Peter Diamond, British detective extraordinaire, must dig deep into Bath history to ferret out the secrets of one of its most famous (and scandalous) icons: Richard ´´Beau´´ Nash, who might be the victim of a centuries old murder. Bath, England: A wrecking crew is demolishing a row of townhouses in order to build a grocery store when they uncover a skeleton in one of the attics. The dead man is wearing authentic 1760s garb and on the floor next to it is a white tricorn hat-the ostentatious signature accessory of Beau Nash, one of Bath´s most famous historical men-about-town, a fashion icon and incurable rake who, some say, ended up in a pauper´s grave. Or did the Beau actually end up in a townhouse attic? The Beau Nash Society will be all in a tizzy when the truth is revealed to them. Superintendent Peter Diamond, who has been assigned to identify the remains, starts making discoveries that turn Nash scholarship on its ear. But one of his constables is stubbornly insisting the corpse can´t be Nash´s-the non-believer threatens to spoil Diamond´s favorite theory, especially when he offers some pretty irrefutable evidence. Is Diamond on a historical goose chase? Should he actually be investigating a much more modern murder?
In suburban Georgetown a killer´s Reeboks whisper on the front floor of a posh home... In a seedy D.C. porno house a patron is swiftly garroted to death... The next day America learns that two of its Supreme Court justices have been assassinated. And in New Orleans, a young law student prepares a legal brief... To Darby Shaw it was no more than a legal shot in the dark, a brilliant guess. To the Washington establishment it was political dynamite. Suddenly Darby is witness to a murder -- a murder intended for her. Going underground, she finds there is only one person she can trust -- an ambitious reporter after a newsbreak hotter than Watergate -- to help her piece together the deadly puzzle. Somewhere between the bayous of Louisiana and the White House´s inner sanctums, a violent cover-up is being engineered. For somone has read Darby´s brief. Someone who will stop at nothing to destroy the evidence of an unthinkable crime.
In suburban Georgetown, a killer´s Reeboks whisper on the floor of a posh home. In a seedy D.C. porno house, a patron is swiftly garroted to death. The next day America learns that two of its Supreme Court justices have been assassinated. And in New Orleans, a young law student prepares a legal brief. To Darby Shaw it was no more than a legal shot in the dark, a brilliant guess. To the Washington establishment it´s political dynamite. Suddenly Darby is witness to a murder-a murder intended for her. Going underground, she finds that there is only one person-an ambitious reporter after a newsbreak hotter than Watergate-she can trust to help her piece together the deadly puzzle. Somewhere between the bayous of Louisiana and the White House´s inner sanctums, a violent cover-up is being engineered. For someone has read Darby´s brief-someone who will stop at nothing to destroy the evidence of an unthinkable crime.
Where can you find the 5 most irresistible indoor street food trucks in Berlin? What are the 5 best shops if youre looking for Berlin fashion? And what are the 5 most beautiful parks with a genuine Berlin spirit? The 500 Hidden Secrets of Berlin reveals these good-to-know addresses and many more. Its an affectionate guide to the city, written by Berlin explorer Nathalie Dewalhens. She has selected places and details that few people know, like an open-air bar next to the river Spree with a wooden dance floor and a fairytale hut, a crane house with a café, located in a post-GDR industrial area, or a beautiful tango venue in a former warehouse from 1908. This is a book for visitors who want to avoid the usual tourist spots and for residents who are keen to track down the citys best-kept secrets. After having travelled the world Nathalie Dewalhens now considers Berlin as her home. She is working on her first novel there, preferably while sipping a latte in a bar. Philip Bögle is a Berlin based photographer who thinks of his hometown as a city that never sleeps, and as the perfect place to live and work, capturing moments, people and fashion. This series of black-and-white photographs spans the years 2011 to 2015 and restricts itself to photographs taken in Stockholm using an iPhone - a mobile device that the photographer Per Englund first acquired because of its map functions, but which later became an important tool for him. In the foreword, Englund talks about his compulsive photo collecting, unpleasant dreams and the difference between snapshots and pictures and how they occur. Locations, dates and times are given for every exposure in a chronological index. Englund moved to Stockholm from his hometown Gothenburg almost ten years ago, and the camera came to be used both as a shield and as a battering-ram in the unfamiliar city. The result is a piece of black-and-white pictorial poetry in which modern technology meets traditional craft. Dokument Press have previously published Per Englunds books Life Geos On (2009) and The Beautiful Struggle (2006).
DESCRIPTION: Devlin has some very loud neighbors. Whether the couple next door is making love or fighting like cats and dogs, he can hear every moan through the thin walls of his cozy apartment. One night, his sexy neighbor shows up on his doorstep locked out of his apartment in nothing but his underwear looking for a place to crash waiting for things with his girlfriend to cool off. Inside Devlin’s apartment however things are just starting to heat up. EXCERPT: I nearly creamed in my boxers the first time I laid eyes on him. He was not only a delectable hunk of man meat but he also smelled really good too, leaving me a whiff of his expensive cologne as he passed me by in the hallway. Although this stranger had been living right next door to me for at least a good six months, I never saw him before that day. All I knew of the man was that he lived with his girlfriend who had a tendency to let everyone on our floor know when he was a complete and utter asshole. The woman did this by spouting off her latest suspicions of his alleged infidelity. She was armed with so much proof she had me rooting for her to throw his sorry ass out on the street. Some days she had the unknown jury convinced she would, letting everybody know she wasn’t one of those women that would put up with just anything to keep a man. The way she said it—so sultry in her raw native Caribbean tongue—she sometimes had me on edge think she was a voodoo spell away from turning him into a chicken or something weird like that. She came close a few times, really close, saying stuff I couldn’t really make any sense out of. But then he always managed to say something sweet and sexy and often left her cursing him in pleasure for about an hour or so against the back drop of a very squeak bed for the same amount of time. Sometimes it felt like the best fuck of our lives, as I sometimes found myself propped up against my pillow playing with my wet hole and proud dripping dick to their vigorous lovemaking through the thin walls of the apartments. As I finally put a face to the man who forever forced my hand into buying a dildo, I prayed I wasn’t too obvious in my staring as I was unhurried to unlock the door to my apartment. He was such a handsome soul. Just to say he was good-looking was merely an understatement. He was far beyond that. And to call him gorgeous wasn’t going to suffice either. With his smooth clean-shaven face, the ultimate tragedy was he was fully aware of his good-looks, fully aware his alluring smugness to the rest of the world could make knees buckle at his feet. His looks were not only striking, but he also carried a noticeable height and muscles that hugged his clothes. Leaving it at that also was an understatement. The man was a tower of diesel cuts that the gods chose to dust in a permanent coat of fine cocoa powder, standing six-foot-five and two hundred and something or other pounds. I lingered around out in the hallway a few minutes more before going inside. I wanted to hold on the exact place I was standing when I witness perfection for the very time, but not before I saw the Caribbean trick stroll out of her apartment with a favorable smile splashed across her face. It was apparently one of those good days.
DESCRIPTION: A Family with no boundaries! A Family Tree that twists and turns upon itself! A week in the life of Julie as she has sex with her Father, Brothers, Uncles, Mother, Grandmother, Aunt, Son, Nephews, Daughter, Cousins and Niece - but only with five people! EXCERPT: Julie bucked her hips and moaned as her younger brother’s cock slid back into her pussy. The move caused her older brother’s cock to come partially out of her arse, before he slammed it back in again. She moaned harder and would have screamed had her mouth not been full with her twin brother’s cock. She moved herself backwards, freeing his cock from her mouth for a second before her younger brother’s thrust made her rise up again, which caused her older brother to thrust forwards and her body to move forwards, swallowing her brother’s cock into her throat again. It had been like that for ages. Three cocks in her, each one causing her to react, each reaction feeding through to one of the other cocks, each cock reacting in its turn. A complex rhythm had developed, reset every few minutes when she came. She’d lost count of how many orgasms she’d had and could feel another one building now. At the same time she could tell from long familiarity that her twin brother was about to shoot his load in her mouth. I thought Mike would be first, she thought, being younger and all. Still, Dave does like his blow jobs. As she thought that, Dave gasped, moaned “I’m coming, sis”; grabbed her hair and pulled her mouth down onto his spurting cock. And as her mouth filled with rope after rope of her brother’s incestuous spunk she came again, her whole body bucking and spasming, causing her brothers to pull her tighter into their loving embrace. She gasped, moaned and finally screamed in ecstasy, opening her mouth and letting her brother’s cum dribble out, dripping down her chin and onto the floor. She came back to her senses with two cocks still thrusting away in her and a mouthful of cum. She swallowed, savouring the taste. Family cum always tastes sweeter, she thought as she kissed Mike passionately, smearing his face with his brother’s cum. He moaned deeply and she could tell he was going to cum next and soon. The thought of her brother’s cum shooting up her love tunnel into her womb turned her on and she felt another orgasm rise within her… Family, she thought, I love my family. And she reflected on how close and intertwined her family was…
A nude woman collapsed on my doorstep. Someone I knew somehow. Of course, I carried her in and cared for her. Gave her shelter, clothes, and food to heal. In her normal form, she was one of the most powerful entities on this planet, in all known history. Harpy. But for now, she was simply human. And to regain her strength, she said she needed to make love with me. The weird part was the last time we met, she tried to kill me. And now I had to save her life. Ironic, as she had sent so many to their own death through her actions over the centuries. And now she was here, maybe because she said I was the only human she could trust. Excerpt: A fluttering sound, and then a thump, like a dove flying into the side of a building, but heavier, like a wild eagle, or a buzzard. Maybe even heavier. I got up from my writing to see what the damage was, if there was something I could do for whatever was out there. Opening the heavy outer door, I saw a nude woman laying down on her side, sprawled on my porch. I grabbed my chore coat and squeezed out the screen door to kneel beside her. Putting my hand on her neck, I felt a pulse. No blood, no scrapes, what looked like some deep, but healed scratches on her back. So I covered her with the chore coat to preserve her body heat. As much as it would cover, anyway. Looking around saw no vehicle, no bare or other footprints. But I had to get her inside and covered before she got chilled in the fall air. Tonight was supposed to be a cold one. I moved her legs away from the screen door and found my doorstop nearby, the one I used when my hands were full of something. Because my arms would be full soon. As I crouched down to pull her into my arms for carrying, her eyes fluttered open to look at mine. They were an emerald green, burning like on fire. And then that fire went out, and her eyes closed again, I got my arms under her back and legs, then rolled her toward me. She was a limp weight, her head rolled back and a free arm draped down toward the cabin porch. In a few steps, I was inside the small cabin again. I simply laid her down on my bunk-couch for now, and pulled the quilt comforter down from the back of it to cover her. From overhead storage, I pulled down the down comforter and heavy wool outer blanket I usually didn´t get out for the next month or so. She was going to need to get warmed up quickly, which meant not letting any other heat get away. These I draped across her and the back of the futon, as she didn´t need all that weight. Kneeling down to the floor beside her covered form, I again felt her neck for a pulse, and her forehead for a fever. She seemed fine, just sleeping. Breathing was regular. There was something about her I knew from somewhere. Something familar. Shoulder length black hair. Muscular arms, fingers slim, but with long nails that came to points. And those green eyes I briefly saw. Tucking the comforters and blanket up around her neck, I brushed her black hair away from her face and looked at it. A beauty, to be sure. Full lips, sculped cheeks and eyebrows. Innocent in her sleep. The last time I´d seen eyes like that... No, that was nothing like the person in front of me. Harpy? The one I´d first met when she tied me up to a dank basement support column with a thick rope so I couldn´t succumb to her siren charms. The one person more powerful than my two spirit-guides or any creature we´d known or dealt with. Here, in my cabin. Now very human. Scroll Up and Get Your Copy Now.
For more than sixty years, casual observers and architectural aficionados alike have craned their necks to catch glimpses of Harry Gesner houses of Southern California. There´s one hovering on a mountaintop above Malibu, as it poised to take flight over the Pacific. Another is bolded to a cliff so that the site can support a home before the next 60 -foot cliff drops off. And yet another is tucked away on the grounds of the Getty Museum centre in Los Angeles. Maverick architect and inventor Harry Gesner was always drawn to unusual, challenging sites, which called for dramatic architecture and living environments. Houses of the Sundown Sea: The Architectural Vision of Harry Gesner will open doors to these and twelve other intriguing homes, all located in and round the Los Angeles area, accompanied by magnificent photographs by Jurgen Nogai. The book´s scope will be broad, using archival photographs, documents and a rich collection of Gesner´s own spectacular design drawings, blue prints and floor plans to trace his career from 1 945 to the present/ Even in Southern California, a region that has been a catalyst for great Modern architecture for more than a century, Gesner´s utterly unique designs are outside the canons of doctrinaire modernism. Rather, his sensibility springs from his interpretation of the landscape and the messages it communicates to him after days of sketching on a new pristine site. Inevitably, for a man born an raised in Southern California, his sculptural designs are imbues with the vision of an almost primeval California, derived from his parents memories of the relatively undeveloped paradise of his youth. He is a Modernist, but one whose romantic, idealistic nature has caused his truly extraordinary body of work to be overlooked. Until now.
Excerpt from Remarkable Account of Mrs. Rachel Lucas, Daughter of Mr. James Hinman, of Durham (Conn.): As Written by Herself, and Attested by Her Family and Acquaintance Oessful attempt of my doctor, to extract it. He then appl1ed aq´uafortis, to kill the nerve of the tooth; this application so augmented my distress, as to throw me immediately into convulsion fits, which became so alarm ing that another physician was consulted; the result of their deliberations was, to let blood, which they attempted by making sixteen incisions in my feet and arms, but without success; they next prescribed a warm bath, which produced such an efi´u 5100 of blood from every orifice, as to give a momentary relief; but 1 was soon seized again with cramp convulsion fits, which continued for the space of thirteen days, in quick and almost unceasing succession. At intervals I enjoyed my senses a few mo ments. On the fifteenth day of myjllness I was carried to my father´s, where I remain ed three days wholly senseless, as I had pre viously been during my fits, and for two weeks enjoyed but a few short intervals of reason. For six succeeding months was con fined to my bed, with almost daily convul sions, and more than two years continued in a very low state. I then began m a very singular manner to help myself about the house; being unable to walk erect, I moved my right foot forward with my right hand, while I steadied myself by placing my left hand on the ¿oor; then putting my right hand on the floor, with my left hand I mov. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
Excerpt from Academy Architecture and Annual Architectural Review, 1889: Containing I. A Selection of the Most Prominent Architectural Drawings Hung at the Royal Academy Exhibition; II. A Review of Interesting Architectural Subjects Carried Out or Designed During the Last Few Years Public Baths, Gorton. 1837 Market Hall, Rotherham 1924. Mqntgomery and carr. 42 Grainger Street, Newcastle on Tyne. St. Hilda´ 8 Church Sundcrwlrnd, Interior mountford, E. W. 22 Buckingham Street, Strand; w. 0. Free Libr,a1) Battersca.°1957 An East End Mission Hall for a Cambridge College nash, W. Hilton, 5 Adelaide Place, London Drudge, e.c. Convalescent Home for Ladies, Bognor, Sussex. 2003 Residence, Sutton, Surrey. 1845 newton, Emest, 14 Hart Street, Bloomsbury, w. C. Buller´ s ood, Chislehurst. 1915 St. Swithun, Hither Green. Kent. Oakley, W 111. Harold, 3 1 Maiden Lane, Strand W. C The Church Porch, Cley next the Sea, Norfolk powell, W. H., F. R.i. Ba. 6 Southampton St. Bloomsbury, w.c. 33 and part of 34 Grosve1.or Square, w. Prynne, G. H. Fellowes, 10 Torrington Square, w.c. St. Barnabas Cottage ricardo, Halsey, 13 Bedford Square, w. 0. Additions to Hatchlauds, Surrey robson, E. R, F. S. A. Pal ace Chmbrs. 9 brrdgest. Westmstr. S. W. People´ 5 Palace, Interior of Reading room. 1818. Romaine-walker and tanner 19 Buckingham St. Adelphi w c. Einefield, Hampshire. 1819 sedde. J. D. 447 Oxlomrcl Street, W. Alrnshouses, Beckenham. Netley Castle, Southampton, Drawing-room and Tower room. Saleornbe Church. Devon semper the late Gottfried, and Baron v. Hasenauer. Hofburg-theatre, Vienna, Front View. Part of Grand Staircase towards Teinfall St. Part of Grand Staircase towards Volksgarten. Plan of Principal Floor. Side Elevation. Imperial Court Museum, Vienna, Elevation of Centre Portion. Elevation of Side -wing. General semper, the late Gottfried. The Duke of Wellington´s Funeral Car sethosmith, W. Howard, 46 Lincoln´s Inn Frelds, w.c. House at Leicester for Robert Walker. Esq. Marling Grammar Schools. Strorzd, Gloucestershire. 1896 shaw, R. Norman, r.a. Bloomsbury Square, w.c. Chimneypiece at Cragside, for Lord Armstrong. Residence for Frank Hell, Esq, R. A. Frognall spiers, R. Phene, F. S A., F. R. I. B. A, 12 Regent Street, 5. W. Norman Gateway and Library, Windsor Castle. Eton College, Great Quadrangle. 1996 stokes, Leonard, 31 Spring Gardens, 8. W. New Catholic Church, Guildhall Street, Folkestone. 1987 House Palace Court, W. For Wilfred Meynell, Esq. 1861.. St Clare´ 3 Ch. Arundel Avenue, Sefton Park, Liverpool. 1913 stre A. E. 14a Cavendish Place, Cavendish Square, w. Halifax Cathedral, Nova Seotia. 2010 sugden, Wm. And Son, Leek. Wyndgate, Scarboro´. Leek Town Hall Staircase thorp, W. H. 61 Albion Street, Leeds. The Gables, Felixstowe, Residence of Thomas Maw, Esq. Waterhouse, A., R. A. 20 New Cavendish Street, W. Hotel Metropole, Brighton. 1917 University College, Liverpool, Brownlow Street Front. 1907 Duke Street Chapel (old King´s Weigh Ho. Chapel), Ma 1934 Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge. Rebuilt 1867. Bb, Aston, F. R. I B. A. 19 Queen Anne´ 5 Gate, 8. W. Offices, Austin Friars, E. C. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.