Son of Rosemary (The Rosemary Series,Book 2) by Ira Levin

By Ira Levin

Initially released (now out of print,) in 1997. Republished in paper shape in 2010, and digital shape in 2011 (978-1-4532-1757-3)

The sequel to the recent York instances bestseller Rosemary's child: an exhilarating, cautionary story of the troubling forces that battle inside each one people. the fashionable grasp of suspense Ira Levin returns to the horror of his 1967 ground-breaking novel Rosemary's child with this darkly comedian sequel set on the sunrise of the millennium. Thirty-three years in the past, Rosemary gave start to the Devil's baby whereas lower than the keep watch over of a satanic cult of witches. Now the yr is 1999, and humanity dreads the impending twenty-first century, desperately looking for a savior for this stricken global. in big apple urban, rosemary's son Andy is assumed to be that savior. yet is he the strength of excellent his fans settle for him to be? Or is he his father's son? Rosemary and Andy should be reunited in a conflict of wills that shall come to a decision the destiny of humanity—and hold readers at the fringe of the seats until eventually the ultimate web page.

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Additional info for Son of Rosemary (The Rosemary Series,Book 2)

Sample text

We're all going to do it. " "Well said, Ann," Kezzy approved. " the skeleton cackled. " I patted her on the shoulder. Then she walked over, got down on her knees, and got to it. Hannah was already going a mile a minute, and her guy was making noises like a cowboy at a rodeo. Mole Face grinned and flexed his boner for me. Fuck. I just leaned over and started sucking. It was awful, pathetic, and ridiculous: three 19-year-old girls blowing really old men. Of course, my guy's crotch stunk, but by then I was cauterized to it.

But, you know, that's another thing you constantly notice when you're fat. The slim, beautiful people can stuff their faces all they want and never gain an ounce, but me? If I eat, like, one candy bar, I put on five fuckin' pounds before I'm even done eating the motherfucker. Anyway, here's how the deal went for the next four days. " The Old Manning on that second night was nothing compared to what Kezzy had in store for us, and she wasn't kidding when she said the rest would be "exponentially worse" than blowing those old turds at the American Legion.

I got the Great Dane. Mercy and Hannah kind of went into shock just looking at these dogs, but I set an example, I guess. It's a state of mind, I told myself. I just had to get into that state, and then I could do anything. No way in a million years would I have even thought about doing something like this a week ago. But now? The carrot Kezzy was dangling in front of me was my fuckin' inheritance. I was not going to throw in the towel now. doing it to the Great Dane. His name was George, by the way, and he was a big ass dog.

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