We usually only read about the best - about the bravery, the courage and the sacrifice of mountaineers who risk life and limb to achieve excellence for themselves and others. But there are other mountaineers – the charlatans, the conmen, the bullies, the petty-minded and narcissistic - who prefer to sacrifice others to their obsession to reach the top of Mt. Everest. This book is about one of the worst! In 1996, the deadliest year in the history of climbing Mt. Everest, both types were on the mountain. But in a cruel twist of fate the good guys died while the bad guy not only reached the top, but lived to prosper from it. In a piece of top class investigative journalism Ken Vernon delves into the guts of one dysfunctional expedition that, despite being supported by the iconic Nelson Mandela, became an international laughing stock. Everest ‘96 also peels back the layers of deception surrounding the fantastic past of the man who became the most reviled in mountaineering lore. Ken Vernon is an Australian journalist with decades of experience covering stories ranging from the African wars of Independence to the climbing of Mt Everest.

    Before sisters Sue and Linda inherit a village house in the hills they have little interest in Spain, but on travelling out to see their new possession they begin to warm to the idea of spending time there with their husbands Paul and Bill. After an enjoyable summer holiday the prospect of living in the village becomes irresistible and this book describes their transition from visitors to residents and the diverse selection of people they meet along the way. This amusing and informative memoir is an ideal read for those interested in the possibilities of expat life in rural Spain.

    Hollywood minus the hype and hokum.

    From the bliss of her dramatic, romantic saga with her now husband, to the trials and triumph of her career journey as a young women, to the devastating loss of her son when he was only six months old, Jessica's commitment to follow the nudges of her heart have seen her through every season. Through her hilarious, inspiring stories and refreshing honesty, Jessica will challenge you start looking for ways to brings more joy to your life and the lives of those around you. Life lived to the fullest can only happen when you bring the joy.

    

    

    No-one never put no handcuffs on me.’I put down my pen. Somehow, I don’t think this is going to be the level of interview for which I need to make notes. ‘You actually don’t need to be handcuffed to be under arrest,’ I say.‘Yeah, I do. Right, Sonia?’Sonia nods emphatically. ‘You do need it, me Ma said so.’In an attempt to steer the interview back on track, I look down at PC Cansat’s statement. ‘Look, it says here, “I then said to Shimona O’Milligan, ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of assault and criminal damage.’ I cautioned her to which she replied, ‘Whatever’.” Does that ring any bells?’Shimona titters. Then she gets serious again. ‘Does he say he handcuffed me, though? Cos he’s a liar.’‘No, he says he arrested you.’‘Well, I wasn’t listening.’‘This may surprise you,’ I say, ‘but you can be arrested even if you aren’t listening.’‘No, you can’t. Not if you’re inside a house. I know the law.’If there is one thing I like more than a gobby teenager, it is a gobby teenager who knows the law.‘Shimona, you are going to have to take my word for the fact that you were brought here under arrest and you are still under arrest now. Let’s move on.’‘Whatever.’"Diary of an On-Call Girl was serialised on BBC Radio 4 and is currently in TV development with scripts being written by the writer of the hit TV comedy Rev.

    At the time of my arrest, I was a thirty-seven year old Harvard graduate with medical and post-doctoral degrees. I attended one of the finest residency and fellowship training programs in the world at the University of California, San Francisco. I played two sports in college, earned awards at every level of education and training, had wonderful friends and a beautiful three-year-old daughter. Having grown up the son of a restaurant manager and a housewife, I had transcended the humble beginnings of a small Midwestern town to become the quintessential American Dream.Or so I thought. But with my arrest on felony importation charges, everything I had worked so hard for was swept away and the entire trajectory of my life was indelibly altered. I would embark on a three year battle not only for my medical license, but also for my freedom. This journey would lead to intense personal introspection, and in that process, I would discover with ugliness, there was also beauty, and with punishment, mercy.There are many reasons I have written this manuscript, with one of the most important being that I hoped my story would resonate with others who have gone through difficult circumstances as a consequence of a dark side of their personality. With this book, I hope to inspire others to accept and embrace the good and bad, while continually striving for improved self-understanding and acceptance.I have changed names primarily for legal purposes, but the facts are unchanged. Although the events described in the book occurred more than ten years ago, I think about them nearly every day. The shame and humiliation are ever-present. Any simple Google search of my name reveals the truth, and that truth has affected me over and over, despite the years, as it probably should. As the judge told me that day in a federal courtroom, "You have betrayed the public's trust." This is my confessional.

    The story takes us from Glenn's unexpected diagnosis of 'three months at best' just days before the birth of his only child, to his miraculous remission and the ironic death of his father. It is a journey that is by turns heartbreaking, painfully funny, misanthropic, loving and ultimately heroic. Rodeo In Joliet tramples the Hallmark cliches and platitudes of traditional cancer survival stories and presents in their place an experience that leaves the reader in awe and grateful for his or her every breath.

    In THE LAWDOG FILES, he chronicles his official encounters with everything from naked bikers, combative eco-warriors, suicidal drunks, respectful methheads, prison tattoo artists, and creepy children to six-foot chickens and lethal chihuahuas. THE LAWDOG FILES range from the bittersweet to the explosively hilarious, as LawDog relates his unforgettable experiences in a laconic, self-deprecating manner that is funny in its own right. The book is more than mere entertainment, it is an education in two English dialects, Police and Texas Country. And underlying the humor is an unmistakable sympathy for society's less fortunate - and in most cases, significantly less intelligent - whose encounters with the law are an all-too-frequent affair.

     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.

    He continued to make great music while slowly returning to his Catholic roots. His hard-won wisdom filters through his stories whether he's recalling how he went shopping with John Lennon and ended up on the cover of Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band or what it was like to travel in the Jim Crow South with Sam Cooke.Praise for Dion... "To this day nobody, nobody can rock like Dion."—Lou Reed "He always had the name that said it all...Dion."—Bruce Springsteen "If you want to hear a great singer, listen to Dion. His genius has never deserted him."—Bob DylanThe audio edition of this book can be downloaded via Audible.

    Little did Julie know how momentous this meeting was set to be. Twenty years earlier, when Julie was just 16, she had become pregnant. Worried how her parents would react, Julie had kept her pregnancy a secret right up until the day she gave birth. Ten days later, she'd been forced to make the hardest decision of her life: to give her baby up for adoption. As the years passed, Julie often wondered what had happened to her daughter. Now, through the most extra-ordinary of coincidences, Julie was about to find out. A temporary secretary called Sara had just started working in the agents' office. Sara had recently discovered that she had been adopted, and had just got hold of her birth certificate. According to the certificate, her mother's name was Julie Wassmer.

    Mike is called to investigate a series of burglaries, which are sending shock waves through the area. Remote farmhouses appear to be the targets, which stretches Mike's small team to the limits. Then, as winter sets in, two dogs are found running loose - Mike fears the owner has gone missing in the dreadful weather and is forced to call on a full-scale search. Throw in a night-time operation in an empty museum, and the harrowing business of taking three children into care against their mother's wishes, and it's quite a case-load for the author of Now Then, Lad, You're Coming With Me, Lad, Not On My Patch, Lad and Just the Job, Lad.

    Moreover, he was as legendary a figure on the streets of New York as on the streets of London.Pearson persuaded the mysterious criminal leader to talk to him - and the result was a story even more extraordinary than that of the Kray twins. Here Pearson reveals the true story of the Englishman who became the adopted son of Joey Pagano, the head of one of the major New York crime families. Here the Englishman tells the story that no-one else dared to tell.