1 New York Times bestselling author Nora Roberts presents a story of love under download the Ebook: People Who Read Untamed Also Read. Read "Untamed" by Nora Roberts available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get $5 off your first download. #1 New York Times bestselling author Nora. Editorial Reviews. Review. Praise for Nora Roberts “America's favorite writer.”— The New site Store · site eBooks · Literature & Fiction.
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Untamed book. Read 92 Shelves: e-book, romance-contemp. It is indeed a .. Untamed is definitely from Nora Roberts's early style of writing. It not be so. Untamed by Nora Roberts - book cover, description, publication history. Boxid: IA Boxid_2: CH Camera: Canon EOS 5D Mark II. City: New York. Donor: alibris. External-identifier.
And I liked Jo's personality. She's brave as opposed to fearless both physically and emotionally and loyal to a fault. And this is where I'm going to diverge from popular opinion, but it's all about the ending, so, sadly, it's spoiler time. Yeah, it flies in the face of feminist dogma because it is Jo who makes the sacrifice, giving up her life as a lion-trainer in the circus in order to be with Keane trust me when I say it doesn't feel as cheesy as it sounds when reading the book.
The fact of the matter is that Keane is right that there is no adequate compromise possible for him. He cannot take that she puts herself into life-threatening danger every day something Jo wouldn't bother to deny because it is literally true and that fact was clearly killing him. A lot of readers are going to see that as controlling or inappropriate, somehow.
The thing is, actual equality in a relationship isn't about who compromises or who gets their way. 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. 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 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. 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. 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. Heart attacks should be for old men.
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. When Jo glanced up, he stuck out a mug of coffee.
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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. Thirteen states. 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.
Dutifully, Jo nodded. His were blue, faded with age. Striking a match, he coaxed the cigar back to life. Jo frowned, watching the smoke struggle toward the ceiling. She sat unmoving, as Duffy had seen her from time to time when she trained a young cat.
Why does he have to come? What does he want here?
His voice was both rough and sympathetic. Her eyes lit and glowed with a temper she rarely let have sway. She lifted her fingers to press them against her temple. Slowly, she moved to the window. Outside, the sun was pouring over the heads of troupers. In August 17, , as soon as she had graduated from High School, Eleanor married, against her parents' wishes.
The marriage settled in Keedysville, Maryland.
Her husband worked at his father's sheet-metal business before joining her parents in their lighting company. While, she worked briefly as a legal secretary. After their sons, Dan and Jason, were born she stayed home.
Calling this her "Earth Mother" years, she spent much of her time doing crafts, including ceramics and sewing her children's clothes. The marriage ended separating, and they obtained the divorce in January In February , a blizzard in forced her hand to try another creative outlet.
She was snowed in with a three and six year old with no kindergarten respite in sight and a dwindling supply of chocolate. During the now famous blizzard, she pulled out a pencil and notebook and began to write down one of those stories. It was there that a career was born.Outside, the sun was pouring over the heads of troupers.
Her brows were delicately arched, her nose small and straight, her cheekbones high and elegant, while her mouth was full and soft. She remembered planting them when she had been thirteen and in love with a tumbler. They hoped to allow the series to stand on its own merits and build its own following.
Jo was as good with the cats as Wilder had been. But her concentration was threatened, as Ty's dark eyes dared her to become the fiery woman he had once loved. They suggested that she adopt a second pseudonym so that they would be able to publish more of her work each year.
Frank would not have wanted to leave sadness behind. The book became Roberts' first bestselling novel of