The apostle John had taken dictation from God before, but this time he challenged the content of what his master was telling him to write. His followers would surely think he had gone mad.His Excellency Walter Brown, Ireland's first resident Ambassador to Turkey presented his credentials in September 1968. He delegated the business of finding a residence to his wife, a French Countess, Colette Coerduroi-Brown.It is left to Dennis O'Gorman, the mission's Third Secretary, to restrain the exuberance of the Countess and handle the negotiations. He becomes embroiled in Turkish politics, in a house that is considered to be haunted. Enter a murderer!Diligent, ambitious, often unlucky; Dennis is obliged to turn detective.Millicent, his fiancée in Limerick, disapproves. The Department in Dublin frowns.He is fed a diet of red herrings, washed down by undependable wine.Dennis perseveres.

On a lonely dark highway, Mark Hampton, had an unusual and frightening encounter with an uninvited passenger. An apparition from the past delivers a message from a dead loved one to bring peace to Mark’s troubled mind.The 7 Poems of Lady Gaga is part of a collection of books created by Amanda Song. The young mind will be able to learn about poetry while reading about their favorite people or topics. Teachers can grab their young ones attention by using examples of poetry that involve their interests. Students can impress their teachers by already knowing different styles of poetry. There are many styles in the collection, including Acrostic, Haiku, Cinquain, Sonnet, and even Sestina! Once students become acquainted with the different style of poetry, they will be able to identify where the author went outside the lines every now and then.

Bobby Lambert has been offered the deal of a lifetime to become the world’s best at something he loves: golf. But the cost is high … very high.excerpt:We leave the car and strip behind it. The boy turns shyly away, exposing the pearly white purity of his bare bottom. Safe from view, I enjoy the transitory thrill of standing naked in the world. Before slipping my trunks on, I look beyond the far side of the wired enclosure, remembering a place, now possessed by a cottage, where my father and mother and brother and I once long ago camped in a trailer. As we approach the gate again, I look beyond it, down the length of interlinked wire, towards the dwindling end of beach where my father always set the barbecue grill, away from children carelessly running about. I close my eyes and imagine him still standing there on a sandy crescent of shoreline, enclosed by the now becalmed water and a green profusion of cattails.A cool draft coming off the lake causes me to wonder if we have come too late. The possibility prompts the remembrance of another past summer day when the water proved too cold to go in. As I stood with my toes at the waterline looking out, a tall gangly girl my own age, with skin of shiny ebony and hair kinky black, approached holding in both hands a half-empty bottle of Fresca. Having little experience with unfamiliar girls, even less with black ones, I found her an interesting challenge. My eyes continually drew away from her face to her hair, woven into pigtails tied off at the ends with bits of red yarn. I particularly liked the way she talked, which imparted a slight trill to the words she spoke. But my every gambit to capture her interest failed until, replying, “Tosh,” to a bold hypothetical I expressed in an attempt to impress her, (that swimming would be far more comfortable if only a small piece of sun were to fall in the lake and warm it,) she turned away and went back to sit on the blanket next to her mother, who listened, smiling, holding a cigarette motionless to her lips, while between finishing sips of her Fresca the girl related what I’d said.