And it is every mother’s worst nightmare.Ex-Casualty actress, Rebekah was just 34 years old and 7 months pregnant when she found a lump in her breast. After twice being examined by doctors and having been told that it was nothing to worry about, Rebekah pushed it from her mind and concentrated on the birth of her beautiful daughter, Gigi. But one night, whilst nursing her baby, Rebekah realised she could still feel the lump. And it was bigger.Finally, her worst fears were confirmed: just 10 weeks after giving birth, Rebekah was told that she had a fast-growing grade-three cancer and it had spread to her lymph glands. It was the beginning of a journey to hell and back and Rebekah embarked on the fight of her life.This isn’t just a book about the horror of cancer.It is about facing illness with humour and courageIt’s a celebration of the special, unbreakable bond between mothers and daughters. It’s about survival.

    

    He was 47 years old. During his time on the ground he kept a diary. Humorous, authentic and sad, it is a warts and all account of infantry soldiering in a hot and dangerous place. This is his storty.

    military conducted on President’s Kennedy’s body on the night of November 22, 1963. Hornberger’s new book, The Kennedy Autopsy 2, expands on his earlier work. In this new book, you will learn: The important role that Lyndon Johnson played in the U.S. military’s fraudulent autopsy on the president’s body. The significance of various meetings at the National Archives prior to the 1968 presidential race, where autopsy pathologists signed false affidavits relating to the inventory of autopsy photographs. An alternative explanation as to why Johnson suddenly decided to drop out of the 1968 presidential race. How and why Lee Harvey Oswald escaped the U.S. government’s Cold War anticommunist crusade. And much more.

    Financially we were afloat and we lived in a perfectly decent house until my wife came up with the zany idea of living on a boat. I'd just got home from work, via the pub, when Jan asked me to watch a video while she prepared our frugal meal. I watched a pair of old fogies trundling along a canal in the rain on a narrowboat. You can imagine my reply when she asked if I fancied emulating the sodden wrinklies and taking to the water. She's a lady of vision and determination (she married me after all) but this was elevating madness to a whole new level. Jan's oncologist had her a few years previously that she probably wouldn't see the new millennium, so she had a different perspective about the future than many people. Despite lots of huffing and head-shaking, twelve months later we had sold a perfectly respectable house, given up a job that kept us in cornflakes and moved onto a metal hole less than a tenth the size of our house – excluding garden. It was the 4th July 2003 – independence day.We knew nothing about narrowboats – their workings, waterways lore and how we would cope being cooped up together – particularly when it's minus five and the nearest shop is miles away. We had a mountain to climb – which you can only do by using locks, and we'd never done a lock. A more accurate analogy is shooting the rapids because our venture took on a life of it's own and we were washed down stream on a tide of enthusiasm and ignorance. We had to make it work or the people who had laughed and scoffed would be proved right – we really were mad. Well, make it work we did, and we're still boating twelve years on. It's marvellous and it possibly saved Jan's life.

    In 1964, I embarked on a journey that was to be my life's adventure.  I hired on as a pilot for Air America and its clandestine operations in Southeast Asia.      Flying for the CIA's secret airline was a dream come true.  Air America's operations were unknown.  Its schedules were irregular.  Its pilots were shadow people.  It was the world of spooks, covert air ops and adventure.  I had already been a pilot for more than half of my life when I left my home in Detroit for the wild escapades that awaited me in Southeast Asia.  Air America had been the pinnacle of my life and, had the trajectory remained steady, my world and my career should have gone onward and upward from that point.      The intent of telling my story is to take the reader on an historical journey of a little-known place in time through my own personal account.  Within the context of history, my narrative is not to be considered anything but my own experience.     The ranks of Air America were comprised of a host of patriotic professionals who deserve a place of honor in the annals of history.  However, many colorful characters wore the Air America wings, and inside the course of my narrative, the reader will be subjected to people and situations that cannot be filed neatly under anything resembling normal sanity.      Most names, except those of a known or high-ranking or public nature, and those I wish to recognize for heroic performances, have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike.

    Only 17 when he enlisted in 1964, Johnson deployed to Vietnam with the 3rd Reconnaissance Battalion, 3rd Marine Division, and his tour included such now famous locations as Phu Bai, Khe Sanh, Nha Trang and Quang Tri, among others. With a sometimes humorous tone, Johnson describes a war of often terrified high school and college-aged youngsters faced with exotic plant and animal life, monsoon rains, harrowing reconnaissance missions and death. Details are plentiful about tactics, equipment, geography and, always, fellow Marines.

    He has a job he loves, a vivacious, pregnant wife, a young son and a beautiful home in Evergreen, Colorado. Bruce's life is rewarding, full, and his position is seemingly secure. Suddenly, an accident in Reno, Nevada, threatens to snatch away everything he cherishes: his family and his career. Bruce was in command of the ill-fated flight, and the airline and FAA blame him for the catastrophe.Bruce soon finds himself fighting against powerful enemies: the airline's bosses, the government, his wife's wealthy mother, and other unseen but dangerous adversaries. Just when Bruce's situation seems hopeless, help arrives from several sources: David Goldstein, an investigative reporter, reveals that there is much more to the accident than meets the eye. Mike Barrow, a retired Marine colonel and close friend of Bruce's, joins the investigation only to find himself thrust into the corporate intrigue at the highest level. Ava O'Kane, a thirty-eight-year-old executive within the circle of power at the airline, makes a shocking discovery of corruption within the organization and she has to choose between evil and good, love and money.Finally, pushed to the limit, Bruce takes control of his predicament in an unprecedented and decisively violent, though legal manner. It's the only way he can stop the conspiracy. In the process of saving himself, his career and his company, can an airline captain get away with murder?

    Chris tells the remarkable story of the magazine, from the tatty rag produced in his Newcastle bedroom to becoming one of the bestselling magazines in the UK.Chris was the creator of many of the characters and was responsible for all the magazine’s written content. Characters from the magazine, such as Sid the Sexist and the Fat Slags, are now household names.This is an engaging tale told in Chris’s unique, wry way. Chris takes us from his train-spotting childhood in the ’70s through to setting up the magazine with family and friends, and struggling to sell even a few copies of Viz in the local pub. The comic’s success swiftly grew, however, and remarkable events ensued, such as how Chris was invited to tea by Prince Charles, taken in for questioning by New Scotland Yard's Anti-Terrorist Branch and caught his wife up to no good with Keith Richards in Peter Cook's attic.Chris includes many original drawings in this integrated book as well as some fascinating images of early Viz creations.

    Ford put together a radio communications network for a nation that had up to this time relied on messages carried by foot over the highest mountains on the globe. More important, his radio connected the secluded nation to the outside world. When in October 1950 the Communist Chinese army began its march to subjugate Tibet, Ford risked his life by staying behind to send out reports over his radio to let the world know of the attack. The Radio Operator is an overdue and gripping recounting of Ford’s valiant effort to save Tibet from Chinese domination and his subsequent capture and imprisonment.James McGrath Morris is the author of the New York Times bestselling Eye on the Struggle as well as two other acclaimed biographies. His previous Kindle Single, Revolution by Murder, was selected as one of the Best Kindle Singles of 2014. His next book, The Ambulance Drivers, will be published in 2017.Cover design by Kerry Ellis.

    In fact music hasn't just accompanied his life, it's been an integral part of it.In the bestselling and award-winning tradition of This Boy, In My Life vividly transports us to a world that is no longer with us - a world of Dansettes and jukeboxes, of heartfelt love songs and heart-broken ballads, of smoky coffee shops and dingy dance halls. From Bob Dylan to David Bowie, from Lonnie Donnegan to Bruce Springsteen, all of Alan's favourites are here. As are, of course, his beloved Beatles, whom he has worshipped with undying admiration since 1963.But this isn't just a book about music. In My Life adds a fourth dimension to the story of Alan Johnson the man.

    and qualifies to fly the Vulcan bomber. Piloting a Vulcan is an unforgettable experience: no other aircraft comes close to matching its all-round performance. And as bombers go, it's drop-dead gorgeous.But there's a catch. The Vulcan has only one role: to make a second strike. To act in retaliation for a Russian nuclear attack. Silk knows that knows that if he ever flies his Vulcan in anger, he'll be flying from a smoking wasteland, a Britain obliterated. But in the mad world of Mutually Assured Destruction, the Vulcan is the last--the only--deterrent.Derek Robinson returns with another rip-roaring, gung-ho R.A.F. adventure, one that exposes and confronts the brinkmanship and saber-rattling of the Cold War Era.

    Many times I thought I would not make it, flying overloaded airplanes with the doors removed, external loads strapped to the floats, no navigational aids and totally alone in a vast wilderness with only my skills and determination to get me home. After logging 4,000 flight hours, and flying sometimes 16 hours a day, I actually became as one with the airplane. Controlling the airplane was like scratching an itch, totally unconscious control inputs... I was the airplane. It took many hours, more than a few mishaps, and a lot of luck to reach this skill level. The stories in this book are recalled from reviewing the pages of my pilot's log book. Some of the stories were sad, some were funny, and some were really scary. Some flights were truly beautiful, as can only be experienced in the pristine Alaskan outback. I lived the adventure most people only dream about, and survived it to tell my tales...

    Martin Luther King had a pillow fight on the day he died. Osama Bin Laden loved Mr. Bean and Super Mario Bros. Pope Francis used to be a bouncer. Muhammad Ali starred in a Broadway show. Saddam Hussein played Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love You during his 2002 campaign. Julius Caesar was never the emperor of Rome. Nelson Mandela said meeting the Spice Girls was “one of the greatest moments of my life.” The last thing Walt Disney said was “Kurt Russell.” Sigmund Freud tried to cure his daughter of being a lesbian. John F. Kennedy went out with Hitler’s ex-girlfriend. Abraham Lincoln took part in 300 wrestling matches. He only lost once. Michael Jackson tried to buy Marvel so he could play Spider-Man. Isaac Newton invented calculus when he was 25. He didn’t tell anybody for four years. Donald Trump tried to make a cartoon about him saving the world from aliens. Charles Manson never killed anybody in his entire life. Genghis Khan’s army killed 11% of every human being on Earth. Charles Darwin though the world was constantly growing in size. Historians believe they figured out the identity of Jack the Ripper.

    He definitely was not planning on spending the next eighteen years in the wilderness. For he was only a simple photographer with a little studio in a little town in North Dakota. His business was failing and having heard of the riches of the fur-trade he was hoping to spend a year or two trapping, making a stake and returning to his routine life. But he didn’t figure on love. . . . For this is a story of romance. A story of survival, hardship, success, trials, adventure, happiness, and romance. A romance of the wilderness and the trapline, and a romance with Mary—who was the bravest and most wonderful woman in the North. Mary was a one-in-a-million. One could only wish for a partner of such courage and companionship. The only white-woman in a vast and unforgiving territory. The closest city, many hundreds of miles. And the only visitors to be expected, the unwanted kind. How many women could endure such hardship and learn to love it? She had many chances to leave and go back to a normal life in the states, but she always returned to her man and her wilderness. Against all odds, Chick and Mary built a life in the Far North and made a successful living on the trapline. Though a life full of struggles and danger they both could not imagine living any other way. With a wonderful writing style that makes you feel as if you are there, Chick Ferguson takes us along with him on his adventures in the Far North.