Read the full review here.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Wow! What a dark and fantastic book! BAD THINGS gets 4.5 stars from LOVE BYTES REVIEWS
4.5 STARS Wow! What a dark and fantastic book!
Read the full review of BAD THINGS
I loved the contrast between the two characters…There is lots of sex in this book…. Some of it is nice and sweet, some of it is dark and nasty. But even the dark and nasty was appealing in it’s own way. But be warned, a bit of what Xavier does to Carson is not exactly consensual. It’s that fine line.
The plot is interesting, the whole human trafficking story line is relevant and scary. The development of the relationship between Xavier and Carson is great. It’s a very intense relationship they have, Big shit happens, it was just an amazing story. I haven’t read anything by Varian Krylov before, but I certainly will now. Dangerously Happy is on the top of my TBR list!
Thursday, September 25, 2014
GIVEAWAY, 5 Star Review of BAD THINGS and Author Interview at Multitaskingmommas
5 STARS! Exceptionally intense!
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Exceptionally Intense: 5 STARS for Bad Things
Sunday, September 21, 2014
5.0 out of 5 stars - A Story Packed Full of Suspense and Carnal Passion
Bad Things at Amazon
Bad Things at Smashwords
Saturday, September 20, 2014
If you don't read any other mm novel this year - read this one!
Senusous and Mysterious - must read!, September 15, 2014
By
sljasble (Tampa, FL) - See all my reviews
This review is from: Bad Things (Kindle Edition)
I had the pleasure of Beta reading this wonderful book! This is a follow up to Krylov's Dangerously Happy (DH), which I also loved. I'm in love with this author and her passionate characters! I loved DH so much that when I had the opportunity to Beta read this book I jumped on it - and I was not disappointed at all.Xavier made his debut in DH, but the reader just barely got to know him. I was fascinated with what little we saw, so a whole novel devoted to him - yeah! In Bad Things, we really-really get to know Xavier and you can't help but to love this tough guy.
My big surprise though was Carson. HIs sensitive soul just sucks you in and he really owns this book. I fell hard for him!
Ultimately, Krylov's writing is sensuous and artistic - like Candy for my ears/brain and sex drive! It is hot, steamy, passionate, well written. You'll love the plot, the mystery, the vengeance, and the forgiveness.
If you don't read any other mm novel this year - read this one! I can't wait for it to come out in paperback! It's one I'm adding to my collection!
Bad Things at Amazon
Bad Things at Smashwords
Monday, September 15, 2014
NEW RELEASE! Bad Things by Varian Krylov, author of Dangerously Happy
Xavier makes a lot of people nervous. The rest, he flat-out scares. More than his hulking, tattooed body, it's his predator's gaze that makes people feel vulnerable, as if he had the power to read their thoughts and see their soul. For his lovers, it's Xavier's ravenous appetite for all things carnal—for the taste of flesh under his tongue and the feel of a trembling body under his control, for whispered pleas and muffled cries—that makes him dangerous.
But recently, driven by a festering rage against the men who attacked his sister a decade ago, Xavier has developed a taste for a different kind of hunt and conquest: stalking men who do truly bad things and punishing the predators he sniffs out. The problem with vigilante justice, though, is sometimes the man in your trap is innocent.
Carson suspects he's playing a risky game with dangerous men. But the lies are convincing, especially when they're slipped to him among hundred dollar bills. He never guessed how big and dark the secret hidden under all the lies and money could be. And he has no idea he's not the predator, but the prey, until it's too late.
And you can't beg for mercy when there's a gag in your mouth.
But when Carson escapes from Xavier's trap, he's forced to accept that Xavier is far from his most dangerous enemy. Xavier may even hold the key to overcoming the painful past that has kept Carson prisoner for almost two decades.
But recently, driven by a festering rage against the men who attacked his sister a decade ago, Xavier has developed a taste for a different kind of hunt and conquest: stalking men who do truly bad things and punishing the predators he sniffs out. The problem with vigilante justice, though, is sometimes the man in your trap is innocent.
Carson suspects he's playing a risky game with dangerous men. But the lies are convincing, especially when they're slipped to him among hundred dollar bills. He never guessed how big and dark the secret hidden under all the lies and money could be. And he has no idea he's not the predator, but the prey, until it's too late.
And you can't beg for mercy when there's a gag in your mouth.
But when Carson escapes from Xavier's trap, he's forced to accept that Xavier is far from his most dangerous enemy. Xavier may even hold the key to overcoming the painful past that has kept Carson prisoner for almost two decades.
If you loved Dangerously Happy, and need more of Xavier (and a little visit from Dario and Aidan, too), you want Bad Things.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Contest ends tomorrow! Win a FREE EBOOK! Bad Things or Dangerously Happy
Win a FREE ebook: http://tinyurl.com/ksdouq5
Contest ends tomorrow!
Xavier makes a lot of people nervous. The rest, he flat-out scares. More than his hulking, tattooed body, it's his predator's gaze that makes people feel vulnerable, as if he had the power to read their thoughts and see their soul. For his lovers, it's Xavier's ravenous appetite for all things carnal—for the taste of flesh under his tongue and the feel of a trembling body under his control, for whispered pleas and muffled cries—that makes him dangerous.
But recently, driven by a festering rage against the men who attacked his sister a decade ago, Xavier has developed a taste for a different kind of hunt and conquest: stalking men who do truly bad things and punishing the predators he sniffs out. The problem with vigilante justice, though, is sometimes the man in your trap is innocent.
Carson suspects he's playing a risky game with dangerous men. But the lies are convincing, especially when they're slipped to him among hundred dollar bills. He never guessed how big and dark the secret hidden under all the lies and money could be. And he has no idea he's not the predator, but the prey, until it's too late.
And you can't beg for mercy when there's a gag in your mouth.
But when Carson escapes from Xavier's trap, he's forced to accept that Xavier is far from his most dangerous enemy. Xavier may even hold the key to overcoming the painful past that has kept Carson prisoner for almost two decades.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Thursday, September 11, 2014
5 STARS! Teodora Kostova reviews Bad Things
"Bad Things is an intense book on every level imaginable. It was very hard to read at times, the brutality of the situations painted so vividly by Varian’s exquisite writing, that I had to stop and take a breather... the intensity of Xavier and Carson’s relationship is indescribable. It’s not your usual romance, not at all. It’s brutal and passionate, sometimes violent, but always honest. I do not recommend this book for anyone who can’t handle anything darker than a fluffy, easy, sexy romance. The relationship between the MCs is quite unconventional... I recommend [Bad Things] wholeheartedly to anyone. It’s an emotional, intense story of two people trying to find themselves through each other. Two people not afraid to hurt and get hurt if the emptiness inside them will be filled again in the end. Oh, and there’s a pretty hot cameo by Aidan and Dario. Did I mention the sex in the book is off-the-charts hot?"
at Amazon
at Smashwords
Hot excerpts:
Bathing the hostage
Whipping Boy
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
WHIPPING BOY: Bad Things EXPLICIT excerpt
When
Xavier let himself into Carson’s room—not bothering to knock, of
course—Carson was sitting at the table by the window, doing
something on his computer, which he immediately closed.
Puta
Madre Maria,
it did something to him, the way Carson got to his feet and stood
there, silently looking at him, just waiting to submit to whatever he
said, whatever he did. The bulge of his stiffening dick already
deliciously obvious.
“Get
undressed.”
Fuck,
that trembling, aroused obedience. Xavier had never known anything
like it.
No
need to bark orders. All Carson needed was to know what he wanted. So
he spoke softly. “Get on the bed. On your hands and knees.”
Jesus
Christ, the sight of him, so anxious, so willing. So fucking hard.
This
time, Xavier'd had time to prepare. An experiment. A little push, to
see what else would open up, what other facet of Carson’s soul
could be brought out of shadow.
Each
wrist drawn in, under Carson's body, and tethered to his ankle.
Startling, how animal, how dehumanized a man could look, just by
forcing his body into a slightly unnatural contortion. Knees splayed
wide. Ass unavoidably lifted to display all the delicacies of his
undercarriage, especially when Xavier slowly pressed down on the
small of his back, getting that perfect curve and making Carson’s
cheeks spread that taunting, extra little bit.
He didn't blindfold or gag him. With his weight tipped forward like
that, his face was pretty much buried in the pillow. Half smothered,
half gagged. Unable to see Xavier.
“Were
you impatient, waiting for me tonight?” he asked quietly, forcing
Carson to strain to hear him as he ran just the tip of his finger
lightly down the shallow furrow, over his defenseless hole, thrilling
at the tremor running through Carson’s body. “Wondering when I’d
come? If I’d come?”
He
set the things he’d need on the bedspread, near Carson’s foot.
Climbing onto the mattress behind him—hell, it took his fucking
breath, the way Carson went stone still in nervous anticipation—he
laid his hands on those two gorgeous round cheeks. Even though his
asshole was right there in plain sight, he spread him open a little
wider, relishing the gasp and shudder he knew Carson would give him.
Xavier
plucked up the riding crop he'd bought that afternoon, at the sex shop inevitably located in every
urban downtown. For a moment, he felt the whip teeter on his palm,
getting a sense of its weight and balance, then grasped the handle
and whiffed the length back and forth through the air. A flimsy toy
compared to the one he had at home, but it would do.
Xavier
ran his hand over Carson’s hard dick, his hanging balls, his
exposed hole, drinking down the nectar of Carson's stiff, trembling
suspense, wondering if he'd guessed the significance of the sound the
crop had made as it had sliced through the air, or whether it was
pure suspense making Carson's body quiver like that. Then he brought
the leather tip of the crop down on the luscious left cheek of
Carson’s pale rump, good and fucking hard. So hard, Carson didn’t
just gasp. He squealed, hitting a weird high note as he sucked in his
breath. And after, there he was, trussed up, ribs going in and out
like a bellows. Xavier waited, watched the flame of red spread over
his smooth skin, watched the in-out of Carson’s breaths alter from
startled alarm, to the halt and gasp of anxious anticipation. And
Carson's sweet cock, engorged to the fucking limit.
His
own wasn’t exactly limp.
A
little more cruelly, he struck the other cheek. A few seconds later,
a blotchy red mark emerged. But even better, Carson’s neck and ears
were scarlet. His face, too, probably, but it was hidden in the
pillow. Pain. Humiliation. All those capillaries dilating, competing
with his cock for blood.
Xavier
sank his fingers into Carson's hair, pushed his face down into the
pillow, and hit him again. Again. Got him crying and squirming more
and more desperately, cock beautifully obscene, ruddy, veins swollen,
and, puta
pene maravillosa,
cockhead seeping.
When
the twelfth strike hit its mark, Xavier tossed the crop aside and
pounced on Carson with all the cruel hunger of those twelve weeks of
doubt, and the vicious want ripping through him with every stinging
whack of the crop against Carson’s rump, red and throwing off heat
like a frying pan. He grasped both cheeks, spread him wide, and
settled his mouth over Carson's hole, sliding the flat of his tongue
over his pucker in one long, slow stroke, Carson’s startled cry
making him fucking crazy.
“This
is how I like you, Carson. Ass in the air and spread wide like you’re
begging me to get in there and eat it. To stuff your hole with my
hard dick.”
He
reached under, got hold of Carson’s cock, and drew it back, between
his legs, until he had his hole, his balls, and his leaking dick all
in a nice, neat all-you-can-eat buffet line. When he licked, sliding
his tongue over that engorged, seeping crown, pressing down between
his balls, over his taint, over his hole, and up along the fuzzy
furrow of his ass, Carson writhed and moaned so beautifully, Xavier
could hardly fucking bear it. He went on eating, teasing and probing
his hole, sucking his balls, nursing at his plump cock head until
Carson whimpered his need to come. Then—fucking beauty—Carson
groaned into the pillow, convulsing, coming. Already. Crying and
bucking, knuckles white, lashed down by his feet. Xavier licked,
sucked, drank, swallowed. Delicious. He could have gone on eating him
forever.
Instead,
not even waiting for Carson’s warbling sighs or tremors to stop, he
rose up, got a condom on, greased up his hole—his cock rearing and
twitching at the feel of Carson’s sphincter grasping at his finger,
at the grunting noise he made as Xavier slowly penetrated him—and
got in there. Fucking God, Carson was tight. A tormenting strain,
every time, working his dick into the cruel grip of him. And so
fucking worth it.
Was
it too much? Riding him now, in that precarious post-orgasmic moment
when everything—body, brain and soul—is at its most sensitive?
Xavier bent over him, slid his arm around his neck, bracing against
his chest so he wouldn’t really choke him, just give him that
thrill of danger, of being taken. Now he could see him in profile,
mouth wide, animal grunts shaking out of him every time Xavier plowed
into him, brows knit. Body quivering in his arms. Total surrender as
Xavier fucked, as he came, growling and clawing, sinking his teeth
into the firm flesh just inside Carson’s shoulder.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Bathing the hostage: EXPLICIT EXCERPT from Bad Things
Heading
toward Venice, breathing, counting, Xavier put Kayleigh and Olga and
that fucking video out of his mind, and focused his thoughts on
Carson. Xavier had never encountered anyone whose arousal was so tied
to fear. There was Dario, but that was something else. And there’d
been others—hell, countless others—who wanted or needed or
thrived on being dominated, controlled, made helpless, threatened,
even hurt. But with the others—Dario being the lone, eternal
exception—on some level either just at the surface or somewhere
down toward the depths, it was theater.
Not
for Carson. It wasn’t just that he really was his prisoner. It was
something inside of him. Something intimately intertwined with those
worshipful images of the model's cock on Carson's camera. With the
tragic sorrow quivering along the lie threaded between that silent
prayer in light and shadow, and Carson's brittle mantra, “I'm not
gay, I'm not gay.”
When
he got back from the Kayleigh's, Xavier uncuffed Carson and gave him
his three minutes in the bathroom. When he emerged, Carson startled
when Xavier intercepted him before he’d returned to his post, then
started panting and resisting as Xavier drove him back into the
bathroom.
Maneuvering
him into the shower, Xavier forced one arm overhead and latched the
restraint into the bolt in the wall, then did his other wrist.
Fuck,
from the look on Carson’s face it was like he thought Xavier was
about to whip a chainsaw out from under the sink and re-enact a scene
from Scarface.
Caressing
his cheek, noting how he flinched at that gentle touch, how pale he’d
gone, how he was trembling, Xavier said, “This scruffy beard you’re
growing is cute. But I like you better clean-cut. Soft and smooth.”
He
took off the gag and tossed it into the sink, and in lieu of the
chainsaw, he got his electric shaver from the cupboard, and stepped
back into the shower with Carson.
“It’s
not a straight razor. Don’t look so worried.”
Even
after everything, it felt so fucking intimate, touching and guiding
his jaw, coaxing him to raise his chin, to elongate his neck, making
his skin taut, easy to shave. Touching his chin with just the pad of
his thumb to coax a turn to the left, then to the right, the sharp
bright fear in his blue eyes softening to a hazed glow.
But
when Xavier put the guard attachment on the clippers and sat down on
the edge of the tub, Carson’s fear sharpened again. Christ, it was
beautiful, the way his abdomen—elongated and taut because his arms
were stretched overhead—fluttered with his alarmed respiration.
“Don’t
worry, I won’t shave you bare. We’ll just keep things from
getting unruly.”
Carson’s
body awkward and rigid the whole time, Xavier carefully groomed him,
gently lifting and shifting his balls and his dick as he worked
around them, relishing the soft, sweet delight of feeling Carson’s
cock swelling slightly in his hand.
Stepping
out of the shower, Xavier put the clippers away, then turned back to
Carson, dangling in suspense. Locked eyes with him. Stripped out of
his T-shirt.
Fuck.
That furrow between Carson’s eyebrows—how could such a little
thing hit Xavier so fucking hard? And the way his head sank down—a
slow, small movement, barely perceptible. Still so shy. Still
ashamed. And, of course, still afraid.
When
Xavier stripped out of his pants and underwear, Carson turned away.
He didn’t just turn his head aside. His whole body twisted until
he’d put his back to Xavier.
Stepping
into the tub, Xavier picked up the shower head on the end of its
metal snake-like coil, and turned on the water. Waited for it to
warm. Moved the spray over Carson’s smooth, broad shoulders,
watched the rivulets stream down his back, over the jutting curves of
his pale ass, down his long, finely muscled thighs.
Raking
his fingers into Carson’s curls, possessive but not rough, he
pulled his head back. Wet his hair, watching it darken and straighten
and cling to his scalp. Carson stayed dead still as Xavier filled the
hollow of his palm with shampoo, but shuddered when he felt that
touch, Xavier's fingertips sinking into wet locks.
Foam
rising and flowing outward from his fingers, streaking Carson’s
dark strands. Even with Carson staying still, staying silent, Xavier
knew how firmly to press his scalp with the pads of his fingers. Felt
his fearful rigidity slowly softening. Worked his scalp. Massaged his
temples in gradually widening circles. Worked just under the base of
his skull, wearing down the knot of stressed muscle fed on hours and
hours of fear and being restrained, one arm pinned back.
Xavier
rinsed the lather from Carson’s hair. Got the soap. Massaged his
neck, his shoulders. Sculpted. Smooth under his hands. Utterly
delicious to his touch. His back, too, so beautiful to look at, even
more so to feel, contrast of wide shoulders and narrow waist,
contours of smooth muscle, of silky skin.
Reaching
up. Finely muscled arms. Hands. For some reason, when he slid his
soap-slippery fingers between Carson’s, there was a quiet whimper.
Almost inaudible. Almost like he was still gagged.
The hairy hollows of his pits. Sinewy torso. Down his sides: corrugations of ribs, that ridge of muscled flesh where torso meets pelvis, down to smooth, sleek hips.
The hairy hollows of his pits. Sinewy torso. Down his sides: corrugations of ribs, that ridge of muscled flesh where torso meets pelvis, down to smooth, sleek hips.
Fuck,
his breath speeding, cock aching, Xavier slid his soapy hands over
Carson’s flat, taut belly. Up. Muscled swell of his pecs.
When
Xavier leaned in, let his chest and belly curve to press against his
back, let his cock nestle between Carson’s cheeks as he caressed
him, breathing in the scent of the soap, feeling Carson’s wet hair
against his cheek, Carson’s trembling body began shuddering against
his. A day ago, Carson’s weeping would have pumped Xavier full of
poisonous glee, but at this moment it was cooling all his warm
pleasure.
“Carson.
I’m not about to fuck you. I’m just enjoying bathing you.”
If
anything, Carson’s shuddering just got worse.
Fair
enough. Given the situation, it was probably hard to buy that line
with Xavier’s erection nestled in his cleft. Xavier took a step
back. Turned Carson to face him. He was seeking his eyes, so he
wouldn’t have noticed right away, except Carson’s hard dick slid
against Xavier's thigh as he pivoted him away from the wall. Whatever
confusion was making Carson cry, there was nothing indecisive about
his hard-on.
When
Xavier said, “Look at me,” Carson obeyed.
It
wasn’t fear—at least not fear that Xavier was about to rape
him—that Xavier found in Carson’s upturned eyes, surprisingly
unshy, unevasive, but red and welling up. A different kind of fear.
An inward-turned fear. The unexpected rush of tenderness that hit
Xavier’s chest made it hard to breathe.
He
didn’t think Carson would let him. Not like that. Not with his own
trembling seeking. But at the first brush of lips Carson gave himself
to the kiss. Not just a yielding submission.
Fuck,
joder, there’d never been a kiss like it. As cock and
chest-twisting as a hard fuck, but with something sweet and bitter
pouring into his belly at the same time.
Just
for a second Xavier thought of letting him out of the restraints.
Maybe it was the way that inward-turned fear in Carson’s eyes
flared up when Xavier glanced up at his wrists, but he left him like
that. Arms bound overhead, body stretched taut, defenseless.
Just
shallow kisses now, watching murky pleasure and hazy fear ebb and
churn in Carson’s eyes as Xavier touched him. A shadow appeared in
that furrow between his eyebrows as he touched his nipples, both at
once, feathering and teasing, first. Then tormenting him, twisting
and tugging, drinking his groans, devouring his lips, feasting on his
tongue.
Carson
was so fucking keyed up, Xavier was afraid to touch his cock, pretty
sure he’d lose it at the first stroke. But fuck, so much fucking
want. More brutal than any before.
A
fistful of hair. Kissing. Wrapping his fist around his own aching
dick he gave it a squeeze, rubbed the joint behind the crown with the
pad of his thumb. He wasn’t much better than Carson. Wouldn’t
last a minute.
Carson.
Looking. Anticipating. When Xavier brushed their cock heads together
Carson let out a cry that drove a hot thrill right to Xavier’s
balls.
Kissing.
Tongue and lips. Throat. Nipple. Ear. Neck. Carson writhing and
sighing, Xavier came, the spasm grasping his balls and cock in a
brutal jolt, launching a thick rope of spunk onto Carson’s stiff
prick. Loving that, he kept lacing strand after strand over his head
and shaft as spasm after spasm wrung him out.
Sinking
down, he perched on the edge of the tub, grasped Carson’s hips in
both hands, pulled him forward, and swiped his tongue up the length
of his shaft, pink, lightly veined, hard as fucking iron, and over
his succulent head, looking up into those startled blue eyes watching
it all, and swallowed. Licked and licked until he’d mopped up every
drop of his own spunk, drank it down, slid his tongue over his own
lips, devouring Carson’s look of stunned, overwhelmed arousal, then
wrapped his lips around his cock.
Fuck,
the way Carson groaned and shuddered as Xavier pulled his cock into
his mouth, the way he was trembling in Xavier’s hands was every bit
as fucking delicious as the hard meat in his mouth. Letting go of his
hips, Xavier pried Carson’s thighs apart, slid his arms between and
grabbed two handfuls of muscled rump as he went on eating. Tangy
pre-cum seeping from that succulent head, fat and firm against his
tongue. And God, that satiating yet appetite-whetting sensation, his
whole cock filling his mouth, head prodding his throat. When he
swallowed, Carson groaned and bucked and came, semen pouring down
Xavier’s throat, jet after viscous jet.
Xavier
nursed and licked his way back, releasing Carson slowly, inch by
inch, then stood, drank in his dazed look, and took him in a hard,
deep kiss, startled by his own hunger, when he’d come just a couple
minutes earlier.
And
Carson. Jesus Cristo. If anything, he looked more scared than
ever, now. Sadder than ever. But, fuck, he kept kissing. Kissing like
he was trying to eat Xavier’s goddamned soul.
Xavier
ended it. Because he had to. Because you don’t gamble the fate of a
bunch of stolen kids on a kiss. Not even that kiss.
But
he ended it gently. With a press of lips at the corner of Carson’s
mouth. With another tender brush of lips and a soft kiss by his ear.
He
got a towel and gently dried Carson’s face.
Carson’s
voice was soft and full of hurt surprise. His eyes were even worse.
“Take off the cuffs.”
Xavier
gave him a carefully measured look. Not angry or threatening, but
unyielding. A bit reproachful.
When
he started drying Carson’s body, Carson said, “You’re really
going to keep me chained up?” Wounded. Angry.
“Yes.
But if you don’t say another word, I’ll leave the gag off.”
When
he’d finished drying Carson, letting the perverse thrill of gently
lifting and shifting his cock and his balls so he could blot them dry
prick him through the heavy blanket of regret wrapping itself around
him, he perfunctorily dried himself with the same, now damp towel.
Then he unlatched Carson’s restraints from the overhead bolt and
led him back to his post.
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
BAD THINGS now available for pre-order!
Xavier
makes a lot of people nervous. The rest, he flat-out scares. More
than his hulking, tattooed body, it's his predator's gaze that makes
people feel vulnerable, as if he had the power to read their thoughts
and see their soul. For his lovers, it's Xavier's ravenous appetite
for all things carnal—for the taste of flesh under his tongue and
the feel of a trembling body under his control, for whispered pleas
and muffled cries—that makes him dangerous.
But
recently, driven by a festering rage against the men who attacked his
sister a decade ago, Xavier has developed a taste for a different
kind of hunt and conquest: stalking men who do truly bad things and
punishing the predators he sniffs out. The problem with vigilante
justice, though, is sometimes the man in your trap is innocent.
Carson
suspects he's playing a risky game with dangerous men. But the lies
are convincing, especially when they're slipped to him among hundred
dollar bills. He never guessed how big and dark the secret hidden
under all the lies and money could be. And he has no idea he's not
the predator, but the prey, until it's too late.
And
you can't beg for mercy when there's a gag in your mouth.
But
when Carson escapes from Xavier's trap, he's forced to accept that
Xavier is far from his most dangerous enemy. Xavier may even hold the
key to overcoming the painful past that has kept Carson prisoner for
almost two decades.
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