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Heaven's Price

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One of the most popular romance writers of all time, Sandra Brown has been prominently featured in USA Today and on NBC's Today show, giving her the kind of name recognition the likes of which has previously been reserved for Danielle Steel and Judith Krantz. Her books, like the million-plus copy A Whole New Light, fly off the shelves in bookstores of every size and style. Heaven's Price follows on the heels of national hardcover best-sellers Adam's Fall, Silken Web, Fanta C, ...
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One of the most popular romance writers of all time, Sandra Brown has been prominently featured in USA Today and on NBC's Today show, giving her the kind of name recognition the likes of which has previously been reserved for Danielle Steel and Judith Krantz. Her books, like the million-plus copy A Whole New Light, fly off the shelves in bookstores of every size and style. Heaven's Price follows on the heels of national hardcover best-sellers Adam's Fall, Silken Web, Fanta C, Where There's Smoke, French Silk, and Texas! Sage.

In Heaven's Price she has written a deliciously sensual novel of a woman torn between her career and her heart. Blair Simpson thought she had it all — a satisfying career as a dancer, a great Manhattan apartment and no emotional entanglements. But when Blair injures her knees dancing she is forced to put her life on hold and move to Long Island to recuperate. Blair has never met anyone like her new landlord Sean, who questions her methods and her lifestyle at every turn. Yet Blair is determined to continue dancing, even if it means risking her health. What she can't see, until it's much too late, is that while she's healing her body, she's losing her heart... as Sean makes her question her most intimate beliefs—about men, about love, and mostly, about herself. Now, as professional duty and her passionate yearnings clash, she must choose the right course for them both. Sexy, touching, and deeply satisfying, here is one of Sandra Brown's classic romances available in hardcover for the first time, and available to her devoted readers for thefirst time in more than 10 years.

Embracing a life most people only dream about, Blair devoted her days as well as her nights to dancing on Broadway. Now an injury has sent her to a small town for six long months of recuperation. And there, unable to lose herself in her dancing, Blair is caught off guard by her attraction to her new landlord, Sean Garrett. Reissue.

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Editorial Reviews

Library Journal
After being out of print for ten years, this romance is being relaunched with great fanfare thanks to the author's burgeoning popularity. Order early; the on-sale date is the week of December 5.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780553571578
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 11/28/1995
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 240
  • Sales rank: 328,544
  • Product dimensions: 4.20 (w) x 6.80 (h) x 1.00 (d)

Meet the Author

Sandra Brown
Sandra Brown is the author of more than fifty New York Times bestsellers, with over seventy million copies of her books in print. She and her family divide their time between South Carolina and Texas.


In 1979, Sandra Brown lost her job at a television program and decided to give writing a try. She bought an armful of romance novels and writing books, set up a typewriter on a card table and wrote her first novel. Harlequin passed but Dell bit, and Brown was off and writing, publishing her works under an assortment of pseudonyms.

From such modest beginnings, Brown has evolved into multimillion publishing empire of one, the CEO of her own literary brand; she towers over the landscape of romantic fiction. Brown has used her growing clout to insist her publishers drop the bosom-and-biceps covers and has added more intricate subplots, suspense, and even unhappy endings to her work. The result: A near-constant presence on The New York Times bestsellers list. In 1992, she had three on the list at the same time, joining that exclusive club of Stephen King, Tom Clancy, J. K. Rowling, and Danielle Steel.

Her work in the mainstream realm has taken her readers into The White House, where the president's newborn dies mysteriously; the oil fields and bedrooms of a Dallas-like family dynasty; and the sexual complications surrounding an investigation into an evangelist's murder. Such inventions have made her a distinct presence in a crowded genre.

"Brown is perhaps best known now for her longer novels of romantic suspense. The basic outline for these stories has passionate love, lust, and violence playing out against a background of unraveling secrets and skeletons jumping out of family closets," wrote Barbara E. Kemp in the book Twentieth-Century Romance & Historical Writers . Kemp also praises Brown's sharp dialogue and richly detailed characters. "However, her greatest key to success is probably that she invites her readers into a fantasy world of passion, intrigue, and danger," she wrote. "They too can face the moral and emotional dilemmas of the heroine, safe in the knowledge that justice and love will prevail."

Critics give her points for nimble storytelling but are cooler to her "serviceable prose," in the words of one Publishers Weekly reviewer. Still, when writing a crack page-turner, the plot's the thing. A 1992 New York Times review placed Brown among a group of a writers "who have mastered the art of the slow tease."

Staggeringly prolific, Brown found her writing pace ground to a halt when she was given a different assignment. A magazine had asked her for an autobiographical piece, and it took her months to complete. Her life in the suburbs, though personally fulfilling, was nonetheless blander than fiction. That may be why she dives into her fiction writing with such workhorse gusto. "I love being the bad guy," she told Publishers Weekly in 1995, "simply because I was always so responsible, so predictable growing up. I made straight A's and never got into any trouble, and I still impose those standards on myself. So writing is my chance to escape and become the sleaziest, scummiest role."

When she started writing, her goal was always to break out of the parameters of romance. After about 45 romances, the woman who counts Tennessee Williams and Taylor Caldwell among her influences told The New York Times that felt she had reached a plateau. In fact, she doesn't even look at her books as romances anymore. "I think of my books now as suspense novels, usually with a love story incorporated," she said. "They're absolutely a lot harder to write than romances. They take more plotting and real character development. Each book is a stretch for me, and I try something interesting each time that males will like as well as women."

Good To Know

  • "I hate to exercise and only do so because I absolutely must."

  • "I love to eat and my favorite foods are all bad for the body. Fried chicken and gravy, TexMex, red meat (hey, I'm from Texas!). My only saving grace is that I'm not that fond of sweets. Salty is my thing. Chocolate cake and ice cream I can skip. But a bag of Fritos. . ."

  • "It takes me a long time to go to sleep, usually because I read in bed and hate to put down the book. But when I do nod off, I'm a champion sleeper. I can easily do eight or nine hours a night."

  • "My worst "thing" is mean-spirited people. People who deliberately belittle or embarrass someone really irk me. The people I admire most are the ones who find something good about even the most undesirable individual. That was a quality my mother had, the one I hope most to emulate."

  • "I have a fear of gravity. Recently my whole family went to Belize. We had several adventures. We tubed a river through miles of cave, wearing head lamps so we'd have illumination. No problem. I scaled Mayan ruins. I rode horseback (on a monster named Al Capone) through the rain forest. No problem. But I couldn't zip line. Even though my five-year-old grandsons did it with glee, I just couldn't make that leap."

  • "I and my husband are huge fans of Jeopardy! We never miss it if we can help it. Does that make us complete dorks?"

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      1. Also Known As:
        Laura Jordan, Rachel Ryan and Erin St. Claire
      2. Hometown:
        Arlington, TX
      1. Date of Birth:
        March 12, 1948
      2. Place of Birth:
        Waco, Texas
      1. Education:
        Honorary Doctorate of Humane Letters, Texas Christian University, 2008
      2. Website:

    Read an Excerpt

    Heaven's Price

    By Sandra Brown


    Copyright © 1995 Sandra Brown
    All right reserved.

    ISBN: 9780553571578

    Chapter One

    Blair carted the last box up the top three stairs. Squeezing herself between it and the jamb, she maneuvered it through the door and dropped it down on top of two others piled just inside the door. Her arms quivered from the exertion. Her legs ached.

    "Thank heaven that's the last one," she said to herself on an exhalation that escaped her lips slowly and leisurely. With rigid arms she braced herself over the top of the box and tried to catch her breath. When she straightened, she noticed the tightness of the muscles in her lower back and groaned. Was there any part of her body that didn't ache?

    Glancing down at her wristwatch, her lips thinned with irritation. She had called the YMCA over two hours ago and asked them to send over a masseur. Not having changed residences in more than eight years, she had forgotten how physically exhausting moving could be. A massage was the most relaxing thing she could think of. Since her telephone hadn't been installed yet, she had driven to the nearest service station and used the pay phone. The receptionist who answered the Y's telephone had assured her that someone would be sent over within an hour.

    "So much for efficiency," she muttered to herself, whisking off the bandana-print scarf she had tied around her long dark hair. It tumbled to the middleof her back like a bolt of satin being unrolled. If the staff of the YMCA typified the pace of life in this provincial backwater town, she'd be a raving maniac in a week.

    She gazed around the three-room apartment that would be her home for the next six months. It didn't look like much now with boxes and bundles heaped on its hardwood floors, but with a little imagination, she hoped she could make it at least livable. Pam had assured her that it was the best and most private place in town, ". . . unless you want to live in one of those sterile apartment complexes, which I'm sure you don't," she had added.

    Upon arrival from the city to the small town on the Atlantic side of Long Island where her friend Pam Delgado had moved several years ago, Blair had to admit that living in a garage apartment behind a Victorian house on a quiet, tree-shaded street had more appeal than living in a concrete cracker box.

    She skirted the maze of boxes as she made her way to the small kitchen on the other side of the large room that served as both living and sleeping area. She had been pleased to see that the refrigerator was no more than two decades old and had a bucket inside the freezing compartment in which to empty ice trays. Taking out a few cubes, she plunked them into a tall glass she'd managed to find earlier and popped off the top of a diet soda can. Just as it was foaming over the ice, someone knocked on the door.

    "Wouldn't you know it," she grumbled. Taking a sip of the not yet cold drink, she weaved her way through the boxes again and pulled open the door.

    "It's about time," she said querulously.

    "I beg your pardon," the man on the doorstep said.

    Blair's green eyes were level with a massive chest and she had to lift them a considerable distance to greet the most intriguing pair of eyes she'd ever encountered. Startlingly blue, they were surrounded by thick, curling lashes, dark at the lashline and gilded at the tips. A network of weblike lines, white against darkly tanned skin, extended from the outer corners of his eyes to fade into his temples. Brows well defined, but thick, arched over the eyes that were examining her as closely as she was him.

    To avoid that careful scrutiny, she quickly lowered her eyes, mistakenly thinking that would be the safest thing to do. She wasn't prepared for them coming to rest on a golden-brown mustache, the exact color of the brows that framed his eyes. The mustache curved over a wide, sensuous mouth. Beneath sculptured lips was a strong, firm chin with a vertical dent carved into its center. She avoided analyzing that too, and lifted her eyes to take in a well-designed nose, slightly concave cheeks, and assertive cheekbones, which brought her back to those eyes. They hadn't wavered from her face.

    All in all, it was the most marvelous assembly of masculine features Blair had ever seen. She felt like stammering, but somehow managed not to when she demanded, "Didn't anyone tell you how to get here?"

    He shook the head that was capped with blond wavy hair, slightly silvered at the temples. "No."

    "Well, it's no wonder you're over an hour late. None of the streets in this town are marked with signs," she said crossly. Stepping aside, she said, "Come on in. I need you more now than I did when I called."

    He stepped through the door and she closed it behind him to conserve the air that flowed from the one-window air-conditioning unit that cooled the entire apartment. He hadn't brought any equipment in with him, only a body what would intimidate the most fearsome professional football lineman.

    Clad in white shorts and a navy-blue T-shirt, the man looked marvelous. Blair could see that the tan that bronzed his face covered the rest of him, as did that fine curly golden hair. His legs were long and lean, but muscles rippled in his calves and thighs as he made slow progress around the first boxes blocking his path. Blair excused her interest in those muscles as purely professional. She was well acquainted with every muscle of the human body, its use, and how to treat it.
    "Didn't you bring a portable bed or table or anything with you?" she asked.
    He stopped suddenly and turned around to face her. "No."

    She sighed. "It's just as well. I don't know where we would have put it. I've already padded the kitchen table with a quilt. Will that be all right?" He turned his head to eye the table dubiously. "I haven't made up the bed in the sofa yet and didn't want to plow through all these boxes looking for linens. I need you right now. Do you mind doing it on the kitchen table?"

    His eyes crinkled at the corners, but there wasn't even the slightest smiling twitch of his mustache when he answered levelly, "Not at all."

    His laconic answers annoyed her. She felt like a babbling moron while he remained aloof, watching her with indulgent amusement. He hadn't even apologized for being late. But then he didn't look like a man to whom apologies would come easily. He was looking at her steadily with a curiosity he couldn't disguise. She strongly suspected that lying just beneath his placid features was a booming laugh dying to be freed. Why, she couldn't fathom.

    She tracked the path his eyes took down the length of her petite body. Never having known a moment's modesty in her life, the sudden impulse to cover herself was foreign, but there nonetheless. His eyes seemed to wash over her, leaving behind a blushing stain everywhere they touched. There was certainly nothing alluring in her attire, yet his slow, silent appraisal made her feel that the denim cutoffs and white eyelet halter-top were the flimsiest of negligees.

    Had he made some lascivious remark like the ones that were often thrown to her on the streets of New York, she would have flung back a scathing insult. Or had he commented clinically on her good muscle tone, the length and formation of her legs, her graceful carriage, she would have thanked him and never given it a thought. Those kinds of comments she could handle. The ones eloquently transmitted by his eyes, she had no comebacks for.

    "Well, shall we get started?" The corners of his mouth lifted in the suggestion of a smile.

    His voice sent a shiver up her spine. It seemed to caress her ears with its deep rumbling timbre. How else could it sound since it originated in that chest? "Don't you want me to undress first?"

    One brow leaped into a quizzical arch over his eye. "I guess so. Yes."

    "I'll be just a minute then." She hurried into the bathroom, where earlier she had brought out an old sheet from one of the boxes. Her fingers fumbled with the fastening on her shorts. What was wrong with her? Why was she so nervous? She'd had massages before, many in the privacy of her apartment in Manhattan. Never had she been anxious about it. She hadn't been anxious about this one until she'd seen the masseur. Maybe if the guy bothered her so much, she shouldn't go through with it.

    One shooting pain from her legs told her she would be foolhardy to pass up this opportunity. Her abused muscles needed soothing, and the doctor had recommended this sort of therapy. She was being silly. In her nearly thirty years, she'd never been fainthearted about anything. Wrapping the sheet around her naked body, she boldly opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

    "I take it you didn't bring any lotion either," she said, brushing past him disdainfully.

    "No, I didn't bring any lotion."

    "I should be glad. Sometimes the lotions masseurs use smell medicinal. You can use this." She handed him the plastic bottle of lotion she'd brought from the bathroom. It was scented with her favorite fragrance. "And here are some towels for when you . . . for when you need them," she finished self-consciously, extending him the folded terrycloth towels.

    She wished he wouldn't look at her as though he were about to devour her. She had shared matchbox-sized dressing rooms with men and women all racing to get into the next costume change. Often she'd been forced to forgo a trip to the dressing room and change just offstage with no screening whatsoever.


    Excerpted from Heaven's Price by Sandra Brown Copyright © 1995 by Sandra Brown. Excerpted by permission.
    All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
    Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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    Customer Reviews

    Average Rating 4
    ( 3 )
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    Sort by: Showing all of 4 Customer Reviews
    • Posted February 14, 2013

      Amazing Novel This novel was one of the best novels I have r

      Amazing Novel

      This novel was one of the best novels I have read. The novel gives great imagery and details. The novel is based on a young female ballerina who moved into a new apartment and she has met this tall, handsome, guy who has a muscular body. As time passes by they start to grow feelings towards each other and they become a couple.

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    • Posted August 8, 2011

      Extremely wonderful book. Would receommend which I have

      This book was the best I ever read. I totally enjoyed it. I recommended this book to friends of mine. I must have read this book at least 50 times, and will read it some more.

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    • Anonymous

      Posted January 14, 2008


      I've loved some of the other novels by Sandra Brown, this one was okay but definitely not one of her better novels. After the first few chapters I was like 'Somebody hold the phone, please tell me this guy Sean has some terminal disease and that's why he's coming onto Blair so fast.' Thankfully though, he seemed to cool down in his pusuit and give the leading lady time to think. Overall I did enjoy the novel.

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    • Anonymous

      Posted October 4, 2007

      good times for my first time

      this is the first sandra brown's novel that i had ever read. and i instantly fell in love with it. before i only read local romance novels because of the difficulty of reading foreign-language books'iam a filipino.but because of heaven's price it makes me yearn for more. ohh! i love the hard headness of the heroine-Blair Simpson and i love more the seductive attitude of Sean Garnett. i love how he makes Blair obeys to him through his tactical but sensual ways. It really gave me goosebumps though on a good side. i really felt my self 'kinikilig' deliciously shivering as i turn every page of this novel. I also likes the point that despite living in Manhattan, New York, Blair manage to preserve her virginity, something for a conservative girl like me really counts a lot. That's all. Thank you. Ivy B. Yee from the Philippines

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