Ergebnis von "JT" in Alle Kategorien

His father was Sam Ysabel, a wild Irish Kentuckian who’d come to Texas in the early days and rode as scout to Jim Bowie. His mother was the daughter of Chief Longwalker and his French Creole squaw. That dangerous mixture of bloods produced a son who inherited the sighting eye of an eagle from the sure-shooting, rifle-toting Kentuckian stock. His full name was Loncey Dalton Ysabel. Most men knew him as…the Ysabel Kid.

This fun and fast-paced rock-and-roll memoir from hit singer-songwriter J.T. Harding shows what it takes to go from South Detroit to the top of the Nashville charts. In PARTY LIKE A ROCKSTAR, J.T. Harding charts his life from a kid growing up in Michigan to a chart-topping songwriter living in...

Daiki finds a flash drive in his office, which leads him to a truth he is not ready to hear.

This audiobook was written to inspire children to become entrepreneurs. It shares with the listener the journey of Solomon, who is told no at every turn as he tries to find a way to be able to afford to buy his mother and grandmother a birthday gift whose birthdays are on the same day. Solomon shows that with a strong enough desire to accomplish a great goal anything is possible regardless of what others may want you to believe. Solomon will in the face of adversity be proof of what's possible if you believe in yourself.

This book is a guide as well as a shining light into the secret world of independent courier contracting. This book outlines in very simple steps how anyone, but particularly those in low-income areas who would otherwise start illegal hustles, can become successful entrepreneurs in the ever growing transportation industry without having a CDL (commercial driver's license) or any professional driving experience.

“Maybe,” says Margaret, “when you see this place you’ll understand. It’s like Club Med! There’s a heated pool and a rec centre and a cocktail bar and everything. They have 24-hour room service!” Andrew guffaws. “A cocktail bar? At a nursing home? What’s next? Happy Hour?”

A man makes a horrific discovery in the crim colony silo he's imprisoned in.

Red Riding Hood, retold by the (fictional) AI Millenniarellabot after being fed fairy tales and texts on euthanasia.

The last thing I remember is Lorin’s scream as my roadster smashes into the guardrails and flips into the air. There was Lorin’s terrible wail, and then being silently airborne. Then there was nothing. Later, some bright lights shone through - hospital ceilings, I guess - and doctors' terse commands. I piece together the clues I overhear. The crash, the rocks, the fire. Agony like I've never experienced before burns my every organ and bone. Pipes and palpations. Needles, catheters, and a heart monitor that sounds like a ticking time bomb.

“There’s the drive back home, invariably in the dark. Not safe.” “She has plenty of space. We could have just stayed over.” Linda shook her head. “No. Not allowed. Against the rules.” “What do you mean?” Andrew took off his glasses and frowned at her. “Hodgey was always begging us to stay the night. I’ve never understood - " Linda drummed her fingers on her knees.“It’s just a thing, okay? An agreement.” Andrew’s furrows deepened. “Between you and Hodge?” “Between Peter and I. We sibling-swore.”

A man knows he deserves to be haunted for what he has done; he just didn't expect it to happen this way.

We pulled into a makeshift parking lot in the middle of a huge herd of sheep. There were two or three cars, but not a cave or another person in sight. We watched the sheep for a while, not sure what to do, when we saw people walk past us, making their way up the hill. That’s when we realized that we would be working hard for our little bit of fertility magic: We had to hike to get to the cave.

The priest turned his back on the old man so he wouldn’t notice if his fingers shook while pouring. He would have poured himself a drink before the impromptu meeting, to steady his nerves, but he knew he’d be driving that night, so he had reluctantly abstained. When he sat down, a sigh escaped the priest’s lips. “I assume you know why I asked to see you,” said the bishop, his long wiry eyebrows knitting in an accusing way. His raptorial eyes were unblinking. “Yes, Your Excellency,” Father Sanderson said. “It is unfortunate”.

Welcome to the lesser-known country of The Kingdom of Moldavia, known for its overgrown jungles, giant pineapples, venomous bronze-fanged adders, and the finest butterfly silk in the world. It’s home to tigers so ferocious and so vain that the only way to survive an attack is to dangle your pocket mirror in front of their trembling fish-gut whiskers. It’s a place where firebugs will put on a pyrotechnic show for you and, while you are watching, the satin-smooth hands of vervet monkeys will swipe your wallet.

Betty arrives at work slippery with sweat. She has no option but to run to her grind at Propag8 now that the taxi drivers are trying to kill her. She bought an electric car, but they keep trying to booby-trap it. Every time she puts her thumb on the ignition switch, she closes her eyes and waits for the explosion. Every time the car starts without blowing up, she knows it's just a matter of time. That she has bought one more day. That they are watching her, waiting for the perfect time to detonate her life.

They stride over the broken paving of the sidewalk, stepping over tree roots and potholes. Susman trips over the nub of a tree stump, and De Villiers catches her hand without thinking. She regains her balance and snatches it back. “Sorry,” he says. She thanks him in an annoyed way, and plunges her hands back into her pockets and they keep walking.

By the time I realized I’d missed a couple of periods and my breasts were tender, it was too late. The black dread bloomed in my stomach, eroding my appetite and my sleep. I thought about killing myself. If I killed myself, no one would find out what had happened. If I took my life, I wouldn't have to harbor the parasite growing inside my body. The only thing that stopped me from slitting my wrists was the knowledge that my mom and dad would be prosecuted. The State didn’t take kindly to people committing suicide.

A soldier fighting from the trenches in France in 1916 writes letters to his love. If you're a fan of historical fiction, you might enjoy this wartime epistolary romance.

Junichuro Matsumato is a handsome 42-year-old man: dark-haired, wealthy, and devastated. He stares forlornly at the small glass buddha statue illuminated by the blue LED light behind it. There are thousands of the buddhas behind the glowing panes of glass, five hundred per wall. For easy identification, the light behind his wife’s buddha glows a different hue as he swipes his card to enter.

Is the director of this post-apocalyptic orphanage really a wizard? And where is he taking the children? This is the third stand-alone story in the dystopian series The Chronicles of Akeratu. No matter how bleak and violent the future looks, humanity still has a way of shining through.