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Book is the best friend, have no demand, no complain

Life is way too short, so try to enjoy every minute of it with a sense of humor!

I don__ mind my friends calling me __hornes,_ but the fact of people calling me __rickly Thornes_ draws the line.

Is this Jimmy Redstone?_ the male voice at the other end of the line inquired. I couldn__ identify the voice. I didn__ recognize the number and the used car salesman tone didn__ do anything to reduce my annoyance at being interrupted during breakfast. __ho the hell you think would be answering his phone?_ I snarled.

Already, Seattle is taking hold of her. She still holds Sedona in the dry tan of her skin and in her hair, but the fine mist of the Northwest is making its way to places she didn__ know were parched.

Who am I, when all I__e ever believed myself to be, is fading before my very eyes?Am I still me, or just a shadow of what I used to be?Was I just an illusion that lived only in my head?Did I paint myself as something more than I really am?And with all these changes in my life_ What will be left of the woman who dreamed her dreams?When all the colors that she wrapped herself with_ are slowly being stripped away_Copyright © Eeva Lancaster

Success is hard, rewards are scant and the glory not always there.

If I am going to be a monster, the least I could do is be well fed!

Sometimes your dream is so special that... you can't kill it. You can't die even if you try. Life will find a way to fulfill it, and a way to keep you alive. Because the Earth needs dreamers to survive.

Marriage is not easy, I thought to myself. It__ not supposed to be easy. It__ two different people, from two different backgrounds, trying to build a life together for better or worse. It__ something you have to work at every single day. There are going to be hard times and those are the times you are supposed to fight like hell.

I am the happiest person on this world, who has never seen ups and downs in life. I got whatever I wished for_ And I woke up!

. I felt the sun graze my face as I sped further and further from it all. The only negative part about running was that at some point I knew I__ have to stop. I__ have to turn around and go back. And whatever troubles had haunted me when I left, would be waiting upon my return.

The morning was brisk and the coffee was hot and roasted with little gurgles in the room. Rosie hadn__ moved, but she let out a tiny snore every now and again that made everything perfect.

Here__ what happens when a single mom meets New York City__ hottest fireman__hen_seductively_as if he received instruction not from the FDNY__ training school but at Chippendale___he slowly inches each suspender off his bare shoulders.___ou must know that exhilarating feeling of a man__ body on top of yours, all that power and muscle pressing you into the bed, the glorious taste of his tongue in your mouth, the manly scent that washes over you and makes you want to melt underneath him.___et__ not forget about his nine inches of shapely fireman hose dangling so close in front of my face the scent launches me into a blissful fever.___very place he touches contradicts his chosen profession, because instead of putting out a fire he surely starts one._____ so darn helpless in the arms of this powerful, young, ripped personification of New York__ Bravest that I feel myself about to erupt in the most earth shattering explosion since Mount Vesuvius last announced her presence.___ wonder if he could be enticed to show us a few maneuvers on the brass pole.___e orchestrates his own personal opera, inspiring high notes with kisses and licks along my elongated nipples, and deep moans with hands that caress my belly.___e are drawn uncontrollably to each other and have no power to resist, only the tremendous desire to experience everything in its most intense form.

He was a lawyer and he knew that it would be best to trust his journalist friend, but not to tell his own lawyer

I__l find out who__ inside. Wait here and keep alert!_ Hallam rasped. He skirted the main path to skulk towards one of the shuttered windows on the building__ eastern wall. There was a crack in the wood and he gently inched closer to peer inside.There was a hearth-fire with a pot bubbling away and a battered table made of a length of wood over two pieces of cut timber. A small ham hung from the rafters, away from the rats and mice. He couldn__ see anyone but there was a murmur of voices. Hallam leaned in even closer and a young boy with hair the colour of straw saw the movement to stare. It was Little Jim. Thank God, the child was safe. Snot hung from his nose and he was pale. Hallam put a finger to his lips, but the boy, not even four, did not understand, and just gaped innocently back.Movement near the window. A man wearing a blue jacket took up a stone bottle and wiped his long flowing moustache afterwards. His hair was shoulder-length, falling unruly over the red collar of his jacket. Tied around his neck was a filthy red neckerchief. A woman moaned and the man grinned with tobacco stained teeth at the sound. Laughter and French voices. The woman whimpered and Little Jim turned to watch unseen figures. His eyes glistened and his bottom lip dropped. The woman began to plead and Hallam instinctively growled.The Frenchman, hearing the noise, pushed the shutter open and the pistol__ cold muzzle pressed against his forehead. Hallam watched the man__ eyes narrow and then widen, before his mouth opened. Whatever he intended to shout was never heard, because the ball smashed through his skull to erupt in a bloody spray as it exited the back of the Frenchman__ head.There was a brief moment of silence. _28th!_ Hallam shouted, as he stepped back against the wall. __ake ready!

Ready yourselves!' Mullone heard himself say, which was strange, he thought, for he knew his men were prepared.A great cry came from beyond the walls that were punctuated by musket blasts and Mullone readied himself for the guns to leap into action. Mullone felt a tremor. The ground shook and then the first rebels poured through the gates like an oncoming tide. Mullone saw the leading man; both hands gripping a green banner, face contorted with zeal. The flag had a white cross in the centre of the green field and the initials JF below it. John Fitzstephen. Then, there were more men behind him, tens, then scores. And then time seemed to slow.The guns erupted barely twenty feet from them.Later on, Mullone would remember the great streaks of flame leap from the muzzles to lick the air and all of the charging rebels were shredded and torn apart in one terrible instant. Balls ricocheted on stone and great chunks were gouged out by the bullets. Blood sprayed on the walls as far back as the arched gateway, limbs were shorn off, and Mullone watched in horror as a bloodied head tumbled down the sloped street towards the barricade.'Jesus sweet suffering Christ!' Cahill gawped at the carnage as the echo of the big guns resonated like a giant's beating heart.Trooper O'Shea bent to one side and vomited at the sight of the twitching, bleeding and unrecognisable lumps that had once been men. A man staggered with both arms missing. Another crawled back to the gate with a shattered leg spurting blood. The stench of burnt flesh and the iron tang of blood hung ripe and nauseating in the oppressive air.One of the low wooden cabins by the wall was on fire. A blast of musketry outside the walls rattled against the stonework and a redcoat toppled backwards onto the cabin's roof as the flames fanned over the wood.'Here they come again! Ready your firelocks! Do not waste a shot!' Johnson shouted in a steady voice as the gateway became thick with more rebels. He took a deep breath. 'God forgive us,' Corporal Brennan said.'Liberty or death!' A rebel, armed with a blood-stained pitchfork, shouted over-and-over.

The defenders retreated, but in good order. A musket flamed and a ball shattered a marine__ collar bone, spinning him around. The soldiers screamed terrible battle-cries as they began their grim job of clearing the defenders off the parapet with quick professional close-quarter work. Gamble trod on a fallen ramrod and his boots crunched on burnt wadding. The French reached steps and began descending into the bastion.'Bayonets!' Powell bellowed. 'I want bayonets!''Charge the bastards!' Gamble screamed, blinking another man's blood from his eyes. There was no drum to beat the order, but the marines and seamen surged forward.'Tirez!' The French had been waiting, and their muskets jerked a handful of attackers backwards. Their officer, dressed in a patched brown coat, was horrified to see the savage looking men advance unperturbed by the musketry. His men were mostly conscripts and they had fired too high. Now they had only steel bayonets with which to defend themselves.'Get in close, boys!' Powell ordered. 'A Shawnee Indian named Blue Jacket once told me that a naked woman stirs a man's blood, but a naked blade stirs his soul. So go in with the steel. Lunge! Recover! Stance!''Charge!' Gamble turned the order into a long, guttural yell of defiance.Those redcoats and seamen, with loaded weapons discharged them at the press of the defenders, and a man in the front rank went down with a dark hole in his forehead. Gamble saw the officer aim a pistol at him. A wounded Frenchman, half-crawling, tried to stab with his sabre-briquet, but Gamble kicked him in the head. He dashed forward, sword held low. The officer pulled the trigger, the weapon tugged the man's arm to his right, and the ball buzzed past Gamble's mangled ear as he jumped down into the gap made by the marines charge. A French corporal wearing a straw hat drove his bayonet at Gamble's belly, but he dodged to one side and rammed his bar-hilt into the man's dark eyes. 'Lunge! Recover! Stance!