Dr. Peter Brown is an intern at Manhattan's worst hospital, with a talent for medicine, a shift from hell, and a past he'd prefer to keep hidden. Whether it's a blocked circumflex artery or a plan to land a massive malpractice suit, he knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men.Pietro "Bearclaw" Brnwna is a hitman for the mob, with a genius for violence, a well-earned fear of sharks, and an overly close relationship with the Federal Witness Relocation Program. More likely to leave a trail of dead gangsters than a molecule of evidence, he's the last person you want to see in your hospital room.Nicholas LoBrutto, aka Eddy Squillante, is Dr. Brown's new patient, with three months to live and a very strange idea: that Peter Brown and Pietro Brnwa might-just might-be the same person ...Now, with the mob, the government, and death itself descending on the hospital, Peter has to buy time and do whatever it takes to keep his patients, himself, and his last shot ...

You, dear reader, continue at your own risk. It is not for the faint of heart—no more so than the study of dragons itself. But such study offers rewards beyond compare: to stand in a dragon’s presence, even for the briefest of moments—even at the risk of one’s life—is a delight that, once experienced, can never be forgotten. . . .All the world, from Scirland to the farthest reaches of Eriga, know Isabella, Lady Trent, to be the world’s preeminent dragon naturalist. She is the remarkable woman who brought the study of dragons out of the misty shadows of myth and misunderstanding into the clear light of modern science. But before she became the illustrious figure we know today, there was a bookish young woman whose passion for learning, natural history, and, yes, dragons defied the stifling conventions of her day.Here at last, in her own words, is the true story of a pioneering spirit who risked her reputation, her prospects, and her fragile flesh and bone to satisfy her scientific curiosity; of how she sought true love and happiness despite her lamentable eccentricities; and of her thrilling expedition to the perilous mountains of Vystrana, where she made the first of many historic discoveries that would change the world forever. Marie Brennan introduces an enchanting new world in A Natural History of Dragons.Review“Her Ladyship is a determined and canny woman in search of dragons—I wholeheartedly approve!”—Melanie Rawn, bestselling author of Touchstone, on A Natural History of Dragons"Lady Trent is the Jane Goodall of dragonkind, and I’m glad she’s finally sharing her story with the world. From her first sparkling encounter to her discoveries in Vystrana, her memoir is sure to inspire the next generation of naturalists and dragon aficionados. This book makes me want to dissect something. In a good way."—Jim C. Hines, author of Libriomancer"A Natural History of Dragons stands somewhere between Naomi Novik and Elizabeth Peters, but rock-solidly in its own world and on its own terms. It's intimate and unsentimental, greatly entertaining and thoroughly worked out; these are dragons you can actually believe in, lethal and endangered, hunted for sport and for science and for safety. Highly recommended."—Daniel Fox, author of Dragon in ChainsAbout the AuthorMARIE BRENNAN habitually pillages her background in anthropology, archaeology, and folklore for fictional purposes. She is the author of the Onyx Court series and the Doppelganger duology of Warrior and Witch, as well as more than thirty short stories.

When a condemned man with nothing to lose meets one with nothing to gain, everyone washed by the endless ripples of that encounter will forever recall the day a little bit of heaven invaded a whole lot of hell. Brady Wayne Darby and Thomas Carey could hardly have been more disparate individuals. Yet when Darby, a no-account loser raised in a dingy suburban trailer park, encounters Carey, a weary man of God, an entire--state indeed, a nation--is affected. Embark on a wondrous journey where death, guilt, and despair are unfathomably trumped by rebirth, forgiveness, and hope.

A New York Times Notable Book of the Year "A rich symphony of humanity . . . If Oz's eye for detail is enviable, it is his magnanimity which raises him to the first rank of world authors." —Sunday Telegraph (UK) At Tel-Kedar, a settlement in the Negev desert, the longtime love affair between Theo, a sixty-year-old civil engineer, and Noa, a young schoolteacher, is slowly disintegrating. When a pupil dies under difficult circumstances, the couple and the entire town are thrown into turmoil. Amos Oz explores with brilliant insight the possibilities—and limits—of love and tolerance. "Vivid, convincing, and haunting." —New York Times Book Review

This ironically titled tale by an influential figure in African-American literature explores the tragic effects of color prejudice and self-hatred. Jessie Redmon Fauset's 1933 novel paints a haunting portrait of internalized racism with its depiction of a domineering mother whose determination for her children to pass as white leads to devastating results for the entire family.African-American editor, poet, essayist, and novelist Jessie Redmon Fauset (1882–1961) was a prominent figure of the Harlem Renaissance. An editor of the NAACP magazine The Crisis, she was also an editor and co-author of the African-American children's magazine, The Brownies' Book. Her fourth and final novel, Comedy: American Style, features vivid characterizations and enduring themes that continue to resonate with modern readers.

Four years, four months, and fifteen days ago, Natalie Gordon's mother walked out mid-sentence, before she finished what she was going to say. Now Natalie is traveling twenty-four hours on a bus to Florida to find her mother, to find herself, to find out something about love. Along the way, Natalie struggles to understand her relationship with Adam, a boy she pines for with near-obsession, and to her surprise, she meets people with stories like her own, stories about giving love and getting lost in the desire to be wanted. Acclaimed middle-grade novelist Nora Raleigh Baskin makes her young adult debut with a deeply resonant novel about secrets held and secrets shared, about having the courage to uncover all we know—and don't know—of love.

This book was converted from its physical edition to the digital format by a community of volunteers. You may find it for free on the web. Purchase of the Kindle edition includes wireless delivery.This book was converted from its physical edition to the digital format by a community of volunteers. You may find it for free on the web. Purchase of the Kindle edition includes wireless delivery.

Miss Caprice By St. George Rathborne

Robert Montgomery Bird was an American novelist, playwright, and physician.

"And then I saw it--the Shadow." The speaker's eyes appeared to snap. Johnny Thompson leaned forward in his chair. "It glided through the fog without a sound." The voice droned on, "Not a sound, mind you! We had a small boat with powerful motors. I stepped on the gas. Our motors roared. We were after that shadow." "And then?" Johnny Thompson whispered. "For all I know," the black-eyed man murmured, leaning back in his chair, "we might have cut that shadow square in two. Anyway, that's the last we saw of it for that day. "But think of it!" he exclaimed after a second's pause. "Think of the thing just disappearing in the fog like that!" He was a romantic figure, this man Blackie. The boys of Matanuska Valley in Alaska loved this gathering of an evening about the red-hot stove in the store. And no part of the evening's entertainment was ever half so thrilling as Blackie's stories. "It was spring then," Blackie added, "late May, when the salmon run was on." "It was a whale after salmon, that shadow," someone suggested. "No, sir!" Blackie fairly shouted. "It was too fast for a whale! Some sort of Oriental craft, I shouldn't wonder. Though how they'd make it go without a sound is beyond me. "Ah well," he sighed, "I'll be rid of these by spring." He kicked at the crutches beside his chair. "Then I'll be after 'em again, those bloomin' Orientals and their gliding shadows." "You going back into the Coast Guard Service?" Johnny asked eagerly. "I sure am!" Blackie agreed heartily. "Boy! That's the life! A speedy boat with two or three airplane motors in her hull, a good crew, plenty of gas, the wide open sea and enough trouble to keep your eyes open day and night. Man! Oh, man!"..............

WALKING OUTDOORS POINTING AT THE RAINBOW THE RAINBOW. It was at this moment Julia looked around to admire the scenery, and beheld a Rainbow. "Look, look!" she said, "mamma, what a beautiful Rainbow! How wide it spreads! How many colours are there? Let me count them. One, two, three, four, five—" "My dear," said her mamma, "there are seven, and in the following order: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and violet. These colours appear so much the more lively, according as the cloud behind is darker, and the drops of rain fall the closer. The Rainbow can last only while the rain continues. The sun must be behind us, and the rain opposite to us. The sun and rain must appear at the same time in order to form a Rainbow. It is caused by the rays of the sun reflected on drops of water, and is a picture the most beautifully coloured of any the Creator has given to us. The nearer the sun is to setting, the wider the arch extends. When the sun is at its greatest height, the bow appears the smallest. "Where do we read, my dear, in the Bible about the Rainbow?" asked Julia's mamma. "I think, mamma," replied Julia, "it was to Noah as a sign the world should not again be destroyed by water, and we read so in of Genesis." "Yes," answered her mamma, "my dear, you are right. How very fearful would Noah and his family have been whenever they saw dark clouds arise and an appearance of much rain, if God had not kindly said what he intended by the Rainbow! But he explained it by saying, 'I do set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth. And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant between me and every living creature of all flesh that is upon the earth

CHAPTER I.THE UNSUSPECTING TRAVELER. The steamship Baltic was on the point of sailing from America to Europe. The usual scenes were visible on the wharf–the rushing on board of belated freight and baggage–the crush of passengers and their friends on deck, or down in the cabins, where partings were being drunk in wine; the crowd of steerage passengers forward, trying to keep out of the way of the sailors, and at the same time to salute or converse with their friends on the dock; the rattle and bustle all around; the blow of steam from the impatient boilers; the sharp, brisk orders of the junior officers; the rush of carriages with passengers, and the shouting of draymen anxious to get their loads aboard–all these sights and sounds were both felt and visible as a bright-looking young man, distinctly American to all appearances, alighted from a cab and walked up the steamer's gang-plank, followed by a porter and the driver with trunks and parcels. He was indeed a bright-looking youth, such as you will find in New York oftener than anywhere else, and as he reached the deck his hand was grasped by several young and enthusiastic friends who had come aboard to see him off. This was William Barnwell, a young New Yorker, slightly over twenty-one years of age, who had recently inherited quite a fortune from a deceased relative, and he was now on the point of starting on a tour which he intended should encompass the globe. He was now alone in the world, so far as relations were concerned, although he had a large circle of friends to whom he was greatly attached, as they were to him. From boyhood up he had always been an enthusiast in almost everything, but more especially in politics and revolution, as shown in national struggles, and the pride of his life was the history of the American Revolution, and the success of the patriots in that cause. But outside of his being an enthusiast and a lover of liberty, he was not known, and had never taken any prominent part in any of the social or political movements of the day, beyond sympathizing with the struggles of the working men and women of the world in their struggles to better themselves. These facts were not only known to his friends, but to many men belonging to the secret societies of Ireland, Germany, and Russia. That is to say, they knew him only as a bright young fellow, possessing brains and pluck, together with enthusiasm, which, if rightly directed, would make him a valuable member of any secret organization having the liberty of the people at heart. But beyond this nothing particular was known of him. His friends gathered around and wished him a prosperous voyage and a happy return, and with refreshments and flowers they expressed themselves as only New Yorkers do on such occasions. And as he stood there on deck, surrounded by his friends, he looked indeed like a representative American young gentleman. He was light-complexioned, nearly six feet in height, and proportioned like an athlete; bright, smart, and intelligent. And while the excitement of "sailing-day" was at its height, and young Barnwell was in the midst of his friends, a strange man approached and tapped him on the shoulder....

'Mille diables! Lost again! The devil runs in those dice!' and de Gomeron, with an impatient sweep of his hand, scattered the little spotted cubes on to the floor of the deserted and half-ruined hut, wherein we were beguiling the weariness of our picket duty before La Fère, with a shake of our elbows, and a few flagons of wine, captured from Monsieur the King of Navarre, as we, in our folly, called him still.

I am about to speak of Ireland as it was some four-and-twenty years ago, and feel as if I were referring to a long-past period of history, such have been the changes, political and social, effected in that interval! Tempting, as in some respects might be an investigation into the causes of these great changes, and even speculation as to how they might have been modified and whither they tend, I prefer rather to let the reader form his own unaided judgment on such matters, and will therefore, without more of preface, proceed to my story.