It is isolating, painful, and confusing. Loneliness and longing are your reality. You’re consumed with guilt, self-deprecating inner dialogue, and worst of all, the fear of doing even the smallest thing wrong. You spend a lot of time alone…even when you’re not. You watch a lot of TV.Obviously, this is all your fault. Obviously, the reason you are living this way is because of something you did to warrant it. If they beat you, you deserved it. If they punish you, you asked for it. You never want to go home, but you don’t have a choice because you’ve never had a choice. This is it. This is what you have. This is all you know.And yet, you still smile when you sometimes catch a glimpse of the sweeter things and treasure the smallest kindness. Inside, you know life isn’t supposed to be like this, but it is. Your life is like a bubble of poison gas that could burst at any moment…you know that. You live that. But how are you supposed to make sense of any of this? How do you make it stop?You can’t.You are powerless.You haven’t even reached kindergarten yet.From a severely abusive childhood in the inner city of Baltimore, a string of unsatisfying relationships and several broken marriages, to a six-figure income from the multi-million dollar business I built out of my home, this is my story in my own words.I was stolen as a baby when my mother died. I was lied to by my kidnapper and used as a Cinderella punching bag by his never-ending parade of “step-mothers” and girlfriends, and much worse when he didn’t have one.This memoir covers the good, the bad, and the ugly.As this story unfolds, my hope is that you, the reader, will discover a little girl who survived that abusive childhood, healed, and empowered herself through discipline and hard work. I hope you see a girl who became a woman who learned from her mistakes and a whole human being who loves her newfound family with all her heart.I am no longer an outsider. I can go home now.

    Featuring all new, never before published material, Crows, Papua New Guinea, and Boats is the latest release by David Thorne, author of The Internet is a Playground and 27bslash6.com

    Molly gives us his unforgettable encounters with The Beatles, Elton John, David Bowie, The Rolling Stones, Madonna, John Farnham, Bruce Springsteen, the Bee Gees, Rod Stewart, Russell Crowe, Oasis, Beyonce and Prince. As well as the tales that surround his other loves: the Australian cricket team, the St Kilda footy club and the Melbourne Storm."I have a lot of love for the great Ian 'Molly' Meldrum" - Shane WarneNo one has lived a life like Ian 'Molly' Meldrum. And no one can tell a story like Molly.

    Just a few months after their wedding, and a few weeks after running a 10K, a rare autoimmune disease landed Joclyn in the hospital with a failing heart. Enduring four open heart surgeries, rounds of experimental chemotherapy, a punctured lung, a lost voice, a pacemaker, an unsympathetic nurse, bedpans, and legitimately gruesome hospital food, it seemed the bad news would never end. But with the help of a top-notch medical team, supportive and loving friends and family, courage, a will to live, and a desire to just go home, they learned the true value of love, hope and life. Joclyn, an occupational therapist, Jeremy, a public school administrator, live in Sacramento, California with their dog, Ramsay. Their experience received national attention and helped facilitate legislative reform surrounding “surprise medical bills,” out-of-network bills received when a patient has done everything he possibly can to remain in-network.

    Stirring speeches to rapt juries, triumphant press interviews and enormous fees paid by grateful clients. He can see it all. But unfortunately, he has reckoned without Judge 'Bonkers' Clarke, The Honourable Mr 'Sourpuss' Boniface and a range of other equally terrifying, grumpy and borderline insane judges - not to mention tricky solicitors, bent coppers and dodgy defendants.

    Remember! is an autobiography which recounts Marcel Scharfstein's life experience in the Warsaw Ghetto and in Nazi concentration camps of Poland and Germany during World War II.

    Because I would never, ever know peace again.' Charlene Downes was 14 when she went missing in Blackpool's seedy underbelly. Once a happy-go-lucky schoolgirl, she had become a truant - hanging out with the wrong crowd by the takeaway shops and pier. But Charlene's mum, Karen, always knew her typical teenage daughter would come home.Until one day she didn't.Karen has been searching for 15 years, campaigning for the truth of what happened to her daughter. To this day, Karen and her family have no body, no convictions and no answers. Arrests were made and a murder trial took place, but no one has ever been brought to justice.On the 15th anniversary of Charlene's disappearance, Karen shares this heartbreaking account of every parent's worst nightmare.

    His is the story the establishment doesn’t want you to read.br>Captain P. J. “Red” Riley is an ex-SAS soldier who served for eighteen years as an MI6 agent. Riley escaped internment in Chile during the Falklands war during an audacious top-secret attempt to attack the Argentinian mainland. He was imprisoned in the darkness of the Sierra Leonean jungle, and withstood heavy fire in war-torn Beirut and Syria. In 2015, he was arrested for murder but all charges were later dropped. In this searing memoir, Riley reveals the brutal realities of his service, and the truth behind the newspaper headlines featuring some of the most significant events in recent British history. His account provides startling new evidence on the Iraq war, what Tony Blair really knew about Saddam Hussain’s weapons of mass destruction before the allied invasion, and questions the British government’s alleged involvement in the death of Princess Diana. Chaotic, darkly humorous and at times heart-wrenchingly sad, Kisses From Nimbus charts the harrowing real-life experiences of a soldier and spy in the name of Queen and country.

    

    She was a New Yorker, had just turned forty, and was about to put her youngest child in college. He was pushing 50 and relishing a sabbatical from his San Francisico law practice. Opposites attracted. A few weeks later they were engaged. A year later they were honeymooning on bicycles in Burgundy, after a wedding in a chapel at JFK. And after five years in San Francisco, they sold their house, quit their jobs and moved to Paris -- “permanently,” they said. For seven years their home was in a foreign country, in a foreign culture, bathed in a foreign language, on the rue des Marronniers in the 16th Arrondissement of the most beautiful city in the world. We Always Had Paris is the story of their adventure. It really happened. It is also a love story.

    And with G-d's help, he saved not only himself but also his parents and a host of friends, relatives, and strangers from almost certain death. If Ludvik Wieder's adventures were fiction, they would seem too contrived. But everything told is the unembellished truth. At the age of 26, Ludvik had it all—health, wealth, good looks, popularity, and a growing business in one of Europe's brightest capitals. Then, one dreadful Sunday in the spring of 1943, the Nazis marched into Budapest and imposed a series of repressive measures that threatened the life of every Jew in Hungary. From that day on, all that mattered was survival. Suddenly, life hung by a shred of paper— the proper “Aryan” identification. Determined to survive, Ludvik boldly entered the black market to buy those precious scraps of false identity that might save him and his loved ones from disaster. Soon he was living a double life, outwardly forsaking his Orthodox Jewish upbringing to pose as a gentile, at the same time clinging steadfastly to his beliefs, never for a moment forgetting who he was and where he came from. Soon he became a master of deception— whether it was posing as a trusted “gentile” factory employee, disguising himself as a drunken peasant, or assuming the dress and manner of a member of the Hungarian S.S. Somehow, he had the capacity to enlist the aid of an unlikely assortment of non-Jews, who helped him at the peril of their lives—among them, a peasant woman who befriended him in prison and offered her home as his haven for the duration of the war… a Hungarian Air Force officer, who “adopted” Ludvik's niece as his own illegitimate child, lent him his apartment as a hiding place and smuggled a series of vital ID papers to him… the Skid Row derelict who saved the life of Ludvik's nephew by pretending to be the boy's uncle. The book traces Ludvik's life, beginning with his placid, essentially easygoing boyhood in Czechoslovakia. Then, in 1940, after the Hungarian takeover, he was inducted into forced labor. It describes the cruelty and black humor of the labor camp, which helped him to develop the cunning and ingenuity that enabled him to sharpen his survival skills and avoid being sent to fatal service on the Russian front. The story then focuses on the Nazi occupation, culminating in Ludvik's near-execution at the hands of his Russian liberators. Armed with optimism, unswerving faith in the Almighty, and his own resourcefulness, Ludvik never let fear keep him from doing whatever was necessary to save himself and his fellow Jews. Throughout his heart-stopping adventures —and even in the darkest moments of despair, when events propelled him to the brink of suicide—Ludvik was motivated to go on by consummate devotion to his beloved mother. He knew he had to survive, for he had promised her he would.

    

     As a child, I was known as "Jessica Pelley." When I was nine, I went to a sleepover at a friend's house for the weekend. While I was away, my entire family was murdered. I would spend the next 30 years fighting, crawling, and clawing my way through the darkness. This wasn't just a national news headline, a cold case, or a true crime show. It was my family. And my life. I was the broken little girl left behind to tell this story. I am now "Jessi," in the pages of this unapologetic memoir, set free. *** JESSI - APRIL 29, 2016 April 29, 1989. A date I cannot forget. Numbers forever seared deep into my soul. It was 27 years ago, today. Jesus. Get a grip, Jessi. They’re just numbers. They don’t mean anything. You’re giving them power over you, again. That’s what I tell myself. But the numbers—those damn numbers—they haunt me. They always will. I cannot escape them. Not now. Not ever. For most people, dates are just numbers on a calendar. No big deal. Random markers of time affixed to the top left corner of small, white squares on a page to depict days filled with choices, chances, and opportunities. At least that’s what they are for the normal people. But I’m no longer one of them. For me, they serve as numeric reminders of the girl I used to be. A tragedy that would irrevocably and mercilessly alter the life of a little girl wearing dark blue jeans, canvas lace-up sneakers, and a white tee shirt, accessorized by prominent coke bottle glasses, her hair hanging in a messy bob. Her life would be forever dismantled. Gone. The moment they told me the words. The ones that I will never forget. At that moment, my life froze and shattered into pieces, splintering like bits of broken glass, dropping down onto the ground around me, like the remnants of a cracked windshield, falling fast before the spinning mind and broken heart of a wide-eyed little girl. Life, as I knew it, was over in that moment. What happened on April 29, 1989, has scarred me forever. A day that started out normally, before it became ensnared in marred memories, tucked between folds of tragedy and darkness. The lingering memories cut straight to the core of the hollow girl left behind. The darkness delivers itself to me, every year, on schedule. Steadily. Greedily. On the 29th day of April. Relentless. Haunting. It taunts the pieces of me that remain. Every single year. I try to lift myself out of the darkness. I tell myself the numbers shouldn’t matter. Not after 27 years have passed. Jessi, It’s just another day. You can do anything you want with it. Don’t slip into the darkness. But not even the voice in my head believes those lies I tell myself. Year after year, my happiness recoils, my thoughts run to a dark place filled with foggy memories and a void that swallows me whole. The door of despair opens and I’m trapped: alone, numb to the bone, emotionally deplete, void of all reality, space, and time. I hate the helplessness as I slip further into that dark place. A place that, long ago, was filled with light. A place where three little girls would sing happy songs, pick flowers, hold hands while skipping through tall blades of grass, and sit down at the dining room table, where they would bow their heads to pray before plates filled with food, in a home filled with laughter. Then it hits me—the life-defining, self-inflicted images of horror—of their final moments—dragging me deep into the darkness.

    What is it like? It is the best gift you can ever imagine, like rain falling on a dry place.This memoir is a great reunion journey, from Paris, to California, to Denmark! A coming together of a mother and son, the only two people who can answer all the questions the other one has.

    Cricket's dressing-room clown is now broadcasting's joker in the pack. Whether it's dining on mealworms on I'm a Celebrity, displaying his ballroom fleckle on Strictly Come Dancing or causing weekly mayhem for the long-suffering host Sue Barker on A Question of Sport, millions of us enjoy Tuffers' lust for life and endearing sense of humour.In Where Am I?, Phil gamely tries to make sense of the wonderful roller-coaster he has been riding these last dozen years, delighting fans with a treasure trove of wonderful stories about the places he has been, the people he has met, the 'things' he has been asked to do but - most of all - the sheer enormous joy he has had doing it all.