Showing results by narrator "Tom Janson" in All Categories

Escape to New Zealand once again with the new series from best-selling author Rosalind James. Hours of funny, heartwarming, heart-pounding, steam-inducing entertainment, starting with combat of both the military and the more metaphorical sort and ending with an escape from a religious cult, with plenty of stops along the way.

Rescuing a woman dressed in a nightdress at a costume ball? That worked for me. And holding her up against the wall, to shield her from the cops, was pure enjoyment. Driving with her to a barbecue, a fruit salad in my lap, and her twins - her girl twins - in the back seat? Out of my comfort zone. And that was before she started asking me for dating lessons, and wondering how to explain that she couldn’t have sex before marriage. I had it under control, though. I was coping. Until four sisters of mine decided to go looking for their sperm donor.

It's my first day as the new reporter covering New Zealand's famous rugby team. I'm an American who knows nothing about rugby, but after taking one step into the locker room after the game, I'm a huge fan. These massive tough men are true alphas. And there's one who stands taller than the rest. Akea Saluni. The Samoan god. Covered in tribal tattoos, this chiseled man has muscles for days. He puts the moan in Samoan. He makes the Rock look like a pebble. He brings me to my knees. And once this possessive man lays his dark eyes on me, that's exactly where I'm going to stay.

State of my professional life: Brilliant, if counted in terms of sales of eight Poppy Cantwell children's books starring my often-confused blue hippo, Hazel; the very substantial proceeds from selling my Kiwi Adventures New Zealand glamping business; and any number of glossy magazine articles about my charmed existence. Of course, I couldn't seem to write or draw anymore, but that would pass. Surely.

People who say “love is trust” probably didn’t grow up in a cult. My name is Daisy Nabhitha Kittredge. I chose it myself. As an RN in the emergency department in one of New Zealand’s largest hospitals, there wasn’t much left in me of the 16-year-old girl, covered from neck to ankle and not allowed to make eye contact with a boy, who’d run away with five dollars in her pocket and terror in her heart.