He was wearing a pair of leather pants that clung like terrified orphans to his muscular thighs, and a revealing black mesh t-shirt. The outfit seemed at odds with the cream-coloured settee and floral print curtains. From stalking and eventually meeting her Young Talent Time idol when she was twelve, to a particularly abhorrent encounter at a high-quality swingers night, and a mildly perverse obsession with Bob Ellis, there is nothing Marieke Hardy won't write about. Welcome to a chronicle of broken hearts, fervid pursuits, passionate friendships, deranged letter-writing, the allure of the bot

Here is the story of Jerry Weintraub: the self-made, Brooklyn-born, Bronx-raised impresario, Hollywood producer, legendary deal maker, and friend of politicians and stars. No matter where nature has placed him--the club rooms of Brooklyn, the Mafia dives of New York's Lower East Side, the wilds of Alaska, or the hills of Hollywood--he has found a way to put on a show and sell tickets at the door. "All life was a theater and I wanted to put it up on a stage," he writes. "I wanted to set the world under a marquee that read: 'Jerry Weintraub Presents.'" In When I Stop Talking, You'll Know I'm Dead, we follow Weintraub from his first great success at age twenty-six with Elvis Presley, whom he took on the road with the help of Colonel Tom Parker; to the immortal days with Sinatra and Rat Pack glory; to his crowning hits as a movie producer, starting with Robert Altman and Nashville, continuing with Oh, God!, The Karate Kid movies, and Diner, among others, and summiting with Steven Soderbergh and Ocean's Eleven, Twelve, and Thirteen. Along the way, we'll watch as Jerry moves from the poker tables of Palm Springs (the games went on for days), to the power rooms of Hollywood, to the halls of the White House, to Red Square in Moscow and the Great Palace in Beijing-all the while counseling potentates, poets, and kings, with clients and confidants like George Clooney, Bruce Willis, George H. W. Bush, Armand Hammer, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Bob Dylan, Led Zeppelin, John Denver, Bobby Fischer . . .well, the list goes on forever. And of course, the story is not yet over . . .as the old-timers say, "The best is yet to come." As Weintraub says, "When I stop talking, you'll know I'm dead." With wit, wisdom, and the cool confidence that has colored his remarkable career, Jerry chronicles a quintessentially American journey, one marked by luck, love, and improvisation. The stories he tells and the lessons we learn are essential, not just for those who love movies and music, but for businessmen, entrepreneurs, artists . . . everyone.

I'll Mature When I'm Dead is the New York Times bestseller from "the funniest man in America" (New York Times). Let Pulitzer Prize-winning humorist and nationally unrecognized voice of maturity Dave Barry make the journey to adulthood a little easier—and a lot funnier. Not everyone has to be dragged kicking and screaming through adulthood. Dave Barry will help through this process—with his hilarious takes on parenting, changing self-image, the battle of the sexes, technology, health care, celebrityhood, and even vampires!

THE FINAL NOVEL IN THE #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING SOOKIE STACKHOUSE SERIES—the inspiration for the HBO® original series True Blood. When a shocking murder rocks the small town of Bon Temps, Louisiana, psychic cocktail waitress Sookie Stackhouse learns that she has more than one enemy waiting to get vengeance for the past. Beacuse nothing is ever clear-cut in Bon Temps. What passes for truth is only a convenient lie. What passes for justice is more spilled blood. And what passes for love is never enough...

Imagine if J.D. Salinger had a sense of humour ... this intelligent, off-beat novel is fast-paced, wicked, dark and extremely funny. My publishers are trying to convince me that books are like albums and sell better when they are released posthumously. Seeing the point, I ask if I can at least fake my own death, but it seems that is fundamentally dishonest and they flatly refuse to be involved in any such fraud. So just in case I've croaked by the time you read this (and everyone but me is filthy rich), here is my story: one day I'm trying to get into the pants of the most beautiful girl in the world, Nina Pennington, and the next day I'm in the back of a limo on the road to rock'n'roll superstardom opening up for Bowie. But we hit a bump or two -- a few dead Mafia hitmen here, a nyphomaniac next door there, not to mention a few dying Latin teachers, narcoleptic nuns, inept policemen, unscupulous laywers, buffoon reporters, huckster televangelists and greedy relatives -- and now for some unknown reason a lot of people don't want to talk to me anymore. When sixteen-year-old Ric Thibault's story opens with his mother's attempted suicide note: While I'm dead... feed the dog and h

First published thirty years ago, John Berger's tender and bittersweet novel is a book of dreams: dreams of freedom and romance, dreams that intoxicate and redeem, dreams that have the power to exalt their dreamers or dash them against hard truth. It is the unforgettable, often comical portrait of a dreamer, one William Corker, the genteel proprietor of a London employment agency, who, in his sixty-third year, has just moved out of the house he shared with his overbearing sister. As Corker takes his first steps into a life of passions, Berger creates a character of astonishing depth and liveliness—a man whose fantasies and ambitions are at once splendid and tragic.

The author, a computer science professor diagnosed with terminal cancer, explores his life, the lessons that he has learned, how he has worked to achieve his childhood dreams, and the effect of his diagnosis on him and his family.