Zusatztext Koontz is a master of the edge-of-your-seat! paranoid thrillerand perhaps the leading American practitioner of the form. Newark Star-Ledger Koontz is a superb plotter and wordsmith. He chronicles the hopes and fears of our time in broad strokes and fine detail! using popular fiction to explore the human condition. USA Today "Koontz gives readers a fable containing moral ambiguity and musings about the nature of good and evil that exists within us all.... [This] puts Your Heart Belongs to Me squarely in the column of must- reads." Denver Post "A fast and entertaining read." Chicago Sun-Times [A] neat literary conjuring trick . . . a stylish little act of deceptiona serious! topical! even polemical! thriller. Daily Telegraph ! London Koontz takes readers down the twisted and torturous path of paranoia [and] keeps readers guessing every step of the way! building the suspense until the plot seems ready to burst. . . . Another gem from a master of suspense. The Toledo Blade Informationen zum Autor Dean Koontz Klappentext From the #1 "New York Times"-bestselling master of suspense comes a riveting thriller that probes the deepest terrors of the human psyche--and the ineffable mystery of what truly makes us who we are. Now available in a tall Premium Edition. Leseprobe Chapter One Ryan Perry did not know that something in him was broken. At thirty-four, he appeared to be more physically fit than he had been at twenty-four. His home gym was well equipped. A personal trainer came to his house three times a week. On that Wednesday morning in September, in his bedroom, when he drew open the draperies and saw blue sky as polished as a plate, and the sea blue with the celestial reflection, he wanted surf and sand more than he wanted breakfast. He went on-line, consulted a surfcast site, and called Samantha. She must have glanced at the caller-ID readout, because she said, Good morning, Winky. She occasionally called him Winky because on the afternoon that she met him, thirteen months previously, he had been afflicted with a stubborn case of myokymia, uncontrollable twitching of an eyelid. Sometimes, when Ryan became so obsessed with writing software that he went thirty-six hours without sleep, a sudden-onset tic in his right eye forced him to leave the keyboard and made him appear to be blinking out a frantic distress signal in Morse code. In that myokymic moment, Samantha had come to his office to interview him for an article that she had been writing for Vanity Fair. For a moment, she had thought he was flirting with herand flirting clumsily. During that first meeting, Ryan wanted to ask for a date, but he perceived in her a seriousness of purpose that would cause her to reject him as long as she was writing about him. He called her only after he knew that she had delivered the article. When Vanity Fair appears, what if I've savaged you? she had asked. You haven't. How do you know? I don't deserve to be savaged, and you're a fair person. You don't know me well enough to be sure of that. From your interviewing style, he said, I know you're smart, clear-thinking, free of political dogma, and without envy. If I'm not safe with you, then I'm safe nowhere except alone in a room. He had not sought to flatter her. He merely spoke his mind. Having an ear for deception, Samantha recognized his sincerity. Of the qualities that draw a bright woman to a man, truthfulness is equaled only by kindness, courage, and a sense of humor. She had accepted his invitation to dinner, and the months since then had been the happiest of his life. Now, on this Wednesday morning, he said, Pumping s...

8220;Koontz is a master of the edge-of-your-seat, paranoid thriller—and perhaps the leading American practitioner of the form.” —*Newark Star-Ledger

“Koontz is a superb plotter and wordsmith. He chronicles the hopes and fears of our time in broad strokes and fine detail, using popular fiction to explore the human condition.”—USA Today*

"Koontz gives readers a fable containing moral ambiguity and musings about the nature of good and evil that exists within us all.... [This] puts Your Heart Belongs to Me squarely in the column of must- reads."—Denver Post

"A fast and entertaining read."—Chicago Sun-Times

• “[A] neat literary conjuring trick . . . a stylish little act of deception—a serious, topical, even polemical, thriller.”—Daily Telegraph*, London

  “Koontz takes readers down the twisted and torturous path of paranoia [and] keeps readers guessing every step of the way, building the suspense until the plot seems ready to burst. . . . Another gem from a master of suspense.”—The Toledo *Blade

• Autorentext

  Dean Koontz

  Klappentext

  From the #1 "New York Times"-bestselling master of suspense comes a riveting thriller that probes the deepest terrors of the human psyche--and the ineffable mystery of what truly makes us who we are. Now available in a tall Premium Edition.

  Zusammenfassung

• For one man, they are the five most terrifying words of all . . .*

  One year after the heart transplant that saved his life, thirty-five-year-old Ryan Perry has never felt better. He’s getting back everything he nearly lost forever—his business, his his life, and, with luck, his beloved girlfriend. Miracles do happen.

  Then the unmarked gifts begin to arrive—a box of candy hearts, a heart pendant. Most disturbing of all is a graphic heart-surgery video and its chilling message: Your heart belongs to me. Ryan is being stalked by someone who feels entitled to everything he has. She’s the spitting image of the twenty-six-year-old donor of the heart beating steadily in Ryan’s own chest. And she’s come to take it back.

  Leseprobe
  *Chapter One

• Ryan Perry did not know that something in him was broken. At thirty-four, he appeared to be more physically fit than he had been at twenty-four. His home gym was well equipped. A personal trainer came to his house three times a week.

  On that Wednesday morning in September, in his bedroom, when he drew open the draperies and saw blue sky as polished as a plate, and the sea blue with the celestial reflection, he wanted surf and sand more than he wanted breakfast.

  He went on-line, consulted a surfcast site, and called Samantha. She must have glanced at the caller-ID readout, because she said, “Good morning, Winky.”

  She occasionally called him Winky because on the afternoon that she met him, thirteen months previously, he had been afflicted with a stubborn case of myokymia, uncontrollable twitching of an eyelid.

  Sometimes, when Ryan became so obsessed with writing software that he went thirty-six hours without sleep, a sudden-onset tic in his right eye forced him to leave the keyboard and made him appear to be blinking out a frantic distress signal in Morse code. In that myokymic moment, Samantha had come to his office to
  interview him for an article that she had been writing for Vanity Fair. For a moment, she had thought he was flirting with her–and flirting clumsily.

  During that first meeting, Ryan wanted to ask for a date, but he perceived in her a seriousness of purpose that would cause her to reject him as long as she was writing about him. He called her only after he knew that she had delivered the article.

  “When Vanity Fair appears, what if I’ve savaged you?” she had asked.

  “You haven’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I don’t deserve to be savaged, and you’re a fair person.”

  “You don’t know me well enough to be sure of that.”

  “From your interviewing style,” he said, “I know you’re smart, clear-thinking, free of political dogma, and wi…