You've been nice, very nice.
Kristin Burns has lived her life by the philosophy "Don't think, just shoot" - pictures, that is. Struggling to make ends meet, she works full-time as the nanny for the fabulously wealthy Turnbull family, looking after their two wonderful children and waiting for her glamorous life as a New York photographer to begin. When her photographs are considered by an elite Manhattan art gallery, it seems she might finally get the chance that will start her career.
You've been naughty, very naughty.
But Kristin has a major distraction: forbidden love. The man of her dreams is almost hers for keeps. Breathless with an inexhaustible passion and the excitement of being within reach of her goals, Kristen ignores all signs of catastrophe brewing.
Now you've been warned.
Fear exists for a reason. And Kristin can only dismiss the warnings for so long. Searching desperately for the truth through the lens of her camera, she can only hope that it's not too late. This novel of psychological suspense is a stunning new achievement for thriller master James Patterson, "one of the bestselling writers in history" (New York Sun).
The Patterson bestseller factory has turned out another high-drama thriller, this time in collaboration with Honeymoon coauthor Roughan. Kristin Burns, a New York City nanny and aspiring photographer, is devoted to the two children under her care, but her desire for their father, Michael Turnbull, leads her to a risky, torrid affair with him. Kristin's anxiety about her guilty secret is heightened by a series of frightening nightmares centering on a vision of four body bags being loaded onto gurneys in front of a prominent Manhattan hotel. Her nightmares also feature recurring encounters with dead people, including her father and the pediatrician who abused her as a child. Kristin's breathless, superficial narration doesn't generate a lot of reader sympathy or interest in figuring out the source of her macabre experiences. (Sept.) Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
Showing 1-3 of the 3 most recent reviews
1 . Just say no
Posted January 17, 2010 by Meg , CharlottesvilleThis book was by far the worst I have ever read by this author. Read it only if you are in the mood for disappointment. The plot lost me early on, and even though I waited for an ending that explained everything, there wasn't one.
2 . Youv'e been Warned
Posted January 05, 2008 by De , New JerseyThis book is certainly different from the Alex Cross series by James Patterson but I found it to be strangely intriguing and hard to put down. The twists and turns of the story held me through the whole book even when I thought I had it figured out.
3 . This book is bad.
Posted October 09, 2007 by judy , MissouriThis book was not very good and didn't make much sense. I have enjoyed all the other Patterson books that were written with someone else, but I must say this has been the worst of the bunch. It was easy to read and kept me going because I was hoping for a great ending - it never came!!!
Little, Brown and Company
September 09, 2007
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Excerpt from You've Been Warned by James Patterson
IT'S WAY TOO EARLY in the morning for dead people.
That's what I'd be thinking, were I actually thinking clearly right now. I'm not.
The second I turn the corner on my way to work and see the crowd, the commotion, the dingy gray body bags being wheeled out of that oh-so-chichi hotel, I reach for my camera. I can't help it. It's instinct on my part.
Click, click, click.
Don't think about what's happened here. Just shoot, Kristin.
My head whips left and right, the lens of my Leica R9 leading the way. I focus first on the faces around me -- the gawkers, the lookie-loos. That's what Annie Leibovitz would do. A businessman in wide pinstripes, a bike messenger, a mother with her stroller, they all stand and stare at the terrible murder scene. Like it or not, this is the highlight of their day. And it's not yet eight a.m.
I move forward, even as something inside me is saying, "Look away, walk away." Even as something says, "You know where you are. This hotel. You know, Kristin."
I'm weaving my way toward the entrance to the hotel. Closer and closer, I'm being pulled -- as if by an undertow that I can't resist. And I keep shooting pictures as though I'm on assignment for the New York Times or Newsweek.
Click, click, click.
Parked at jagged angles, police cars and ambulances fill the street. I look up from their sirens, tracing the twirling beams of blue-and-red light as they dance against the surrounding brownstones.
I spy more gawkers in the windows of nearby apartments. A woman wearing curlers takes a bite of a bagel. Click.
Something catches my eye. It's a reflection, the sun bouncing off the rail of the last gurney being wheeled out of the hotel. That makes four. What happened in there? Murder? Mass murder?
They sit, gathered on the sidewalk -- four gurneys -- each holding a body bag. It's horrifying. Just awful.
My wrist twists, and I go wide-angle to shoot them as a group -- like a family. My wrist twists back, and I go tight, shooting them one by one. Who were they? What happened to these poor people? How did they die?
Don't think, Kristin, just shoot.
Two muscular paramedics walk out of the hotel and approach a couple of cops. Detectives, like on Law & Order.
They all talk, they all shake their heads, and they all have that hardened New York look to them, as if they've seen it all before.
One of the detectives -- older, rail thin -- looks my way. I think he sees me.
Click, click, click.
Having burned through a roll of film, I furiously load another.
There's really nothing more to shoot, and yet I keep firing away. I'm late for work, but it doesn't matter. It's as if I can't leave.
My head snaps back to the gurneys as something catches my eye. At first, I can't believe it. Maybe it's the wind, or just my mind playing tricks early in the morning.
Then it happens again, and I gasp. The last body bag . . . it moved!
Did I just see what I think I saw?
I'm terrified and want to run away. Instead, I edge even closer. Instinct? Undertow?
I'm staring at that zipped-up body bag, and all I know is that there's been a horrible mistake by the police or the EMS.
It's creeping backward. That body bag is opening from the inside!
My eyes bulge, and my knees buckle. Literally. I stagger through the crowd, staring through my lens in shock and disbelief.
I see a finger emerge, then an entire hand. Oh, God, and there's blood!
"Help!" I scream, lowering my camera. "That person is alive!"
The crowd turns, the cops and paramedics too. They glance at me and scoff in disbelief or reproach, shaking their heads as if I just escaped from Bellevue. They think I'm nuts!
I stab the air, pointing at the body bag as the hand pushes through the plastic, desperately reaching out for help. I think it's a woman's hand.
Do something, Kris! You have to save her!
I raise my camera again, and --
I JOLT UP SO FAST I nearly break my neck. I'm drenched with sweat, crying hysterically, and have no idea where I am. Everything is blurry, so I try to rub my eyes into focus, but it's hard because my hands are trembling out of control. Actually, my whole body is trembling.
I plead with myself, C'mon, Kris.
Finally, shapes begin to appear before me, followed by outlines . . . and, like a Polaroid, it all becomes clear.
It was just a dream, you spaz! Just a dream.
Collapsing back into my pillow, I let out the world's hugest sigh of relief. Never have I been so happy to be alone in my own bed.
But it was so real.
The body bags . . . a woman's hand coming out of one of them.
I turn to my alarm clock -- a little before six a.m. Good, I can still get a few more minutes of sleep. But the moment I close my eyes, they pop right open again.
I hear something, a pounding, and it's not just my stressed-out heart. Someone's at the door.