Read Badlands Bad Boy by Maggie Shayne Free Online

Ebook Badlands Bad Boy by Maggie Shayne read! Book Title: Badlands Bad Boy
The author of the book: Maggie Shayne
Loaded: 1414 times
Reader ratings: 3.2
Edition: Silhouette Books
Date of issue: September 7th 1997
ISBN: 0373078099
ISBN 13: 9780373078097
Language: English
Format files: PDF
The size of the: 8.29 MB
City - Country: No data

Read full description of the books:

I can hear myself singing Colors of the Wind as I read Ms. Shayne's third book in the Texas Brand series (I can carry a decent tune, mind you). This is no Pocahontas however. Perhaps there is a faint influence, though I cannot accuse her of creating a rip-off. To accuse her of such means I do not comprehend the story grammars of both works.

May we pretend for a moment that the rest of the books in the series are not out in print yet? Ms. Shayne outdoes herself in this novel. Badlands Bad Boy has the most picturesque and richest narrative since the start of the series. I can practically see and smell the arid, barren lands of vast wilderness before the climbing boulders of the silently sloping hills. The grittiness of soil sliding through the hands of the diggers from their daily excavations under the scorching bite of the Texas sun. The ancient Indian teepees quite beautifully cascading into a perfect backdrop in an otherwise lonely plains. And the Native American central fire towering like a fortress with its blazing fire, seemingly trying to reach the sky, and the crackling sound of its floating embers. Such are just a few of what the book paints in my imagination.

As in the previous two books, the Brand siblings remain to be a treat. Wes isn't exactly my favorite among the Brands—seeing a change in his bearings here though, brings him closer to my heart. Wes is a true darling—looking after Turtle like that as well as his loved ones. And that big hug with big Ben is one scene I shall never forget (I am a sucker for bromance, I admit). Taylor McCoy—Sky Dancer to her Comanche origin—is a woman some can relate to. She puts herself in self-imposed social isolation for fear of betrayal when she gets close to someone. She is now torn, however, between preserving the protective barrier she built around herself and letting a man sweep her off her feet. Another newly-introduced character is called Turtle—a scheming coot of a shaman. I can't quite picture how he acts if played out in a film reel, though I can see Gaius—that court healer in the BBC show Merlin—in him. He is such a comic relief, I expect one everytime he's in the picture. As usual, Jessi is a scene-stealer. You'll never get tired adoring her honest quips and meddlesome ways. It just disappoints me seeing Elliott appear less than I allow in all sequels so far. I adore his puerile disposition. I've been in love with his character from the moment he wore that pyjama pants in horse print. Why can't Ms. Shayne just give me more of him while waiting for his own turn in the series?

This installment gives us the missing essence—one which Chelsea had pointed out to Garrett in book 1—Wes is in search of. Not only do we see glimpses of his Comanche past but also how he and Taylor become instruments in the fulfillment of Wolf Shadow's legend and in the restoration, and preservation, of their Comanche heritage and traditions.

It may be more engaging if The People, the Comache community, are physically present in the book—their voices we hear and their way of life we observe. I also wonder how a future shaman is determined. This particular train of thought makes my brows draw together:

Wes grated his teeth. Why was it she seemed so afraid of Wolf Shadow when he wasn't around, but when he was, she stood up to him like a bulldog guarding a T-bone?

This proves that Wes's infamous temper makes him less smart. Though it makes me wonder, again, how a future shaman he can be. Does it mean shamans may have been foolish once and only gets wiser as time goes by? Maybe so. We also hear Wes use the word fabulous. I will assume Taylor is rubbing off on him, though I cannot imagine a cowboy using the word. I notice these days the word is spoken only by refined men and gay men.

Badlands Bad Boy is arguably well-plotted, with the main characters sharing the same interests, same lost heritage, and their connection to Wolf Shadow and Little Sparrow legend. The author may or may have not deliberately placed symbolisms and foreshadowing all throughout the book. Albeit I will be taking too much of your precious time if I attempt to discuss them one-by-one. One may deduce its predictability, though I can overlook that detail. At least, it is an aversion from the damsel in distress theme from book 1—or the tad in distress from book 2, if you may—with guns and goons and whatnot. I can even forgive the idea of true love formed in just a matter of week. The story simply doesn't feel contrived at all to me. I can easily imagine the characters telling Ms. Shayne their stories, and the events unfolding themselves to create this magical tale of love and acceptance.

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Ebook Badlands Bad Boy read Online! I live in the teeny, tiny town of Taylor, NY, (Alliteration Alert!) though my mailing address is Cincinnatus, my telephone exchange is Truxton and I pay taxes and vote in Cuyler. All of these are at least in the same rural county in the southern hills of New York State; Cortland County. There are more cattle than people here. The nearest “big” cities are Syracuse and Binghamton and they are an hour away, in different directions, and not really all that big by most standards, though they both seem humongous to me. I look out my window to see rolling, green, thickly forested hills, wildflower laden meadows and wide open blue, blue skies. My road is barely paved. The nearest neighboring place is a 700 acre dairy farm.

My house is a big, century old farmhouse. I moved in here after my divorce in 2006. Just a little over a year later, the house, which I had named, SERENITY, burned. It was 99% gutted, and I lost my two dogs, Sally, an 11-year-old great Dane, and Wrinkles, my 14-year-old, blind bulldog. This was the culmination of my Dark Night of the soul, which had seemed to hit me all at once in 2006-2007. My mother died that year, after a 14 month battle with pancreatic cancer. She was only 60. The youngest of my five daughters had left home that same year, and while that’s not a tragedy at all, it felt like one to me. Then came the divorce. And finally there was the fire--it seemed my darkest night wasn’t quite finished with me after all. I had lost almost everything before that point, and as I poked through the wet ashes and soot the next day, I realized that I had now been stripped all the way to the bone.

No better time to start over. (And no, I didn’t come to that realization that day--there were a few days of wallowing in pity first, particularly the day after the fire, when I hit a deer and smashed up my car, which I was practically living in!)

That’s when I started to laugh. Just sat on the side of the road as the deer bounded, uninjured and carefree, out of sight, and laughed. It was just too ridiculous at that point, to do anything else!

And from there, I picked myself up, and brushed myself off, and said, okay, there’s only one way to go from here. Forward. And that’s what I did. There I was at the age of harrurmphemmph, living in my one, mostly undamaged remaining room, with a dorm-sized mini-fridge, a futon, a TV, my cat (nine lives!) and a laptop. And not much else. (Though thank goodness the room that survived the fire, was a room that had its own attached bathroom!)

Since then I have rebuilt my beloved home, which really has become my haven, my “Serenity.” I share it now with my fiancé, Lance, and we have accumulated quite the little family together. “Little” being a relative term. We have a pair of English Mastiffs, Dozer and Daisy, who weigh 203 pounds and 208 pounds respectively, and a little pudgy English Bulldog named Niblet, who is bigger than both of them, inside her mind. We also have the aforementioned cat, Glorificus (“Glory” for short,) who adores her canine pups and keeps them firmly in line. And we've acquired a pair of stray cats as well, a mother and son, Luna (Lulu for short) and Butters aka Buddy. Lulu showed up pregnant during a lunar eclipse, had a litter, and vanished again. We found homes for all the kittens except one. Butters. We got him fixed and kept him. A few months later, Lulu returned, again expecting. This litter was born on the "Monster Moon." Again, all the kittens were spayed and neutered and placed in homes, and this time we got Lulu to the vet in time to spay her before the cycle could repeat.

Glory is not amused.

She has a story of her own, my old Glory cat, having been with me before the Dark Times descended, she went through it all with me, moved with me, survived the fire, and remains with me still. She's tolerating the newcomers. Barely.

My partner is an artist, a mechanic, a welder and an inventor, and the rumors are true, he is much younger than I

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