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Автор Даниэла Стил

CRITICAL RAVES FOR DANIELLE STEEL“STEEL IS ONE OF THE BEST. ”—Los Angeles Times“THE PLOTS OF DANIELLE STEEL'S NOVELS TWIST AND WEAVE AS INCREDIBLE STORIES UNFOLD TO THE THRILL AND DELIGHT OF HER ENORMOUS READING PUBLIC. ”—United Press International“A LITERARY PHENOMENON … ambitious … prolific … and not to be pigeonholed as one who produces a predictable kind of book. ”—The Detroit News“There is a smooth reading style to her writings which makes it easy to forget the time and to keep flipping the pages. ”—The Pittsburgh Press“Ms. Steel excels at pacing her narrative, which races forward, mirroring the frenetic lives chronicled here; men and women swept up in bewildering change, seeking solutions to problems never before faced. ”—Nashville Banner

a cognizant original v5 release october 14 2010

Books by Danielle Steel

To John,

Beyond words,

beyond love,

beyond anything….

d. s.

Strong people cannot be defeated….

he house at 2129 Wyoming Avenue, NW, stood in all its substantial splendor, its gray stone facade handsomely carved and richly ornate, embellished with a large gold crest and adorned with the French flag, billowing softly in a breeze that had come up just that afternoon. It was perhaps the last breeze Washington, D. C. , would feel for several months as the summer got under way. It was already June.

June of 1939. And the last five years had gone all too quickly for Armand de Villiers, Ambassador of France.

He sat in his office, overlooking the elegant garden, absentmindedly staring at the fountain for a moment, and then dragged his attention back to the mountain of papers on his desk. Despite the rich scent of lilac in the air, there was work to do, too much of it. Especially now. He already knew that he would sit in his office until late that night, as he had for two months now, preparing to return to France. He had known the request to return was coming, and yet when he had been told in April, something inside him had ached for a moment. Even now, there were mixed emotions each time he thought of going home. He had felt the same way when he had left Vienna, London, and San Francisco before that, and other posts previously. But the bond was even stronger here. Armand had a way of establishing roots, of making friends, of falling in love with the places he was assigned to. That made it difficult to move on. And yet this time he wasn't moving on, he was going home.