Book : Chill Factor A Novel - Brown, Sandra

Descripción

- ANTES DE COMPRAR PREGUNTE FECHA DE ENTREGA.
- ENVIAMOS POR MERCADOENVIOS
- PUEDE RETIRAR POR AHORA SOLO POR QUILMES, MICROCENTRO ESTA CERRADO, POR ESO...
- EN CABA (CAPITAL FEDERAL) ENVIAMOS SIN CARGO ESTE PRODUCTO.
- FORMA DE PAGO : MERCADOPAGO
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- SOMOS IMPORTADORES DIRECTOS, ESTE PRODUCTO SE COMPRA Y SE IMPORTA DESDE ESTADOS UNIDOS, ESTO IMPLICA QUE USTED ESTA COMPRANDO EL MISMO PRODUCTO QUE COMPRARÍA UN CLIENTE DE ESE PAÍS.

- ANTES DE REALIZAR UNA CONSULTA, VISUALICE TODAS LAS IMAGENES DEL PRODUCTO.
Descripción provista por la editorial :

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Seeing Red comes a suspense novel about a woman trapped in a remote cabin with a man who may be a serial killer.Five women are missing from the sleepy mountain town of Cleary, North Carolina, and a blue ribbon has been left near where each woman was last seen. Lilly Martin has returned to Cleary to close the sale of her cabin. But when her car skids and strikes a stranger, Ben Tierney, as he emerges from the woods, theyve no choice but to wait out a brutal blizzard in the cabin. And as the hours of their confinement mount, Lilly wonders if the greater threat to her safety isnt the storm, but the stranger beside her.... Review Virtuoso plot twists...Browns latest thriller engages the primal senses. --Kirkus ReviewsLust, jealousy, and murder suffuse Browns crisp thriller. --Publishers Weekly About the Author Sandra Brown is the author of seventy-three New York Times bestsellers, has published over eighty novels, and has upwards of eighty million copies of her books in print worldwide. Her work has been translated into thirty-five languages. Four books have been adapted for film. She lives in Texas. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter 1 The grave was substandard. The storm was forecast to be a record breaker. Little more than a shallow bowl gouged out of unyielding earth, the grave had been dug for Millicent Gunn -- age eighteen, short brown hair, delicate build, five feet four inches tall, reported missing a week ago. The grave was long enough to accommodate her height. Its depth, or lack thereof, could be remedied in the spring, when the ground began to thaw. If scavengers didnt dispose of the body before then. Ben Tierney shifted his gaze from the new grave to the others nearby. Four of them. Forest debris and vegetative decay provided natural camouflage, yet each lent subtle variations to the rugged topography if one knew what to look for. A dead tree had fallen across one, concealing it entirely except to someone with a discerning eye. Like Tierney. He took one last look into the empty, shallow grave, then picked up the shovel at his feet and backed away. As he did, he noticed the dark imprints left by his boots in the white carpet of sleet. They didnt concern him overmuch. If the meteorologists were calling it right, the footprints would soon be covered by several inches of frozen precipitation. When the ground thawed, the prints would be absorbed into the mud. In any case, he didnt stop to worry about them. He had to get off the mountain. Now. Hed left his car on the road a couple hundred yards from the summit and the makeshift graveyard. Although he was now moving downhill, there was no path to follow through the dense woods. Thick ground cover gave him limited traction, but the terrain was uneven and hazardous, made even more so by the blowing precipitation that hampered his vision. Though he was in a hurry, he was forced to pick his way carefully to avoid a misstep. Weathermen had been predicting this storm for days. A confluence of several systems had the potential of creating one of the worst winter storms in recent memory. People in its projected path were being advised to take precautions, stock provisions, and rethink travel plans. Only a fool would have ventured onto the mountain today. Or someone with pressing business to take care of. Like Tierney. The cold drizzle that had been falling since early afternoon had turned into freezing rain mixed with sleet. Pellets of it stung his face like pinpricks as he thrashed through the forest. He hunched his shoulders, bringing his collar up to his ears, which were already numb from cold. The wind velocity had increased noticeably. Trees were taking a beating, their naked branches clacking together like rhythm sticks in the fierce wind. It stripped needles off the evergreens and whipped them
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