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Senin, 29 Februari 2016

~ Ebook Download The Course of Empire, by Eric Flint, K.D. Wentworth

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The Course of Empire, by Eric Flint, K.D. Wentworth

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The Battle to Free the Earth May Destroy It Instead! Thundering Space Action by the Authors of 1632 and Black on Black.

Conquered by the Jao twenty years ago, the Earth is shackled under alien tyranny - and threatened by the even more dangerous Ekhat, one of whose genocidal extermination fleets is coming to the solar system. The only chance for human survival is in the hands of an unusual pair of allies: a young Jao prince, newly arrived to Terra to assume his duties, and a young human woman brought up amongst the Jao occupiers. But, as their tentative alliance takes shape, they are under pressure from all sides. A cruel Jao viceroy on one side, determined to drown all opposition in blood; a reckless human resistance on the other, which is perfectly prepared to shed it. Added to the mix is the fact that only by adopting some portions of human technology and using human sepoy troops can the haughty Jao hope to defeat the oncoming Ekhat attack - and then only by fighting the battle within the sun itself.

Sales Rank: #917664 in Books
Published on: 2005-03-01
Released on: 2005-03-01
Original language: English
Number of items: 1
Dimensions: 6.75" h x 1.40" w x 4.19" l, .66 pounds
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
672 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Can a proud and warlike people find common cause with their alien conquerors in the face of a greater danger? That's the question that military SF ace Flint (1633) and two-time Nebula Award finalist Wentworth (This Fair Land) ask in this thought-provoking far-future novel. After defeating the human species, some of the sea lion-like Jao consider finishing off the job through mass asteroid strikes. But the young Aille, newly arrived commander of Jao Ground Forces, seeks to win over the humans not only by showing them the threat posed to all intelligent life by the Ekhat, the elder race that raised the Jao to sentience, but also by trying to forge bonds between the vanquishers and the vanquished. The authors excel at describing how human and Jao customs clash, allowing the reader to discover along with the characters the core beliefs of each society and how these beliefs could be adjusted and harmonized with one another. The Ekhat presents a truly alien threat of the sort that could well merge two belligerent societies into one, not just out of fear but through ties of blood and honor. Building to an exhilarating conclusion, this book cries out for a sequel.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Booklist
Flint and Wentworth drastically modify a venerable sf setup--alien occupiers of a conquered Earth can't understand what makes humans tick--much to the benefit of the book and the greater delight of readers. For one thing, on this Earth, insight and idiocy are equally distributed between the conquerors and conquered, with the invading Jao frequently realizing how much they have to learn and then setting out to learn it. Meanwhile, the humans are playing the same game, with those humans who are hostages to the Jao, or part of the Jao's sepoy army, preparing for war against a still more evil alien race, probably doing more good than the fragmented Resistance accomplishes. If the elaborate detail with which both sides are depicted sometimes slows the pacing, it redounds to Flint and Wentworth's world-building skills. And when Jao clans fall at odds on Earth, on a scale that threatens wholesale devastation, the pacing brisks up enough for anyone's taste. A possible series opener that stands well alone. Roland Green
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Review
"[Wentworth writes] old fashioned heroic adventure, mixing sf and fantasy with a reckless abandon that makes it fun."

Most helpful customer reviews

35 of 35 people found the following review helpful.
Give this book a HUGO: Course of Empire is brilliant
By Walt Boyes
Take two authors known to be among the most capable at creating believable and completely inhuman and nonhuman aliens, and ask them to write together. What do you get? You get creativity squared. You get _Course of Empire_ by Eric Flint and K.D. Wentworth.
This book deserves nomination for the Hugo and Nebula awards. It is a deceptively old-fashioned plot: aliens conquer the Earth and what happens later. But the aliens are real _people_ -- not human people, but people nonetheless...and not one-dimensional cutout villains. The humans are real. The aliens are real, and the situation is entirely believable.
Flint, while better known for alternate histories, began his writing career with the brilliant _Mother of Demons_ in which he created believable aliens out of giant landlocked squidlike beings...and got us to care about them and understand their motivations.
Wentworth, likewise, known for her fantasies, is the creator of the fascinating Hrinn...neither catlike, nor doglike, nor bearlike, but a warrior animal race, intelligent, emotional, honorable. This book should be a breakthrough for Wentworth, who is amazingly underrated as an author...and deserves much better as she shows in _Course of Empire_.
Put together, Flint and Wentworth develop the Jao. Very different than humans, human interactions baffle the Jao...just like the Jao baffle the humans who are their slaves.
This is an awe-inspiringly good book, and should be read and enjoyed, over and over.
Bravo!

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Extremely Powerful Sci-fi
By C. Craig Coleman
The Course of Empire is one of if not the best sci-fi book I've ever read. That said, the first three pages had so may alien words without explanation, I almost stopped reading it. The more I read, the better it got. The scope of this book is phenomenal, not just in the spacial concepts but in the unique view of humanity from alien perception filtered through their concepts of life. The depth of character building, galactic relationships, novel approaches to alien lifeforms, and the weaving of human and alien cultures are off the scale. I'm still fascinated with the concepts in this book two days after finishing it. The result is my usual perception, sci-fi has humans vs aliens, has shifted to a much more integrated approach for the future.
I do highly recommend this book to sci-fi / fantasy readers.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Not as good as Flint's other work
By CP
This was reasonably strong debut to the series. Interesting world-building, interesting alien cultures, engaging plot. Characterization was a bit weak - not nearly as engaging as Eric Flint's other work. Overall, this reads a lot like many of Amazon's direct-to-Kindle books, rather than like the work of a more experienced author screened and supported by a regular publishing housing. Interesting plot but without the depth and detail that makes a story really compelling. You'll read through the end because you want to know how it turns out, but not because you really care about the characters or have gotten drawn into their world.

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## Download PDF The Marcelli Bride (The Marcelli Sisters of Pleasure Road, Book 4), by Susan Mallery

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USA Today bestselling author Susan Mallery returns to the idyllic setting of her sensual Marcelli sisters trilogy -- California wine country, where love and laughter flow, and where an unlikely couple discovers the one thing their hearts hunger for most: a place to call home.

The rebel of the Marcelli family, Joe never joined his sisters Katie, Francesca, and Brenna in running the winery business. Instead, he chose a life of military service. But now that this handsome, headstrong former Navy SEAL has received a new, undercover assignment -- protecting none other than the commander in chief's daughter -- he finds himself stationed back at the California vineyard he defiantly left behind. First-daughter Darcy Jensen has been placed in hiding at the Marcelli Winery after surviving a kidnapping attempt . . . and now it's Joe's job to keep the fearful, fiery beauty out of harm's way. Begrudgingly, Joe heeds his presidential order -- until "babysitting" Darcy proves to be the greatest pleasure he's ever known. How can Joe protect Darcy from danger, when he's falling dangerously in love? And can Darcy trust that Joe's intentions are true -- when no one else's have ever been?

Sales Rank: #273242 in Books
Brand: Pocket Star
Published on: 2006-05-01
Released on: 2006-05-01
Ingredients: Example Ingredients
Original language: English
Number of items: 1
Dimensions: 6.75" h x .90" w x 4.19" l, .36 pounds
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
336 pages

Features

Great product!

Review
"Smart, sexy entertainment." -- Christina Dodd

About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery has entertained millions of readers with her witty and emotional stories about women. Publishers Weekly calls Susan’s prose “luscious and provocative,” and Booklist says “Novels don’t get much better than Mallery’s expert blend of emotional nuance, humor and superb storytelling.” Susan lives in Seattle with her husband and her tiny but intrepid toy poodle. Visit her at www.SusanMallery.com.

Chapter 1

If Darcy Jensen had known she was going to be kidnapped, she would have worn better shoes. Or at least more sensible shoes. As it was she'd dressed in black strappy sandals that weren't all that comfortable for walking, let alone being dragged across a parking lot and thrown into the back of a van.

She did her best to resist. Screaming was out of the question because they'd already gagged her. And the resisting part went badly, what with her hands tied behind her back, although she did nail one guy with a decent head butt.

Even as she landed hard on the metal floor of the van, she wondered how it all had happened. She'd been in Ann Taylor checking out the new clothes for fall. She'd told Drew she needed to use the restroom.

Traveling with two Secret Service agents meant rarely using a public restroom. Drew had consulted with the manager of the store, who was all too happy to have the president of the United States' daughter peeing in her private bathroom. Darcy had done her business, washed her hands -- not only because she always did, but also because people checked on things like that when one was in the public eye -- and had started back through the stockroom toward the dressing rooms, where she had a pile of clothes waiting for her.

That's when the men attacked. Four guys in Halloween-type demon masks grabbed her. Before she knew what was happening, they'd slapped tape on her mouth. The hand tying came next, then the dragging.

One of them even remembered to pick up her purse, she thought grimly as she stared at her now-scratched Maxx bag bought on QVC lying next to her on the floor of the van.

The rear doors slammed shut, and the vehicle sped out of the parking lot.

Darcy braced herself as best she could on the ribbed floor as the van bounced, swerved, then turned onto what felt like a main road. Two of her abductors had taken the front seats -- she could see them through the small grille -- while the other two must have had their own transportation. She was alone in the back of the van.

Alone with her purse.

There were no windows, no way to get anyone's attention. And no one to watch her retrieve the panic button that would signal the Secret Service and send them rushing to rescue her.

She inched her way toward the purse, only to have the van take another corner, causing the bag to go sliding out of reach. Two more slip-slides across the dirty metal floor and she was within reaching distance of her purse . . . except for the small problem of her hands tied behind her back. Could she open the zipper with her teeth? Probably not with the gag in place.

Darcy had done her best to stay focused in the moment. If she anchored herself in the now, the terror wasn't so bad. She could function. But if she allowed herself to think about what they could do to her, how it was national policy to never negotiate with terrorists, then fear would explode inside of her, making her want to scream and beg, despite the tape across her mouth.

No! She wouldn't go there. She wouldn't give in. She was strong and determined, and by God, she would get her panic button and push it until dozens of armed agents came storming through the walls of the van.

She didn't have much choice. Drew had been assigned to her long enough to know that the "trying on" part of a shopping trip could take at least an hour, which meant he wouldn't notice she was missing until the van had enough time to cross a couple of state lines.

If only it wasn't so hot, she thought as she went to work on the zipper. August in D.C. maintained the average temperature of a blast furnace with plenty of humidity thrown in for good measure. The front of the van might have AC, but here in the prison part of the vehicle, no such luck.

She ignored the heat, the sweat, the scrapes and bruises, and bent over her purse. Several more turns, some speeding and three failed attempts later, Darcy had discovered she could not open the damn zipper with her teeth. Which left her to scoot the purse into a corner, turn her back, and try to open it that way.

Easier said than done, she thought as she discovered she couldn't even hold on to the purse, although she did a lovely job of scraping her arm and banging her head. Why did this stuff always look so easy in the movies?

She tried again, carefully lodging the purse against the wheel well, then rolling onto her back and grabbing for the bag with her fingers. This time she got it and turned it slowly until she felt the zipper.

Don't make a turn, don't make a turn, she chanted silently, knowing if they did, she would slide across the van and have to start all over again.

The vehicle stayed mercifully straight.

Inch by inch she pulled the zipper down. Sweat poured down her back and made her fingers damp. Her bare legs stuck to the floor of the van and to whatever crumbs and icky things were scattered there. At last the purse was open. She plunged both hands inside and felt around for the familiar plastic case. Lipstick, wallet, cell phone, pen --

Cell phone? Nearly as good as the panic button. She would have to dial, of course, but she could call the operator and asked to be put through to her father. She could --

Darcy swore. Right. The tape across her mouth would make it difficult to hold a conversation. Back to digging for the panic button.

At that exact moment, the van suddenly came to a stop. Both she and her purse went sliding, although not at the same rate of speed. She had no way to get back to it before the bad guys opened the rear door to find her sprawled in a corner, her skirt up to her waist and the contents of her purse spread all over the floor of the van.

"You didn't take her handbag?" one of the guys asked the other. "Goddamn it, Bill, I thought you were smarter than that."

The recipient of the scolding, a smallish man in a vampire mask, stiffened. "You used my name. Now she knows my name."

The other one, demon-guy, snorted. "Yeah, because there's only one guy named Bill in the whole country. Come on, Einstein, let's get her inside."

Darcy tried to scramble away from her kidnappers, but as she was already in a back corner of the van, there was nowhere else to go. They half carried, half dragged her into what looked like a large warehouse.

She did her best to fight, lashing out at them with her feet. The action caused them to hold on tighter to her upper arms and made her break a heel on her new sandals.

Now she was mad, she thought as they put her into a straight-back chair and began tying her down. They'd screwed with her day, bruised her, thrown her around the inside of a disgusting van, scratched her new leather bag, and ruined the black sandals she'd just bought after waiting four weeks for them to go on sale. There was going to be hell to pay.

She told them so, although the tape on her mouth interfered with the intensity of her message.

"I don't think she likes us," Bill said, stepping back as she tried to kick his shin.

"Gee, I wonder why. Most people love a good kidnapping."

With that, the two men walked off. Darcy tried to hold on to her anger by reminding herself how much the sandals had cost, even on clearance, and how little money she had coming in these days. It worked for nearly a minute, then the fear set in. What were they going to do to her?

She told herself that torture was unlikely. Either they wanted money or something they thought they could only get from the president of the United States. Unfortunately that was a big pool of possibilities, everything from sovereignty to nuclear weapons.

Then there was the matter of the no-negotiation policy. The one that told her she could be stuck here for a very long time, and then she could be killed.

Darcy might not love everything about her life at this moment in time, but she wasn't ready for it to be over. Terror tightened her throat and made it impossible to breathe. She had the sudden thought that she was going to throw up.

Stay calm, she told herself. If she vomited, she could drown in a really gross way. She had to find her Zen center. Not that she'd ever studied Zen, but she could imagine what it was like. A tranquil place. A place where reality was an illusion and all that mattered was the slow, steady beating of her heart.

Deep breaths, she told herself. In and out. No hurry in the air department. Just nice slow --

"Did you hurt her?"

The question came from somewhere behind her as she heard several people approaching. Panic joined fear as she tried to figure out if, in this man's opinion, hurting her would be a plus or not.

"She got banged up in the back of the van," Bill said. "But that's all."

She looked around for some kind of escape. But the huge, empty warehouse didn't offer any places to hide, and being tied to a large, heavy chair limited her options. She tried to scoot and only succeeded in wrenching her back.

"Good. We don't want any unnecessary bloodshed."

Darcy exhaled in relief. Speaking as the kidnappee, she was delighted to know that bloodshed was to be avoided until necessary. Not that she wanted to know what would be considered necessary.

Their footsteps got closer, then three men were standing in front of her. She recognized her two kidnappers, who stood with a new guy, also in a demon mask. He was taller than the other two, and stronger. Something he proved when he turned on the non-Bill one and grabbed him by the throat.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, shaking the smaller man like a dog shakes something tasty just before he kills it.

Bill danced from foot to foot, although he didn't rush in to help his friend. "We got her, boss. Just like you said. The president's daughter. This is her."

The leader released non-Bill and curled his hands into fists. He stared at Darcy through the slits of the mask and growled.

"Not this one, you idiot. The other one. Lauren. No one cares about this one."

Less than thirty minutes later th...

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Loved it!
By Emptynest
Best book of the series! Joe finds his way back to the family but not without lots of conflict. Love, mystery and happy ending doesn't get better than that!

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Great Series
By L. Silverman
I really loved the whole series!!!! If you like family sagas this one id the best I've read in a while!!

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Love this series
By serenity83
This entire series was an enjoyable trip. I would recommend them to anyone!

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Sabtu, 27 Februari 2016

? Download PDF The Price of Loyalty, by Ron Suskind

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A devestating account of the inner workings of the George W. Bush administration, written with the extensive cooperation of former U.S. Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill. As readers are taken to the very epicentre of government, this news-making book offers a definitive view of Bush and his closest advisers as they manage crucial domestic policies and global strategies within the most secretive White House of modern times.

Sales Rank: #3202009 in Books
Brand: Brand: Pocket Books
Published on: 2004-09-06
Original language: English
Number of items: 1
Dimensions: 7.80" h x .94" w x 5.08" l, 1.10 pounds
Binding: Paperback
352 pages

Features

Used Book in Good Condition

Review
"The New York Times"An invaluable contribution both to the historical record and to the fierce public debate over the nature of the Bush administration's true views and motivations on issues of war and peace.

About the Author
Ron Suskind was the WALL STREET JOURNAL's senior national affairs reporter from 1993 to 2000, and won the Pulitzer Prize for Feature Writing while working there. He is the author of several acclaimed books and lives in Washington DC with his wife and two sons.

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
If you want to know how the USA got screwed by George W Bush, read this.
By Brent Kincaid
It is upsetting, but it clears the mind to see how it all happened. It was certainly scary enough. Read it.

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Kamis, 25 Februari 2016

~~ Ebook Broken Bow (Star Trek Enterprise), by Diane Carey

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Broken Bow (Star Trek Enterprise), by Diane Carey

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The genesis of a new series: the novelization of the first-ever episode of ENTERPRISE tells the pioneering story of Captain Jonathan Archer and his crew on their first exploration of space. It is the twenty-second century, and the dawn of man's greatest adventure. Under the watchful eye of the Vulcans, Earth has been preparing its flagship, the groundbreaking starship Enterprise NX-01, for her inaugural voyage into interstellar space. When a mysterious alien fugitive - a Klingon - is almost killed in Broken Bow, Montana, the Vulcans argue that mankind is not ready to meet other races and the launch should be postponed. But Captain Jonathan Archer refuses to be deterred. Determined to take the Enterprise to the stars he musters his crew and readies his ship to take the stranger home. Archer is given the assignment - on condition that a Vulcan officer accompanies his crew. It should have been a quick and easy mission...but when the Klingon is abducted by a snatch squad of deadly Suliban, the Enterprise is pulled into a conflict that reaches not only across whole star systems but centuries as well.

Sales Rank: #1403778 in Books
Brand: Brand: Star Trek
Published on: 2003-06-03
Original language: English
Number of items: 1
Dimensions: 6.60" h x 1.10" w x 4.20" l,
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
304 pages

Features

Used Book in Good Condition

Review
Now available in a mass-market paperback edition

About the Author
Diane Carey is the author of the bestselling INVASIONI:FIRST STRIKE and numerous other Star Trek novels including episode tie-ins from The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine and Voyager, amongst them THE WAY OF THE WARRIOR, TRIALS AND TRIBBLEATIONS and WHAT YOU LEAVE BEHIND (all DS9), both DS9 volumes of the bestselling DOMINION WAR quartet, EQUINOX and ENDGAME (both Voyager).

Chapter One

Thirty Years Later...

OKL'HMA!

Failed! I have smashed my craft, and now I flee to live!

Die here? In rows of weeds and seeds? This is no way to die! Suliban! The savage pawns must not have what I know. Escape is not cowardice! Run! Thus he ran from the smelling wreck of a noble craft that had carried him so far, whose flawed intakes he had not been able to mend in time. The wreck would distract them. It was Klingon to its core and it would serve till the end, spewing a curtain of smoke to hide him in the stalks.

Who was on this planet? Who had made the stalks into rows as tidy as a mOghklyk's spine plait? What beasts were here who built the land into squares, the buildings into squares, and the fences into squares? Were they also square?

Klaang ran, ran like a fear-driven child, but with anger also, which kept him leaping harder with each step. The gravity here -- he could run faster than on Qo'noS. His bulky body served better here and seemed young again. He knew he was big, even for a Klingon, but here he sensed an advantage. Suliban animals would lose him in this weed field.

Then the blasts began, and he knew he was wrong. The stalks beside him burst into flame and withered, blackened. A glance over his shoulder told him they were after him even through the smoke and weeds. He saw their mottled faces, heard their weapons, and sensed their insult.

"Hah!" A burst of new energy, driven by the stink of burning plants, drove him faster toward the square buildings he had seen as his craft rushed overhead to its death. A good death in battle for a good old craft, to go ferociously into the dust and flame with scars of Suliban attack. The future would know about it.

The Suliban weapons spat bitter fire at Klaang as he ran. The alien countryside lit up in great expanses. Ridiculously, he tilted toward each shot; escape would be preferred, but if there was no escape, he wanted to die boldly. He was running to save the mission, after all, not himself. His conscience and his duty were in conflict.

But to die with Suliban disruption in the back -- who would tell how it really had been for him? Why he died with wounds in his back?

Could he run backward?

He was about to try when a port opened in the nearest building and an alien emerged, bright in the face and round in the body, with hairless chin and narrow shoulders and cloth on its head. Shock broke across its expression, and it disappeared back into the swinging port.

Klaang angled away from that building and went for the silver tower to the side. It was windowless and tall, suggesting an inner confusion and a possibility of darkness in which to conceal himself.

The door was large enough for him, made of thin metal and bracings. He pushed it shut and slammed the rod that obviously bolted the door.

Would Suliban be stopped? Klaang stepped back into the darkness and looked at the door. A thin sliver of light around the perimeter proved the door was not tight. Suliban would flatten through it.

He had seen the disgusting sight before. He began to feel his way around, and found a ladder.

By the time he heard the Suliban dislocating their skeletal structure to melt under the door -- actually, he heard their shuffles as they reassembled, but in his mind he saw the meltdown -- he was bursting out another door, high in the silver tower. Another roof!

Yes, he had seen this nearby small building, and now it was here to help him! He held his breath, and leaped.

His soles slammed onto the tiny roof, breaking the plated material that warded off weather. In his mind, he endured a quick guess about what kind of weather would come to a place like this.

Then he was on the ground again. He lost balance for a moment as he spun around and drew his disruptor. Now! He would get a shot at them! They were inside that port he had just come from, trapped in the metal tower! A disruptor shot would charge those metal walls and force the Suliban out the other end, where Klaang would be waiting for them!

He leveled his disruptor and fired a single salvo at the open portal he had just come from.

Rather than a simple charge, what came out was a gout of sheer fireball. The tower rumbled at its base, then blew to splinters with a great throbbing roar.

Explosives! Why would these aliens keep volatiles in a field of stalks?

Klaang staggered, shocked, blown backward by the unexpected detonation. He stared at the instantly burning wreckage and wondered why a simple tower would get a noble death, just for hiding volatiles.

But the Suliban would have no more interest in him. Not those two Suliban.

"Top ryterr!"

Momentarily confused, Klaang stumbled and turned to see the slope-shouldered alien now standing two steps from him, with a weapon aimed at Klaang's breastplate.

"Aymeenut!" the alien cried.

Klaang tried to make sense of the sounds, which seemed to have some Klingon inflections, but he made much more of the stance. "Rognuh pagh goH! Mang juH!" Would the alien understand his warning?

The alien's face crinkled. "May'v nodea mityer sning, muttay gerrentee i nowow tuze iss!" Why had this creature interfered in the quarrel of others? What kind of people were these? In a rage of insult and irritation, Klaang slapped his thighs and ranted, "HIch ghaH! Oagh DoO!" He was about to spit out his further opinion, when the alien proved him completely wrong by opening fire.

An energy stream bolted from the weapon and caught Klaang in the chest. As he sailed through the light and bright air to the place where he would die in the stalks, he silently thanked the interesting alien for a wound in front. At least future ages would know he hadn't died running.

Most helpful customer reviews

3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
A nice read about the beginning of Starfleet.
By Roger J. Buffington
"Broken Bow" is the novelization of the first episode of the television series "Enterprise" and it is a quite enjoyable read. It is approximately 150 years from now. Mankind has made first contact with the Vulcans, and later a few other intelligent races, but Earthmen are still the "new kids on the block" and humans are just beginning to venture out into the stars in a significant way. Starfleet is very new, and mankind's mentors, the Vulcans, disapprove of these upstart humans getting loose outside of our Solar System.

The novel delves into the politics of the construction of the Enterprise and Starfleet, both of which the Vulcans believe are premature, more than the initial television episode did. I personally find the setting in "Enterprise" to be more interesting and enjoyable than that in either The Original Series or The Next Generation (both of which I very much enjoyed!) simply because it has a wonderful "New Frontier" feeling to it. The new warp technology means that Starfleet has very little knowledge of what lies "out there," the other technology is new and sometimes quirky. The transporter is "safe for biotransport" but no one relishes the idea of riding the darned thing, which I can understand. Most races that Enterprise will encounter are new to mankind, and offer new challenges and opportunities. In this episode, humanity meets up with the Klingons, which is never an easy thing to do!

The prose in the novel is good, and this is a very decent read for fans of "Star Trek" and the "Enterprise" concept.

3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
Excellent adaptation of a fine episode.
By James Yanni
In this book, Diane Carey once again demonstrates what she is capable of when not attempting to show how cute and clever she can be with the language. In many of her earlier works, her writing was almost indecipherable due to a tendancy to try to find new, unusual uses for perfectly good words. More and more, in her recent efforts, she has gotten away from this quirk, and the result has been some truly fine writing; this is one of the best so far. The story itself is not as good as her story in "Day of Honor, Ancient Blood", but that isn't her fault. In this case, she is writing a novelization of an existing episode, and she does a solid, workmanlike job of it. The episode is good, just not as good as the best ideas that Ms. Carey has had on her own. This story is an excellent introduction to the "Enterprise" characters and storyline, and Ms. Carey's treatment of it is very worthwhile reading.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Good read
By Broncomaniac
Nice read with familiar cast of characters. Good job of re-telling the pilot episode with additional details.

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>> Ebook Free The Stone Cold Truth (WWE), by Steve Austin

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On 14 January 2003 Steve Austin was voted the best professional wrestler of the last ten years in a WWE fan poll. In addition to the WWE he has wrestled in the ECW, the WCW and WWF. He has been known as The Ring Master, Superstar Steve Austin, Stunning Steve Austin and now Stone Cold Steve Austin. He has held the tag team belt in WCW and WWF, the Million Dollar Belt and the Intercontinental Championship in WWF. He won the 1996 King of the Ring, the 1997 Royal Rumble and the Larry Flynt Freedom of Speech Slammy. Steve Austin is by far the best and most exciting wrestler today. A notoriously private man, this is the book his fans have been waiting for: his story, in his own words, told in full for the first time.

Sales Rank: #408516 in Books
Published on: 2003-10-28
Released on: 2003-10-28
Original language: English
Number of items: 1
Dimensions: 9.36" h x 1.08" w x 6.38" l,
Binding: Hardcover
320 pages

About the Author
Steve Austin is the most popular wrestler in WWE. J. R. Ross is a WWE commentator -- the voice of RAW -- and head of talent relations at WWE

Chapter 1: March 29, 2003 -- Saturday Night, Pre-WrestleMania XIX

When I'm sitting there backstage and I'm getting ready to go through that curtain, I'm just waiting for that glass to break and when it hits, when that crowd explodes, I might as well be a junkie and I'm hooked on a drug.

-- STONE COLD STEVE AUSTIN

Damn, I think I'm dying, dying for sure. I'm getting off the elevator on the twenty-seventh floor of the Grand Hyatt Hotel in Seattle, the night before WrestleMania XIX, and my heart's beating so hard it feels like it's going to crack a rib jumping out of my chest.

I'm saying to myself, I'm thirty-eight years old and I'm fixing to freaking die, right here, right now. I'm having a damned heart attack!

And I'm wondering how the hell it could have happened.

I'm Stone Cold Steve Austin -- the toughest SOB in World Wrestling Entertainment, better known as WWE. This is Saturday night and tomorrow is WrestleMania XIX, the biggest Pay-Per-View event of the year. I'm in one of the biggest matches of my career, wrestling The Rock in my first real match after being out of the business for over eight months.

I've been working out twice a day at the gym and doing nothing but focusing on this match. Mentally, I'm ready, despite all the challenges I've been through in the last couple of years -- injuries, surgery and rehab, divorces and -- most unexpected of all, maybe -- my leaving WWE.

Physically, I look like somebody who deserves the name Stone Cold. But truthfully, I'm a walking disaster area. My back, neck and knees are a mess. I've got two fused discs in my back and others just barely holding together.

But tomorrow is WrestleMania, and I need to perform the best I can and put on a hell of a match. Hell, it could very well be the last one of my career. I want to go out in a blaze of glory, like anybody would.

Standing here on the twenty-seventh floor of the Grand Hyatt, my heart pounding against my ribs like a gorilla trying to bust its way out of a cage...that wasn't in the plans at all.

I had woken up that morning feeling all right. But the more I thought about it, the problem went back before that morning...

The day before, which was Friday, I had bought a couple of those high-energy drinks from the gym. I was in the habit of drinking from three to five of those things a day, plus anywhere from one to two pots of coffee, while I was off and working out. Those drinks are loaded with Ephedra and that Ma Huang crap and lots of caffeine. I should have known with all the warnings about ephedra, but it never bothered me until now. Famous last words.

I worked out at the gym on Friday and went back to the hotel. I was a little emotional, because I figured this was the last match of my career, so I didn't sleep so well. When I woke up, it was one of those mornings where you need a crane to pull yourself out of bed, so I opened up one of those energy drinks and drank that thing down.

This was before I had coffee, breakfast, whatever. Then I ordered some room service and drank the other energy drink. And then breakfast came, my normal breakfast, egg white omelet and a large pot of coffee. I drank the whole pot.

Then I called Kevin Nash and went to see him before going to the gym and had a couple more cups of coffee with him. When we went to the gym, I noticed that over the last couple of days the reflexes in my leg were really jumpy. I have what is called a sustained clonuses reflex in both legs, which is an involuntary shaking of nerves, knees, whatever. I was nervous about this whole weekend, this probably being my last match. I was nervous about hurting my neck or back, plus there was all that crap I was putting in my body, and I had been doing this stuff for months on end. Looking back, I think I was wearing myself down.

I went to the gym, but I didn't really work out. I didn't feel like doing a whole lot, so I had kind of a BS workout, a light back workout. I did the recumbent bicycle for my knees, just peddling on it, not really trying to raise my cardio or anything. Kevin had come over after he finished his cardio exercises and we were sitting together talking.

I said to him, "Look," pointing down to my foot.

My foot was resting on the bike pedal, and the reflexes were just firing like crazy in my foot and leg. I said, "Look at that crap."

He looked at my foot as it jumped uncontrollably on the bike pedal, and said, "Jesus Christ."

It was just a lot more jumpy than usual. You could see the muscles twitching away like they had a mind of their own.

When we got through with cardio exercises, we just shot the breeze for a while. Then we crossed the street over to the Grand Hyatt, where we were all staying. There were a lot of fans out there and we signed autographs for a while, and everything was fine. I felt like my normal self. This was about three in the afternoon.

After that, I went through the lobby, got in an elevator and rode it up to my floor. As soon as I got out of that damn elevator, that's when everything started happening.

My heartbeat might be doing 160 or 180 beats per minute. It just feels like my heart's going to jump out of my chest. I've been fatigued in matches before, totally out of gas and winded, but this is scaring the hell out of me. I'm sure I'm having a heart attack.

I start walking to my room, but my feet are going crazy and my legs are shaking uncontrollably every time I lift my weight off them. I finally get to my room, which is right by the elevator, and get the door open.

I say, "Okay, you're having an anxiety attack or something," so I take a couple of deep breaths to settle myself down. Maybe it'll pass, I think. But it doesn't pass. It's still as bad as before.

Hold it together, I tell myself. Getting over to the phone, I call the front desk to see if they have a doctor. I say, "I need someone up here. I need help."

They put me on hold, probably transferring me to someone else. The hell with that. I hang up on them and call back down and say, "I got an emergency. This is Steve Austin and there's something wrong with me. I need some help. I think I'm having a heart attack."

That's when they call Bob Clarke of the WWE Talent Relations Department in the WWE greenroom. In the meantime, Liz DiFabio, one of the WWE executives, just happens to be walking down the hall. I have my door wide open, waiting for some help, so I see her and yell, "Liz! I need help!"

I guess I'm as white as a sheet and I've got some weird kind of look on my face because I'm freaking out. My legs are shaking and I can't make them stop. Liz rushes in to help and then Bob Clarke and Chris Brannan, the WWE Raw trainer, come into the room. Then Dr. Robert Quarrells, the WWE team doctor, comes in.

This is all in a matter of a few minutes, I guess. I don't really know. They call the paramedics, but in the meantime they're all trying to settle me down. Dr. Quarrells has got my heartbeat down to 124. Then the EMTs get there and they take my blood pressure. It's 198 or 188 over 105, or something crazy like that. It's normally about 135 over 80.

That "bad feeling" I got when I stepped out of the elevator feels like it's going to come back at any moment. I just want to keep walking around the room, walking around the room. They all want me to sit down, but I don't want to. I really feel like this is my day to die. It's that kind of feeling.

The EMTs hook a bunch of medical stuff up to me. Then they want to get me to a hospital. Easier said than done.

There are so many fans downstairs, it's a madhouse. We do our best to be inconspicuous, so none of them will know what's going on. A group of us just walk out of the hotel in a pack, with me in the middle. But a bunch of fans see me being taken to a waiting ambulance. There's a funny moment when I look in their eyes and they look in mine, and it's crazy because no one knows what's going on.

Not even me.

We go down to the parking garage, where hotel security has put up a barricade so the fans can't see me being loaded up in the ambulance. I get inside and sit down. But as soon as they close the door, I lie down and they pull the blankets all the way up so no one can look into the ambulance and see who I am.

Finally, we arrive at the hospital, and they keep the blankets pulled all the way up over me so no one can see who they're carting into the place.

I'm thinking, Jesus, Stone Cold against The Rock at WrestleMania in Seattle. That's tomorrow, for crying out loud. But I don't think I'm going to be wrestling The Rock at WrestleMania. Right now, I'm a helluva lot more concerned about just stayin' alive.

I curse myself for my bad habits of drinking all those high-energy drinks and so much coffee every day. I rarely drank any water. I was just such a big bundle of nerves, with my health and everything else on my mind going into this match, plus my not wanting to stink the joint out. And now it's all just caught up to me -- BANG!

They take me into the hospital and hook me up to a machine that monitors my heart rate and my blood pressure. They also get an IV going and start giving me some fluids. They end up putting five bags of fluid in me, I'm so dehydrated. An average person might get two bags, but I get five.

So here I am, lying in the hospital in Seattle with tubes and wires hooked up to me, the night before I'm supposed to face The Rock at WrestleMania XIX. It doesn't even seem real. It's like a dream -- a bad one. J.R. (Jim Ross) and Vince McMahon arrive while I'm still in the emergency room. After it seems like I'm okay, they leave, thinking I'm coming back to the hotel that night.

Then the doctors decide they want to keep me overnight for evaluation. So J.R. and Chris Brannan come back to the hospital. When J.R. gets there, he asks me what I ate today, which was practically nothing. He sends Bob Clarke back to the hotel to get me some good food from hotel room service.

When he gets to the hospital with the food, I eat pretty good. That's a good sign. After I finish eating, we talk for a while. Then everybody eventually goes back to the hotel.

I just hang around the room, check out what's on TV and listen to some CDs. The nurse says she's going to give me some sleep medication. Of course, I'm still wound up and wide awake. I've been drinking those energy drinks for eight months, and I had two that day plus all the coffee, so I'm still pretty charged up. I lie in bed for a while just thinking, not falling asleep. It's only now that I start to think I can still work my match with The Rock the next day. I know there are going to be a lot of damn people there, and I've been away from the company for a long time, and there's been a lot of anticipation -- on the fans' part as well as my own.

After everything that I've done with this company, and everything this company has done for me, I want to do business with The Rock. I want to do it right. The Rock is going to beat me, and I want him to do it right in the middle of the ring. He's done a lot of stuff for me in my career, and vice-versa, so that has to happen. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I lie there in my hospital bed for quite a while, thinking about my life, my career...where it began, where it had taken me, my family, my daughters, my future. And what would happen tomorrow.

Finally, somewhere around three or four in the morning, I calm down enough to fall asleep.

Jim "J.R." Ross: I had just walked into the greenroom to see how things were going for our staff and talent on what, to that point, had been a pretty uneventful Saturday afternoon. The greenroom is the command center for our staff and talent for WrestleMania. It's kind of like going to the only coffee shop in a small town. At some point during the day, everyone drops by the greenroom to see what's going on and to use it as a point of departure for the appearances the talent make at 'Mania. Shane McMahon informed me that Steve had just been taken to the hospital. Steve had gone through hell the previous eight months or so. Some of it he had brought on himself, and some he had little or no control over. Stone Cold deserved a break and something kept telling me that this story was going to have a positive ending. When we walked into the emergency room, Steve was hooked up to a slew of monitors that were supposed to keep an eye on his heart rate and blood pressure. I could tell he was glad to see us because he tried to crack a few jokes. But the Texas Rattlesnake was scared, and he had every right to be.

Eventually Steve's vital signs started to improve, but the doctors wanted him to stay overnight so they could continue to evaluate his heart function. I suggested to Bob Clarke, who along with trainer Chris Brannan did a helluva job that day and night on Steve, that on the company's behalf, they hop back in the van and go to our hotel and get Steve some food. Steve's appetite returned, to say the least. He ordered two steak dinners and two grilled chicken breast dinners, so I felt confident, as I left his hospital room well after midnight, that Stone Cold would be able to lace his boots up -- perhaps for the last time -- in just a few hours at Safeco Field in Seattle. Stone Cold had a close call, but he was going to survive, just as he has done his entire life. And what a life it has been....

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Not Mick Foley, But Not The Rock Either
By Joecooler2u
This book is at it's best when Steve is being himself instead of the Stone Cold character. Unlike The Rock's book, this one is a bit more honest and not in character every moment. Still not written with as much honesty as Mick Foley's bios (Have A Nice Day & Foley Is Good and coming soon Hardcore Diaries). JR (Jim Ross) helps out mostly at the end of chapters and his insight is very helpful. Without JR this book would be a 2 or 3 stars. Not too much is said that isn't common knowledge, so I recommend this book for the more die-hard Stone Cold fans. This won't appeal to mainstream non-wrestling fans the way Mick Foley's books did.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Five Stars
By Amazon Customer
Good book

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
The Toughest S.O.B. in Sports Entertainment!
By zombie phreak
Stone Cold Steve Austin was always one of my favorite wrestlers from the Attitude Era of the WWE, he was crude, he was blunt, he was tough, he was cool, and he didn't take lip from anyone, even his own boss. Well that's kinda the character I was expecting when I was reading this book. However as we all know, the people who play these characters are not these characters in real life, they are sports entertainers. I think that's why I was let down when I read this book, I wanted one thing but got another.

I'll admit that I liked finding out the history of Steve Austin, whose real name is Steve Williams. It was neat to find out he was a hell raiser as a kid and a young adult, but let's face it we were all that way to a certain degree when we were younger. We find out he dropped of college, got a job and then pursued wrestling and developed a few characters until he found his niche as Stone Cold Steve Austin.

This book just didn't really grab me as well as Mankind's book or The Rock's book did. This was was for lack of a better term, just kinda boring. It's always good to find out the real story behind a wrestler but I guess Steve's story just didn't interest me like the others did. It's still a good book and it's informative. Fans of Stone Cold will really like it and I highly recommend it for them and the hardcore wrestling fans. Casual fans like myself may not like it as much.

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Jumat, 19 Februari 2016

** Free PDF A Covington Christmas (Ladies of Covington), by Joan Medlicott

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The new pastor in Covington discovers that the pastor from forty years ago was never ordained, and was therefore not qualified to marry anyone! With five long-standing marriages thrown into crisis, it's decided that the couples absolutely must remarry on Christmas Eve. With the church desperately in need of repairs, though, how can they get it ready in time? Sounds like a job for the ladies of Covington! But when last-minute obstacles threaten to stop the weddings, Grace, Hannah, and Amelia are going to need a miracle to turn Christmas Eve into a wedding day that no one will ever forget.

Sales Rank: #508495 in Books
Published on: 2005-11-01
Original language: English
Number of items: 1
Dimensions: .93" h x 5.84" w x 8.06" l,
Binding: Hardcover
256 pages

Review
"A pure charmer, a rich Southern tale about love and loyalty."

-- Bookpage on A Covington Christmas

About the Author
Joan Medlicott was born and raised on St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands. She lives with her husband in the mountains of North Carolina. Visit her website at www.joanmedlicott.com.

The October day was bright, invigorating, and cool enough for a light jacket. Wine-colored dogwood leaves heralded the muted colors of a North Carolina fall: peach, plum, rust, cinnamon, and an array of yellows.

Grace Singleton stepped from the porch of the farmhouse she shared with her friends, Amelia Declose and Hannah Parrish. Walking briskly, she traversed the lawn, crossed Cove Road, and turned left down the road to the church, where she had agreed to help young Pastor Denny Ledbetter clean out the church's attic.

As she climbed the narrow pull-down stairs leading from the storage room off the pastor's office, Grace heard Denny Ledbetter's alarmed voice.

"Good heavens. This is impossible! It's just terrible!"

"What's impossible?" she asked, sticking her head into the dim attic.

Pervaded by a musty odor, the attic was a dank, dusty room without ventilation other than the slatted ovals embedded in opposite walls. Two bare bulbs crusted with dust dangled on ancient wires from the ceiling. Denny sat cross-legged in the middle of the room, fenced by boxes.

"This." He held out a folder and waved it in her direction. Fine dust wafted toward her and Grace sneezed. Denny did as well, five, six, seven times, one quick jerk of a sneeze after the other.

He pointed to the boxes around him. "Most of this stuff is disposable, mainly bank statements dating from the late 1970s and 1980s. But then I found this. It's shocking and unbelievable. Come, read it. You won't believe it. It's very upsetting." He pulled several deeply creased letters from the folder and handed them to her. "Mrs. Singleton, if what this letter says is true, it's explosive."

"Call me Grace, please. Everyone does."

Grateful that she had remembered to slip them into the pocket of her jacket, Grace pulled out her reading glasses. Dated December 1, 1963, the letter was written on fine parchment yellowed with age, and addressed to Griffen Anson, Chairman of the Cove Road Community Church Council, Covington, North Carolina. The content was startling, and brief, and Grace read aloud.

Dear Mr. Anson,

We regret to inform you that Richard W. Simms has not been granted a degree from the seminary, and therefore the presbytery, which recommended Mr. Simms for seminary training, will not allow his ordination. Mr. Simms is thus not authorized to perform baptisms, weddings, or other rites and ceremonies, or to conduct services or to be deemed a pastor. Many fine young men have been graduated, and we would be pleased to assist you in your search for a pastor for your congregation.

Sincerely yours,

John P. Garner, President

McLeod Theological Seminary in Ohio

Attached with a rusted staple was a copy of another letter from the presbytery executive, confirming the fact that without a seminary degree Simms could not be ordained. Neither letter contained an explanation as to why Simms had failed to graduate.

"What is a presbytery executive?" Grace asked.

"Simms must have been a Presbyterian, and this letter is from the churchman who was overseeing his training and ordination. Something quite serious must have happened for them to dismiss him and not ordain him."

Grace handed Denny the letters and removed her glasses. "These letters are over forty years old. How could this be?" Did Pastor Johnson know about this? No, he couldn't possibly have known. These events took place before his tenure as pastor. And if he had known, surely he wouldn't have kept such information secret all the years he'd been here.

Denny shuffled several documents. "There's more. These are unsigned marriage certificates for the Craines, the Herrills, and three couples named McCorkle. Simms married them all between October and November of 1963. The church called him to service and installed him before they got these letters, I guess, and dear Lord, Simms never filed these marriages with the court." His eyes widened. "You know what this means, Grace?"

"I'm not sure."

Denny smoothed the yellowed papers on the top of a box. "The couples Simms married were never really married, and he knew that. And whoever this Anson was, he knew it, too, and apparently chose to say nothing about it." Denny stared at the far wall as he tapped the letters with his fingers. "I'm sure Pastor Johnson has never seen these. He told me that he'd never bothered with anything in the attic."

Aghast, Grace stared at him. "This means that Frank and Alma Craine, Velma and Charlie Herrill, are not married?"

"They must have gotten licenses and blood tests. But these certificates are supposed to represent legal proof of their marriages by a bona fide minister, and they were never recorded. The couples whom Simms married were not then, and are not now, married in the eyes of a church, or even legally at the courthouse." His hands fell heavily on top of the letters. "I'm just dumbfounded that Anson knew about this and didn't tell anyone. He must have shown them to Simms, must have suggested or insisted that he leave. Then apparently he shoved all this information in a box and stuck it up here. Why would he do that?"

"What will you do?" Grace asked. "These couples have lived all these years thinking that they're married. Will you throw the certificates and the letters away, or will you tell them about this? And Pastor Johnson?"

"He's not well; I don't want to upset him. And I can't begin to imagine the trouble this would cause if it became public knowledge. I need to think about this. I'll pray on it for a few days."

"Surely they're considered married under common law," Grace said hopefully. "Many states recognize such marriages. What would be the point of telling these five couples now, after all these years?"

Denny sneezed again and again; his eyes reddened and grew teary. "I'm not sure North Carolina is a common-law state. I'll have to check that out. We'd better call it a day; my dust allergy is getting worse by the minute. I've been up here too long."

They descended the unsteady stairs, and Denny shoved the stairwell up into the ceiling with a thud. He had met Grace only once in passing, and had liked her clear brown eyes. Honest, he'd thought. He had also noted the faint scent of vanilla and cinnamon that floated about her. She was a terrific cook, Pastor Johnson had told him. Denny judged her to be the age of a grandmother, though her hair was brown, not gray, and her round face was remarkably unlined. He was glad that she was the one Pastor Johnson had suggested that he ask to help him clear out the attic.

As they walked to the front of the church, Grace asked, "How ill is Pastor Johnson? Be honest with me, please. He isn't dying, is he? It's not some drawn-out terminal illness?"

Denny shook his head. "We know it's not cancer or heart failure, and it's not his kidneys. His doctor seems to think he's just worn out. He's eighty-seven years old. We worry he'll fall. He's slowed down considerably, as you know."

"Yes, I can see that. He uses a cane now."

"At times his memory fails him. I've seen him go blank, smack in the middle of a service, over words he's spoken hundreds of times." Pastor Denny's voice dropped. "Recently he forgot the name of a baby he was christening, right after the father whispered the child's name in his ear."

"I worry about my own memory," she replied.

"So do I." He laughed. "I make it a point to repeat names. It's so important that a pastor remember everyone's name."

Grace looked up at Denny, who at five feet eight inches was considerably taller than she was. "We're all glad that you're here for Pastor Johnson."

"Thank you. I'm humbled at having been asked to join him and assist him with his duties. I hope I'll be worthy."

"I'm sure you are. Even though you've only been here a few weeks, folks say such nice things about you. They especially enjoy your sermons."

Charlie Herrill, head of the Cove Road Church Council, had told Grace that Denny was thirty-one years old and had already served his first congregation for six years. At Pastor Johnson's request, Charlie had gone down to South Carolina, where Denny was pastor, and asked the young man to come and work with Pastor Johnson.

"Pastor Johnson came into my life when I was seven years old and in the orphanage," Denny said. "Each summer, he served as chaplain at a summer camp the orphanage ran. He singled me out, became, in effect, my surrogate father. He encouraged me through high school, and sent me to college and seminary. I could never refuse him anything -- not even if Lorna had agreed to marry me." He stopped and looked away, shrugged, then met Grace's eyes. "Lorna said she couldn't imagine herself as a pastor's wife, and frankly that told me she didn't feel about me the way I felt about her."

"I'm sorry," Grace said.

"It's all right. So many marriages end in divorce, and I avoided that. If it's the Lord's plan for me, the right person will come along one of these days."

Emboldened by his honesty and the sadness in his blue eyes, Grace stretched up and kissed his cheek. "I wish you the very best. You're a good man, Denny Ledbetter. I'll leave you to pray on your decision about those letters."

Out on Cove Road, Grace breathed deeply and filled her lungs with crisp fall air. She felt slightly dizzy, and wondered whether it was due to all that dust, the distressing information they had uncovered, or the uncertainty as to what Pastor Ledbetter would do about the letters. For a moment she stood there, then turned right toward Bella's Park, two blocks farther down the road, where she was certain she would find Hannah.

Denny stood in the center of Cove Road, hands on hips, and stared up at the church. Though small, it was well proportioned, with a steeple that was neither too short nor too tall. The church really needed a face-lift. The smoke from the fire that had burned the homes of Grace and her housemates, the Craines, and the Herrills two years ago had turned the white clap...

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0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Great Book
By Patricia T.
The "Covington" books are the best ever! I have just completed the series of ten and was sad that I had finished them. Good clean entertainment.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Five Stars
By Lynne G. Shaw
love this series very little to no sex, violence just everyday life in a very small town

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Good series
By S. Harrison
This book is part of a series of books. Excellent reading about life and friendship among quilters. The whole series has been great.

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Kamis, 18 Februari 2016

* Free Ebook The G.O.D. Experiments: How Science Is Discovering God In Everything, Including Us, by Gary E. Schwartz

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DOES GOD EXIST ONLY IN OUR HEARTS? According to highly esteemed scientist Gary E. Schwartz, Ph.D., there is compelling scientific evidence that we no longer have to accept God on faith alone. Through a multidisciplinary approach, Harvard University-educated Dr. Schwartz blends psychology, quantum physics, and mathematics to examine the science of spirit. Faith and science are not mutually exclusive, and a better understanding of their relationship can lead us to recognize how God operates in everything. Trained in the scientific method as an "open-minded skeptic," Dr. Schwartz was taught how to raise questions, turn them into hypotheses, and design experiments to test them. He was not trained to consider the nature of God. And yet, his scientific research led him directly to the discovery of God's existence in intelligent evolution and everyday life.Scientifically rigorous and spiritually reassuring, this eye-opening book is a wake-up call for anyone who wonders about life's true meaning and who longs to believe in the existence of a universal intelligence.

Sales Rank: #358536 in Books
Brand: Atria
Published on: 2006-04-04
Ingredients: Example Ingredients
Original language: English
Number of items: 1
Dimensions: 9.40" h x 1.30" w x 6.20" l,
Binding: Hardcover
320 pages

Features

Used Book in Good Condition

From Publishers Weekly
Schwartz, a University of Arizona professor of psychology and neurology, believes passionately that 21st-century science provides clues to G.O.D.—the "Guiding, Organizing, Designing" process animating the universe. With the fervor of an evangelist, he draws on quantum physics, psychology, mathematics and evolutionary biology to convert unbelievers to the idea that this G.O.D. exists. He underwent his own conversion after testing the claims of a man who said that his dreams could foretell the future. In a kind of double-blind 10-day experiment, Schwartz found that the man's dreams accurately described locations, randomly selected, for them to visit each day. Schwartz became convinced that nothing happens by chance and that some kind of organizing and guiding process must exist. Order rather than chance is the exception to the rule in the universe, says Schwartz, because all objects are interrelated. Many, both scientists and not, will have trouble accepting Schwartz's sophomoric and overly determined experiments—you can't have sand paintings without a designer, but that doesn't prove that the universe has a designer—but others no doubt will find Schwartz's blend of pop spirituality and pop science satisfying explanations of intelligent design. 5 b&w illus. (Apr. 4)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

Review
"Gary Schwartz has written a provocative book that questions conventional scientific interpretations of our observations of the universe and our own experience. You may not agree with his conclusions, but you are certain to find the journey he takes you on fascinating, mind-opening, and, above all, entertaining."-- Andrew Weil, M.D., author of the "New York Times" bestseller "Healthy Aging" and "8 Weeks to Optimum Health"

About the Author
Gary E. Schwartz, Ph.D., is a professor of psychology, medicine, neurology, psychiatry, and surgery at the University of Arizona and director of its Laboratory for Advances in Consciousness and Health. After receiving his doctorate from Harvard University, he served as professor of psychology and psychiatry at Yale University, director of the Yale Psychophysiology Center, and co-director of the Yale Behavioral Medicine Clinic, before moving to Arizona in 1988. He has published more than four hundred scientific papers and coedited eleven academic books. He is the author of The Afterlife Experiments and The Truth About Medium and coauthor of The Living Energy Universe.

William L. Simon is a screen and television writer and bestselling author.

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0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
I would say I wasted a weekend of my life
By Catherine Hess
I took a class from this guy at the University of Arizona. He made us read his book for the class. I would say I wasted a weekend of my life.

115 of 139 people found the following review helpful.
I Believe in God; I Believe in Science; I Do Not Believe in This Book
By Danusha V. Goska
I believe in God. I believe in Science. I do not believe in this book.

I very much appreciated Dr. Gary E. Schwartz's 2002 book, "The Afterlife Experiments." Schwartz's warm and sparkly personality came through. My reader's affection for him makes this review all the harder to write.

The first paragraph of "The G.O.D. Experiments" is a keeper. Schwartz asks, "Imagine that there had been no Abraham, no Moses, no Jesus . . ." would, in such a world, science come to describe something like God?

Unfortunately, the rest of the book does not live up to the depth and elegance of that first paragraph. Further, I fear that books like this do more to hurt scientific research into metaphysical phenomena than help it.

"The G.O.D. Experiments" reads more like a series of disjointed and mildly self-indulgent blog entries than a book. It proves no central point. The title is only tangentially reflective of the contents.

Disjointed: the book contains bar graphs recording a computer's attempts to choose random numbers, a poem by the author, an annotated bibliography of books, some he likes, some he doesn't, highly personal anecdotes, and the tale of a "Kabbalah corgi."

The book is also repetitive to the point of driving this reader to search for a projectile that might reach the author's home in Arizona. In an attempt to prove that the universe's order defies theories of random generation, Schwartz shook up the grains of sand in a sand painting. No matter how hard or how often he shook up those grains of sand, he reports, they never again reformed as a sand painting.

Needless to say, scientific proponents of an atheist worldview would heap scorn upon this experiment, insisting that it falsely represented their arguments for how order arises out of god-free nothingness. I'm not one of those people, and their protest is not mine. I just got profoundly irritated, as a reader, having to read Schwartz's multitudinous references to his shaking a sand painting.

Schwartz says his book is meant to be "popular," but he speaks casually of difficult material - the Heisenberg uncertainty principle, for example - in a way that would certainly lose readers without previous knowledge.

Schwartz reports that he used to be a secular agnostic. He recounts, with wide-eyed amazement, experiences that lead him to faith. The problem lies therein. In the same way that a powerfully psychic person, who had never studied the hard sciences, would probably not write a very good book about the hard sciences if he tried to do so after sticking his toe in the world of hard science, Dr. Schwartz, who built his career on academic science, and then stuck his toe into metaphysics, has not written a very good book about that.

There are people who have dealt with their own psychic abilities, their own contact with the dead, and their own religious faith all of their lives. They have a more mature appreciation of what these phenomena are.

Someone with a more mature appreciation of metaphysics would never write, as Schwartz does, in a way that feels both grandiose and innocent, in a few brief, sketchy pages, of revolutionizing education, medicine, and law, and "globally resolv[ing] our conflicts" merely because he, a Yale and Harvard affiliated professional scientist, has had an epiphany.

Um, Gary. News flash. Many of those unwashed of us who are not affiliated with Yale and Harvard have realized for a long time that God exists, that psychic abilities are real, and that synchronicity happens. And, funny thing. You know what? We still pull our pants on one leg at a time. And we have yet to revolutionize the legal system, or resolve global conflicts.

Too, like a tyro, Schwartz doesn't ask himself hard enough questions. In one anecdote, he reports praying for information, and a word popping into his head - "Sam" - that turns out to be the information he was seeking. In his attempt to interrogate this incident, Schwartz asks himself eleven questions. But he never asks this one: "How often have I prayed to receive a correct answer, and had a word pop into my had, and it was the *incorrect* word?" Someone long in the field of such research would ask that.

Self-identified "skeptics" have been unfair and unkind to Schwartz. That does not excuse, though, Schwartz's dismissal of them. Schwartz mentions Michael Shermer's "How We Believe," and identifies it as "incorrect," without clearly detailing how and why. He theorizes that people like Shermer do what they do for financial gain (268). Similarly, "skeptics" insist that psychics do what they do for money. This mutual mud slinging illuminates nothing, and degrades debate. Does anyone really believe that a young man interested only in money, and choosing a career, would chose skeptic *or* psychic ahead of, say, stock broker, or lawyer? Is it not possible that both Shermer and Schwartz are driven by beliefs they find genuinely worthy?

Finally, any book that, as "The G.O.D Experiments" does, introduces Wernher von Braun as a source of spiritual enlightenment and fails to mention von Braun's career as a Nazi and exploiter of slave labor . . . fails.

To one seeking a popular account of science and God, I recommend Lee Strobel's "Case for a Creator." For readers seeking more demanding material, there are books by John Polkinghorne and William Dembski. There is, of course, the Bible.

There are worse books you could read than "The G.O.D. Experiments." But I did expect more from the man who gave us "The Afterlife Experiments," a much better book.

31 of 35 people found the following review helpful.
Anecdotal and Repetitive
By breaux
Let me first say that I have no problem with the principal themes of this book: that there are extreme subtleties that operate in our lives; that the world is more than we can see; that a force -- whether one calls it god or anything else -- is operative in the world. i think there are many books that explore these profund ideas. But Dr. Schwartz's book was extremely disappointing in its execution of these ideas. By the end of the book I had the feeling that he had dictated this book and, because he needed the book to be certain length, gave the same name to different chapters that essentially covered the same material. I found Dean Radin's "Entangled Minds" a much more rigorous exploration of some of the subtleties that affect our lives. I have not read any of Dr. Schwartz's other books; but I have often noticed that, sometimes, an author has exhausted the limits of his/her explanation of a particular topic but still squeezes out a book from a much smaller pool of information. In the instance of this book, Dr. Schwartz should have exercised, perhaps, a bit more discipline and either not written this book or made it shorter. One final point: the name of this book is incredibly misleading. The "experiments" listed inside are highly non-rigourous thought experiments; I mean, so thin as to make me believe that Dr. Schwartz actually undercuts his arguments if those are the best positions he can muster.

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Senin, 29 Februari 2016

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Sabtu, 27 Februari 2016

Download PDF The Price of Loyalty, by Ron Suskind

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Selasa, 23 Februari 2016

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Kamis, 18 Februari 2016

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