In the fourth book of the New York Times bestselling series that's as popular as it is dorky. millions of other books are available for instant access. view Kindle eBook | view . a subscription that delivers editorially hand-picked children's books every 1, 2, . does everything she possibly can to make Nikki's life more difficult. Accidentally Inlove With A Gangster Book 2 The Tough Man Wept By: Alyloony I'm Dating The Ice Princess Book1 & Book 2 Soft Copy. Sat, Apr 2, , I'm sitting in a cafe in Melbourne when that song comes on, When Will I Molly would have been so much better at this online dating thing. But all this bloody sunshine makes it much more difficult to be alone. I had cut my summer short by returning to Dublin to repeat my oral.
Why would a beautiful woman who had it all take her own life? The Ice Princess 1 The house was desolate and empty. The cold penetrated into every corner. A thin sheet of ice had formed in the bathtub.
She had begun to take on a slightly bluish tinge. He thought she looked like a princess lying there. He reached out his hand and touched her. The blood on her wrists had congealed long ago. His love for her had never been stronger. He caressed her arm, as if he were caressing the soul that had now left her body. His breathing was strained and his breath came out of his mouth in little white puffs, but his health was not what he considered his biggest problem. Svea had been so gorgeous in her youth, and he had hardly been able to stand the wait before he could get her into the bridal bed.
She had seemed tender, affectionate, and a bit shy. Her true nature had come out after a period of youthful lust that was far too brief. She had put her foot down and kept him on a tight leash for close to fifty years. But Eilert had a secret. For the first time, he saw an opportunity for a little freedom in the autumn of his years and he did not intend to squander it.
He had toiled hard as a fisherman all his life, and the income had been just enough to provide for Svea and the children. After he retired they had only their meager pensions to live on. With no money in his pocket there was no chance of starting his life over somewhere else, alone. Now this opportunity had appeared like a gift from above, and it was laughably easy besides.
The banknotes in the wooden box behind the compost heap had piled up impressively in only a year, and soon he would have enough to be able to move to warmer climes. He stopped to catch his breath on the last steep approach to the house and massaged his arthritic hands. Spain, or maybe Greece, would thaw the chill that seemed to come from deep inside him.
His daily walk in the early morning hours had been his only time spent in peace and quiet; it also meant that he got some much-needed exercise. He always took the same route, and people who knew his habits would often come out and have a chat. She was there only on weekends, always alone, but she was happy to take the time to talk about the weather. She was nice to look at too.
That was something he still appreciated, even though he was old now. About a year ago, she had asked him whether he might consider stopping in at the house as long as he was passing by on Friday mornings.
The house was old, and both the furnace and the plumbing were unreliable. She would give him a key, so he could just look in and see that everything was in order.
There had been a number of break-ins in the area, so he was also supposed to check for signs of tampering with the doors and windows. He also thought it was nice to feel useful. It was so hard to go around idle after he had worked his whole life.
The gate hung crookedly and it groaned when he pushed on it, swinging it in toward the garden path, which had not yet been shoveled clear of snow. He wondered whether he ought to ask one of the boys to help her with that. It was no job for a woman. He fumbled with the key, careful not to drop it into the deep snow. The steps to the front porch were icy and slick, so he had to hold on to the railing. Eilert was just about to put the key in the lock when he saw that the door was ajar.
In astonishment, he opened it and stepped into the entryway. There was no answer. He saw his own breath coming out of his mouth and realized that the house was freezing cold. He walked through the rooms. Nothing seemed to have been touched. The house was as neat as always. After looking through the entire ground floor, Eilert went upstairs.
The staircase was steep and he had to grab on hard to the banister. When he reached the upper floor, he went first to the bedroom. It was feminine but tastefully furnished, and just as neat as the rest of the house.
The bed was made and there was a suitcase standing at the foot. Nothing seemed to have been unpacked. Now he felt a bit foolish. He could feel it in his joints, the same way he sometimes felt an approaching storm.
He cautiously continued looking through the house. The next room was a large loft, with a sloping ceiling and wooden beams. Two sofas faced each other on either side of a fireplace.
There were some magazines spread out on the coffee table, but otherwise everything was in its place. He went back downstairs. There, too, everything looked the way it should. Neither the kitchen nor the living room seemed any different than usual. The only room remaining was the bathroom. Something made him pause before he pushed open the door. There was still not a sound in the house.
He stood there hesitating for a moment, realized that he was acting a bit ridiculously, and firmly pushed open the door. Seconds later, he was hurrying to the front door as fast as his age would permit. At the last moment, he remembered that the steps were slippery and grabbed hold of the railing to keep from tumbling headlong down the steps.
He trudged through the snow on the garden path and swore when the gate stuck. Out on the pavement he stopped, at a loss what to do.
He called out to her to stop. Erica Falck shut down her computer and went out to the kitchen to refill her coffee cup. She felt under pressure from all directions. The publishers wanted a first draft of the book in August, and she had hardly begun.
It was more than a month since her parents had died, but her grief was just as fresh today as when she received the news. Everything brought back memories.
It took hours to pack every carton, because with each item she was engulfed in images from a life that sometimes felt very close and sometimes very, very far away. Erica sat down on the enclosed veranda and looked out over the islands and skerries. The view never failed to take her breath away. Each new season brought its own spectacular scenery, and today it was bathed in bright sunshine that sent cascades of glittering light over the thick layer of ice on the sea.
Her father would have loved a day like this. She felt a catch in her throat, and the air in the house all at once seemed stifling. She decided to go for a walk. The thermometer showed fifteen degrees below zero, and she put on layer upon layer of clothing. Outside it was gloriously quiet. There were no other people about. The only sound she heard was her own breathing. This was a stark contrast to the summer months when the town was teeming with life.
A many-headed monster that slowly, year by year, swallowed the old fishing village by buying up the houses near the water, which created a ghost town for nine months of the year. The unforgiving environment and the constant struggle to survive, when everything depended on whether the herring came streaming back or not, had made the people of the town strong and rugged.
At the same time, the fish lost their importance as a source of income, and Erica thought she could see the necks of the permanent residents bend lower with each year that passed.
The young people moved away and the older inhabitants dreamed of bygone times. She too was among those who had chosen to leave. He was waving his arms and coming toward her. It took a moment before Erica comprehended what he was saying, but when the words sank in she shoved open the stubborn gate and plodded up to the front door.
Eilert had left the door ajar, and she cautiously stepped over the threshold, uncertain what she might expect to see. Eilert followed warily and pointed mutely toward the bathroom on the ground floor. Erica was in no hurry. She turned to give Eilert an inquiring glance. She shivered in the cold despite her warm clothing. The door to the bathroom swung slowly inward, and she stepped inside. The bathroom was completely tiled in white, so the effect of the blood in and around the bathtub was even more striking.
For a brief moment she thought that the contrast was pretty, before she realized that a real person was lying in the tub. In spite of the unnatural interplay of white and blue on the body, Erica recognized her at once. In their childhood they had been best friends, but that felt like a whole lifetime ago.
Now the woman in the bathtub seemed like a stranger.
A thin film of ice had formed around the torso, hiding the lower half of the body completely. The right arm, streaked with blood, hung limply over the edge of the tub, its fingers dipped in the congealed pool of blood on the floor.
There was a razor blade on the edge of the tub. The other arm was visible only above the elbow, with the rest hidden beneath the ice. The knees also stuck up through the frozen surface. Erica stood for a long time looking at her. She was shivering both from the cold and from the loneliness exhibited by the macabre tableau. Then she backed silently out of the room. Afterward, everything seemed to happen in a blur.
She rang the doctor on duty on her mobile phone, and waited with Eilert until the doctor and the ambulance arrived. She recognized the signs of shock from when she got the news about her parents, and she poured herself a large shot of cognac as soon as she got home.
Perhaps not what the doctor would order, but it made her hands stop shaking. The sight of Alex had taken her back to her childhood. It was more than twenty-five years ago that they had been best friends, but even though many people had come and gone in her life since then, Alex was still close to her heart.
They were just children back then. As adults they had been strangers to each other. And yet Erica had a hard time reconciling herself to the thought that Alex had taken her own life, which was the inescapable interpretation of what she had seen. The Alexandra she had known was one of the most alive and confident people she could imagine. An attractive, self-assured woman with a radiance that made people turn around to look at her. According to what Erica had heard through the grapevine, life had been kind to Alex, just as Erica had always thought it would be.
But something had obviously gone wrong. Adrian woke me up at three in the morning, and by the time he finally fell asleep at six, Emma was awake and wanted to play. The company is in a critical strategic stage.
Lucas always had a ready excuse, and Anna was probably quoting him directly. So all responsibility for the children fell to Anna. Anna had met him when she was working as an au pair in London, and she was instantly enchanted by the onslaught of attention from the successful stockbroker Lucas Maxwell, ten years her senior. She gave up all her plans of starting college, and instead devoted her life to being the perfect, ideal wife.
The only problem was that Lucas was a man who was never satisfied, and Anna, who had always done exactly as she pleased ever since she was a child, had totally eradicated her own personality after marrying Lucas. Until the children arrived, Erica had still hoped that her sister would come to her senses, leave Lucas, and start living her own life. But when first Emma and then Adrian were born, she had to admit that her brother-in-law was unfortunately here to stay. Emma threw a tantrum yesterday and managed to cut up a small fortune in baby clothes before I caught her, and Adrian has either been throwing up or screaming nonstop for three days.
I could really use your help going through a bunch of stuff. We were planning to talk to you about that. Erica was instantly on guard. As soon as Lucas had a finger in the pie, it usually meant that there was something that would benefit him to the detriment of all others involved.
Erica waited for Anna to go on. I mean, without a family and all. Lucas thinks we ought to sell the house. It would be hard for us to hold on to it and keep it up.
Besides, we want to buy a house in Kensington when we move back, and even though Lucas makes plenty of money, the cash from the sale would make a big difference. I mean, a house on the west coast in that area would go for several million kronor. The Germans are wild about ocean views and sea air. Anna had certainly managed to divert her attention, as usual.
She had always been more of a mother than a big sister to Anna. Ever since they were kids she had protected and watched over her. Anna had been a real child of nature, a whirlwind who followed her own impulses without considering the results.
I'm Dating the Ice Princess (The Ice Princess, #1) by Filipina
More times than she could count, Erica had been forced to rescue Anna from sticky situations. Lucas had knocked the spontaneity and joie de vivre right out of her. More than anything else, that was what Erica could never forgive. By morning, the events of the preceding day seemed like a bad dream.
She was so tired that her whole body ached. The town was deserted, and at Ingrid Bergman Square there was no trace of the thriving commerce of the summer months. It was an encounter she would have preferred to avoid, and she instinctively looked for a possible escape route. Her woolen coat was shades of green and covered her body from her shoulders to her feet, giving the impression of one big shapeless mass.
Her hands had a firm grip on her handbag. A disproportionately small hat was balanced on her head. The material looked like felt, and it too was an indeterminate moss-green color. Her eyes were small and deeply set in a protective layer of fat. Right now they were fixed on Erica.
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Clearly she was expected to respond. And later in the afternoon when I happened to ring Dr. Jacobsson, I heard about the tragic event. Yes, he told me in confidence, of course. Naturally one has to wonder what could be the reason.
Personally I always thought she seemed rather overwrought. No, it was the big city for her. I think they even packed the poor girl off to some school in Switzerland, and you know how things go at places like that. Before they moved away from here, she was the happiest and liveliest little girl one could imagine. Well, in my opinion. When Elna paused to take a breath, Erica saw her chance. All this must have been so hard for you, coming so soon after your own family tragedy.
But luck was not with her. But one comment she heard stayed with her. Erica set the bags of groceries on the kitchen table and began putting away the food. Despite all her good intentions, the bags were not as full of staples as she had planned before she walked into the shop.
As if on signal, her stomach started growling. With a flourish, she plopped twelve Weight Watchers points onto a plate in the form of two cinnamon buns.
She ate them with a cup of coffee. Back then there had been a presence, an awareness that somebody could walk through the door at any moment. Now it seemed as if the soul of the house had gone. The smell still lingered in the kitchen, but Erica thought it was getting fainter each day. She had always loved the smell of a pipe. The smoke from the pipe had settled in all his clothing, and the scent had meant security in the world of her childhood. Elsy Falck was a hard and unforgiving woman who kept their home in impeccable order but who never allowed herself to be happy about anything in life.
Even as a child she had been taught that life would be endless suffering; the reward would come in the next life. Erica had often wondered what her father, with his good nature and humorous disposition, had seen in Elsy, and on one occasion in her teens she had blurted out the question in a moment of fury.
I'm Living with the Ice Princess by Filipina
He just sat down and put his arm around her shoulders. Then he told her not to judge her mother too harshly. Some people have a harder time showing their feelings than others, he explained as he stroked her cheeks, which were still flushed with rage. She refused to listen to him then, and she was still convinced that he was only trying to cover up what was so obvious to Erica: Losing a parent was hard, but it was still part of the natural order of things. Losing a child must be horrible.
Besides, she and Alexandra had once been as close as only best friends can be.
The Ice Princess
Of course, that was almost twenty-five years ago, but so many of her happiest childhood memories were intimately associated with Alex and her family. The house looked deserted. All the houses were perched high up on a slope, and their lawns slanted steeply down toward the road on the side facing the water. The main door was in the back of the house, and Erica did not hesitate before ringing the doorbell.
The sound reverberated and then died out. Not a peep was heard from inside, and she was just about to turn and leave when the door slowly opened. She felt foolish for introducing herself so formally. She stepped aside and let Erica into the entryway. Not a single light was lit in the entire house. Muted sobs could be heard from the room straight down the hall. Erica took off her shoes and coat.
She caught herself moving extremely quietly and cautiously because the mood in the house permitted nothing else. Ulla went into the kitchen and let Erica find her own way. When she entered the living room, the weeping stopped. On a sectional sofa in front of an enormous picture window, Birgit and Karl-Erik Carlgren sat desperately holding on to each other. Both had wet streaks running down their faces, and Erica felt that she was trespassing in an extremely private space.
But it was too late to worry about that now. She sat down cautiously on the sofa facing them and clasped her hands in her lap. No one had yet uttered a word since she entered the room. I know her better than anyone, and I know that she would never be capable of taking her own life. She would never have had the courage to do it! You must realize that. You knew her too! Birgit was opening and closing her hands convulsively, over and over, and she looked Erica straight in the eye until one of them was forced to look away.
It was Erica who yielded first. She shifted her gaze to look around the room. The curtains had been skillfully hung with enormous flounces matching the sofa pillows that had been sewn from the same floral fabric. Knickknacks covered every available surface. Hand-carved wooden bowls decorated with ribbons with cross-stitch embroidery shared the room with porcelain dogs with eternally moist eyes.
What saved the room was the panoramic window. First, why are the characters Korean? Because I don't understand.
I can give them a pass but nah. I guess the author is just living in her own fantasy world which will not gonna happen Second, there was the annoying Korean characters where nobody can read. It was a waste of space. And then after the characters, they put a translation. It was so much easier for the author to describe the characters that they were speaking in Korean. I swear, MOST of the author's readers can't also read a single character. Third, the main character's character was not justified.
Because she described herself as this quiet, uncaring, uninterested girl but there's a lot going on in her mind. She's very talkative and she knows A LOT. And those words are opposite of each other. Is the author even serious about that? What the heck was that? Did she wear a make-up just like McDonalds? Coz if she did, I won't ask anymore. But if you picture her as a pretty woman, WOW. I want to know what make-up she's using. I'm gonna use it, too.
Fifth, very unrealistic timeline and plot. She's sixteen if I remember correctly. And sometime in her past, she's a gangster. And that was exactly 10 years ago.