Category: Rachel Van Dyken

New Release ☆ Capture (Seaside Pictures #1) by Rachel Van Dyken

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Losing your ability to speak at the age of seventeen; it’s not normal or fair.
But trauma, has a way of throwing normality out the window.
Dani lives anything but a normal life.
Her sister is married to one of the biggest names in Hollywood.
Her best friends are rockstar duo AD2.
And she has more love around her than most people experience in a lifetime.
But that doesn’t change the fact their parents are dead.

Or that it’s her fault.

It seems her new normal is being a mute, living on the inside, unable to actually communicate on
the outside.
That is until Hollywood’s newest heartthrob Lincoln Greene hires her as his assistant for the summer.
He’s gorgeous, completely unavailable, and unobtainable.
But that doesn’t stop her from wondering…if things were different…would he want her?
If she was whole, would he be the other half?

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EXCERPT
“Finally!” Jaymeson pointed at both of us. “Lincoln, show her to her mark. Dani, for this scene you’re simply staring at him like you want to eat him. Think you can do that?”
I nodded.
Any woman could do that.
Most men too.
“Cue music!” Jaymeson called out. “Action.”
A techno mix of AD2’s latest song filled the air as the extras started dancing around us. I stayed glued to the wall while Lincoln delivered his lines to Pris, and then he lifted his head, meeting my gaze.
It’s just a movie. It’s just a movie.
The breath left my chest on one slow exhale as he moved toward me, his body making fluid purposeful movements through the crowd.
My lips parted; my entire body felt heavy as he approached.
He stopped in front of me, his forehead grazing mine as he leaned in a few inches. Our breath mingled as the music and scene faded around me.
“Cut!” Jaymeson yelled.
Holy crap on a cracker. I almost experienced my first stroke — at seventeen.
“You okay?” Lincoln’s eyebrows knit together in concern.
I licked the lipstick from my lips and nodded quickly.
Jaymeson approached. “Time for the kiss, remember kissing, not hockey. Clearly, you were confused earlier.”
Lincoln gritted his teeth and let out a little groan.
I patted his arm and grinned, my way of encouraging him. He seemed to pale more.
My stomach sank.
Maybe it was me.
I was the problem.
Not the kiss, but me. If he’d had trouble kissing my gorgeous sister, how was he going to be able to kiss me?
“Hey…” Lincoln cupped my cheek. “… focus on me, nothing else, alright? It’s only us.”
I nodded.
“You ever been to a party?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Ever made out with a guy at a party that wasn’t your boyfriend?”
I thought about it then slowly shook my head.
“So that’s what this scene is about. It’s about a guy seeing a girl from across the room and wanting her so badly that he’s willing to cheat on his own girlfriend for just one taste. Granted, he’s supposedly drunk and high, but that just takes the romance out of it, doesn’t it?”
He released my cheek and stepped back. “Imagine you’re trying to attract me, make your body as inviting as possible. Hell, just stand there and look at me, and you’ll sell it.”
Sell it. I repeated the words in my mind.
I could do that.
Because I wanted him to kiss me.
It made my heart beat faster.
My blood pump harder.
And for the first time since my parents’ death, I was actually excited about something. Nervous, but excited.
“Okay,” I mouthed.
I must have surprised him again because his eyes darkened, and then he grinned. “One day, Dani. One day I’m going to hear my name coming from that gorgeous mouth of yours, and I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions… damn the consequences.”
My breath hitched.
“Quiet on set! And action!”
There was no warning. Suddenly, Lincoln’s mouth was fused against mine, no teeth, just his soft lips pushing, prodding, moving slowly back and forth until his tongue slid through and made contact with mine.
Heart racing, I opened my mouth enough to deepen the kiss as heat washed over me.
He groaned and dug his fingers into my shoulders then slid his hands down my back and gripped my butt. I let out a squeak of surprise as I flicked his tongue with mine.
“Cut!” Jaymeson yelled.
I kept kissing.
So did Lincoln.
His chest brushed roughly against mine; my breasts ached at the sharp contact. I let out a little hiss at the exact time Linc let out a groan and nudged his knee between my legs.
“Cut!” Jaymeson yelled again.
Slowly, Lincoln pried himself away from me, chest heaving.
“Good enough,” said Jaymeson.
“No,” Lincoln argued without taking his wild grey eyes off me, “I went off script. We need to do it again.”
“The hell you do,” someone mumbled. I wasn’t surprised to see Demetri glaring daggers at Lincoln’s back. Alec was next to Jaymeson, giving him an earful. I noted the strong tick in his jaw.
“Fine.” Jaymeson waved them both off. “We’ll do it again.”
“Take two, and action!”
This time the kiss was slow, languid in its movements. Hot waves of pleasure coursed through my body as his tongue slid seductively pass my lips. His taste, the feel of his mouth was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Greedily, I moaned, desperate for more of him as I reached for his shirt then fisting it with my hands and tugging him tighter against my body, wanting more contact with him. I felt every plane of muscle as he slowly turned us so his back was semi facing the camera. His knee nudged my legs apart as pressure increased down the middle of my body. I hadn’t really looked long at the script, but I was pretty sure that this wasn’t part of it.
Not that I was complaining.
He rocked into me, my back connected with the wall. With a possessive growl, he nipped my lower lip then started kissing down my neck. Kissing in public had never been my thing — but maybe that was because I’d never kissed Lincoln.
I would kiss him anywhere.
All he needed to do was ask.
Body humming with pleasure, I let out a little gasp as his warm lips met the pulse on my neck. Then his tongue licked where his lips had just been.
His knee rose higher and higher as my body sank onto his; the first contact of his leg had my body screaming with pleasure — just a little higher, just a little more.
“Cut!” someone shouted, though it didn’t sound like Jaymeson.
Suddenly, Demetri was pulling Lincoln away from me and glaring daggers at both of us. “I think you guys got the scene.”
Embarrassed, I looked down, tucking my silky hair behind my ear. Did I really almost just dry hump Lincoln Greene’s leg? In front of about twenty people, including my sister?
“You sure?” Lincoln asked, voice hoarse. I glanced up at him, his chest was heaving with exertion, his lips swollen. “Because I could have sworn I messed up my lines.”
“There are no lines, you bastard,” Demetri muttered under his breath.
“Damn it!” Jaymeson shouted. “Hey, guys, I’m going to need you to shoot it one more time. Remember, Lincoln, you’re supposed to proposition her.”
Lincoln grinned smugly at Demetri.
Demetri didn’t move.
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Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency
and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking
coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from
readers!

Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866!

You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken
or join her fan group Rachel’s New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com


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Pre-Release Launch ☆ Capture by Rachel Van Dyken

Losing your ability to speak at the age of seventeen; it’s not normal or fair.

But trauma, has a way of throwing normality out the window.

Dani lives anything but a normal life.

Her sister is married to one of the biggest names in Hollywood.

Her best friends are rockstar duo AD2.

And she has more love around her than most people experience in a lifetime.

But that doesn’t change the fact their parents are dead.

Or that it’s her fault.
It seems her new normal is being a mute, living on the inside, unable to actually communicate on the outside.

That is until Hollywood’s newest heartthrob Lincoln Greene hires her as his assistant for the summer.

He’s gorgeous, completely unavailable, and unobtainable.

But that doesn’t stop her from wondering…if things were different…would he want her?

If she was whole, would he be the other half?

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EXCERPT

“You kiss my wife and enjoy it, I remove your balls in your sleep.” Jaymeson said in a chipper voice as he slapped me on the back.
“Always great working with a real professional, Jaymeson, always great,” I muttered.
“Here’s a tip,” Jaymeson whispered in a low voice so Pris couldn’t hear us. “Get it done on the first take so I don’t have to cause an on-set accident where I set your trailer on fire and blame it on God smiting you for being a Hollywood heathen.”
“Heathen?” I repeated with a smirk. “Isn’t that the part I’m playing? I thought Demetri was hot for Nat, so doesn’t that mean I need to be hot for your wife? Your very…” I glanced at Pris. “…lovely wife?”
“Bastard. I should never have cast you!”
I burst out laughing. “Jay, you know I’m messing with you. I’m professional. That’s why you cast me, because in a sea of Hollywood heathens, I’m the only one who wouldn’t make a pass at your wife.”
He shrugged. “True. Also you may be passable in the whole looks department, or so I’ve been told by numerous people on set.”
“Jealous?”
“Hardly.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m Jamie Jaymeson. Women tattoo my name on their asses and ask me to sign their boobs.”
“You signed whose boobs?” Pris asked, sneaking up on our conversation.
“My grandma’s,” I blurted. “She’s such—” I wrapped an arm around Jaymeson and squeezed. “—a huge fan.”
“Right.” Jaymeson coughed. “It’s always such a thrill, signing elderly ladies tits. Hey, you think I should do a nursing home tour?”
“Yeah, man.” I nodded. “Dream big.”
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Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking
coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!

Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866!

You can connect with her on Facebook or join her fan group Rachel’s New Rockin Readers. Her website.

New Release ❤︎ The Consequence of Loving Colton by Rachel Van Dyken

It’s all fun and games…until someone’s heart is broken.
They’re not kids anymore, but Milo Caro is certain that
Colton Mathews will only see her as his best friend’s little sister for the
rest of their lives. After all, he made that clear the night before she left
for college. But four years later, her brother is getting married and Colt’s
the best man—and guess who is the best man’s last-minute date?
Milo vows to use the wedding to either claim the smoldering
firefighter’s heart or douse this torch for good. When Max—her best friend from
college, who may be carrying a torch of his own—crashes the party, they devise
a plan to make Colt see what he’s missing. But after Colt catches on, he
decides to cook up his own revenge.
Now it’s personal. Colt and Milo are at war, and between
Max’s questionable acting methods, an unfortunate trip to jail, and a maniacal
fiancée, what could possibly go right?
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“What the hell is wrong with you?” Max gave me a tender shove. “We were fine until you started stepping on my foot and elbowing me!”

“You were hitting on my mom!”

“She’s a beautiful lady!” he argued.

“Oh, my gosh.” I fell into one of the chairs and moaned. “This is a catastrophe.”

“Not true.” Max shook his head. “You just have to be more believable. I mean, would it kill you to find me screw-worthy?”

“Screw-worthy? What does that even mean?”

“That’s it.” Max grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Uh . . .” I pointed.

With a jerk he had me in the bathroom under the stairs and closed the door. Words and sounds were coming out of his mouth but I couldn’t make anything out. Max pushed me against the door and pointed his finger in my face. “I’m going to kiss you, damn it, and you’re going to like it. And I’m going to take off my shirt and you’re going to manhandle me, and you’re going to stop being so damn nervous or so help me God I’m going to bend you over that sofa in the living room and spank your sexy ass.”

Shocked, I was paralyzed in place. “Where did that come from?”

“Inside.” Max looked at me and smirked. “I have lots of feelings and I’m sick and tired of you looking at me like I don’t have a penis. I may be used to your innocence but for my own pride at least try to be attracted to me. Now close your damn eyes.”

“Stop cursing at me.”

“Stop being difficult! I’m trying to help you. And stop squirming. Shit, take a Xanax or something.”

“Max.” I closed my eyes and huffed. “This isn’t going to—”

My hand was on something hard.

I blinked my eyes open.

Since when did he have a six-pack?

I tilted my head, you know, to get a better look. His skin was really smooth but bumpy, each muscle defined so much that there was enough of a ridge for my hands to play with.

“Oh, look, he’s a man after all,” Max said, sounding bored. “I’m not your sexless friend. I’m not your damn brother. I’m not your gay friend. And I sure as hell am not thinking about anything right now except that your hands feel really good against my skin. So I’m going to kiss you, and you’re going to respond like the idea of my mouth on yours doesn’t make you want to cry—and you’ll like it.”

“I’ll like it,” I repeated.

“There’s my girl.” His eyes flashed, and then he was kissing me again, only this time his body was on fire as it pressed against me. I felt every ridge of his abs; the length of his body was beyond devastating.

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Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandykenauthor.com

New Release to Benefit Parkinson’s Disease Research ❤︎ Fever Anthology

11046427_10205381795400309_1865748429750626430_nSome of today’s hottest authors and steamy stories together in a scorching anthology to benefit Parkinson’s Disease research. 

Chelle Bliss – Hook Me 
Stacy Borel – Touching Scars 
MJ Carnal – Liquid Regret 
Claire Contreras – Catch Me 
BJ Harvey – Temporary Bliss 
Liz King – Make My Heart Beat 
Aurora Rose Reynolds – Assumption 
Harper Sloan – Axel 
Skye Turner – Alluring Turmoil 
Rachel Van Dyken – Bang Bang 

Join NY Times, USA TODAY and bestselling authors as they contribute 100% of proceeds to “Team Fever” benefiting the Michael J Fox Foundation for Parkinson’s Research. 10 authors, 10 steamy stories, one scorching hot anthology! Fever! Catch it today

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Excerpt ❤︎ Ember (Eagle Elite #5) by Rachel Van Dyken

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RELEASE DATE: FEB 19

I am a Killer. A Rapist. A Monster.

I know only pain and survival.

That is until the Cappo’s sister walked into my life.

And changed everything.

She’s a light who makes my darkness darker, her smile makes my heart turn to ice, and I can’t escape the fear her seductive looks instill–knowing it’s only a matter of time before I fail–again, and take her for myself.

This is the story of my redemption.

But it’s not pretty…I died, and now I’m alive, but not living, breathing but not surviving. I am Phoenix De Lange, son to a murdered mob boss, estranged brother, horrible friend, monster in the making, newest leader to one of the most powerful families in the Cosa Nostra.

And I will have my vengeance.

Or die trying.

I am Phoenix De Lange.

Death is all I know.

Until she offers me a piece of life–I can’t resist taking.

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EXCERPTS

PROLOGUE:

Phoenix

“Do it,” my father spat. “Or I will.”

I looked at the girl at my feet and back at my father. “No.”

He lifted his hand above my head; I knew what was coming, knew it would hurt like hell but had no way to fight back — he’d already starved me of my food for the past three days for arguing, for trying to save the girl and her cousin.

His fist hit my temple so hard that I fell to the ground with a cry. The click of his boots against the cement gave me the only warning I’d have as he reared back and kicked me in the ribs; over and over again he kicked. The girl screamed, but I stayed silent. Screaming didn’t help; nothing did.

I waited until he was done — I prayed that he would kill me this time. I prayed so hard that I was convinced God was finally going to hear me and take me away from my hell. Anything was better than living. Anything.

“You worthless—” Another kick to the head. “—piece of shit!” A kick to my gut. “You will never be boss, not if you cry every time you must do the hard thing!” Finally, blessed darkness enveloped my line of vision.

I woke up from the nightmare screaming, not even realizing that I was safe, in my own bed. With a curse I checked the clock.

Three a.m.

Well, at least I’d only had one nightmare — that I’d remembered. I’d been living with Sergio for the past week; his house was so big that I’d basically taken the east wing, and he’d taken the West, said he’d hated living alone anyway. I wasn’t stupid; I knew the guy wasn’t exactly a big fan, but it worked. I needed to stay in the States while I figured shit out.

And I wasn’t ready to leave. Not when I needed to learn all I could from Nixon. Not when I had responsibility.

And not when I had those black folders freaking burning a hole in my mind.

Luca hadn’t just left me an empire; he’d left me secrets. I wasn’t sure what was worse, knowing everything there was to know about those I was supposed to be protecting or knowing that at any minute one of them could turn on us.

“Hey!” Bee barged into my room.

“Damn it!” I pulled the blankets over my naked body, my heart picking up speed at her tousled hair and bedroom eyes. Tex’s sister, Tex’s sister. My body wasn’t accepting that — physically it wasn’t accepting any information other than she was beautiful.

And it was dark.

I looked away, scowling.

“I heard screaming.” Bee took a step forward, her perfume floating off her body like an aphrodisiac or drug, making me calm, making me want something I had no business wanting.

“Yeah, well…” I gave her a cold glance. “…clearly I’m fine, so you should go. Actually, why are you here? You know you live with Tex, right?”

She shrugged and sat on my bed. I clenched my fists around the blankets to keep from reaching out to her. It was getting harder and harder to ignore her warmth — when I lived in a constant state of near-death cold.

“He’s with Mo, and they need privacy. I’m not stupid. So I asked Sergio if I could move in for a while.”

“You did what?” I asked in a deadly tone, one I was sure would probably give her nightmares later.

She grinned. “I’m your new roomie!” Bee bounced on the bed and sent me a shy look from beneath her dark lashes. “Admit it, you miss our slumber parties.”

Forget the nightmare — I was looking at it.

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rachelborderAbout Rachel Van Dyken:

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandykenauthor.com

 NEWSLETTER❤︎FACEBOOK❤︎TWITTER❤︎GOODREADS❤︎AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Release Day ❤︎ Ember (Eagle Elite Book 5) by Rachel Van Dyken

I am a Killer. A Rapist. A Monster.
I know only pain and survival.
That is until the Cappo’s sister walked into my life.
And changed everything.
She’s a light who makes my darkness darker, her smile makes
my heart turn to ice, and I can’t escape the fear her seductive looks
instill–knowing it’s only a matter of time before I fail–again, and take her
for myself.
This is the story of my redemption.
But it’s not pretty…I died, and now I’m alive, but not
living, breathing but not surviving. I am Phoenix De Lange, son to a murdered
mob boss, estranged brother, horrible friend, monster in the making, newest
leader to one of the most powerful families in the Cosa Nostra.
And I will have my vengeance.
Or die trying.
I am Phoenix De Lange.
Death is all I know.
Until she offers me a piece of life–I can’t resist taking.
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Once we were on the road, Phoenix chose the correct music for our drive. I say correct because, according to him, one didn’t start the day listening to hip-hop or anything remotely fun. No. Mr. Rogers had me listening to classical music.

Classical.

Mozart, to be exact.

Not that I wasn’t a fan of the arts, but really? It just seemed so against what you would expect from him. He was the bad boy personified; like, if you put his name in the dictionary, right next to it would be “And mothers warned their daughters to stay away, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and that heart wants that body… bad.”

He was all lean muscle and tight abs.

And I could have sworn he had a dimple, but I’d never actually seen it. Phoenix’s dimple was like Bigfoot; I’d seen glimpses in pictures and via rumors, but I had never actually seen it for myself.

One day.

One day I’d catch it and take a mental picture or five. Maybe ten. Needless to say, I knew that if I had one of his smiles, it would be a magical thing.

His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard I had a brief moment of panic thinking he was actually going to rip the thing from the dash and have a breakdown. Sad part? I half-expected it. He wasn’t acting normal… well, he was always moody, but this morning he seemed downright suicidal.

“So…” I tried to zone out the instruments assaulting my sanity. “You went to Eagle Elite, right?”

He was quiet for a minute then gave a swift nod.

“Wow, don’t talk so fast. I almost didn’t get all that.”

And crickets. Again.

I cleared my throat. “You graduate?”

“Sort of.”

“How do you sort of graduate?”

“Did you bring lunch money?” He asked in a tight voice.

I gaped. “Did you just ask me if I brought lunch money?”

He shrugged.

“You’re driving me to school, forcing Mozart on my poor sensitive morning ears, and just asked me if I had money for milk.”

“I’m concerned about you eating. Sue me.”

“Pretty sure the Nicolasi boss can afford to spare me a few dollars for a sandwich and a can of pop.”

“No pop.”

“Who died and made you my grandpa? Seriously. I want to know so I can steal your gun and point it at them.”

“Nobody touches my gun.”

“Which one?” I smirked, hoping he’d find the humor in my sexual innuendo, but who was I kidding? It was Phoenix. He simply grunted, rolled his eyes, and kept driving.

In a moment of pure rebellion, I undid the first two buttons of my white, collared shirt.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice calm, his eyes still on the road.

“Wow, you really are like a parent. You can see me even when you aren’t looking.”

“Button that shit to your chin before I pull this car over.”

“Put on Jay-Z, and we’ll talk.”

More cursing.

I undid another button.

“Son of a bitch, you’re annoying.”

“Is this our first lovers’ spat?”

“Were there drugs in your toast?” He finally glanced at me, his blue eyes chilling me to the bone. “Be serious. I don’t want to get called into the dean’s office because you’re high.”

“Do I look like I’m on drugs?”

“Is this a trick question?”

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ELICIT
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Elect:

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Entice:

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Elicit:

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BANG BANG:
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ENFORCE:

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.


She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at
www.rachelvandykenauthor.com

 

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