He's going to be the love of her life…if they survive the night. Karmic Consultants, Book 5 With a single touch, Ronna Mitchell can catch stolen glimpses of the future and separate truth from lies. But life as a human polygraph machine can be lonely. Craving human contact, she moonlights as a palm reader whenever a carnival comes to town. Officer Matt Holloway is intent on trailing a hit man when he ducks into a palm reader's booth to avoid being spotted by his quarry. The beguiling Jamaican fortune teller is definitely intriguing, but she'll have to wait. He's close on the assassin's tail. When Ronna takes his hand, a startling vision of the future flashes in her mind's eye. Matt isn't a typical client, he's The One. Before she has the chance to introduce herself as the mother of his unborn children, he's gone, leaving her with a terrifying vision of her soul mate covered in blood. And dead certain she's the only one who can save her happily ever after. Warning: This book contains carnies, cops, chases, chance encounters and love at first touch. Views: 59
Essays on memory by the author of Our of Egypt"We remember not because we have something we wish to go back to, nor because memories are all we have. We remember because memory is our most intimate, most familiar gesture. Most people are convinced I love Alexandria. In truth, I love remembering Alexandria. For it is not Alexandria that is beautiful. Remembering is beautiful."Celebrated as one of the most poignant stylists of his generation, André Aciman has written a witty, surprising series of linked essays that ponder the experience of loss, moving from his forced departure from Alexandria as a teenager, through his brief stay in Europe, and finally to the home he's made (and half invented) on Manhattan's Upper West Side. Views: 59
Jerry Mitchell is on exercises off the coast of Pakistan when his submarine, the USS Michigan, is ordered to a rendezvous off the Iranian coast. Once there, disembarked SEALs---experts in seaborne commando operations---are to extract two Iranian nationals who have sensitive information on Iran’s nuclear weapons program. While en route to shore, Michigan’s mini-sub suffers a battery fire, killing one crew member and forcing the survivors---four SEALs and LCDR Mitchell---to scuttle their disabled craft and swim for shore. There they find the two Iranians waiting for them, but their attempts at returning to Michigan are thwarted by heavy Iranian patrol boat activity. When agents of Iran’s secret police, VEVAK, appear, escape seems all but impossible. When Mitchell and his men find themselves surrounded by Iranian Revolutionary Guards Corp troops, they create a bold plan to escape by sea. It’s a desperate gamble, but it’s the only way to get proof of the Iranian plot to the U.S. . . . and prevent a devastating new war.About the AuthorLarry Bond is the author of numerous New York Times bestselling thrillers, including Cold Choices, Vortex, Cauldron, and The Enemy Within. He’s worked with Jim DeFelice on the Larry Bond’s First Team series, as well as the Larry Bond’s Red Dragon Rising series. A former naval intelligence officer, warfare analyst, and antisubmarine technology expert, he makes his home in Springfield, Virginia.Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.1EPIPHANY8 February 2013Uranium Enrichment Facility, Natanz, IranNatanz lay only 150 kilometers to the north of his headquarters in Isfahan, so General Moradi had flown up early in the morning with his aide, Captain Hejazi. Moradi’s staff had urged him to wait, to not rush up there the same day, that afternoon. “They won’t know anything,” Colonel Nadali had warned. “They’ll bury you in raw data and argue with each other.”The general had learned to listen to Farzad Nadali, his chief of staff. The colonel’s patience and good humor complemented Moradi’s own fiery temperament. Nadali had counseled Moradi to wait until the scientists had something to tell him.So finally, two days later, they were flying north in an Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps Mi-17. Instead of jump seats for troops, the Russian-made transport helicopter was fitted for VIP travel, with increased soundproofing, comfortable seating, and fold-down work surfaces. A few hundred meters below them, the landscape was empty and broken, painted in shades of brown and gray, with stony hills rising from the left. It was still winter, and the morning cold did nothing to soften the desert landscape.Moradi had made the trip often, and hardly noticed the harsh beauty of the ground below. Instead, he studied a briefing prepared by the scientists and e-mailed to his headquarters that morning. The general was sure they’d been up all night working on it, but he was not sympathetic. A few more sleepless nights might have prevented this disaster.Captain Hejazi’s voice interrupted his review. “Sir, Natanz is in sight.” Moradi understood that his aide was referring to the uranium enrichment facility. They’d spotted the town of Natanz proper five minutes ago. The facility was thirty kilometers farther to the north, surrounded by desert and rocky hills, but not isolated. Its front gate was just south of the Isfahan-Kashan road, a six-lane highway that actually passed through the outer ring of air defenses. A moment later the aide added, “Major Sadi is monitoring our approach.”Moradi nodded, acknowledging the report. Sadi was in charge of the facility’s air defenses, and simply because they were a scheduled flight didn’t mean they couldn’t be shot out of the sky.The enrichment site itself was a rough square, a kilometer and a half on each side. A perimeter fence enclosed the pilot enrichment plant, the gigantic buried centrifuge halls, and the support buildings for those two vital facilities.A few hundred meters out, a road paralleled the perimeter, connecting dozens of antiaircraft gun emplacements and watchtowers. Each gun position, a pair of manually aimed 23mm or 35mm autocannons, was ringed with sandbags and sited on an earthen mound to give it a better field of fire.Farther out, a second ring bristled with even more guns: larger four-gun batteries of 100mm weapons, radar-directed 35mm batteries, scores of the manually aimed guns, and half a dozen batteries of surface-to-air missiles. Three early warning radars covered Natanz and the surrounding area. It was possible that Natanz was the most heavily defended place in Iran, except, of course, for Tehran itself.And a lot of that was Moradi’s doing. Since he’d been placed in charge of the nuclear weapons program five years ago, he’d tripled the number of SAM batteries and ordered a second ring of antiaircraft guns placed around Natanz. He’d also handpicked Sadi for his post. The major was inexperienced, but competent, hardworking—and loyal.Moradi felt the helicopter descend, and he saved his notes and closed the laptop. As Hejazi packed up the general’s computer, the helicopter hovered and then set down smoothly. The crew chief moved aft to open the side door, and Moradi remembered to remove his uniform cap before the rotor wash snatched it away.The blades slowed, and figures outside ran toward the open door. A few were ground crew, but most were officers, with a few civilians scattered through the group. Moradi recognized the Natanz facility’s commander, Colonel Zamanian, with his staff, including Sadi, and Nadali, who’d arrived yesterday to manage the recovery and the investigation. Colonel Nadali was a great organizer, and he’d been right to go ahead and manage things. Moradi knew he’d probably have fired the lot on the spot.The officers immediately fell into two ranks, and the civilians wandered about for a few moments, deciding where to stand. There was more than a little tension between the scientists, engineers, and the military. The civilians seemed reluctant to fall in line, but finally formed a knot at one end, not quite in line, but not sticking out either.Nadali, who’d placed himself at the near end of the front rank, saw Moradi appear in the open door and called “Attention!” The officers saluted as one, and even the civilians managed to stand a little straighter.Brigadier General Adel Moradi of the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps, the Pasdaran, stepped from the helicopter. The Revolutionary government’s propaganda machine had dubbed him “The Lion of Karbala,” for his bravery in the war with Iraq, but he knew his real nickname, the one his staff thought he didn’t know about: “The Rhino.”Smoothly slipping on his uniform cap, Moradi returned the salute. His hat was a dark olive green ball cap, matching his fatigues and emblazoned with the emblem of the Pasdaran in gold thread. The symbol was repeated on his breast pocket.In his late fifties, Moradi was trim, almost athletic. His aide, Hejazi, was taller, but Moradi was still six foot one. Solidly built, his physical presence had always been an asset, both on the battlefield and in politics. Trimmed close, his beard was only lightly threaded with gray. It outlined a broad, weathered face that seemed to settle naturally into an impatient scowl.Nadali didn’t wait for Moradi to speak. Shouting over the helicopter’s slowing turbines, the colonel reported, “We’re ready for you, sir.” He pointed to a line of jeeps, and Moradi got into the lead vehicle without saying a word.As Colonel Nadali climbed in the backseat, Moradi asked him, “Is there anything worth seeing at the pilot plant?”Nadali shook his head sharply. “No, sir, and as a matter of fact, they’re encouraging us to keep clear of the area while they make another sweep for radiation and toxicity.” He saw Moradi’s expression and continued. “When they spot-checked the first survey results, there were several errors—all underreporting.”Moradi’s scowl deepened. “When will they be done?”“They couldn’t start until it was daylight this morning. It will be late this afternoon.”“Wonderful,” Moradi rumbled. “I wonder how many other mistakes they’ve made.” His tone made it clear that he was sure there were more. The other jeeps were pulling away, and Nadali ordered their driver to head for the administration building.Nadali took the general to a conference room. Pasdaran sentries, armed with automatic weapons, flanked the door, and Nadali led the staff inside. When one of the civilians tried to go in the room, Nadali waved him back. “The scientists will brief the general in half an hour. We just have some housekeeping and organizational issues to go over.” The civilian nodded nervously and hurried away.As soon as the general was seated, a middle-aged major looked over at Nadali, who nodded. “The room has been swept, and is clear,” the officer reported. “The spaces on all sides of us, and above and below, are occupied by my people.” Major Hassan Rahim was Moradi’s intelligence and counterintelligence officer. He also belonged to VEVAK, the Ministry of Intelligence, but although everyone knew it, nobody ever mentioned it.“It was a careful sweep, Rahim? There are some clever people here,” Nadali observed.“Not from what I’ve seen,” Moradi countered. “What have you found, Hassan?”Rahim was a small officer—short, and older than would be expected for a major. There were rumors that his real rank was much higher, but changed to match the assignment. His glasses gave him a professorial look, but his gaze was hard, and his tone cold. “The centrifuges failed on their own, sir. I can find no sign of sabotage, either from foreign agents or someone inside.”“It’s hard to prove the absence of something,” Moradi offered.Rahim pulled out a notepad and flipped through the pages. “This is already one of the most secure installations in Iran. My people have enhanced those measures. We’ve been able to correlate the movements of everyone on base that day with the entrance and exit logs for each building. Dr. Sabet has helped us with scenarios for sabotage, and who would have the knowledge to perform it. Everyone on the list is being watched. Most have been questioned.”Moradi nodded as he took in the information. He’d expected this result. If Rahim had found anything amiss, the perpetrators would have been arrested instantly. VEVAK might have different masters than the Shah’s SAVAK, but they used the same methods.“Could it have been that damned computer worm again?”“Unlikely, sir. I had every computer on the installation checked, as well as all personal computers in the dormitories. Every CD and flash drive was also examined. There was no sign of the Stuxnet worm. As you recall, we found this worm on dozens of computers when the cyber attack was first discovered three years ago,” remarked Rahim.Stuxnet was a devilishly effective piece of malware that sought out and attacked the motor controllers on the centrifuges, causing them to under... Views: 59
When Clint Adams lends a gaggle of stranded ladies a hand, it ends up crushed under their wagon, leaving him to rely on his cross draw. And when word gets out, every lowlife gunhand comes around to take on the Gunsmith. Views: 59
ON THE WAY TO A WEDDING...THEIR PLANE CRASHED! Lauren Abbot would have perished had it not been for handsome lawman Nick Strada. Though everyone claimed Nick had died in the crash, Lauren knew better. That hardheaded, sexy man had faked his death. And she'd never been so happy in her fortuitous life. Nick was "playing dead" to catch a killer. And he needed Lauren's help. Her apartment would become his hiding place, and she would become his new partner. But Nick hadn't realized that working -- and living -- with the beautiful, independent woman would present him with a situation more confusing than his own supposed death. Were they on the way to a wedding of their own? Views: 59
Stephen King: "Put me down as an enthusiastic Christopher Smith fan. Smith is a cultural genius."Description: In her past, Cheryl Dunning died once. A violent act killed her, but heroics brought her back. Now, if she can't save herself from two serial killers hunting her in the Maine woods, she's about to die again, this time from two men armed with a Bible, guns, a deep belief in God, and their twisted interpretation of his word.Fueled by their righteous fury, they are determined to find Cheryl and murder her for what they perceive as her "life's worth of sins." What they don't know is what Cheryl knows. She's a Maine girl, born and raised--and she knows how to use these woods in ways that might, if she's lucky, turn them against each man.From the #1 international best-selling author of many thrillers, including "Fifth Avenue," "You Only Die Twice" is a blistering page-turner first, and a comment on Biblical interpretation second. It's Christopher Smith's most controversial and gripping novel to date.*Warning: "You Only Die Twice" is not for the faint of heart. This is a story of madness and the fight for survival, and it depicts realistic adult situations without hesitation. Views: 59
Come and join Bindi Irwin on her next wildlife adventure! At very short notice, the Irwins are called on to run an ecolodge in Madagascar for a fortnight. They arrive to find the place deserted, and realise they have a lot of work to do before a bus load of American tourists arrive. Madagascar is full of the most amazing wildlife - lemurs and chameleons galore - and it doesn't take long before Bindi and Robert are on a hair-raising lemur rescue mission, which is a lot more exciting than sweeping floors and tidying beds at the ecolodge! Views: 59
Nineteen-year-old Frank Friedmaier lives in a country under occupation. Most people struggle to get by; Frank takes it easy in his mother's whorehouse, which caters to members of the occupying forces. But Frank is restless. He is a pimp, a thug, a petty thief, and, as Dirty Snow opens, he has just killed his first man. Through the unrelenting darkness and cold of an endless winter, Frank will pursue abjection until at last there is nowhere to go.Hans Koning has described Dirty Snow as "one of the very few novels to come out of German-occupied France that gets it exactly right." In a study of the criminal mind that is comparable to Jim Thompson's The Killer Inside Me, Simenon maps a no man's land of the spirit in which human nature is driven to destruction--and redemption, perhaps, as well--by forces beyond its control. Views: 59
Summer maybe here, but sixteen-year-old Gemma Hunter won't have much time to relax. The world is hungry for more Queen Bee, her pop star alter ego who has recently become music's newest sensation. Despite an official relationship at home with longtime crush, Lucas, Gemma can't resist exploring her life as a celebrity it girl. However, it isn't long before she finds herself becoming too friendly with the front pages of tabloids. And despite the media’s love for spinning Queen Bee’s social life into scandal, Gemma can't stop wreaking havoc with intoxicating TV star Zoe Mercury and indulging in a less than appropriate relationship with international superstar, Tyler Chase.It was easy keeping things clean with two very separate lives, but now that the line between them is blurring, staying good isn’t going to be easy. Views: 59
