Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy. --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition. --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.

Out of the depths of jungle and forest comes a story intriguing and full of mystery. The very setting -- the tropics of British Honduras and the Caribbean Sea -- conjures up visions of pirates and buccaneers, of adventure, mystery, and peril lurking at every step in the jungle.This is really a dual story, following the adventures of two boy chums, but the incidents are so interwoven as to constitute a delightful whole. They have a common enemy, a crafty, unscrupulous Spaniard, and the action centers around the efforts of the boys to circumvent his plots to rob those dear to them.Carib Indians, old Spanish Dons, Maya caves, and hidden treasures all lend mystery and enchantment to the tale. Action is fast and furious. The lure of the tropics is strong, and against this background Mr. Snell has woven a story that will satisfy even the most adventure-loving

Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.

Odd Numbers - Being Further Chronicles of Shorty McCabe is presented here in a high quality paperback edition. This popular classic work by Sewell Ford is in the English language, and may not include graphics or images from the original edition. If you enjoy the works of Sewell Ford then we highly recommend this publication for your book collection.

The Missing Tin Box - or, The Stolen Railroad Bonds is presented here in a high quality paperback edition. This popular classic work by Edward Stratemeyer is in the English language, and may not include graphics or images from the original edition. If you enjoy the works of Edward Stratemeyer then we highly recommend this publication for your book collection. --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition. --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.

When her handyman dies of taxine poisoning, Edna Davies, amateur herbalist, becomes the prime suspect. Nearly certain that she hadn't concocted a poisonous potion and desperate to save herself from arrest, Edna taps into strengths she never before realized she possessed. Shunned by the townsfolk, questioned by the police, and threatened by thieves, she follows the clues of a forty-year-old disappearance to capture a killer.

It's opening day at the Big Thrills amusement park, and that means excitement for everybody. Well, maybe not for Nancy and her friends--their free passes have just vanished!

Lilah Lopez Dreser's in town to take care of unfinished family business. They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree ... or does it? Is there more to this Dreser than meets the eye? Is Cole in mortal danger when this firestorm throws sparks his way? This time around it may be a Dreser causing an uproar in Port Fare. It just may be Cole's best friend Booker. But is he wrong? Usually not!

When a construction worker, Jasper, is involved in a workplace accident that renders him blind, he begins a journey, seeing more than he could ever dream possible. After a near death experience, Jasper is...Take a step into a world of spiritual domain. When a construction worker, Jasper, is involved in a workplace accident that renders him blind, he begins a journey, seeing more than he ever dreamed possible. After a near death experience, Jasper is granted a second chance at life. Waking in a hospital, he crosses paths with a company of Seven divine Angels. Diagnosed to have brain damage, Jasper becomes ensnared in spiritual warfare between Angels and Demons.A specific band of Demons, ‘The Insufferable Six,’ try to thwart the good efforts of the Seven Angels at every turn, but can Jasper be the element to tip the balance for good or evil? Find out how Seven Celestial friends help lead a blind man to prove his worth to God and ultimately save the planet earth from its utter demise.May this story stir the heart of every reader and inspire him or her to lift their eyes with wonder in this non-stop action adventure. Open your wings and soar into the pages of this haloed epic narrative.

This Halloween, college girl, Erin Kowalkski, battles cancer once again. But this time, she has questions and she’s dying to know the answers. What will her dreams and aspirations, all she’s learned, felt and experienced, amount to when she’s gone? What will she become?Guided by a hot new patient and chased by a menacing wraith, Erin learns more about life and death than she’d ever imagined.This Halloween, college girl, Erin Kowalkski, battles cancer once again. But this time, she has questions and she’s dying to know the answers. What will her dreams and aspirations, all she’s learned, felt and experienced, amount to when she’s gone? What will she become? Guided by a hot new patient and chased by a menacing wraith, Erin learns more about life and death than she’d ever imagined.Download this free New Adult Paranormal Romance by Jamie Leigh Hansen and see how you can benefit Childhood Cancer Awareness! “I once cross-stitched a quote for my mother that said, ‘Hope lights a candle in the darkest of despairing hearts.’ This story is yours to enjoy. You can easily gift it to others simply by telling them where to download. The more downloads, the more readers, all mean more opportunities for hope to children fighting a life-threatening illness.”- Jamie Leigh Hansen, mom to a miracle

Kit never means to steal the bracelet; it is just a dumb mistake. But when she is caught Kit is sentenced to twenty hours of volunteer work at the humane society. Kit knows how it feels to be stuck in a cage like those animals and soon she begins to learn that the key to her own cage is right in front of her. "Readers will relate to [Kit's] anguish and her spirit and courage."-Booklist

A young fighter, Billy Hope is a promising talent, but any ambition he has is shrouded in the shadow of his father. Terry is a failed fighter, whose world title dream was never realised. But as time passed there was another way he could keep his dream alive, through the next generation, his son.“The wicked flee where no man pursueth: but the righteous are as bold as a lion.." Proverbs 28:1 A young fighter, Billy Hope is a promising talent, but any ambition he has is shrouded in the shadow of his father. Terry is a failed fighter, whose world title dream was never realised. But as time passed there was another way he could keep his dream alive, through the next generation, his son. Realising winning his fights lit up the flames in his father’s eyes, Billy yearned to please his father above all else but one explosive day in the gym changes everything. With the biggest fight of his life looming Billy must make the decision to stand up to the only person he has ever respected and feared, finally realising the price he has to pay to forsake his own dreams, and the reality he feels obliged to cultivate for another. A son will rise. A father will fall. A short story as featured in Boxing Insider, MMA Uncaged and Martial Arts Illustrated Magazines. Based On The Short Movie 'The Pugilist's Son' directed by Chris Fretwell.

The witching hour has arrived in bestselling author H. P. Mallory’s captivating and sexy new novel, starring the most dazzling denizen of the undead, Jolie Wilkins.  Funny and feisty witch Jolie Wilkins is back—or rather, she’s back to her humble beginnings. Propelled into the past to her old Los Angeles fortune-telling shop, Jolie has no idea she possesses extraordinary powers, and she definitely doesn’t remember becoming Queen of the Underworld. But at least she has two incredibly sexy men vying for her affection: Rand Balfour, who looks very familiar, though Jolie can’t place his gorgeous face, and Sinjin Sinclair, who is tall, dark, and perfect . . . except for the fangs.Yet despite her steamy love life, Jolie can’t shake the sense that something is not quite right—like she’s stuck in a déjà vu gone terribly awry. As both men race against time—and each other—to win Jolie’s heart, the fate of the Underworld hangs in the balance. And Jolie’s decision can either restore order or create an absolute, drop-dead disaster.From the Paperback edition.About the AuthorH. P. Mallory is the author of the Jolie Wilkins series as well as the Dulcie O’Neil series. She began her writing career as a self-published author and after reaching a tremendous amount of success, decided to become a traditionally published author and hasn’t looked back since.H. P. lives in Southern California with her husband and son, where she is at work on her next book. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.9780345531568|excerptMallory / THE WITCH IS BACKOneWhen the phone rang at ten minutes to seven, I wasn’t surprised. Nope, I figured that Sinjin Sinclair, the most handsome and charming man who had ever stepped into my life, had probably just come to his senses and realized he didn’t want to take me out for dinner after all. Maybe he’d suffered from a slight brain freeze the night before when he’d been awaiting roadside assistance at my tarot‑card‑reading shop, and that was why he’d asked me out.So when he phoned to say he was lost, I was surprised—­not so much that his navigational skills were lacking but that he actually wanted to go through with this. Okay, I know what you’re thinking—­that I must look like a troll, or something equally heinous . . . Well, I’m not a troll by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m also not the girl who stands out in a crowd. I’m more the girl next door—­or at least I live down the street from the girl next door.Okay, I’m probably being a little too hard on myself because I have been told that I’m attractive and I know I’m smart and all that stuff, but I’m still nowhere near Sinjin Sinclair’s league.But back to the phone call. After Sinjin said he would be at my door shortly, I hung up and then stood in the center of my living room for a few minutes like a space cadet, gazing at the wall until I’m sure I looked like a complete and total moron.But while it might have appeared that nothing much was going on in that gray matter between my ears, appearances can be deceiving. Thoughts ramrodded my brain, slamming into one another as new ones were born . . . What am I doing? What am I thinking? What do I possibly have to talk about with a man as cultured and refined as Sinjin Sinclair? Moreover, how am I going to eat in front of him? What if I choke on an ice cube? Or I sneeze after taking a mouthful of salad and spray carrot chunks all over his expensive clothes?Jolie Wilkins, calm down, I finally said to myself, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. You are going to go on this date because if you don’t, you’re never going to forgive yourself. And, furthermore, Christa will most definitely murder you.I inhaled another deep breath and forced myself out of my self‑inflicted brain coma, starting toward the mirror as I took stock of myself for the umpteenth time in the last hour. Christa, my best friend and self‑proclaimed fashion advisor, had left twenty minutes ago after chastising me about my current getup. Yes, she’d tried to force me into what amounted to shrink‑wrapping, complete with stiletto heels that were so narrow, they could double as weapons. Then, after that attempt had failed, she’d tried to get me to go with a flame‑red corset dress that was so tight, I couldn’t walk—­and breath- ing was out of the question. So yes, I’d defeated the raunchy‑clothing demon but I couldn’t say I felt very good about my victory.I sighed as I took in my shoulder‑length blond hair and the fact that the curl Christa had wrestled into it only minutes before was already gone. It could be described as “limp” at best. My makeup was nice, though—­Christa had managed to talk me into a smoky eye, which accented my baby blues, and she’d also covered the freckles that sprinkled the bridge of my nose while playing up my cheekbones with a shimmery apricot blush. She’d lined my decently plump lips in a light brown and filled them with bubble‑gum‑pink lipstick, finishing them with a pink gloss called “Baby Doll.”There was a knock on my front door, and I felt my heart lurch into my throat. I took another deep breath and glanced at my reflection in the mirror again, trying not to focus on the fact that I was anything but sexy in a black amorphous skirt that ended just below my knees, black tights, and two‑inch heels. Even though my breasts are decently large, you couldn’t really tell in my gray turtleneck and black peacoat.Maybe I should have listened to Christa . . .Another quick knock on the door signaled the fact that I was dawdling. I pulled myself away from my reflection and, wrapping my hand around the doorknob, exhaled and opened it, pasting a smile on my face.“Hello,” I said, hoping my voice sounded level and even‑keeled, because the sight of Sinjin standing there just about undid me. A tornado was rampaging through me, tearing at my guts and wreaking havoc with my nervous system.“Good evening,” the deity before me spoke in his refined, baritone English accent. His eyes traveled from my eyes to my bust to my legs and back up again as a serpentine smile spread across his sumptuous lips.“Um,” I managed, meaning to add a How are you? to the end of it, but somehow the words never emerged.Sinjin arched a black brow and chuckled as I debated slamming the door shut and hiding out in my room for the next, oh, two years, at least.“You look quite lovely,” he said, with that devilish smile as he pulled his arm forward and offered me a bouquet of red roses. “These pale in comparison.”My hand was shaking and my brain was on vacation as I reached for the roses, but somehow I did manage to smile and say, “Thank you, they are really beautiful.”The beauty of the roses didn’t even compute, though—­ my overwhelmed mind was still reeling from the presence of this man. Man didn’t even do him justice; he seemed so much more than that—­either heaven‑sent or hell’s emissary.He was wearing black, just as he had been the night before. His black slacks weren’t fitted, but neither were they loose—­in fact, they seemed tailored to his incredibly long legs. And his black sweater perfectly showcased his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Even though his body and intimidating height would have been worth writing home about, it was his face that was so completely alluring.Sinjin’s eyes should have been the eighth wonder of the world. They were the most peculiar color—­an incredibly light blue, most similar to the blue‑green icebergs you might find in Alaska or the Alpine waters of Germany. They almost seemed to glow. His skin was flawless, neither too pale nor too tan, without the kiss of a freckle or mole.His hair was midnight black, so dark that it almost appeared blue. Tonight it looked longer than I remembered. The ends curled up over his collar, which was strange considering I’d only met him the day before and I could have sworn he had short hair. But the strangest thing about this enigmatic man was that I couldn’t see his aura . . .I’ve been able to see people’s auras for as long as I can remember. An aura is best described as a halo‑type thing that surrounds someone—­it billows out of them in a foggy sort of haze. If someone is healthy, his or her aura is usually pink or violet. If someone is unwell in some way, yellow or orange predominates. I had never before met anyone who didn’t have an aura at all or whose aura I couldn’t see. And what surprised me even more was the fact that I hadn’t noticed his missing aura the first time I’d seen him . . . Of course I had been pretty overwhelmed by his mere presence—­and that dazed feeling didn’t seem like it was going to go away anytime soon.“May I escort you?” he asked as he gave me another winning smile and offered me his arm.I gulped as I tentatively wrapped my hand around his arm, trying not to notice the fact that he was really . . . built. Good God . . .“Thanks,” I said in a small voice as I allowed him to lead me outside.“Are you forgetting something?” Sinjin asked as he glanced down at me.“Um,” I started and dropped my attention to my feet, attempting to take stock of myself.Shoes are on, purse is over my shoulder, nerves are present and accounted for . . . the only thing I’d forgotten was my confidence, which was currently hiding beneath my bed.Sinjin stopped walking and turned around. I followed suit and noticed that the door to my modest little house was still open—­gaping wide as though it was as shocked as he was that I’d forgotten to shut it.“Oh my God.” I felt my cheeks color with embarrassment. It had to be pretty obvious I’d completely forgotten how to function in his presence. I separated myself from him and hurried back up my walkway, shaking my head at my inattention. Anxiety drumming through me, I closed and locked the door behind me.“Shall we try this again?”I jumped, shocked that he was suddenly right beside me. I shook the feeling off, figuring that he must have been trailing me all along. But still, there was something . . . uncanny about it, something that set off my “Spidey” senses. I blamed it on my already overwhelmed nerves.“Yes,” I said with an anxious laugh as he offered his arm again and I, again, took it. This time we made it to the curb, where a black car awaited us. So angular it almost looked like a spaceship, it was the same vehicle he’d been driving the night before when he’d gotten a flat tire and had asked to use my phone. He opened the door for me and I gave him a smile of thanks as I seated myself, glancing over at the steering wheel where I recognized the emblem of a Ferrari.A Ferrari . . . seriously?I had to pinch myself. This just wasn’t real—­it couldn’t be real! I mean, my life was composed of TV dinners and reruns of The Office. My only social outlet, really, was Christa. Men like Sinjin Sinclair with...

Bobby Lambert has been offered the deal of a lifetime to become the world’s best at something he loves: golf. But the cost is high … very high.excerpt:We leave the car and strip behind it. The boy turns shyly away, exposing the pearly white purity of his bare bottom. Safe from view, I enjoy the transitory thrill of standing naked in the world. Before slipping my trunks on, I look beyond the far side of the wired enclosure, remembering a place, now possessed by a cottage, where my father and mother and brother and I once long ago camped in a trailer. As we approach the gate again, I look beyond it, down the length of interlinked wire, towards the dwindling end of beach where my father always set the barbecue grill, away from children carelessly running about. I close my eyes and imagine him still standing there on a sandy crescent of shoreline, enclosed by the now becalmed water and a green profusion of cattails.A cool draft coming off the lake causes me to wonder if we have come too late. The possibility prompts the remembrance of another past summer day when the water proved too cold to go in. As I stood with my toes at the waterline looking out, a tall gangly girl my own age, with skin of shiny ebony and hair kinky black, approached holding in both hands a half-empty bottle of Fresca. Having little experience with unfamiliar girls, even less with black ones, I found her an interesting challenge. My eyes continually drew away from her face to her hair, woven into pigtails tied off at the ends with bits of red yarn. I particularly liked the way she talked, which imparted a slight trill to the words she spoke. But my every gambit to capture her interest failed until, replying, “Tosh,” to a bold hypothetical I expressed in an attempt to impress her, (that swimming would be far more comfortable if only a small piece of sun were to fall in the lake and warm it,) she turned away and went back to sit on the blanket next to her mother, who listened, smiling, holding a cigarette motionless to her lips, while between finishing sips of her Fresca the girl related what I’d said.