullivan's Woman), & IRISH BORN (three stories about the Concannon sisters; Born in Fire, Born in Ice, & Born in Shame).
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