This is the kind of challenge Smoke loves--only this time, the case leads him on a bizarre and dangerous journey, leading to a crazy, kinky lady, a twisted killer, black magic, and ancient Egyptian rites. It's a devilish--and deadly--business. This is a case that might just be too hot for Smoke to handle.

    These were real people, nice people like Cindy and Carl who fought with the desperation of the damned to keep from wanting each other. Suddenly, though, it was the right time, right place. And there was no room left for pretence. In that moment all innocence drained out of their lives. Two real people, two nice people, became creatures of passion - and guilt.

    A crib burglar, he robs apartments—never hotels, never offices, never liquor stores, never jewelers. Strictly apartments, and strictly during the day. He’s paranoid, ready to cut and run as soon as a job turns sour—he’s already been to prison once, and he doesn’t plan on getting caught again—but he’s about to get the offer of a lifetime, the big make he’s always been looking for. How can he say no? This could set him up for life—but it could also send him back to Sing Sing for good. The stake revolves around Daisy, a one-legged hooker who spends Thursday afternoons at the home of a Westchester millionaire. It would be simple if Alex wasn’t increasingly distracted by Jessica, his square neighbor who has no idea he’s a burglar and seems to like him. Between these two very different women lies the biggest opportunity of Alex’s life. Will he get his hands on it before the alarms start to sound?

    Reissue.

    (Or maybe Mary will find a fella of her own who can start contributing to the support.)So Tom's surefire bestseller, The Christmas Book is begun, and Tom's troubles begin. His editor quits, Ginger doesn't want to get married, Mary won't give him a divorce, his new editor announces she's pregnant (and quits), the woman in an iron lung enters his life, and a third editor begins work on the book. Then things really get complicated.

    They do enough to keep themselves in beer and out of work and have no ambition beyond stealing. Narrator Bex talks and walks us through a dozen note-worthy jobs and give us his thoughts on life, love and nicking.Bristling with razor-sharp wit, this is the first-person account of petty thief Bex, who, along with his partner-in-crime Ollie, just about gets by on the money he makes house-breaking the suburbs of London. Bex and Ollie stick together, have a laugh and on a good week make enough money to stay in the pub all weekend. The Burglar Diaries is a hilarious insight into the mind of a petty criminal. In the late 1980s, after being convicted of various offences, including burglary, Danny King gave up crime, got an education and started to work as a journalist. He lives in London.

    His favorite hostess and love interest, Connie, was murdered in the parking lot behind the club. And Zeb, the dubious plastic surgeon who implanted McEvoy's hair plugs, has disappeared. In no time at all McEvoy's got half the New Jersey mob, dirty cops and his man-crazy upstairs neighbor after him. Bullets are flying, everyone's on the take, and McEvoy still doesn't have a clue about what's happening.

    As a rank amateur who just thinks he can help, this Ames alter ego quickly becomes embroiled in the search for a missing NYU coed. He moves from one scrape to the next, all while trying to escape a life of periodic alcoholism, dead-end relationships, writer’s block, and hours of Internet backgammon. Bored to Death was originally published in McSweeney’s Issue 24 and is the centerpiece of Ames’s collection of essays and fiction, The Double Life Is Twice as Good. Bored to Death Artwork © 2009 Home Box Office, Inc. All rights reserved. HBO® and related channels and service marks are the property of Home Box Office, Inc.

    His life story has even been sold to Hollywood. But now he stands accused of defacing a historic monument in China’s Forbidden City. Under house arrest in Peking with a case against him pending in Washington, this looks like the end of Mac’s illustrious career. But he has a plan of his own: kidnap the Pope.What’s the ransom? Just one American dollar—for every Catholic in the world. Add to the mix a slew of shady “investors,” Mac’s four persuasive, well-endowed ex-wives, and a young lawyer and fellow soldier who wants nothing more than to return to private life, and readers have in their hands one relentlessly irreverent page-turner.Originally published under the pseudonym Michael Shepard.“Don’t ever begin a [Robert] Ludlum novel if you have to go to work the next day.”—Chicago Sun-Times“Ludlum stuffs more surprises into his novels than any other six-pack of thriller writers combined.”—The New York Times

    That’s the mantra behind HR, Inc., an elite "placement agency" that doubles as a network of assassins-for-hire, taking down high-profile executives who wouldn't be able to remember an intern’s name if their lives depended on it.At the ripe old age of twenty-five, John Lago is already New York City’s most successful hit man. He’s also an intern at a prestigious Manhattan law firm, clocking eighty hours a week getting coffee, answering phones, and doing all the grunt work no one else wants to do. But he isn't trying to claw his way to the top of the corporate food chain. He was hired to assassinate one of the firm’s heavily guarded partners. His internship is the perfect cover, enabling him to gather intel and gain access in order to pull off a clean, untraceable hit.The Intern’s Handbook is John Lago's unofficial survival guide for new recruits at HR, Inc. (Rule #4: "Learn how to make the perfect cup of coffee: you make an exec the best coffee he’s ever had, and he will make sure you’re at his desk every morning for a repeat performance. That’s repetitive exposure, which begets access and trust. 44% of my kills came from my superior coffee-making abilities.")Part confessional, part how-to, the handbook chronicles John’s final assignment, a twisted thrill ride in which he is pitted against the toughest—and sexiest—adversary he’s ever faced: Alice, an FBI agent assigned to take down the same law partner he’s been assigned to kill.

    That was before she left the pop-idol life behind after she gained a dress size or two — and lost a boyfriend, a recording contract, and her life savings (when Mom took the money and ran off to Argentina). Now that the glamour and glory days of endless mall appearances are in the past, Heather's perfectly happy with her new size 12 shape (the average for the American woman!) and her new job as an assistant dorm director at one of New York's top colleges. That is, until the dead body of a female student from Heather's residence hall is discovered at the bottom of an elevator shaft.The cops and the college president are ready to chalk the death off as an accident, the result of reckless youthful mischief. But Heather knows teenage girls . . . and girls do not elevator surf. Yet no one wants to listen — not the police, her colleagues, or the P.I. who owns the brownstone where she lives — even when more students start turning up dead in equally ordinary and subtly sinister ways. So Heather makes the decision to take on yet another new career: as spunky girl detective! But her new job comes with few benefits, no cheering crowds, and lots of liabilities, some of them potentially fatal. And nothing ticks off a killer more than a portly ex-pop star who's sticking her nose where it doesn't belong . . .

    Only Miro’s not growing heirloom tomatoes or making organic wine—he’s growing weed. And when Miro hits the big time by winning Amsterdam’s famed Cannabis Cup, cannasseurs and ganjaficionados aren’t the only people who want a piece of him and his mind-blowing pot that tastes like mangoes.A wickedly funny novel, Baked opens with a bang as Miro is cut down by a bullet. A mild-mannered hipster who doesn’t know the first thing about revenge—or even who shot him—Miro is soon on a quest to recover his prize invention and to secure his place as the Floyd Zaiger (creator of the pluot) of weed. It’s a journey packed with a delicious cast of characters, including a string-theory obsessed cop, a kinky paramedic, a Mormon missionary struggling to keep his “sap” under control in a city that is the personification of sex, a half-Irish-half-Salvadoran drug dealer and his dim-witted associates, a cougar starlet, and an entrepreneur who wants to turn his medical marijuana Compassion Centers into the Starbucks of pot. Baked is a hilarious, rip-roaring romp from a talented, utterly original novelist.

    She’s a nobody. And that’s the way she likes it. Her father, on the other hand — Hank Keeling, the serial killer and occasional cannibal better known as the Pork Chop Killer — has just gone viral. Thanks to a prison guard’s error, a cell phone video of Keeling’s botched execution is quickly becoming an internet sensation. After watching her father die in all his pixelated glory, Caroline is taken off-guard when Keeling himself shows up at her front door, looking very much not dead. And he has a plan. A plan involving Caroline. A plan Caroline is going to take part in whether she wants to or not. Success means wealth beyond her dreams. Failure means death. Soon Caroline is whisked away from her bland life to face down killers, gangsters and a well-meaning cop in a hunt for long-lost fortune. Deceit, avarice and unrelenting violence collide in a coming-of-age story like none you’ve ever read.

    Now their client can cozy up to the money. But there are too many beautiful women in the mansion, and the slimy little parasite is confused when he should be scared. After Archie Goodwin drops the ball, Nero Wolfe is ready to break a few laws--like extortion.

    Throw in a gig as a phone sex operator, an unexpected hunk of a boyfriend, and a client's murder, and you have all the ingredients for the perfect chick lit romp. Even bloggers at Trashionista just had to read it: "A fabulous book.” Shy, funny, loveable Emily’s a pretty unlikely candidate for a phone sex operator. She’d die if she had to talk dirty face-to-face—especially to her hot cop boyfriend. She sure didn’t set out to do phone sex—she wanted to be a writer. But when her BFF framed her for plagiarism, she got in a tiny financial hole and saw this ad for “phone actresses”… Hey, it’s not nearly as bad as it sounds. No pantyhose or pantsuits, no regular hours, you’re your own boss, and lots of people to talk to. Guys, that is. But here’s the odd thing—lots of them want to talk about more than Emily’s imagined attributes; they start to think of her as the best friend they’ll never have to meet. Next thing you know, one of her customers gets killed. What’s a phone kitten to do? Solve the murder herself, of course! “Phone Kitten was a fun debut read with an interesting premise and some great characters – excellent chick lit.” -The Brazen Bookworm “Marika Christian's debut novel was one of the most fun reads I have had this year. Sweet Emily taking a job as a 'phone actress' has to be one of the funniest things ever.” -Just Jump A fun, refreshing treat for fans of Jennifer Crusie, Janet Evanovich, and Stephanie Bond, Phone Kitten is your ticket to hours of giggles—so long as you’re not looking for raunch. Because this is so not it! “When I first heard of this book I was intrigued; a phone-sex worker turned sleuth? Sounds like the perfect mix...a fabulous book. --Trashionista Excerpt: The girl who answered the phone sounded a lot like me. She was perky, upbeat, and wanted me to come in that night for an interview. The thought terrified me, but my only other option was Walmart. I heard Walmart locks employees in the store. I've often wondered what would happen if one of the employees were pregnant and went into labor while locked up. Would they let her out? Would her supervisor deliver the baby in housewares and slap a little smiley face sticker on the baby's bottom? Phone sex had to be better than twenty-four hour retail. The company name was Dimensions. Located in the back of an industrial park, it was a little scary. There was a gravel parking lot with a dozen cars and only one door with a camera to capture anyone who pressed the call button. I was buzzed in immediately. I wondered, Why does a phone sex place need this much security? I was met by Taylor, the bubbly girl I talked to on the phone. “Come on, I'll take you in the back and we can talk.” She wasn't what I pictured. Taylor was a tattooed Goth chick, with every piercing imaginable. Taylor isn't what most people envisioned when it came to “bubbly.” Once we were in her office, she quickly closed the door. “Look, we talk dirty here. The language is sexually explicit. You have to say it all. Tits, cock, and fuck. Can you do that?” “Yes.” There, I said it. I said I could do it. I hoped I really could. She whipped out a headset, plugged it in, and said, “I want you to listen to a call.