2011, ISBN: 9781857611106

Hardcover

Paperback. Good., 2.5, Paperback. Very Good., 3, Vitasta Publisher, 2011. Softcover. New. When you think back of your college days, those 4glorious years of engineering, what memories b… More...

Paperback. Good., 2.5, Paperback. Very Good., 3, Vitasta Publisher, 2011. Softcover. New. When you think back of your college days, those 4glorious years of engineering, what memories bring a smile on your face? The boring lectures on rusty machines? The half-dead teachers? Maybe the non-existent placement season? Nah… what you really remember are those scary times getting ragged, the wild parties that lasted all night, the rule bending, the bonding with friends and if you are lucky, a little love story with a heartbreak. The Hangover of fun, like its name symbolizes is the intoxication with carefree attitude you get as a college student despite the odds all stacked against you. Written in a simple, fun to read style, the book delivers a deep message through its hilarious and often bizarre renditions- That you can always find a reason to overcome your troubles, laugh and live to fight another day. Printed Pages: 127., Vitasta Publisher, 2011, 6, New York, New York, USA: Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 1994. BW5 - A hard cover first American edition book in very good condition with a dust jacket in very good- condition. A sequence of numbers appears on the copyright page with the "1" present and not additional printings indicated. A tight, clean, sound copy in blue paper covered boards quarter bound in black cloth with silver lettering on the spine and on the front with very minor overall shelf wear plus there is a remainder mark on the bottom outside paper edges. The dust jacket shows minor overall shelf wear plus there is some very, very light edge wear along the top and bottom edges plus there is some light overall rubbing. Translated from the Purtuguese by Clifford E. Landers. A novel that is a combination of satire and magic realism. The main character is bored with her loveless marriage. She adopts a pseudonym produces and produces reams of erotic musings then has an affair with a biologist-turned-fishmonger which results in her pregnancy and ends with a murder. A parallel plot has a witch doctor stumbling on a secret genetic engineering project at a local hospital. A struggle errupts to shut down the project between a heartless materialist and a humanistic priest. By the author of "Sergeant Getúlio" and "An Invincible Memory." 355p.. First American Edition. Hard Cover. Very Good/Very Good. 8vo - over 7¾" - 9¾" tall., Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 1994, 3, Vitasta Publisher, 2011. Softcover. New. When you think back of your college days, those 4glorious years of engineering, what memories bring a smile on your face? The boring lectures on rusty machines? The half-dead teachers? Maybe the non-existent placement season? Nah what you really remember are those scary times getting ragged, the wild parties that lasted all night, the rule bending, the bonding with friends and if you are lucky, a little love story with a heartbreak. The Hangover of fun, like its name symbolizes is the intoxication with carefree attitude you get as a college student despite the odds all stacked against you. Written in a simple, fun to read style, the book delivers a deep message through its hilarious and often bizarre renditions- That you can always find a reason to overcome your troubles, laugh and live to fight another day. Printed Pages: 127. Hangover of FunAgniwesh Garg9789380828367, Vitasta Publisher, 2011, 6, Vitasta Publisher, 2011. Softcover. New. When you think back of your college days, those 4glorious years of engineering, what memories bring a smile on your face? The boring lectures on rusty machines? The half-dead teachers? Maybe the non-existent placement season? Nah… what you really remember are those scary times getting ragged, the wild parties that lasted all night, the rule bending, the bonding with friends and if you are lucky, a little love story with a heartbreak. The Hangover of fun, like its name symbolizes is the intoxication with carefree attitude you get as a college student despite the odds all stacked against you. Written in a simple, fun to read style, the book delivers a deep message through its hilarious and often bizarre renditions- That you can always find a reason to overcome your troubles, laugh and live to fight another day. Printed Pages: 127., Vitasta Publisher, 2011, 6, Vitasta Publisher, 2011. Softcover. New. When you think back of your college days, those 4glorious years of engineering, what memories bring a smile on your face? The boring lectures on rusty machines? The half-dead teachers? Maybe the non-existent placement season? Nah… what you really remember are those scary times getting ragged, the wild parties that lasted all night, the rule bending, the bonding with friends and if you are lucky, a little love story with a heartbreak. The Hangover of fun, like its name symbolizes is the intoxication with carefree attitude you get as a college student despite the odds all stacked against you. Written in a simple, fun to read style, the book delivers a deep message through its hilarious and often bizarre renditions- That you can always find a reason to overcome your troubles, laugh and live to fight another day. Printed Pages: 127., Vitasta Publisher, 2011, 6, Berkley. Good. 4.31 x 0.9 x 6.81 inches. Mass Market Paperback. 2008. 336 pages. <br>#1 New York Times bestselling author Nora Roberts continues the thrilling trilogy of a town plagued by evil--and th e three men and three women brought together by fate to fight it. For Fox, Caleb, Gage and the other residents of Hawkins Hollow, the number seven portends doom--ever since, as boys, they freed a demon trapped for centuries when their blood spilled upon The P agan Stone... Now, as the dreaded seventh month looms before the m, the men can feel the storm brewing. Already they are plagued b y visions of death and destruction. But this year, they are bette r prepared, joined in their battle by three women who have come t o The Hollow. Layla, Quinn, and Cybil are somehow connected to th e demon, just as the men are connected to the force that trapped it. Since that day at The Pagan Stone, town lawyer Fox has been able to see into others' minds, a talent he shares with Layla. He must earn her trust, because their link will help fight the dark ness that threatens to engulf the town. But Layla is having troub le coming to terms with her newfound ability--and this intimate c onnection to Fox. She knows that once she opens her mind, she'll have no defenses against the desire that threatens to consume the m both... Don't miss the other books in the Sign of Seven Trilo gy Blood Brothers The Pagan Stone Editorial Reviews From Bookli st Every seven years for seven days the citizens of Hawkins Hollo w go crazy. It all began 21 years earlier when three friends--Fox O'Dell, Caleb Hawkins, and Gage Turner--spilled their own blood on the Pagan Stone and released the demon once known as Lazarus T wisse. Ever since then, the three have worked together to limit t he damage Twisse causes during his week long reign of terror. Rec ently, three women--Layla Darnell, Quinn, and Cybil Kinski--have joined their battle against Twisse, but it is going to take every thing the six have if they are ever going to eliminate once and f or all the evil that threatens Hawkins Hollow. After introducing her new paranormal-tinged series with Blood Brothers (2007)--the story of Cal and Quinn--Roberts cleverly continues her deliciousl y chilling Sign of Seven trilogy with a riveting story that focus es on Fox and Layla, both of whose gift for reading other people' s minds plays a key role in the six's demon-defeating plans. --Jo hn Charles Review Praise for Nora Roberts and The Hollow Americ a's favorite writer.--The New Yorker Roberts cleverly continues her deliciously chilling Sign of Seven trilogy with a riveting st ory that focuses on Fox and Layla, both of whose gift for reading other people's minds plays a key role in the six's demon-defeati ng plans.--Booklist About the Author Nora Roberts is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of more than 200 novels. She is als o the author of the bestselling In Death series written under the pen name J. D. Robb. There are more than 500 million copies of h er books in print. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All right s reserved. Prologue Hawkins Hollow June, 1994 On a bright sum mer morning, a teacup poodle drowned in the Bestlers' backyard sw imming pool. At first Lynne Bestler, who'd gone out to sneak in a solitary swim before her kids woke, thought it was a dead squirr el. Which would've been bad enough. But when she steeled herself to scoop out the tangle of fur with the net, she recognized her n eighbor's beloved Marcell. Squirrels generally didn't wear rhine stone collars. Her shouts, and the splash as Lynne tossed the ha pless dog, net and all, back into the pool, brought Lynne's husba nd rushing out in his boxers. Their mother's sobs, and their fath er's curses as he jumped in to grab the pole and tow the body to the side, woke the Bestler twins, who stood screaming in their ma tching My Little Pony nightgowns. Within moments, the backyard hy steria had neighbors hurrying to fences just as Bestler dragged h imself and his burden out of the water. As, like many men, Bestle r had developed an attachment to ancient underwear, the weight of the water was too much for the worn elastic. So Bestler came ou t of his pool with a dead dog, and no boxers. The bright summer m orning in the little town of Hawkins Hollow began with shock, gri ef, farce, and drama. Fox learned of Marcell's untimely death mi nutes after he stepped into Ma's Pantry to pick up a sixteen-ounc e bottle of Coke and a couple of Slim Jims. He'd copped a quick break from working with his father on a kitchen remodel down Main Street. Mrs. Larson wanted new countertops, cabinet doors, new f loors, new paint. She called it freshening things up, and Fox cal led it a way to earn enough money to take Allyson Brendon out for pizza and the movies on Saturday night. He hoped to use that gat eway to talk her into the backseat of his ancient VW bug. He did n't mind working with his dad. He hoped to hell he wouldn't spend the rest of his life swinging a hammer or running a power saw, b ut he didn't mind it. His father's company was always easy, and t he job got Fox out of gardening and animal duty on their little f arm. It also provided easy access to Cokes and Slim Jims--two ite ms that would never, never be found in the O'Dell-Barry household . His mother ruled there. So he heard about the dog from Susan Keefaffer, who rang up his purchases while a few people with noth ing better to do on a June afternoon sat at the counter over coff ee and gossip. He didn't know Marcell, but Fox had a soft spot f or animals, so he suffered a twist of grief for the unfortunate p oodle. That was leavened somewhat by the idea of Mr. Bestler, who m he did know, standing naked as a jaybird, in Susan Keefaffer's words, beside his backyard pool. While it made Fox sad to imagin e some poor dog drowning in a swimming pool, he didn't connect it --not then--to the nightmare he and his two closest friends had l ived through seven years before. He'd had a dream the night befo re, a dream of blood and fire, of voices chanting in a language h e didn't understand. But then he'd watched a double feature of vi deos--Night of the Living Dead and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre--w ith his friends Cal and Gage. He didn't connect a dead French poo dle with the dream, or with what had burned through Hawkins Hollo w for a week after his tenth birthday. After the night he and Cal and Gage had spent at the Pagan Stone in Hawkins Wood--and every thing had changed for them, and for the Hollow. In a few weeks h e and Cal and Gage would all turn seventeen, and that was on his mind. Baltimore had a damn good chance at a pennant this year, so that was on his mind. He'd be going back to high school as a sen ior, which meant top of the food chain at last, and planning for college. What occupied a sixteen-year-old boy was considerably d ifferent than what occupied a ten-year-old. Including rounding th ird and heading for home with Allyson Brendon.So when he walked b ack down the street, a lean boy not quite beyond the gangly stage of adolescence, his dense brown hair tied back in a stubby tail, golden brown eyes shaded with Oakleys, it was, for him, just ano ther ordinary day. The town looked as it always did. Tidy, a lit tle old-timey, with the old stone townhouses or shops, the painte d porches, the high curbs. He glanced back over his shoulder towa rd the Bowl-a-Rama on the Square. It was the biggest building in town, and where Cal and Gage were both working. When he and his father knocked off for the day, he thought he'd head on up, see what was happening. He crossed over to the Larson place, walked into the unlocked house where Bonnie Raitt's smooth Delta Blues s lid smoothly out of the kitchen. His father sang along with her i n his clear and easy voice as he checked the level on the shelves Mrs. Larson wanted in her utility closet. Though the windows and back door were open to their screens, the room smelled of sawdus t, sweat, and the glue they'd used that morning to install the ne w Formica. His father worked in old Levi's and his Give Peace a Chance T-shirt. His hair was six inches longer than Fox's, worn i n a tail under a blue bandanna. He'd shaved off the beard and mou stache he'd had as long as Fox remembered. Fox still wasn't quite used to seeing so much of his father's face--or so much of himse lf in it. A dog drowned in the Bestler's swimming pool over on L aurel Lane, Fox told him, and Brian stopped working to turn. Tha t's a damn shame. Anybody know how it happened? Not really. It w as one of those little poodles, so think it must've fallen in, th en it couldn't get out again. You'd think somebody would've hear d it barking. That's a lousy way to go. Brian set down his tools, smiled at his boy. Gimme one of those Slim Jims. What Slim Jims ? The ones you've got in your back pocket. You're not carrying a bag, and you weren't gone long enough to scarf down Hostess Pies or Twinkies. I'm betting you're packing the Jims. I get one, and your mom never has to know we ate chemicals and meat by-products . It's called blackmail, kid of mine. Fox snorted, pulled them o ut. He'd bought two for just this purpose. Father and son unwrapp ed, bit off, chewed in perfect harmony. The counter looks good, D ad. Yeah, it does. Brian ran a hand over the smooth, eggshell su rface. Mrs. Larson's not much for color, but it's good work. I do n't know who I'm going to get to be my lapdog when you head off t o college. Ridge is next in line, Fox said, thinking of his youn ger brother. Ridge wouldn't keep measurements in his head for tw o minutes running, and he'd probably cut off a finger dreaming wh ile he was using a band saw. No. Brian smiled, shrugged. This kin d of work isn't for Ridge, or for you, for that matter. Or either of your sisters. I guess I'm going to have to rent a kid to get one who wants to work with wood. I never said I didn't want to. Not out loud.His father looked at him the way he sometimes did, a s if he saw more than what was there. You've got a good eye, you' ve got good hands. You'll be handy around your own house once you get one. But you won't be strapping on a tool belt to make a liv ing. Until you figure out just what it is you want, you can haul these scraps on out to the Dumpster.Sure. Fox gathered up scraps, trash, began to cart them out the back, across the narrow yard t o the Dumpster the Larsons had rented for the duration of the rem odel.He glanced toward the adjoining yard and the sound of kids p laying. And the armload he carried thumped and bounced on the gro und as his body went numb.The little boys played with trucks and shovels and pails in a bright blue sandbox. But it wasn't filled with sand. Blood covered their bare arms as they pushed their Ton ka trucks through the muck inside the box. He stumbled back as th e boys made engine sounds, as red lapped over the bright blue sid es and dripped onto the green grass.On the fence between the yard s, where hydrangeas headed up toward bloom, crouched a boy that w asn't a boy. It bared its teeth in a grin as Fox backed toward th e house.Dad! Dad!The tone, the breathless fear had Brian rushing outside. What? What is it?Don't you--can't you see? But even as h e said it, as he pointed, something inside Fox knew. It wasn't re al.What? Firmly now, Brian took his son's shoulders. What do you see?The boy that wasn't a boy danced along the top of the chain-l ink fence while flames spurted up below and burned the hydrangeas to cinders.I have to go. I have to go see Cal and Gage. Right no w, Dad. I have to--Go. Brian released his hold on Fox, stepped ba ck. He didn't question. Go. He all but flew through the house an d out again, up the sidewalk to the Square. The town no longer lo oked as it usually did to him. In his mind's eye Fox could see it as it had been that horrible week in July seven years before. F ire and blood, he remembered, thinking of the dream. He burst in to the Bowl-a-Rama where the summer afternoon leagues were in ful l swing. The thunder of balls, the crash of pins pounded in his h ead as he ran straight to the front desk where Cal worked. Where 's Gage? Fox demanded. Jesus, what's up with you? Where's Gage? Fox repeated, and Cal's amused gray eyes sobered. Working the ar cade. He's . . . he's coming out now. At Cal's quick signal, Gag e sauntered over. Hello, ladies. What . . . The smirk died after one look at Fox's face. What happened? It's back, Fox said. It's come back. </div ., Berkley, 2008, 2.5, Racine, Wisconsin: Golden Press, 1978 Hard Cover. 7 1/8 x 6 5/8. This joyous Little Golden Book appears to have first been published in 1950. We have the 13th printing with Tibor Gergely's wonderful illustration of the bright read hook-an d-ladder fire truck coming full speed, off the cover. 9 fireman ride on the fire engine and a black and white dalmation. The lights are on and the bells are ringing.F.D. No 1 is on its way! A single s entence graces each page: "Quick!Connect the hoses!" "Watch out! Make way for the hose car." And to bring a smile to any little child, the last memorable page: "Hurray for the brave firemen!" The outs tanding illustrations alone, tell the story. This copy in beautiful condition. The signature Little Golden foil spine is near-new. The covers front and back have only min scuffing and wear to corner t ips. Covers are super bright and tight. Entire book is immaculately clean. No former owner's name. A lovely copy of the highly collectable "Fire Engines", Little Golden Book. Overall cond: v. good.., Racine, Wisconsin: Golden Press, 1978, 0, London: Harper Collins. Very Good. 159 x 240 x 46mm. Hardback. 1994. 918 pages. <br>766 pages On the Pacific island of Saipan, a weal thy Japanese businessman regards his new-bought land with satisfa ction. In the Indian Ocean off Sri Lanka, a foreign navy begins a series of highly unusual exercises. At the headquarters of Ameri ca's major stock-clearing corporation, an engineer brings a custo mised computer program online for the first time, and smiles at h is own private joke. Three seemingly unrelated incidents - but al l just the first links in a chain of events that will stun the wo rld. Called out of retirement to serve as the new President's Nat ional Security Advisor, Jack Ryan quickly realises that the probl ems of peace are full as complex as those of war.. ., Harper Collins, 1994, 3, Penguin. Very Good. 6.1 x 1.22 x 9.21 inches. Paperback. 2005. 320 pages. <br>Clive Cussler debuted his new series, The Oregon F iles, with the incredible adventure of Golden Buddha. Now he foll ows that triumph with Sacred Stone, a rollicking new tale featuri ng the enigmatic captain of The Oregon, Juan Cabrillo. In the rem ote wastelands of Greenland, an ancient artifact possessing catas trophic radioactive power is unearthed. But the astounding find p uts the world at risk. Caught between two militant factions bent on wholesale slaughter, Juan Cabrillo and his network of spies kn own as The Corporation must fight to protect the stone - and prev ent the outbreak of World War III... Editorial Reviews From Pub lishers Weekly Eric the Red's A.D. 1000 discovery of a radioactiv e meteorite has present-day life-or-death ramifications in Cussle r and Dirgo's second novel (after Golden Buddha) featuring the Or egon, a state-of-the-art warship disguised as a rusty tramp steam er and manned by some of the world's finest ex-military and intel ligence operatives. Known collectively as the Corporation, the me n and women of the Oregon--mercenaries with a conscience--offer t heir services to various countries and individuals with specializ ed security and military needs. The Corporation's chairman, serie s hero Juan Cabrillo, has several pressing concerns: supply secur ity for the emir of Qatar, who is attending a conference in Icela nd; track down a nuclear bomb that has gone astray; and pick up t he aforementioned meteorite, which has just been found ensconced in a mysterious shrine. These jobs become dangerously complicated when industrialist Halifax Hickman, a man fueled by revenge and hatred, enters the picture. The meteorite, the atomic bomb and a vial of plague are to be used in attacks on holy sites--Israel's Dome of the Rock and Saudi Arabia's al-Haram mosque--and at an El ton John concert. It's a deadly game, but the brilliant Cabrillo is a master player, moving his pieces at lightning speed on sever al boards until he outmaneuvers his opposition in this action-pac ked page-turner. Copyright Reed Business Information, a divisio n of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers t o an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Review J ust About the Best Storyteller in the Business. --This text refer s to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From Booklist This is the second novel in the Oregon Files series feat uring Juan Cabrillo as the chairman of the Corporation, a group o f ex-military and intelligence operatives who hire themselves out to countries and individuals needing specialized services--a pri vate army of mercenaries with a conscience. The Oregon is a 500-f oot-long cargo steamer with a state-of-the-art communications and command center and a helicopter. The group's mission is to pick up a meteorite and deliver it to the CIA. It might be made of iri dium, and iridium can be used to construct a dirty bomb. Muslim t errorists who have stolen a nuclear device may use the radioactiv e material in the meteorite to vaporize a large Western city. Ano ther group, led by a demented industrialist, seeks to destroy the Islamic world. As always, the plot covers many locales around th e world, and the dialogue contains lots of military jargon. The l arge cast of characters includes Elton John and Eric the Red (yes , the legendary explorer). Even though the good guys always win, Cussler fans will remain engaged. George Cohen Copyright America n Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. About the Author Clive Cussler is the author of numerous New York Times bes tsellers. He splits his time between Telluride, Colorado and Para dise Valley, Arizona. Craig Dirgo has been special projects dire ctor on many NUMA® expeditions since 1987 and now serves as a tru stee. He also cowrote The Sea Hunters series. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From Au dioFile In another of Cussler's high-tech potboilers, a small ban d of heroes rushes from one intricate crisis to another in an eff ort to save the world and the Islamic religion. The latter is pre sented with objectivity: Some Muslims are terrorists; some are am ong the good guys; most just go about their business. The artifac ts of Islam occupy a central role in the story. The jacket blurb describes J. Charles as having more than forty years of experienc e in entertainment, but his voice reminds one of emerging younger narrators such as Scott Brick. Charles distinguishes the players skillfully through accent and cadence. This is a fun listen. D.R .W. AudioFile 2005, Portland, Maine-- Copyright AudioFile, Port land, Maine --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All ri ghts reserved. Chapter One LIEUTENANT CHRIS HUNT rarely talked about his past, but the men he served with had gathered a few clu es from his demeanor. The first was that Hunt had not grown up in some backwoods hillbilly haven and used the army to see the worl d. He was from Southern California. And, if pressed, Hunt would v olunteer he was raised in the Los Angeles area, not wanting to di sclose that he grew up in Beverly Hills. The second thing the men noticed was that Hunt was a natural leader-he was neither patron izing nor put on an air of superiority, but neither did he try to hide the fact that he was competent and smart. The third thing the men found out today. A chill wind was blowing down from th e mountains into the Afghanistan valley where the platoon under H unt's command was breaking camp. Hunt and three other soldiers we re wrestling with a tent they were folding for storage. While the men were bringing the ends together longways, Sergeant Tom Agnes decided to ask about the rumor he had heard. Hunt handed him the side of the tent so Agnes could fold it into halves. Sir, Agne s said, rumor has it you graduated from Yale University-that true ? All the men were wearing tinted ski goggles but Agnes was clo se enough to see Hunt's eyes. A flicker of surprise, followed by resignation, flashed quickly. Then Hunt smiled. Ah, he said qui etly, you've found out my terrible secret. Agnes nodded and fol ded the tent in half. Not exactly a hotbed for military recruitin g. George Bush went there, Hunt said. He was a navy pilot. I thought he was in the National Guard, Specialist Jesus Herrara, w ho was taking the tent from Agnes, said. George Bush Senior, Hu nt said. Our president also graduated from Yale, and yes, he was a National Guard jet pilot. Yale, Agnes said. If you don't mind me asking, how did you end up here? Hunt brushed some snow fro m his gloves. I volunteered, he said, just like you. Agnes nodd ed. Now let's finish breaking down this camp, Hunt said, pointi ng to the mountain nearby, and head up there and find that bastar d who attacked the United States. Yes, sir, the men said in uni son. Ten minutes later, with fifty-pound packs on their backs, they started up the mountain. IN A TOWN where beautiful women a bound, at age forty-nine Michelle Hunt still caused men to turn t heir heads. Tall, with hazel hair and bluegreen eyes, she was ble ssed with a figure that required neither constant dieting nor end less exercise to appear trim. Her lips were full and her teeth st raight, but it was her doelike eyes and flawless skin that gave t he strongest visual impression. And while she was a beautiful wom an, that was as common in Southern California as sunshine and ear thquakes. What drew people closer to Michelle was something tha t cannot be created by a surgeon's knife, honed through dress or manicure, or developed through ambition or change. Michelle had t hat thing that made both men and women like her and want to be ar ound her-she was happy, content and positive. Michelle Hunt was h erself. And people flocked to her like bees to a flower in bloom. Sam, she said to the painter who had just finished the walls i n her art gallery, you do such nice work. Sam was thirty-eight years old and he blushed. Only my best for you, Ms. Hunt, he sa id. Sam had painted her gallery when it had opened five years b efore, her Beverly Hills house, her condo in Lake Tahoe and now t his remodel. And every time she made him feel appreciated and tal ented. You want a bottle of water or a Coke or something? she a sked. I'm okay, thanks. Just then an assistant called from th e front of the gallery that she had a telephone call, and she smi led, waved and began to walk away. That's a lady, Sam said unde r his breath, a lady. Walking to the front of the gallery, wher e her desk faced out onto Rodeo Drive, Michelle noticed that one of the artists she represented was coming through the front door. Here her amiability had also paid off in spades-artists are a fi ckle and temperamental lot, but Michelle's artists adored her and rarely changed galleries. That and the fact that she had started her business fully funded had contributed greatly to her years o f success. I knew today was going to be good, she said to the b earded man. I just didn't know it would be because my favorite ar tist would be paying me a visit. The man smiled. Just let me take this telephone call, she said, and we'll talk. Her aide co rralled the artist toward an area with couches and a wet bar off to one side. As Michelle slid into her desk chair and reached for the telephone, the aide took the artist's drink order and a few seconds later began packing ground espresso into the machine to d raw him a cappuccino. Michelle Hunt. It's me, a gravelly voic e said. The voice was one that needed no introduction. He had s wept her off her feet when she was a young woman of twenty-one, f reshly arrived from Minnesota, seeking a new life of fun and sun in 1980s Southern California. After an on-again, off-again relati onship, necessitated both by his inability to be bound to a relat ionship, as well as his frequent absences for business, she had b orne his son at age twenty-four. And though his name never appear ed on the birth certificate-nor had Michelle and he actually live d together before or since-the pair had remained close. At least as close as the man allowed anyone ever to come. How are you? s he asked. I've been okay. Where are you? It was the standar d question she asked him to break the ice. Over the years the ans wers had ranged from Osaka to Peru to Paris to Tahiti. Hang on, the man said easily. He stared at a moving map on a forward wall near the cockpit of his jet. Six hundred and eighty-seven miles from Honolulu on the way to Vancouver, British Columbia. Going skiing? she asked. The sport was something they had enjoyed toget her. Building a skyscraper, he answered. You're always up to something. True, he noted. Michelle, I called because I heard o ur boy has been sent to Afghanistan, he said quietly. Michelle had been unaware-the deployment was still secret and Chris had no t been able to disclose his destination when he'd been dispatched . Oh my, she blurted, that's not good. That's what I thought you'd say. How'd you find out? Michelle asked. I'm always amaze d by your ability to ferret out information. It's not magic, th e man said. I have so many senators and other politicians in my p ocket I've had to buy larger pants. Any word on how it's going? I guess the mission is proving harder than the president envis ioned, he said. Chris is apparently leading a hunter-killer squad to locate the bad guys. Limited contact so far-but my sources cl aim it is cold and dirty work. If he doesn't contact you for a wh ile, don't be surprised. I'm afraid for him, Michelle said slow ly. Do you want me to put in a fix? the man asked. Have him pul led out and sent stateside? I thought he made you agree never t o do that. He did, the man admitted. Then don't. I'll call you when I know more. Are you going to be down this way soon? M ichelle asked. I'll call you if I am, the man said. Now I'd bet ter go-I'm starting to get static on the satellite line. Must be sunspots. Pray our boy is safe, she said. I might do more tha n that, the man said as the call ended. Michelle replaced the r eceiver in its cradle and sat back. Her ex-beau was not one to sh ow worry or fear. Still, his concern for his son had been palpabl e and personal. She could only hope his worry was misplaced, and that Chris would come home soon. Rising from the desk, she walk ed toward the artist. Tell me you have something good, she said e asily. Outside in the van, the artist said, and I think you'll like it. FOUR HOURS AFTER sunrise, one thousand feet higher up the ridge from the camp where they had spent the night, Hunt's pl atoon met a determined enemy. The fire came from a series of cave s just above and to the east. And it came all at once. Rifle fire , rocket-propelled grenades, mortars, handgun fire rained down. T he enemy dynamited the mountain to create rock slides, pelting th e ground below, and they had mined the ground where Hunt's troops sought refuge. The enemy's goal was to wipe out Hunt's team al l at once-and they would come close. Hunt had taken refuge behi nd a series of boulders. Bullets were ricocheting off the rocks t o all sides, sending chips flying through the air and striking hi s men. There was nowhere to hide, no way to advance, and their re treat had been cut off by a rock slide. Radio, Hunt shouted. Half his team was twenty yards ahead, another quarter ahead and t o the left. Luckily, his radio operator had stayed close to the l ieutenant. The man edged toward Hunt on his back to protect the r adio. For his effort he received a wound to his kneecap when a bu llet grazed his raised knee as the man pushed himself closer. Hun t dragged him the rest of the way. Antencio, Hunt shouted to a man a few feet away, take care of Lassiter's wound. Antencio sc urried over and began cutting away the radio operator's pants. He found the opening was not deep and began to wrap a bandage aroun d the knee as Hunt flicked on the radio and adjusted the dial. You're going to be okay, Lassiter, he said to the radio operator. I'm going to get us some help in here posthaste. Then we'll have you medevaced. The fear in the soldiers' faces was obvious. Fo r most of them, as for Hunt, this was their first time in battle. As their leader, he needed to take control and form a plan. Co ntrol, Control, Advance Three, Hunt y, Penguin, 2005, 3, Tee Publishing Ltd, 1999. This is an ex-library book and may have the usual library/used-book markings inside.This book has soft covers. With usual stamps and markings, In good all round condition. Please note the Image in this listing is a stock photo and may not match the covers of the actual item,400grams, ISBN:1857611101, Tee Publishing Ltd, 1999, 0<

1999, ISBN: 9781857611106

London.: Illiffe & Sons Ltd, 1945. No D/J, Card cover, second edition reprint august 1945. The book is in good condition. here we have a book which is copied from a series of articles… More...

London.: Illiffe & Sons Ltd, 1945. No D/J, Card cover, second edition reprint august 1945. The book is in good condition. here we have a book which is copied from a series of articles published in the Autocar. It is quite amazing to see how far we have advanced in this field. And when you read this i can assure you a little chuckle, and a smile will wash across your face. You will receive the book seen in the image.. 16mo - over 5¾" - 6¾" tall. Re Print.. Soft cover. Good/No D/J., Illiffe & Sons Ltd, 1945, 2.5, TEE Publishing Ltd, 1999-10-01. Paperback. Very Good. 1.9985 in x 16.5874 in x 12.3906 in., TEE Publishing Ltd, 1999-10-01, 3<

1999, ISBN: 9781857611106

Paperback, ALL ITEMS ARE SENT BY ROYAL MAIL., Gebraucht, sehr guter Zustand, [PU: TEE Publishing Ltd]