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Sabtu, 19 Februari 2011

Free Download The Supplement Handbook: A Trusted Expert's Guide to What Works & What's Worthless for More Than 100 Conditions

Free Download The Supplement Handbook: A Trusted Expert's Guide to What Works & What's Worthless for More Than 100 Conditions

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The Supplement Handbook: A Trusted Expert's Guide to What Works & What's Worthless for More Than 100 Conditions

The Supplement Handbook: A Trusted Expert's Guide to What Works & What's Worthless for More Than 100 Conditions


The Supplement Handbook: A Trusted Expert's Guide to What Works & What's Worthless for More Than 100 Conditions


Free Download The Supplement Handbook: A Trusted Expert's Guide to What Works & What's Worthless for More Than 100 Conditions

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The Supplement Handbook: A Trusted Expert's Guide to What Works & What's Worthless for More Than 100 Conditions

About the Author

MARK A. MOYAD, MD, MPH, is the Jenkins/Pokemper director of complementary and alternative medicine at the University of Michigan Medical Center. He is the primary author of more than 130 medical journal articles on the subjects of lifestyle changes and supplements (more than any other expert) and has given more than 5,000 medical lectures to consumers and health care professionals. He lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan. JANET LEE, LAc, has been writing about fitness, health, and nutrition for the last 20 years. She is also a licensed acupuncturist with a private practice in Los Angeles.

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Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

1NAVIGATING THE SUPPLEMENT WORLDMAYBE YOU CAME TO THIS BOOK because you'd like a better understanding of the supplements you're already taking. More likely, though, you're probably baffled and confused as to where to begin. The supplement world can be overwhelming, to say the least, but I am here to help.Too often, in an attempt to navigate and make sense of the excess of choices, barrage of information, and varying opinions in the supplement market, consumers take the crowdsourcing approach: polling their friends to see what pills they're popping, doing an exhaustive Internet search, then heading to the store to stock up on a host of supplements.I believe the days of dabbling in dietary supplements are over. Thousands of products debut every year and hundreds (sometimes thousands) of research studies come out every month, just in the areas of diet and supplements! If an "expert" is only dabbling part-time in this area but dishing out information to you, he is being reckless, especially since so many supplements are the equivalent of drugs.I've been in the dietary supplement world for more than 30 years, and it is truly my passion. I don't just look at the bottom line in an abstract or at the conclusion or focus of one study. I go through a detailed, 70-point checklist (see page 461) of criteria to truly decipher whether anything can be gleaned from a study or a summary of studies. I draw on my own experience of working with patients on a daily basis. I take a hard look at specific conditions and ailments and deduce when a drug might work better than a supplement. When I have a question about the latest cancer treatment, I call an oncologist. When some of the world's top doctors have supplement questions, they call me.I know the world of supplements can be complicated and convoluted. That's why I wrote this book as a guide to help you steer through it. Each year, just when I think I've heard every question, comment, or conspiracy theory about dietary supplements and nutrition recommendations, someone surprises me with a new one! So I'm giving you a small sampling of my responses to some common questions and declarations from the 5,000 lectures I've given in every corner of the world. I have also sprinkled some mythbusting information throughout, labeled as "FACT" or "FALSE," as well as some of my favorite factoids, labeled as "Moyad Fact" (which you'll find throughout the book). My hope is that this chapter will help you navigate and understand more clearly the massive world of supplements.THE MIDDLE WAYI use the excerpt below from The Teaching of Buddha to describe my approach to diet and lifestyle as well as supplements: Be educated but not extreme."To those who choose the path that leads to Enlightenment, there are two extremes that should be carefully avoided. First, there is the extreme of indulgence in the desires of the body. Second, there is the opposite extreme of ascetic discipline, torturing one's body and mind unreasonably."BEFORE YOU BEGIN"Why should I be taking supplements?"You don't necessarily need to take a supplement if you're perfectly healthy, just like you wouldn't take a drug if you didn't have any health issues. If you do have a health condition, though, or you're at higher risk of a disease, such as heart disease or diabetes due to lifestyle or family history, you may want to consider taking a supplement just like you would consider taking a drug. What I've found over the last 30 years is that virtually all people have their own unique story that involves some health concern, large or small. In other words, almost everyone could potentially benefit from some type of supplement, even if it's something as simple as a multivitamin to reduce cancer or cataract risk."How are supplements different from drugs?"To me, there is no difference between an effective supplement and a drug for a specific medical condition. Some of the most interesting supplements mimic the actions of pharmaceuticals, or vice versa (for example, red yeast rice extract versus statins for lowering cholesterol or capsaicin in low concentration versus the higher concentration prescription-only form for neuropathic pain). When a supplement works like an available drug, you should have more confidence in its ability to have a tangible effect (and, like drugs, not necessarily without side effects). In fact, many supplements sold in the United States are only available as drugs in other countries. (The over-the-counter supplement alpha-lipoic acid, to give you just one example, is sold as a prescription drug in parts of Europe and Asia.)On the flip side, many drugs are derived from natural sources, including some of the biggest-selling drugs of all time: Cholesterol-lowering statins originally came from a fungus/yeast; metformin, used to treat diabetes, originates from the French lilac; and aspirin, a pain reliever and over-the- counter anti-heart attack pill, was created from willow bark. Bottom line: The difference between a drug and an effective supplement is only perception, not reality. I'm hoping this book will spur a change. Throughout, for each ailment and condition, I will give you the full answer: If a drug is more effective than a supplement in a specific situation, I have no problem saying so."Do I need an annual checkup to determine my supplement needs?"Not necessarily, but you should have an annual discussion with a trusted doctor.A research review of nine clinical trials, published in the Cochrane Database of Systematic Reviews, looked at 182,000 participants and found annual checkups did not improve health and often led to harmful or unnecessary tests. In fact, having an annual checkup did not appear to reduce the risk of hospitalization or disability, referrals to a specialist, or time missed from work. Sometimes when you're looking for a tractor in a haystack, you find a needle. In other words, even though you're typically being screened for "big" issues at a checkup, sometimes your doctor will find a small issue that you might then feel compelled to treat. Often, the benefits do not outweigh the negative side effects of treatment. This is why some cancer screening tests (prostate, breast, and thyroid, for example) are more controversial now. Let me give you an example: You go to the doctor for some complaint or maybe for an annual checkup. She notices that your PSA (prostate-specific antigen) levels are elevated, so she orders a biopsy. Then, she finds a small tumor in your prostate and now you're completely stressed out and anxious. You opt for treatment and endure significant side effects, including incontinence and erectile dysfunction. But it's very possible that the tumor, although malignant, would never have been fatal in the first place because they don't always grow to be life-threatening, and you would have been perfectly fine without treatment. In cases like these, the treatment is worse than the problem.Of course, this doesn't mean you should never be tested for these cancers; screening saves lives. It just means many Americans are being overtested, which can lead to unnecessary procedures, prescriptions, and supplements. However, I am a fan of personalized risk assessment for anyone who's concerned about cardiovascular disease (see Chapter 2), so talk with your doctor about that."How do I know if a supplement will help or hurt me?"People come up to me at lectures or in the clinic all the time to tell me that they read something negative about a supplement they're taking and are concerned but don't want to stop using it. One of the best ways to get to the bottom of any potential issue is to stop taking the supplement and see what happens. I call this the guinea pig effect. Likewise, one of the best ways to figure out if a supplement could help a condition is to start taking it at a low dosage."Should a ton of studies be done before a supplement is considered safe?"I frequently recommend supplements that don't have large, randomized, double-blind placebo studies to back them up as long as they are inexpensive and safe; they have preliminary research for the condition in question and minimal side effects; and there are few other options (or those options are costly). For example, the research on vitamin B2 for migraine prevention is still preliminary, but it's impressive. The vitamin is dirt cheap and the side effects are negligible, so it's worth a try. The prescription options for migraines are expensive, have side effects, and don't always work. Plus, up to 50 percent of users have trouble functioning after taking them, so better alternatives are needed. This is the essence of benefit versus risk.I would love to live in a world where every supplement fulfills all my research criteria (see the Appendix), but even conventional drugs don't work this way; it's part of the art of medicine. Few things in medicine come with a 100 percent assurance of effectiveness, so it comes down to probability and your willingness to accept a certain amount of risk to gain certain benefits."Are quality-control testing organizations useful?"They can be. Both Consumer Reports and ConsumerLab.com tend to watch the supplement industry. ConsumerLab.com gets criticized for not being a "real" lab--they send out samples to reputable testing facilities--but I think they're providing a decent service.The only problem I have with some of the quality-control testing labs in the United States, which will remain nameless, is that they are discriminatory. For example, these labs will not test sexual enhancement products, either because they have to do with sex (gasp!) or because of the sordid, negative associations they anticipate for getting in bed (pun intended) with these products. This is one of the largest categories within supplements! And they should all be allowed equal testing. Erectile dysfunction and female sexual dysfunction are real medical conditions that should be handled like any other, but instead the testing labs see them as stereotypes. I look forward to these labs being exposed for their at times discriminatory behavior."What's the difference between a dietary study and a dietary supplement study?"I'll often see a dietary study referenced as support for a supplement or, more rarely, vice versa. A dietary study looks at the nutrients in certain foods, while a dietary supplement study looks at taking a specific supplement. You can't apply the conclusions about nutrients in the diet, say omega-3s or vitamin D, to the individual supplements. It's like comparing apples and tennis balls. For example, based on dietary studies, researchers believed beta-carotene was the active component in many plant foods that was reducing the risk of heart disease and cancer. But in several supplement studies of beta-carotene, people who took the pill ended up with an increased risk of lung cancer if they were current or possibly even former smokers, and in all the other trials, it showed no health benefit. (And there went hundreds of millions of dollars on clinical trial research!) Similarly, eating foods with selenium might reduce the risk of cancer, but taking selenium to prevent cancer has shown no benefit (and, again, it cost hundreds of millions of taxpayer dollars to show this).The take-home message here is, if someone is selling you a supplement and referring to dietary studies with that ingredient, it proves nothing and it's likely a waste of your money. Always look at how the supplement itself has performed in clinical trials. As I was writing this section, I came across an "expert" on the Internet using studies of magnesium rich-food that showed a reduced risk of bone fractures and high blood pressure as a reason to buy a special magnesium supplement. And the beat goes on!"The supplement business is a racket! There are huge quality control and safety issues!"I hear this all the time. Those who bash dietary supplements across the board, claiming that drug-supplement interactions have reached epidemic proportions and quality control is nonexistent, just spread misinformation and panic. The biggest pill problem in the United States, by far, is death from an unintentional prescription drug overdose. And about 70 people die each day as a result of this, according to the latest report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention; that's more than 27,000 deaths per year and one every 19 minutes! Pain, antianxiety, and insomnia medications are most often to blame.I have worked on supplement investigations where people have died, and it's always a tragedy, but those cases don't compare to the 70 people dying each day-- or the thousands of others who become seriously and dangerously addicted to these medicines. Yes, we need to drastically improve quality control in the supplement world, but let's put it in perspective, folks."Do I need blood testing to check for multiple nutrient deficiencies?"There are clearly some cases in which you need a blood test if your doctor suspects a nutrient deficiency--say, with potassium, magnesium, iron, or vitamin B12-- especially when a drug increases the risk of one. (For example, the cancer drug Zytiga reduces blood potassium in many patients.) Iron blood testing for anemia is a gold standard for women with fatigue from excessive blood loss from menstruation, and B12 and magnesium testing may be warranted if you're on acid reflux medication long term.Nutritional deficiency testing should always be handled on a case-by-case basis. Most people do not need a massive nutritional panel that looks at amino acids, vitamins, and minerals, where inevitably something shows up low and you're told you need a supplement to correct it. If your panel does reveal some deficiencies, always ask if correcting them (taking more of whatever nutrient is low) will produce a tangible, beneficial result. Let me explain: Hundreds of millions of dollars have been spent on studies looking at how high doses of vitamins B6 and B12 and folic acid affect a com£d in the blood called homocysteine, which experts believe is a marker for cardiovascular disease in most individuals. The Bs did, in fact, lower blood homocysteine levels, and supplement companies jumped on that. But after several decades, experts are realizing that lowering homocysteine doesn't really have much impact on heart health for most people. In other words, just because a blood test improves does not mean you will improve-- with the exception of the obvious ones, such as cholesterol and glucose.Again, some individual tests are worthwhile, but the majority are absolute nonsense. Be leery about extensive blood panel tests for the following:Amino acidsAntioxidantsB-complex vitaminsFatty acidsMetabolitesMineralsVitaminsI often hear from people who have been dealing with celiac disease or Crohn's disease for years, both of which can impact nutrient absorption, or from those who've been on long-term extreme diets and are curious about possible nutrient deficiencies. If you're in a similar situation, please read the Bariatric Surgery section (see page 90), which lists a comprehensive panel of proven nutrient deficiency tests that can help you determine your own nutritional issues.

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Product details

Paperback: 512 pages

Publisher: Rodale Books; 1 edition (November 4, 2014)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1623360358

ISBN-13: 978-1623360351

Product Dimensions:

7.5 x 1.3 x 9.1 inches

Shipping Weight: 2 pounds (View shipping rates and policies)

Average Customer Review:

4.4 out of 5 stars

161 customer reviews

Amazon Best Sellers Rank:

#244,695 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

This book breaks the information down into various different diseases/conditions and what works and what doesn't work in terms of supplements.Unfortunately there is no summary broken down into the different supplements and what they are usefull for, but still a fair effort in pulling together a lot of research and studies on various vitamins and supplements. Additionally Mark Moyd correctly promotes healthy diet and lifestyle as first preference over supplementing. Were this the full picture I would have given his book 4.5 stars, however there are a couple of serious mistakes from someone who promotes themselves as a supplement guru. Mark keeps referring to vitamin B9 as Folic Acid, which is the synthetic form of the the vitamin B9 (the natural form is folate). Many people cannot process the synthetic version in their bodies and it can build up to toxic levels. This should never be promoted in any vitamin book. Secondly, he appears to be a believer in statins for treating high cholesterol. Anyone spending half an hour on the internet can find out how damaging and useless statins are in treating anything. For reference, research the names: Duane Graveline M.D. Dr malcolm Kendrick, Johnny Bowden PH.D. C.N.S. & Stephen Sinatra MD F.A.C.C.

The older I get, the more I resist running to my doctor for prescriptions, and yet, too often my body is sending me signals that one thing or another needs correction or tweaking. If I can solve it naturally, I try to do so-- though I do have a good doctor, and he helps to keep me healthy. He's not particularly well-versed in dietary supplements, however, so I have had to do much investigation on my own. I live 2 blocks from a wonderful natural foods store, and I can spend hours reading the labels on the various supplements-- and it can be enormously confusing. The info gleaned from Google searching is mind-numbing, and as soon as I get convinced of one thing, I will immediately find three articles to refute the same information.Author Mark Moyad is a "real" doctor, and has a great deal of experience and research under his belt. Each ailment is handled separately in a chapter, and he methodically rates supplements as to effectiveness. He then tells you what lifestyle changes could also address the malady, and he tells you what supplements don't work at all. He tells you not just what, but WHY.... without lapsing into long-winded scientific jargon that I can't understand. I bought the Kindle version so I can have his info in my bag when I'm out shopping. Currently, I'm following his advice for migraines, high cholesterol, and insomnia---- good results, so far!

Dr. Moyad has an impressive resume in his field. I've had the opportunity to attend one of his presentations in person and he is someone I found not just dynamic in his presentation but trustworthy, able to field any question that came his way and above all he seems to be extremely dedicated to his profession- my husband is a victim of prostate cancer and with that comes myriad questions on any number of issues from the diagnosis itself to his treatment, nutrition, supplements, battling side-effects of chemotherapy, managing his blood pressure, cholesterol and maintaining proper weight and a healthy diet and exercise regimen. Dr. Moyad address all of this in his book in an easy to read fashion- the book truly is a handbook that we reference constantly. I can't recommend it highly enough- especially since having the opportunity to meet him and see him in action personally. My husband and I trust his expertise and commitment to spreading information that is vital to a long and healthy life. He also takes the head-spinning wealth of marketing hype and misinformation around supplements and presents clear information on what is sound, safe information and instruction.

This book is a total waste of time and money. “A Trusted Expert”, I think not! This doctor is just another product of a teaching institute that takes it’s cues from the pharmaceutical companies. Death by pharmaceutical drugs is now the third leading cause of death in the U.S. Dr Moyad’s time would have been better spent applying his “70 Point Research Checklist” to pharmaceutical drugs. Then he could have provided something of real value.Supplements can be extremely beneficial, especially when you take the modern American diet into consideration.Do not believe much of the advise that is contained in this book. Do some followup research on your own to see where other “Experts” stand on the advice and use of supplements. For example, see how the Vitamin D Council’s advice compares to this authors recommendations regarding Vitamin D levels and supplementation. Also please do research when choosing the type, dosage, and brand of supplements that you put in your body. Unfortunately, the Centrum Silver that is recommended by this author is not something that I would call a high quality vitamin.His 7 recommendations in chapter 2 about ways to live a longer, better, and stronger life is the one of the only worthwhile parts of the book. If more American’s followed these type’s of preventative measures, the world off healthcare would look much different that it does today. Unfortunately this would have very negative effect on today’s profit driven corporate healthcare system who’s motto seems to be “a pound of cure can make up for an once of presentation. There is was other helpful bit of advice that I found to be helpful in this book. It was the authors advise to not mindlessly take supplements without a real objective or ailment. While I believe that pretty much everyone can benefit from taking a quality multi-vitamin, additional suppementation should always involve quality research and have a valid purpose. There are plenty of good resources aviable for research on myriad of health issues. The majority of people need to become much more involved when it comes to research and advocacy that are related to health issues.

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Senin, 07 Februari 2011

Ebook Download Brand Bible: The Complete Guide to Building, Designing, and Sustaining BrandsBy Debbie Millman

Ebook Download Brand Bible: The Complete Guide to Building, Designing, and Sustaining BrandsBy Debbie Millman

Book, truth good friend of your own while being in a lonely time. Reserve, is a buddy for you to come with when remaining in a difficult time of job deadline. Publication is a way that you have to hold everyday making better future. When a person is leading to get lots of tasks and also you have few times easily, it will certainly be better for you to spend it intelligently.

Brand Bible: The Complete Guide to Building, Designing, and Sustaining BrandsBy Debbie Millman

Brand Bible: The Complete Guide to Building, Designing, and Sustaining BrandsBy Debbie Millman


Brand Bible: The Complete Guide to Building, Designing, and Sustaining BrandsBy Debbie Millman


Ebook Download Brand Bible: The Complete Guide to Building, Designing, and Sustaining BrandsBy Debbie Millman

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Brand Bible: The Complete Guide to Building, Designing, and Sustaining BrandsBy Debbie Millman

Brand Bible is a comprehensive resource on brand design fundamentals. It looks at the influences of modern design going back through time, delivering a short anatomical overview and examines brand treatments and movements in design. You'll learn the steps necessary to develop a successful brand system from defining the brand attributes and assessing the competition, to working with materials and vendors, and all the steps in between. The author, who is the president of the design group at Sterling Brands, has overseen the design/redesign of major brands including Pepsi, Burger King, Tropicana, Kleenex, and many more.

  • Sales Rank: #260335 in Books
  • Brand: Brand: Rockport Publishers
  • Published on: 2012-02-01
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 9.50" h x .81" w x 9.37" l, 2.33 pounds
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 312 pages
Features
  • Used Book in Good Condition

Review

"A collaboration between the students and faculty of School of Visual Arts (SVA) in New York City, this book, edited by Millman (chair, masters in branding program, SVA; Brand Thinking and Other Noble Pursuits), investigates, first, how brands and branding became such an integral and ubiquitous aspect of advertising and, second, how brands are crafted. Early chapters trace the origins of commercial art, trademarks, and conspicuous consumption in Europe. Later chapters outline how branding has developed as an extension of the U.S. marketing industry. There is discussion of Ivory Soap, Band-Aids, Lacoste sportswear, MTV, Google, and Oprah, among many brands. The particular challenges of establishing a completely new product or service are also addressed. The final chapters are made up of brief interviews with brand consultants or managers about design. VERDICT: A well-researched and accessible how-to and history. Besides attracting marketers and entrepreneurs, the book’s 300 illustrations (many ads and product images) will also appeal to commercial artists and graphic designers." - Library Journal

About the Author

In addition to serving as the president of the design group at Sterling Brands, Debbie Millman is the chair of the Masters Program in Branding at the School of Visual Arts, she is the current national president of the AIGA, and she hosts “Design Matters with Debbie Millman,” on designobserver.com, a weekly radio show about design.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Starbucks

Changzhi Lee and Jeremy DiPaolo

In 1983, Howard Schultz went to Italy. What he saw there would change his career, his company, and the way we think about consumption.

On March 30, 1971, three partners (two teachers and a writer) opened Starbucks Coffee and Tea in Seattle’s Pike Place Market. Inspired by entrepreneur Alfred Peet—whose Peet’s Coffee & Tea had introduced artisanal coffee to the United States in the late ’60s—the first Starbucks sold high-quality coffee beans and high-end coffee-making equipment. Other than the occasional sampler, the early store didn’t feature the beverages for which the company is now so renowned. By 1980, the company had four stores in Seattle, still focused on selling gourmet coffee beans and their supporting accessories. The shift that would transform the company came from Howard Schultz, who joined as director of marketing in 1982.

While in Milan for a housewares convention, Schultz was struck by the extraordinary environment of the espresso bars that dotted the city. Not only did these bars serve excellent, robust coffee, but they were also gathering places. People called each other by name.8 These spaces formed a big part of Italy’s societal glue. Instantly recognizing an opportunity for Starbucks to capitalize on this model, Schultz sought to extract the essence of Italian coffee culture—high-quality handcrafted drinks in a convivial setting—and import it to the United States. However, it would take a falling out with the partners, the formation of his own company, and the eventual acquisition of Starbucks, in 1987, to see his vision come to light. When Schultz finally became CEO of Starbucks, he immediately set to work on implementing his entrepreneurial vision for the company’s expansion and eventual dominance of the specialty coffee market. And selling great coffee was only part of the equation.

Starbucks’ relevance as an iconic brand is evidenced by its ability to capture the spirit of Schultz’s beloved Italian espresso bars and not simply offer a great product, but build a culture around the way people consume it. The brand, in short, was establishing a platform for personalized experience.

Before Starbucks, aficionados had to rely on their relationship with a coffee vendor to ensure they would receive their beverage “their way.” And still, enter any neighborhood coffeehouse, and the consumer’s cup is at the relative mercy of the barista’s skill and interest level. Starbucks, through its rigid, systematized process of drink making and its accompanying language—which has been parodied since its inception—allows consumers to receive the same “iced triple grande two-pump vanilla nonfat latte” at any location, any time.

During the 1990s, the very moment Starbucks began its massive expansion into multiple U.S. markets, Generation X, with its emphasis on individual values, found a particular resonance with the ability to personalize (and identify with) a coffee concoction. The brand’s Seattle roots gave it a special kind of authenticity, as the city would become a cultural beacon of music, fashion, and film during this time.

Offering customers a place to gather and share in the Starbucks experience was a key factor of the brand’s significance and popularity in the marketplace. Schultz set out to create an environment that was a midpoint between the workplace and home, a goal again informed by his experience in Milan. This “third place,” as he would later articulate it, was to be that convivial gathering spot for people to use as they wished: reading, chatting, or simply enjoying a moment over a frothy cappuccino. In those moments, consumers were taking in the entire multisensory experience: the flavors of “their” beverage, the call and echo of drink names, the punctuated hissing of the espresso machine and the rich aromas that followed, the mellow tunes, and the variety of customers waiting their turn for the same experience. Starbucks was building a community all its own, and the company did it on both sides of the counter.

Every employee of Starbucks is called a “partner,” even Howard Schultz. This corporate meta-tag very simply illustrates the company’s commitment to an internal culture that fosters the wealth of the company through collective achievement. Intensive training for all “partners” is met with competitive compensation packages that include stock options and health benefits for part-time staff. This attitude toward employees was almost unheard of at the time. But it allowed Starbucks to build a passionate culture of people who took stake in the company’s success, whether they were company leaders or part-time baristas.

Schultz captured the essence of that first trip to Milan and built a place where people could share in it. That first experience, which is now eloquently pruned and articulated as legend in Starbucks history, has gone through many iterations as the company has evolved. That the essence of it is unmistakably brewed into every cup, felt in every store, and understood through the appearance of the green-and-white Siren is testament to the deep equity the brand carries across the countries where it has arrived. The Starbucks phenomenon also speaks to the enormous potential for personal experience to shape our world.

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Sabtu, 05 Februari 2011

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  • Published on: 2007-02-01
  • Number of items: 1
  • Binding: Unknown Binding

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Senin, 24 Januari 2011

Get Free Ebook The Technique of Film and Video Editing: History, Theory, and Practice

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The Technique of Film and Video Editing: History, Theory, and Practice

Review

"From D.W. Griffith to MTV, from silent movies to action films, Dancyger explores not only history, techniques, and the social aspects of film and video, but he also looks at how technology has affected film and video making and editing. This isn't a quick read but definitely worthwhile if you want to gain an understanding of what it takes to be an excellent director and editor.” -Theano Nikitas, Camcorder & ComputerVideoPraise for previous editions:"Ken's additions to his book show all of us who love and study the craft of editing, a real understanding of the importance and stimulating impact editing has in helping tell a story, create mood, and shape characters."--Sam Pollard, film editor, Girl 6, Clockers, Mo Better Blues "Dancyger's book is an excellent introduction to the art of manipulating moving pictures and sound for students, amateurs, hobbiests and professionals alike." - Videomaker "...a thoroughly "reader friendly" introduction and survey of proven editing techniques and how those techniques influence the editing process..." - The Bookwatch, Sept. 2006"

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About the Author

Ken Dancyger is the author of numerous books on screenwriting, editing, and production. He conducts screenwriting forums and workshops in North America, Europe, and Asia. A past chair of Undergraduate studies in the Department of Film and Television at NYU, he is currently Professor of Film and Television at the Tisch School of the Arts at New York University.

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Product details

Paperback: 488 pages

Publisher: Routledge; 5th edition (November 12, 2010)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0240813979

ISBN-13: 978-0240813974

Product Dimensions:

7.5 x 1.1 x 9.2 inches

Shipping Weight: 2.3 pounds (View shipping rates and policies)

Average Customer Review:

4.0 out of 5 stars

36 customer reviews

Amazon Best Sellers Rank:

#276,601 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

I bought this book for a class and I find it to be a great resource. It doesn't teach you how to edit but goes into what successful editing is. It goes into the topics of filmaking including how sound and visuals add to and often create a movie's overall experience. It's a bit of a dry read but I find it very useful that he gives examples from movies. I only wish this book came with a CD of these scenes instead of still shots.

I got this book for class. It has drawings and explanations that make editing easier. It is pretty wordy, but in a good way.

Could not finish it, felt like having film history class all over again, not much useful stuff stood out.

This book has some good insight but it seems more like a book about how to review movies. Kinda dry read!I used this bok for my editing class and learned absolutely very little about how to edit. I learned more reading Walter Murch's "In The Blink of an Eye" than this!

Delivered exactly as promised and ordered

This is a great read, although text-booky, but really covers the history of editing, and the types of editing and how it evolved over time. I highly recommend it! Buy it, don't rent it!

one of the greatest books for theory of Editing and also best book to learn about Editing.

This is a well written and well illustrated book that addresses rather summarily the history of the cut, montage, juxtaposition and is a good, quick read.

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Jumat, 21 Januari 2011

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  • Sales Rank: #6810671 in Books
  • Published on: 1928
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Selasa, 04 Januari 2011

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#1 New York Times bestselling author Lora Leigh delivers the heat with another steamy novel featuring the Mackay sisters, following Nauti Enchantress and Nauti Temptress.

Zoey Mackay is as tough and savvy as anyone. But when an unknown assailant slips her a psychoactive drug, she descends into a literal nightmare of violence and blood. And even after she wakes, the horror haunts her, spurring her to learn how to defend herself. But her defense may not be enough for a different kind of opponent.

Enigmatic Homeland Security honcho Chatham Bromleagh Doogan is a man with power and the will to use it. When he rescues Zoey from the depths of her drug-induced delirium, he swears to find the bastards who almost destroyed her spirit and make them pay.

But when the shadowy threat returns, will Zoey and Doogan have the strength to hold onto each other and survive the coming storm?

  • Sales Rank: #308444 in Books
  • Published on: 2015-11-10
  • Released on: 2015-11-10
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 8.26" h x .89" w x 5.44" l, 1.00 pounds
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 352 pages

Review
Praise for the books of Lora Leigh

“Lora Leigh knows how to turn up the heat.”—Under the Covers

“Smoking hot.”—Fiction Vixen

About the Author
Lora Leigh is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Nauti Boys series and the Breed novels.

Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Prologue


Something was wrong. It oozed through her senses like an oily presence, determined to overwhelm her, to overtake her.. Dark, invisible chains held her in that place between sleep and conscious awareness. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t push past the restraints tightening around her.

Panic raced through her. She knew she had to fight, knew she had to find a way to open her eyes, to force herself to fight. She had to. If she didn’t, then she could die there.

She had to open her eyes. She had to see who was doing this, had to remember. . . . But she couldn’t force them open, she couldn’t move or fight. With each second the sense of danger grew, wrapping around her with razor tipped bonds.

Hurting her..

Her blood began heating, almost boiling through her veins with so much pain, such agony. It began in her arm, and inch by inch worked along her body until even her brain was on fire.

She couldn’t scream. Her voice didn’t work, the screams and the pleas couldn’t find a path to emit the tortured sounds reverberating through her head.

Icy terror ricocheted through her.

All I have to do is accept it’s real. Just accept it isn’t a dream and the pain will go away. I just have to accept it. It’s not a dream. Accept it, and the pain will stop.

Just accept it.

Accept it and I won’t hurt anymore.

That wasn’t her voice. It wasn’t her thoughts.

What else could it be? If it wasn’t hers, then what could it be?

Oh God, the pain!

It was real. It was really happening. It was real.

The pain eased marginally. Boiling, lava-hot agony no longer ripped at her senses but the pain was still intense, excruciating.

She just wanted it to go away.

The whispers moved around her, voices in her head, or were they in the room with her? Demands that she accept it was real.

She was accepting. God, yeah, it was real. Every agonizing second of it was real.

She just couldn’t figure out how it was real. No one should be able to get to her here, at her mother’s inn. Her suite was the safest place she could be. Her mother’s lover, Timothy, was a retired federal agent and revered security gadgets. He would never allow anyone to hurt her like this. She had to wake up. She had to make it stop.

Pain exploded through Zoey’s head with the force of a blow connecting with it, sending shards of white-hot pain tearing through it.

This wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dream. It was real.

“Fight, Zoey . . .” It was a hiss of sound more than an actual order. “You have to fight. Harley will kill you . . .

Harley?

Why would Harley hurt her?

“Look at him, Zoey.” That hissing demand was like static at her ear. “Look at him. See Harley. See who’s hurting you, Zoey.”

Struggling to force her eyes open, she tried to cry out and couldn’t. Tried to deny it was happening.

Harley was on the bed with her, smiling, his gentle green eyes filled with laughter like they always were. Except he was naked. Naked and aroused and he was pulling at the elastic waistband of her pajama shorts, ripping the side of them, determined to remove them.

Dizzy, sick to her stomach with pain and confusion, she tried to fight, struggling against the harsh hands tearing at her clothes, ripping them from her and leaving her naked.

The air surrounding her was icy, sinking through her skin to her bones as she bucked against the hands holding her down.

Twisting beneath him, she managed to roll from the bed, scrambling to get to her feet, to get to the door of her suite and rush from the room. She had to get away. If she could just get Timothy’s attention, then he’d make Harley stop. He’d find out why her friend was trying to hurt her like this.

Before she could get to her feet, he tripped her, throwing her to the floor. He flipped her to her back and came over her again. Smiling, always smiling at her.

A flash of a darker expression, a darker face flickered across Harley’s features. A jagged scar across his eye, a mean, malicious gaze, and eyes that weren’t Harley’s.

Terror raced through her mind. What was happening to her?

She kicked, trying to cry, trying to scream . . .

Oh God, what was happening to her? Why couldn’t she scream? Cry?

It was like a dream where all sound becomes blocked, unable to struggle free. But it wasn’t a dream.

Terror resounded in her mind, darkened her vision, and stole consciousness. A deep, black void yawned around her, threatening to pull her into it, to smother her. She was going to die here. If she didn’t fight, then she would die in the darkness.

Awareness returned seconds later, voices whispering around her, evil, ugly voices.

“Fight me, Zoey,” Harley demanded, his voice harder, rougher, unrecognizable as he stared down at her with a gentle green gaze despite the hate-filled sound of his voice. “Mackay bitch. Come on, fight me. Maybe I won’t make it hurt so bad. Come on, Zoey, if you don’t fight me I’m going to kill you. I’ll fuck you so deep, so hard, it will kill you.”

Fight him. It wasn’t a dream. Oh God, it wasn’t a dream.

She fought, hoarse, terrified sobs trapped inside her, given no voice but echoing through her head with such terror she felt strangled by it.

“Come back here, you silly bitch . . .” She managed to kick out at him, struggling to get away from him.

Why was he doing this? What was happening to him? To her? Why would he hurt her?

What had she done? Why was he so angry? The thought was barely coherent.

“Bitch. Humiliate me again,” he snarled in that voice so unlike his. “You humiliated me, Zoey.”

She shook her head desperately, fighting the hands grabbing at her breasts, bruising her nipples as he pulled at them.

“Bitch. You don’t question me,” he snarled.

Fury exploded in her head. Fury, terror, and a determination to fight, to defy him. She was a Mackay. He might kill her, but she refused to make it easy for him.

“No” she wheezed, so desperate to scream, fighting for enough air to scream until her lungs burned with it. Curling her fingers, enraged growls left her throat as she fought to claw him, to dig her nails into his flesh and rip it open.

He laughed at her.

“You going to fight me, little whore? Mackay whore. I’ll make you my whore. You’ll beg me to hurt you, to show you who’s boss.”

The hell he would. She would die first.

She would kill him before she let him do something so vile to her.

Hard hands snagged her ankles, jerking her legs apart again as Harley tried to slide between them.

He was going to rape her just as he threatened, and no matter how hard she tried, how hard she fought, she couldn’t escape him.

Harley . . . ?

His features twisted, flashed from Harley’s face to something else. From Harley’s deep blue eyes eyes to cold, pale ice-blue eyes. From Harley’s youthful features, to a flash, so fast it made no sense, to harder, more mature features.

She fought him, trying to slap him, hit him, fighting to find something, anything to protect herself, as she kicked out at him, her foot caught him high on the thigh, his hold loosening, allowing her to scramble away from him.

“Fight, bitch,” he growled with such black malevolence it was terrifying. “Fight me. If you don’t fight I’ll just hurt you worse. Go ahead. Kick.”

Oh God why was he doing this to her? Harley wouldn’t do this..

Pain exploded against the side of her head. He hit her. His fist slamming against her skull, scattering her senses.

Oh God, it hurt so bad.

He struck her again. An open-handed slap to her face.

Enraged, furious growls were all she could push past her throat as tears spilled from her eyes.

“Fight, bitch.”

She was fighting. Kicking, twisting beneath him, her nails digging furrows into his face, his shoulders.

“Fight me or I’m going to fuck you, Zoey. Where’s your weapon? Find it, bitch.”

Find her weapon? What weapon?

A scream tore from her as he came over her again, moving between her legs, one hand gripping his penis, lining it up between her thighs.

No, Harley, please. Please no. Sobbing, reaching behind her, she fought to find a weapon.

“Did you find the knife, Zoey?” Insidious, malicious, that ugly voice whispered through her mind.

“It’s right there. It’s right by your hand.”

Her fingers closed over the hilt of the knife.

“I’m going to kill you,” Harley snarled. “I’ll rape you until you die, Zoey, and then I’ll kill that fucking Dawg. And his prissy baby girl, Laken? I’ll rape her next. I’ll fuck her until she begs me . . .” His eyes jerked open wide.

Rage beat at her head, hysteria lashed at her senses. Her fists were beating out at him, slamming against him. He made a gurgling sound, his eyes dimming, turning dull before he fell over to the floor.

Then she saw the blood.

So much blood.

All over her. The knife in her hand, over her naked body, the floor and Harley’s body. It stained the wall, the furniture in her living room.

“Ahh ahh God . . .” she sobbed, the knife clattering to the floor, terror gouging at her, tearing through her mind, slamming into it with such force that agony resonated through her head and stole her consciousness.

“You killed me, Zoey,” Harley whispered in that rough, unfamiliar voice, his green eyes lifeless, dull as he stared up at her. “You killed me with that knife. Don’t you ever forget you killed me, Zoey.”

She stared at him, blood flowing around her like a stream, sticky and hot, washing over her feet, then her ankles as she watched it in horror.

“Don’t you ever forget, Zoey. Don’t you forget, you killed me . . .”

Run.

Run. You have to escape here. Run to Lyrica. Run now. She’ll make sure you’re safe. Find Lyrica . . . Tell her to find Sam. Lyrica has to find Sam. Confess to Sam. Only Lyrica and Sam can save you . . .

She had to find Lyrica.

She was so cold and dizzy, her senses rocking, pitching her back and forth until she was throwing up, fighting to remain conscious.

She couldn’t black out again.

Not again.

“You killed me, Zoey.” She felt something wet wiping over her face, the smell of vomit no longer assaulting her senses. “Why did you kill me, Zoey?”

“You can’t tell Dawg, Zoey. You can’t tell him you killed me. You know he’ll tell Natches. Remember? Natches said he loved me like a son. I was his protg. Remember how much Natches loves me, Zoey?”

Natches did love Harley. They were always hunting and shooting, and Natches said Harley was his heir to . . . To what? She couldn’t remember now. What was he Natches’s heir to?

The blackout came again, a vicious, agonizing explosion of pain that brought merciful blackness.

“I’m Natches’s heir,” dark and grating, the voice reminded her again. “Natches will kill you, Zoey. Like he killed his cousin Johnny all those years ago. Natches will kill you. He’ll pop your little head like a grape . . .”

“No,” she whispered, fighting to drag herself back to awareness. “No. Please . . .”

“Natches will kill you. Like he killed Johnny when Johnny tried to hurt Christa and Dawg. Remember, Zoey? You heard about it. Cousin Johnny tried to hurt Dawg and Christa and Natches popped his little head with a bullet. You killed me. You killed me, Zoey. Natches will enjoy killing you.”

Zoey forced her eyes open, blinking, pain raging through her head. She wasn’t in the suite she’d moved into at her mother’s Bed-and-Breakfast Inn any longer. The bedroom where she had killed Harley was gone. Instead, she was propped against the sliding patio door of her sister’s apartment just outside Somerset.

Lyrica.

Lyrica would help her. Her sister would help her, and maybe Natches wouldn’t kill her like he killed Johnny. She would find Sam, and she would tell Sam what happened. Sam would make sure Natches didn’t kill her.

“Lyrie.” She tried to knock at the door her head rested against.

The glass was cool against her temple but did nothing to help the pain. Her head felt scrambled, as if pieces had been rearranged inside it, leaving her with a feeling of disassociation and complete terror.

“Lyrie, please help me . . .” She tried to knock again, her voice hoarse, weak as she lay at her sister’s doorstep.

How had she gotten there?

Her breath hitched as sobs tried to escape yet still lay trapped inside her. She couldn’t scream or cry. Her voice was so raw and she was so weak. She wanted a drink of water so bad, but her stomach was still pitching, threatening to be sick again.

“Lyrie, please . . .” Where was her sister?

It was so cold. The cement of her sister’s small patio was like ice.

Oh God, was she dressed? Was she still naked?

She couldn’t tell. But she was so cold, so cold she was shuddering, icy from the inside out. Where was Lyrica? She was so scared. And she was so cold.

She needed to be warm again. Just for a minute. Just so she could think.

“Zoey?” It wasn’t her sister.

The voice was soft, gentle, as were the hands that pushed the hair back from her face with tender concern.

She forced her eyes open, staring into the confused, concerned gaze of her sister Lyrica’s neighbor, Samantha Bryce. The police detective, Samantha Bryce.

Sam. She had to tell Sam. Sam would keep her from dying.

Sam would take her away. She would lock her up and Zoey would never be free again.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Tell Momma I’m so sorry, Sam.”

“Come on, Zoey. Let’s get you inside before someone sees you.”

Long brown curls flowed around Zoey as Sam’s hair slipped over her shoulder and spilled against her own.

It was longer than Zoey thought. Spiral curls like her own. The long, loose, springy curls and deep waves were warm against her neck and shoulders.

Sam lifted her, cradling her in her arms and quickly moving from Lyrica’s patio door to the one next to it.

Icy air surrounded her, but she didn’t feel naked. She was in her shorts and tank she slept in. When had she dressed?

“Sam, I’m so scared,” she sobbed against the other woman’s neck. “I’m so scared.”

Sam’s heart was pounding hard and fast against Zoey’s arm beneath the tank she wore. And though Zoey knew the other woman should be warm, still, that icy freeze encased her.

She would never be warm again. Not ever.

“It’s okay, Zoey.” Sam whispered the promise, her voice deep, sounding thick, clogged. “I promise, we’ll make it okay.”

Sam laid her on a bed, easing her back and sitting down beside her.

“Zoey,” she whispered, her voice rough and worried. “Look at me, sweetie. Open your eyes.”

Zoey fought to open them, but it hurt so bad.

Her head hurt so bad.

“Tell Momma I’m so sorry,” Zoey begged, lifting her arm, trying to catch Sam’s arm, to make her understand.

Darkness washed over her again.

She thought she heard voices, not in her head but around her.

Sam was cussing at someone. “Fix it!” she demanded. “He’s a fucking nutcase,” she cried out. “Just do it. Hurry. If she dies we’ll all die . . .”

“He’ll pop my little head like a grape,” Zoey whispered. “Like Johnny. Just like Johnny.” She shuddered at the image and grew colder.

So cold. So icy. She had to tell Sam what she had done. She had to.

“I’m so sorry, Momma,” Zoey whispered, knowing her mother wasn’t there. So glad her momma couldn’t see her with so much blood on her.

Someone gripped her hand, holding it firmly as blankets were quickly pulled over her.

I’m here.

We’ll get you warm, little one.

. . . heated blankets. Electric blankets. Electric blankets would be so warm, wouldn’t they? Wrapped around you like the warmest skin. Holding you close . . .

That voice. She remembered that voice.

At a party. Dancing with him. He’d been just a little bit drunk that night. He’d strolled to her. Striding across the large room where everyone danced, his eyes on her, connecting with hers, heavy lidded, his gaze dark and hungry.

He’d held his hand out and though she’d laughed at him, she’d still accepted the silent demand to dance. To step into his arms. His warmth.

“Dance with me . . .” she sighed. “Hold me.”

All my warmth in the blankets around you. Feel it, little one. Feel how warm I’ll keep you.

Delicious warmth surrounded her, a cocoon of gentle heat sinking into her skin as the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers, easing her, easing the pain just a little bit.

He was her fantasy.

After that night, his image followed her into dreams and into masturbation. And she’d never seen him again.

She would be gone now if he came back. Taken away and locked up for killing Harley.

“I’m so sorry . . .” She had to force the words past her lips.

“Why? Why are you sorry, little one?” Her eyelid was lifted, light piercing her skull like a sword and causing her stomach to pitch and churn as she cried out with the pain.

The next eyelid was lifted, the lancing white light stabbing into her brain again. She was too weak to fight. She couldn’t fight anymore.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered, the blissful darkness finally returning. “Don’t hurt me more.”

“God. Zoey, honey, tell me what happened? Who hurt you, Zoey?” he demanded. “Tell me who hurt you.”

Tears slipped from her closed eyes, the horror of the nightmare images racing across her brain filling her with such a desperate, overwhelming need to hide.

“Where’s Sam?” She had to tell Sam.

“I’m here, Zoey.” Soft, gentle, and so sad. Sam was always so sad.

“Harley.” She shuddered in fear. “I killed Harley, Sam. I killed him. I have to tell you. I killed Harley.” She kept her eyes closed; she couldn’t bear to see the condemnation in Sam’s eyes. “I killed Harley, Sam . . .” Her breathing hitched with a cry. “I’m so sorry I killed him. I’m so sorry, but he was hurting me so bad . . .” Panic began welling inside her, racing through her veins, tearing through her mind. “He was hurting me so bad. . . . Please don’t let Natches kill me. Don’t let him . . .”

Detonations of pain ruptured her mind, sending waves of deep, black nothingness to surround her once again.

Just nothingness where she could hide.

It wasn’t cold here, though. The warmth that was wrapped around her stayed, like a pocket of soul-deep comfort amid the terror and icy chill.

“It was just a dream. This is all a dream, Zoey,” her fantasy whispered, his voice soothing, filled with the latent hunger she’d heard in it the night they danced. “It was a terrible, horrible nightmare, Zoey . . . It’s all okay. Remember, it’s all okay. You just had a terrible dream.”

The pain in her skull slowly eased. It wasn’t gone, but it eased. It wasn’t so deep or so agonizing. But she didn’t want to think yet. She didn’t want to remember yet.

“Zoey, Harley didn’t hurt you. You didn’t kill Harley. He’s fine.”

No, it wasn’t just a nightmare.

“Don’t let Natches kill me. I’m so scared. It was real. I know it was real.”

“It was a dream.” This time, her fantasy lover’s voice was so powerful and filled with demand, surrounding her, even on the inside, with a heat that began to melt the ice trying to overtake her. “This is just a nightmare. Nothing more.”

The sound of his voice pulled at her, drew her as it always did in her dreams, making her want to wrap it around her and hold him to her forever.

She could barely hear him, actually had to strain to make the words out, but the throb of power and the determined male force behind it was clearly apparent.

“You’re safe, Zoey. You’re safe. Harley’s safe. This is just a terrible, terrible nightmare.”

She couldn’t deny him. She didn’t want to deny him.

A nightmare.

A terrible dream.

It was more than that and she knew it. There had to be more to it. But she couldn’t make the voice understand . . .

“Zoey, do you hear me?” The dark, intently male voice pulled at her senses now as it always did. But only in her dreams. He was only in her dreams, because he’d left and he hadn’t come back after dancing with her.

She only knew this voice in her fantasies, and it soothed her, protected her without smothering her.

“Answer me, Zoey. Do you hear me?”

His voice was so strong. It wrapped around her and reminded her of the fantasies that filled her dreams. Fantasies of him. The knight who rescued the maiden, the tough warrior who fought side by side with the sorceress. The dream image of the lover who hadn’t yet become a lover.

“I’m scared . . .” She couldn’t wake up, she didn’t want to wake up, not yet. Not until something made sense. Nothing made any sense. “I’m so scared . . .”

“Don’t be scared anymore, Zoey.” Warm, callused fingertips eased from her temple to her jaw. “Listen to me, and everything will be okay. Do you understand me?”

The voice touched her with pure, raw power. It was so strong. Strong enough to hurt . . .

She whimpered at the thought. She didn’t want to hurt anymore. But she had to fight. And fighting it just made the pain worse. She had to remember everything. The strange voice and Harley’s face flickering with a darker, crueler face. Sam whispering something, then yelling at someone. And now her dream lover.

She had to remember.

Pain lanced at her head, ripping through it with such agony she wanted to scream. Oh God, it hurt so bad.

“Zoey?” he whispered again, his voice so low she had to strain to hear him. “You have to listen to me so the pain will go away. I can make it all go away, but you have to listen to me.”

He was holding her hand, palm turned up as he stroked the skin of her inner arm to the crook of her elbow. There, he massaged the skin, eased the joint. She felt something tighten, and then finally, blessedly, the agony in her head eased a little more.

“See, I’m going to make it better. Trust me, Zoey. Trust me to make it better.” he told her in that deep, rasping whisper she could barely hear. “To always take the pain away. I’ll take it all away.”

Just trust him. That was all she had to do was trust him.

The nightmare would go away then.

Slipping deeper into sleep, into the fantasy she sometimes created for herself, Zoey watched as the shadowy figure moved to her. Strong and tall, pulling her against his warm body. His arms holding her, his voice at her ear.

A sigh slipped from her.

Okay, this was better. The fantasy she had created for herself, the lover who came to her in her dreams and whose touch awakened a sexuality inside her that she didn’t possess while she was awake, he would protect her from the pain.

He was there with her now. His gaze was dark, filled with secrets and with hunger. His expression implacable, aristocratic, and filled with arrogance. And her fascination with him never waned.

“You came back . . . I kept watching for you . . . you’re only in my dreams now . . .” She fought to speak to him, to hold him in this place where everything was so out of control and filled with pain. “Hold me. Just hold me . . .”

If he would just hold her, take it all away . . .

“I have you, Zoey. I won’t let you go. Isn’t this part of the dream so much nicer?” There was a hint of sadness in his voice, in his dark eyes. “I always like this part of the dream better than I do the part that rips open my skull and leaves me wanting to scream, but I can’t find my voice to do so.”

They hurt him too?

No. He was warmth, protection without being smothered. How did she know that? Why did the nightmares come to him too? She fought to tighten her fingers around the hand holding hers. Struggled to find the strength but only succeeded for a moment.

“I hate that part of the nightmare,” he agreed, as though that faint pressure were all he needed. “See how much better this part is? See, that’s how you know it’s just a nightmare. I’ll be here with you and if I’m here, then the pain will go away. And if I’m here with you, nothing and no one can hurt you.”

Of course. It had to be a nightmare. A horrible, horrifying nightmare. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be dreaming of the shadowy lover who usually filled her dreams and kept her waiting for him.

“Just a nightmare . . . When you feel the pain, when it tries to come back, I’ll be here with you. The pain can’t touch you, Zoey. I’ll keep the pain away . . .”

“Don’t leave me.” She struggled to force the words past her lips, to convince him to stay this time. “Hold me.”

“Just for a little while.” His lips eased over her fingers. “But I’ll be back. If you promise me you’ll know it was just a nightmare.”

She would promise him anything. “Just a nightmare.”

But she knew something wasn’t right about that either. Something bad had happened. Something so terrible it was terrifying too, but she didn’t know how. She didn’t know what it was, or how it happened.

If it wasn’t real, then Harley was alive, she reminded herself as the voice stroked the pain from her head, kept her warm and tried to convince her that grass was blue and the sky was green . . . That it was all a nightmare.

“Sleep for me now, Zoey,” he whispered. “Sleep. And know when you wake up that everything’s going to be fine. It was just a nightmare.”

It was much more than a nightmare, she knew. She just didn’t know which part was real, and which wasn’t. She didn’t know and she was terrified to learn . . .

Chatham Bromleah Doogan the Third eased back from the bed and rested his elbows on his knees, watching Zoey painfully as Detective Sam Bryce stood still and silent at the bedroom door, her back to him.

How many times had he stood and watched this little imp over the past few years? She was intriguing, beyond beautiful, and she had mesmerized him from the first moment he’d seen her.

Whoever had done this to her would pay. He’d make damned sure they paid with their lives.

She was lucky Doogan was in town to meet with one of his agents, Graham Brock. Otherwise, Homeland Security as well as the Mackays might have found themselves involved in one hell of a mess.

But what would it have accomplished?

The young man in question didn’t work for Homeland Security, officially. Unofficially, Doogan had provided whatever help the younger man needed.

Harley and Zoey were friends, though. They’d had a little spat a few days ago, Harley had laughingly told him. Zoey had come to his apartment and caught him with a young woman he shouldn’t have been with. She’d been outraged. But they hadn’t really fought, and she’d hugged him before leaving the apartment’s parking lot afterward. Harley had indicated it was no more than a friendly disagreement.

Someone was determined to destroy Zoey with it, though.

On the bedside table were the vials of blood he’d drawn as soon as he’d arrived and the syringe that held the drug he’d used to ease the pain while he worked with the hallucinogenic he was positive had been used to convince her she’d killed her friend. And as he worked to reverse the nightmarish images planted in her head, his chest had ached while a dark, burning fury grew inside him.

What was it about those pale, pale green eyes and Zoey’s pleas not to leave her, to keep her warm, that caused the break in his control and in the wall he maintained around his emotions?

Rubbing his hands over his face and blowing out a hard breath, Doogan forced back the regret, the stirrings of anger. If he was going to help her, if he was going to fix this, then he had to keep his head.

Without saying anything more to Zoey he rose from the bed, his movements drawing the detective’s attention. Before she could speak, he motioned her to the other room.

He didn’t want Zoey’s memories further influenced by anything they might say between them. Her mind was so completely open at the moment, the effects of the hallucinogenic she’d been given at its height. Any suggestion, any discussion in her hearing could influence her thoughts and memories detrimentally.

Closing the door silently behind them, he pointed to the door of the guest room across the living room and followed her into that room. Once again securing the door, he breathed out heavily, wearily.

“Harley answer your text yet?” he demanded, keeping his voice low.

She gave a quick nod. “He asked to meet in another hour at Ziggler’s All Niter, the convenience store at the north end of town. He’s said he was hunting at the moment.”

Hunting. He was no wildlife hunter. Harley, despite his youth, was one of the best human trackers Doogan had ever had the discomfort of meeting.

Sam cleared her throat then, her hazel-green gaze wary, heavy with fear for the young woman now sleeping in her bedroom. Sam had a soft spot for the other young woman. It wasn’t lust, or love, but her affection for Zoey ran deep.

“I checked her arm,” he said, pushing his fingers through his hair. “There’s evidence of several injection sites made in the past few hours . . .”

“Zoey does not do drugs, Doogan,” she hissed, furious. Gathering the long curls that fell over her shoulder, she pushed them behind her as though preparing to battle.

“You didn’t allow me to finish, Detective,” he pointed out, berating her mildly. “As I said, the injection sites were made in the past few hours. She has all the signs of having been dosed with a powerful hallucinogenic. It literally rips the mind open and allows someone with the right training to convince the person something has occurred that didn’t. In this case, that she killed Harley for trying to rape her.”

Sam flinched.

She crossed her arms over her breasts, the gray ribbed cotton wife-beater tank she wore with loose gray shorts attesting to the lateness of the hour. She’d been asleep when the sound of a vehicle stopping outside her neighbor’s small patio awakened her. At least, that was what she told her father, director of Homeland Security John David Bryce.

“Why?” she demanded.

To that, Doogan shrugged. “She’s a Mackay; according to Timothy, trouble shadows them. Where’s her sister Lyrica? Doesn’t she have the apartment beside you?”

“She’s staying the weekend with Kye Brock, Graham’s sister.” Sam paced across the room. Turning back to him she watched him suspiciously. “What the hell’s going on, Doogan?”

Doogan pursed his lips thoughtfully. Sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he leaned a shoulder into the wall and considered her question for a moment.

“You would know that better than I do. What could the Mackay’s be involved in that framing Zoey for the murder of a friend, would profit someone?” he asked.

“Murder?” the detective snapped. “I just talked to him by text.”

“But Zoey believes she killed him. Harley said he was hunting,” Doogan agreed. “Harley doesn’t hunt four-legged prey, Sam. Despite his age, Harley’s the best damned human tracker I’ve ever heard of. He came to me when he tracked a killer to Somerset. That’s why he’s here, tracking a monster no one has been able to catch.”

Should he have anticipated this, Doogan asked himself?

But how could he have? Neither he nor Harley were connected to Somerset. His agents were based here, but Harley hadn’t known the Macka’s before following his target into the area. As for Doogan, he’d only seen Zoey only once, five years before. The target he and Harley were chasing couldn’t possibly know she was a weakness to Doogan?

“Who?”

Doogan let a grin touch his lips. “That’s why he’s good, Sam. Harley doesn’t know what his suspect looks like, he just knows the human ‘tracks’ his suspect leaves. He’s been trying to identify him for over a year now. But framing Zoey for his murder wouldn’t serve any purpose.”

“He and Natches are friends,” Sam pointed out. “Zoey’s Natches’ cousin and he’d never believe she killed him. Besides, she has an instant defense in her belief he was trying to rape her.”

“Makes no sense.” Doogan shook his head, one hand reaching back to rub at the back of his neck, irritation beginning to slip past his normally cool faade.

“There has to be a reason. Something we’re not seeing,” he muttered.

“Damn, Dawg will lock her in a hole so deep and filled with Mackay brotherly love she’ll smother to death.” Sam grimaced. “Hell of a way to die. So you can forget figuring out why anyone targeted her.”

It was a running joke that the Mackay cousins, once the scourge of Pulaski County and surrounding areas for their sexual hijinks and penchants for troublemaking, made certain Dawg’s sisters lived totally different lives. Completely innocent, virginal lives.

“Dawg can’t know about this, Sam.”

She froze for long seconds, simply staring at him.

“Are you kidding me?” she almost wheezed with wide-eyed disbelief. “Dawg finds out we held this from him, Doogan, and he’ll kill both of us. And he will find out. Trust me.”

It amazed him how terrified everyone was of Dawg Mackay and his cousins. They were formidable enemies, agreeably, and no doubt, they’d be enraged when they learned Zoey had been in danger. But they’d never kill a woman..

“And when she dies of brotherly love and overprotection? Or whoever did this to her tonight finds a way to get to her again and ‘suggests’ she kill herself? Herself and her family? Her nieces? Is that a risk you’re willing to take?” he asked, barely managing to keep the cool, uncaring appearance he’d adopted over the past hellish year.

Could he bear seeing anything or anyone harming this innocent young woman? After all he’d lost, the thought of losing more threatened the hard-won control he’d managed to salvage in the past months.

Sam’s nostrils flared and she glared at him in silent fury and denial. It was evident she had no desire to risk their wrath in any way.

“Hate me all you want to,” he suggested, icy determination reflecting in his tone. “But before you go to Dawg, remember this. They got to her tonight. She’s in her pajamas, so she was obviously in her room, asleep. Right beneath Timothy’s nose they took her, Sam. They drugged her and tried to convince her she killed Harley Perdue. And if they convinced her, then she’ll confess to it. She’s a Mackay.” Swiping his fingers through his hair, he knew no matter what he said, Sam would still go with her gut. “It’s in their fucking blood or some shit.”

And he had no doubt the little Mackay now sleeping in Sam’s bed was a Mackay all the way to her soul.

He gave a short, approving nod when she said nothing more.

“Now, we have to get her back to her bed without anyone being the wiser. Especially her brother. Otherwise, she’ll never believe this was all a dream.”

Sam shook her head, one hand slapping to her forehead in a gesture of utter amazement before glaring at him, the disbelief growing.

“Wow, Doogan, that’s a hell of a fucking order,” she snorted, her hands propping on her hips then. “Why don’t we rob Fort Knox next?”

His brow arched mockingly. She could be a smart-ass, even as a child.

“I haven’t finished the plan for that one yet. The plan for this one is easy, though. We have about four hours before the sedative I gave her wears off and she wakes up. We’ll slip her into my truck and I’ll get her to the inn, where Eli can help me do the rest.”

A light brown, heavily mocking brow lifted slowly. “Eli hates you, Doogan. Worse than the rest of us do,” Sam warned him.

Honest little bitch of late, wasn’t she, he mocked silently.

“That’s really not true.” He denied the claim, amused. “But Zoey Mackay, he loves like a little sister and he hates what Dawg does to her. He’ll help her, even if he does have a few issues with me. Now, go make that meeting. I’ll take care of our little Mackay.”

Her lips thinned, her eyes suddenly narrowing in suspicion.

“How do you just happen to have syringes, sedatives, and everything needed to draw blood samples, Doogan? And you’re just conveniently here?” She held one hand out as her expression tightened with anger.

“I’m just prepared like that,” he assured her. And he actually was. “Would you like to come see the other supplies I carry in my pickup? You might be amazed.”

“I might want to shoot you even more than I want to do so now.”

And that was possible.

“You have things to do,” he reminded her. “I’ll call Elijah and get him over here. Hopefully, this can be accomplished without too much trouble.”

It was late morning when Zoey woke in her bed. Terror was a sickening taste in her mouth, the fear of what she would find when she looked around the room dragging a sob from her throat.

She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to see the carnage she was terrified awaited her.

Sitting up in the bed, she forced herself to look, though. Whatever had happened, whatever she’d done, she’d face it.

But oh God, she didn’t want to . . .

Biting back a sob, tremors racing through her, she sat up and opened her eyes.

Then blinked.

There was no body, there was no blood. No blood on the walls, no blood on her blankets and sheets as she remembered. Her sheets were wrinkled and tangled, the comforter trailing to the floor.

A whimper left her lips at the pain throbbing in her temples and echoing through her muscles. She hurt so bad. Every bone and muscle in her body screamed in protest as she slid her legs slowly over the bed and forced herself to stand, to check the rest of her suite.

Stumbling, holding on to the furniture to brace herself against the weakness that made her legs feel like jelly, Zoey forced herself to the bathroom. In that far-too-realistic dream she’d thrown up, more than once. If she had, there would be something in the bathroom. Some proof of it, surely.

But there was none.

It was as spotless as it had been the night before. There was nothing out of place; nothing had been moved. The shower door was open as she always left it, her used towel folded in half and hanging on the glass door.

Backing out of the smaller room, her steps halting, tentative, she pushed through the door to the sitting room.

It was similarly neat. Her sketch pad lay where she had placed it the night before, the canvas she was working on carefully covered and sitting on the easel. The plastic wrapper that covered a new paintbrush still lay under the coffee table where she’d forgotten to pick it up. It hadn’t been moved.

Forcing her steps backward again, Zoey returned to her bedroom and stood in the middle of it, shaking, shuddering at the knowledge that whatever had happened . . . hadn’t happened?

Fisting her fingers, she fought back the tears that would have fallen and looked down at her sore wrists. They were unmarred, no bruising, no scratches.

Covering her lips with one hand, Zoey bit back the scream tightening her throat. A whimper escaped, though. Low, drawn out, the sound was filled with fear.

Just a nightmare?

Zoey shook her head.

“It wasn’t just a nightmare,” she whispered, to assure herself she could speak. Because in those nightmarish memories, or dreams, she’d been unable to scream.

Something had happened, she just didn’t know what. Or why.

But she knew to the depths of her soul, something bad had happened.

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Nauti Seductress (Nauti Girls)By Lora Leigh PDF

Nauti Seductress (Nauti Girls)By Lora Leigh PDF
Nauti Seductress (Nauti Girls)By Lora Leigh PDF