2011, ISBN: 9780152047375

Livro de bolso, Edição encadernada

Bantam. Good. 4.17 x 0.72 x 6.85 inches. Mass Market Paperback. 1992. 288 pages. Cover worn <br>In this first of four classic frontier novels, Louis L'Amour adds his own specia… mais…

Bantam. Good. 4.17 x 0.72 x 6.85 inches. Mass Market Paperback. 1992. 288 pages. Cover worn <br>In this first of four classic frontier novels, Louis L'Amour adds his own special brand to the life and adventures of one of America's favorite fictional cowboys, Hopalo ng Cassidy. In The Rustlers of West Fork, the quick-thinking, f ast-shooting cowpuncher heads west to deliver a fortune in bank n otes to his old friend, Dick Jordan. When he arrives at the Circl e J, he discovers that the rancher and his daughter, Pam, are bei ng held prisoner by a desperate band of outlaws led by the ruthle ss Avery Sparr and his partner Arnold Soper. Even if Hopalong Cas sidy can free Jordan and Pam, he will have to lead them across ro ugh and untamed Apache country, stalked by the outlaws who have v owed to gun him down. But Hopalong is no stranger to trouble, and before his guns or his temper cool, he's determines to round up Sparr and his gang and bring the outlaws to justice ... dead or a live! This classic tale of pursuit and survival is vintage L'Amou r and adds new life and luster to the legend of Hopalong Cassidy. Editorial Reviews From the Publisher In this first of four cla ssic frontier novels, Louis L'Amour adds his own special brand to the life and adventures of one of America's favorite fictional c owboys, Hopalong Cassidy. In The Rustlers Of West Fork, the quick -thinking, fast-shooting cowpuncher heads west to deliver a fortu ne in bank notes to his old friend, Dick Jordan. When he arrives at the Circle J, he discovers that the rancher and his daughter, Pam, are being held prisoner by a desperate band of outlaws led b y the ruthless Avery Sparr and his partner Arnold Soper. Even if Hopalong Cassidy can free Jordan and Pam, he will have to lead th em across rough and untamed Apache country, stalked by the outlaw s who have vowed to gun him down. But Hopalong is no stranger to trouble, and before his guns or his temper cool, he's determines to round up Sparr and his gang and bring the outlaws to justice . .. dead or alive! This classic tale of pursuit and survival is vi ntage L'Amour and adds new life and luster to the legend of Hopal ong Cassidy. From the Inside Flap In this first of four classic frontier novels, Louis L'Amour adds his own special brand to the life and adventures of one of America's favorite fictional cowboy s, Hopalong Cassidy. In The Rustlers of West Fork, the quick-thin king, fast-shooting cowpuncher heads west to deliver a fortune in bank notes to his old friend, Dick Jordan. When he arrives at th e Circle J, he discovers that the rancher and his daughter, Pam, are being held prisoner by a desperate band of outlaws led by the ruthless Avery Sparr and his partner Arnold Soper. Even if Hopal ong Cassidy can free Jordan and Pam, he will have to lead them ac ross rough and untamed Apache country, stalked by the outlaws who have vowed to gun him down. But Hopalong is no stranger to troub le, and before his guns or his temper cool, he's determines to ro und up Sparr and his gang and bring the outlaws to justice ... de ad or alive! This classic tale of pursuit and survival is vintage L'Amour and adds new life and luster to the legend of Hopalong C assidy. From the Back Cover In this first of four classic fronti er novels, Louis L'Amour adds his own special brand to the life a nd adventures of one of America's favorite fictional cowboys, Hop along Cassidy. In The Rustlers of West Fork, the quick-thinking, fast-shooting cowpuncher heads west to deliver a fortune in bank notes to his old friend, Dick Jordan. When he arrives at the Circ le J, he discovers that the rancher and his daughter, Pam, are be ing held prisoner by a desperate band of outlaws led by the ruthl ess Avery Sparr and his partner Arnold Soper. Even if Hopalong Ca ssidy can free Jordan and Pam, he will have to lead them across r ough and untamed Apache country, stalked by the outlaws who have vowed to gun him down. But Hopalong is no stranger to trouble, an d before his guns or his temper cool, he's determines to round up Sparr and his gang and bring the outlaws to justice ... dead or alive! This classic tale of pursuit and survival is vintage L'Amo ur and adds new life and luster to the legend of Hopalong Cassidy . About the Author Our foremost storyteller of the American West , Louis L'Amour has thrilled a nation by chronicling the adventur es of the brave men and woman who settled the frontier. There are more than three hundred million copies of his books in print aro und the world. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights re served. Chapter 1 SIX-GUN SALVAGE Hopalong Cassidy watched the old banker count the money with careful fingers. Fifteen thousand dollars was an amount to be handled with reverence and respect. As he watched the mounting stack of bills, Hopalong saw them less as the long green bills they were than as the cattle they repres ented--the cattle and the work. Into that stack of bills was goin g money that had grown from days of cold wind and rain, nights of thunder and lightning, of restless herds poised for stampede, of rivers and washes running brim full with roaring flood waters, o f dust, blistering sun, and the roar of rustlers' guns. Into tha t pile so flat and green went more than money. Into that pile wen t months of brutal labor, the brindle steer that had killed a hor se under him down in Lonetree Canyon, and the old mossyhorn who h ad fouled Lanky's rope on a juniper, putting him three weeks in b ed with a broken leg. And into that pile went the kid from Toyah, who had ridden up to join them so full of vitality and exuberanc e, only to have his horse step into a prairie-dog hole while runn ing ahead of a stampede. They had buried what was left of the kid and sent his hat and gun to a brother in El Paso. There she is, Hoppy, the banker said at last. Buck will be mighty glad to get shut of that debt, I know. He's a man who takes bein' in debt har der'n any man I can think of, an' he's sure scrimped an' cut corn ers to have that much in three years! Yeah, Cassidy agreed, Buck 's right conscientious about most things. He don't like to get in to debt in the first place, but you know how it was with Dick Jor dan. When he fell heir to that ranch out West he sold his cattle an' remuda to Buck, knowin' if there was one man around he could trust to pay ever' last red cent it was Buck. Came at a good tim e too. Buck had been talkin' about more cattle, an' with the addi tional range he could use, it would be a positive shame not to ha ve 'em. Otherwise, he never would have gone into debt. You takin ' this money West yourself? The banker's shrewd old eyes studied the silver head. I know Buck can't afford to be away right now. Yeah, I'm takin' it West, an' glad of the chance. Old Dick was a friend of mine, too, an' I've heard a sight about that ranch o' h is. Rightly, it belonged to his wife. It was part of an old Spani sh grant, you know. Uh-huh. Helped draw up some o' the papers. G ot a daughter now, I hear. Had her a long time. Shucks, she was fourteen or fifteen before they left here. Say--the banker turne d around in his chair--who's goin' out there with you? I'm goin' alone. Mesquite's off somewheres, as usual, an' Buck can't spare two men. Anyway, it ain't a two-man job. Maybe. Things out that away are pretty lively. Had a letter from a friend of mine out to McClellan. Had his bank held up about three weeks ago, killed hi s cashier, wounded a deputy sheriff, then lost the durned posse. Lost 'em? Uh-huh, just plain lost 'em. Hopalong slid off the d esk and gathered up the money. Well, Buck will be waitin' for me, so I'd better get into the leather an' ride to the ranch. But do n't you worry about this money. I'll see it gets to Dick, as prom ised. Tucking the packages of bills into his black shirt and dra wing his belt tighter, he hitched his guns into an easier positio n on his dark-trousered hips and started for the door. The banke r arose from his chair and walked to the window where he could wa tch Cassidy cross the street. The same trim bowed legs, the broad , sloping shoulders, the lean waist and choppy walk of the horsem an. His silver guns were worn by much handling, and his boots wer e cracked and dusty. Suddenly the banker found himself wishing he was younger and starting West with Hopalong on that ride. As he started to turn from the window a movement caught his eye, and h e hesitated. A man had stepped out from beside the bank and start ed slowly across the street in Hopalong's wake. If that man had b een standing alongside the bank, he might have seen Hopalong take the money, for there was an office window near the desk. The ban ker frowned. His wife would be waiting supper, and if he got into the saloon he might not get out for hours.... Anyway, Hopalong c ould take care of himself. He always had. Trouble followed Hopal ong Cassidy like wolves follow a snow-driven herd, but few men we re more fitted to cope with it than the silver-haired gunfighter. He should have told Hoppy to ook up Monaghan, at the bank in McC lellan. Well, he could write to him. Maybe Hoppy would have busin ess over that way. Dusk was softening the line of the buildings when Hopalong crossed the street to the saloon. A poker game was in session when he pushed through the batwing doors, but the play ers carefully avoided his eyes. They knew each other, and knew th e game was fairly even all around. But Hopalong was a specialist at draw. His brand of poker was apt to be expensive for them, and they wanted none of that. Three men lounged at the bar, all str angers. One of them, Hoppy remembered, had passed him on the step . His casual glance read their brands with a quick, easy eye, and he grinned to himself. Drifting punchers, maybe a shade on the o wl-hoot side. Trail dust lay thick on their clothes, but their g uns had been wiped clean, and the cartridges in their belts shone brightly. One man--who had passed him on the walk before the sal oon--was a slender young fellow with straight, clean-cut features and a deep line at one corner of his mouth. When he glanced towa rd Cassidy, Hopalong saw that one eye was half closed by a lowere d lid. At first the man seemed to be winking, and then Hoppy real ized the affliction was permanent. The other two also had the lo ok of hard cases. The tall man was round-shouldered and his face carried deep-set lines of cruelty and harshness. The third strang er was scarcely more than a boy, but one already far gone down th e hard trails by the look of him. Drifters were not uncommon, an d the range life was not one calculated to make men soft. Such me n as these came in and drifted on each morning and night, for Twi n Rivers was on a trail much traveled in these months. Pullin' o ut tomorrow, Hoppy? The bartender leaned his arms on the bar. Joh nny was sayin' you were headed West to visit Dick Jordan. At the name all three strangers turned sharply to stare at Hopalong. Th eir expressions excited his interest and also their apparent fami liarity with the name of Dick Jordan. Only a familiar name could have turned them so sharply. They looked away, and the man with t he squint eye spoke to the others in a low, careful voice, as tho ugh explaining something. Yeah, said Cassidy, we bought his herd three years ago. Buck wants me to ride out there, and that count ry always did appeal to me. It will be good to get shut of this d ust and fill my lungs with that good mountain air again. Dick bo ught hisself a good ranch, I hear. He didn't buy it. His wife wa s Spanish an' the ranch was part of an old land grant belonging t o her family. She inherited it, so they just moved out there. The y took their daughter with them. She was maybe fifteen years old. Nice kid, but all knees and freckles. One of the strangers snic kered, and Cassidy glanced at them appraisingly. Two of them avoi ded his eyes, but the one with the bad eyelid met his glance bold ly. Heerd what y' said about ridin' to see Dick Jordan, he commen ted dryly, an' if I was you, I'd forget it. That there's a tough country for drifters. They don't cotton to 'em, not none a-tall! That right? Hopalong said carelessly. Well, maybe I can help the m get used to it. The tall man answered him, and his eyes were h ard as he looked at Cassidy. You go out there huntin' him, he sai d insolently, an' you're sure likely to find him! You're liable t o go right where he is! As he finished speaking he put down his g lass and all three walked out of the saloon. On the walk outside one of them spoke, and then all laughed. Cassidy glanced at the bartender. Know those fellers? Been around all afternoon, the ba rtender explained, an' takin' in a lot of room. The squinty one, he's gettin' his horse shod. Then they're driftin' on, headin' We st. ., Bantam, 1992, 2.5, Harlequin Romantic Suspense. Good. 4.22 x 0.59 x 6.61 inches. Mass Market Paperback. 2011. 224 pages. Cover worn<br>That distinctive, lethal voice... It wa s the voice Major Larissa Petrovna had heard the night of the tra gic fire that ravaged her life. Thus begins a race against time a s Lara performs her duties as head of Russia's nuclear inspection team while trying desperately to discover the voice's source. Al l the while, she must battle her growing attraction to the irrepr essible Air Force pilot assigned as her escort. Omega Agent Dodg e Hamilton finds the icy beauty fascinating but entirely resistib le, and his assignment fairly routine. At first. But as a killer targets Lara once again, soon blazing passion melts their mutual suspicion and professional reserve, unearthing feelings Dodge has never known.... Editorial Reviews About the Author As an Air F orce officer, Merline Lovelace served at bases all over the world . When she hung up her uniform for the last time, she combined he r love of adventure with a flare for storytelling. She's now prod uced more than 100 action-packed novels. Over twelve million copi es of her works are in print in 30 countries. Named Oklahoma's Wr iter of the Year and Female Veteran of the Year, Merline is also a recipient of Romance Writers of America's prestigious Rita Awar d. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. How would you like to get back into an air-force flight suit for a fe w weeks? Sloan Hamilton, code name Dodge, smiled wryly as he ste ered his rented Jeep 4x4 toward the front gate of Francis E. Warr en Air Force Base, on the outskirts of Cheyenne, Wyoming. He had the windows open to the cool September air, shimmering with a cry stalline clarity. Dodge's thoughts weren't on the purity of his n ative Wyoming atmosphere, however. Instead, he replayed conversat ion that had taken place in a windowless control center back in W ashington, D.C., just four days ago. That's all it had taken. On e casual suggestion from Lightning and Dodge had jumped at the ch ance to get back in the cockpit again. Not that he didn't have pl enty of opportunity to fly in his civilian job. The other civilia n job. The one that didn't involve crashing headfirst through eig hth-story windows or being inserted into a damned near impenetrab le jungle in pursuit of some sleazoid drug runners. Conducting ae rial surveys in his steady, sturdy Cessna wasn't anywhere near as much fun as piloting an air-force UH-1N, though. The helo was Vi etnam-era vintage, but after several generations of modifications it was still the best and most reliable chopper in the air. As it turned out, Dodge should have asked for a little more detail b efore accepting this assignment. Instead of driving a Huey, he wa s about to undertake what looked to be one of his tamest missions for OMEGA-riding herd on a three-person Russian team that would arrive in Cheyenne tomorrow to inspect U.S. Minuteman III missile s in accordance with the new START treaty. True, the president h ad just signed the treaty after more than a decade of fierce nego tiations between Russia and the U.S. Also true, recent tensions b etween the U.S. and Russia had made this first inspection under t he new protocols a matter of intense interest at the highest nati onal security levels. Still, Dodge would have much preferred a ta sk that involved flying his old bird to babysitting a Russian maj or and her two teammates. Even a Russian major who looked like t his one. He glanced at the file on the passenger seat. Clipped t o its outside was a brief bio that included a head-and-shoulders shot of Larissa Katerina Pe-trovna. The fact that the photo was i n black and white and a little grainy in no way detracted from th e major's ice-maiden beauty. Her hair looked as pale as fine cham pagne. Her wide-spaced eyes stared back at Dodge from above a str aight, aristocratic nose. Her mouth was full and ripe and downrig ht sensual. He knew from the detailed briefing he'd received at OMEGA headquarters, before departing for Cheyenne, that those eye s were electric-blue. He also knew the puckered skin on the left side of Petrovna's neck and jaw were the result of horrific burns she'd suffered in the apartment fire that had killed her husband and almost claimed her baby girl. Dodge felt a flicker of sympa thy, quickly doused. A female didn't make it to the rank of major in any air force, Russia's included, by being soft or welcoming expressions of sympathy. And judging by the jobs Larissa Petrovna held on her way up the ranks, the woman was tough as nails. More to the point, she was here to do a specific task. So was Dodge, although he had to admit, being back in Wyoming was almost as mu ch of a plus as being back in uniform. His gaze shifted to the sn ow-and-pine-covered mountains on the horizon. They looked close e nough to reach out and touch, but he knew how deceptive the expan se of rolling plain between here and those jagged peaks could be. He should. He'd ridden fence lines on these wind- and snow-swept plains often enough. He'd grown up just a little over an hour n orth of here. He and his cousin Sam. Closer than brothers, they'd tickled trout in mountain streams and brought cattle down from t he high country each fall. They'd also eaten their share of dirt after being bucked off angry bulls and mean-tempered broncs while competing in rodeos in and around Cheyenne. Sam was the one who' d hung Dodge's nickname on him, commenting laconically that his c uz was a whole lot better at dodging bulls' horns than staying on their backs. Grimacing over the memory of how close one particu lar set of horns had come to gelding him, Dodge wheeled through F rancis E. Warren's gate one. Just inside the gate stood three gle aming white missiles, mute testimony to the base's current missio n. A legacy of President Lincoln's plan to establish a transcont inental railroad, the original outpost had been established in th e 1870s to protect Union-Pacific workers from hostile Indians. Gr adually, it had grown into the largest cavalry post in the nation . Troopers assigned to the fort had endured the bone-biting winte r winds that howled across the plains, participated in the Great Sioux Indian Wars and over the years watched their role transform from cavalry to field artillery to airplanes to sleek, intercont inental ballistic missiles. Now, the 90th Missile Wing headquart ered at Warren controlled a lethal arsenal of Minuteman III missi les spread across twelve thousand square miles of Wyoming, Colora do and Nebraska. The Mighty Ninety, as it was known in air-force parlance, took its nuclear mission very, very seriously. There wa s zero tolerance for mistakes in judgment when you controlled the launch codes for ICBMs. Making a left turn onto Old Glory Road, Dodge followed the traffic flow down a sloping hill to the marsh y lowlands of Crow Creek, then back up to the newer part of the b ase. A few more turns took him to the tan-colored, corrugated-tin building that housed the 37th Helicopter Flight. He found a park ing space and clamped a hand on his flight cap to anchor it durin g the short walk to the door. Luckily, he'd retained his status in the reserves. When the Russians checked him out, as he knew th ey would, his cover was that he'd been recalled to active duty be cause of critical manpower shortages due to the 37th's support of operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. To give substance to that co ver, Dodge had arrived at the base two days ago and gone through refresher training on the Huey. Although his escort duties didn't require him to fly, even the most cursory check of flight record s would show that Major Sloan Dodge Hamilton was current in all p hases of the UH-1N. Dumping his gear in the large, open room tha t served as the pilots' office, he snatched a cup of coffee and h eaded down the hall to check the operations center status board. With luck, he might snag another few hours in the cockpit before he went into babysitting mode. Hey, Major. The duty officer mann ing the ops desk gave him a message instead of another flight. Th e CO wants to see you. Nodding, Dodge retraced his steps through the corridors to the flight commander's office. He'd known Lt. C olonel Sean McGee for years, had flown with him back when they we re both gung ho lieutenants doing combat rescue. Dodge greeted hi s friend back with the irreverent graveyard humor that had earned McGee his nickname. Morning, Digger. You want to see me? Not m e. Colonel Yarboro. Dodge's brows lifted. The Mighty Ninety comma nder? Why? His exec didn't offer any specifics. Just said Yarbor o wants you to report to his office. Propping a boot on an open d esk drawer, McGee tilted back in his chair. Might have something to do with my suggestion, though. The one that involves my perma nent transition back from civilian status? Dodge asked with a smi le. That's the one. Wish I could oblige. McGee knew Dodge now ran his own aerial-survey company. He didn't, however, know about his work for OMEGA. The agency was so secret that few people out side of a trusted handful were even aware of its existence. Thin k about it, McGee urged. You haven't lost your touch. My guys tel l me you aced both checkrides. Yeah, well, Dodge drawled in the Wyoming twang he'd never quite shed. Flyin' a Huey's like makin' love to a beautiful woman. Once you get her out of the chocks, ev erything else comes naturally. McGee grinned. You've sure as hel l gotten more than your share out of the chocks. And escaped thei r clutches afterward. You and I both know your handle doesn't com e just from dodging bulls. Dodge kept his smile in place and let the comment slide. He'd loved once, or thought he had. The memor y could still slice into him when he let it. I'd better go see w hat the colonel wants. He reported in to the commander of the 90 th Missile Wing fifteen moments later. Seated behind a desk rough ly the size of Kansas, Colonel Yarboro returned his salute and wa ved him to a seat. You ready for the Russian team? Yes, sir. T he colonel's eyes raked him from head to toe. Good thing Dodge ha d had his shaggy brown hair trimmed and boots buffed. OMEGA under cover operatives tended more toward comfort than spit and polish when in the field. Rejoining the air force, even temporarily, had called for some spiffing up. Yarboro was only one of three peop le who'd been read in on the real reason for Dodge's sudden appea rance at F. E. Warren. Everyone else had been fed the cover story . The colonel wasn't happy about having an outsider foisted on hi m, though. Even one with Major Sloan Hamilton's military and civi lian credentials. Before you make contact with Major Petrovna, h e said brusquely, I want to make sure you understand who you're u p against. Yarboro lifted a typed sheet and skimmed down the pag e. A career missileer who'd worked his way up from launch officer to commander of the world's most sophisticated ICBM force, he ta rgeted the salient items with pinpoint accuracy. Born, Bryansk. Age 33. Widowed. One child. Attended the Gagarin Air Force Academ y. Holds advanced degrees in both math and astrophysics. That wo uld strike a cord with the colonel, Dodge guessed. Yarboro had ea rned a doctorate from MIT in astrophysics himself. She pulled a tour as a relatively junior officer at strike-force headquar... < /div ., Harlequin Romantic Suspense, 2011, 2.5, Signet. Good. Paperback. 1996. 90 pages. Cover worn<br>Welcome to Cold Mountain Penitentiary, ho me to the Depression-worn men of E Block. Convicted killers all, each awaits his turn to walk the Green Mile, keeping a date with Old Sparky, Cold Mountain's electric chair. Prison guard Paul Edg ecombe has seen his share of oddities in his years working the Mi le. But he's never seen anyone like John Coffey, a man with the b ody of a giant and the mind of a child, condemned for a crime ter rifying in its violence and shocking in its depravity. In this pl ace of ultimate retribution, Edgecombe is about to discover the t errible, wondrous truth about Coffey, a truth that will challenge his most cherished beliefs ... and yours. ., Signet, 1996, 2.5, Paperback. Very Good., 3, US: Mira Books, 2009. Very Good. Macomber returns to Seattle's fictional Blossom Street of A Good Yarn (and others) for a hopeful tale of four widows who meet at 38-year-old Anne Mari e Roche's bookstore. Separated from her husband after he refused to have a baby with her, Anne Marie felt certain they would reconcile--until he sudde nly died. Lillie Higgins lost her husband in the same plane crash that clai med the husband of their daughter, Barbie Foster. Elise Beaumont entered wi dowhood after cancer claimed her husband. Together, the four make life-fulf illment wish lists. With Elise's prodding, Anne Marie decides to fulfill on e of her wishes--do good for someone else--and becomes a lunch buddy to an at-risk third grader. Anne Marie, meanwhile, must deal with the reappearanc e of her adult stepdaughter, Melissa, who always held her in disdain. Elise mainly serves as a catalyst for Anne Marie's journey, but there is plenty of focus on Lillian and Barbie, who find purpose in unexpected and difficul t relationships. Though stilted dialogue can pull readers out of the moment , Macomber's assured storytelling and affirming narrative is as welcoming a s your favorite easy chair., Mira Books, 2009, 3, London: T. Fisher Unwin, Ltd., 1916. Eighth. Good. This is to enable those who have a taste for furniture of a bygone day to arrive at some conclusion as to the essential points of the various styles made in England. It contains an attempt at giving a lucid historical account of the progress and development in the art of making domestic furniture with special reference to it evolution in this country. Brown cloth boards with gold writing and illustration of table and chair to front board, gold writing and chair to spine. Loose binding and tear to front page and a little staining. One colour illustration and many black and white plates. Content of great interest though to a person who loves old furniture. AB6, T. Fisher Unwin, Ltd., 1916, 2.5, Carrel Books. Hardcover. GOOD. Spine creases, wear to binding and pages from reading. May contain limited notes, underlining or highlighting that does affect the text. Possible ex library copy, will have the markings and stickers associated from the library. Accessories such as CD, codes, toys, may not be included., Carrel Books, 2.5, Sevenoaks, Kent: Hodder Childrens Books. Very Good-. 2003. Third Printing. Paperback. Some cover creases, light shelf and edge wear, light foxing and water staining to endpapers and edges of reading block. ; Nice tight copy, no names inside. ; 208 pages; Sixteen- year-olds, Jaz, Bobby and Jack find themselves caught up in a web of greed and deceit when, following a Police raid, they find a bag containing thirty thousand pounds under a fallen chair in the house of the local mafia boss, Mickey Duck. Before they know what they've done, Jaz, and her mates are walking away with the money, with a plan to hide it in Jaz's gran's empty house and then split it three ways in six months' time. But things are not going to go as they plan. ., Hodder Childrens Books, 2003, 3, -: Egmont UK, 2001. None. Paperback. Very Good. -. A classic children`s story from the world`s best-loved children`s author, Enid Blyton Amelia Jane is big, bad and the terror of the toy cupboard! Amelia Jane gets up to as much mischief as ever, swapping the toys` wind-up keys - so that the clockwork robot is jumping like a rabbit, the motor-car is turning head-over-heels and the mouse is zooming along like a train! Then she hides things inside the poor old bear`s tummy, pours water down everyone`s clothes! It`s all in a day`s work for naughty Amelia Jane. But the toys do sometimes manage to get her back - like painting spots on her to make her think she`s got the measles, and making a special record to tell her what they really think of her! Ten fantastic Amelia Jane stories from the naughtiest of Blyton`s characters. Enid Blyton is arguably the most famous children`s author of all time, thanks to series such as The Wishing-Chair, The Faraway Tree-, The Mysteries, The Famous Five and The Secret Seven. Her Amelia Jane stories have charmed generations of children - they are as memorable and full of child appeal as any of her other characters. And they are as popular today as they have ever been. --> Genre: Children`s General, Egmont UK, 2001, 3, The Borrowersthe Clock family: Homily, Pod, and their fourteen-year-old daughter, Arrietty, to be preciseare tiny people who live underneath the kitchen floor of an old English country manor. All their minuscule home furnishings, from postage stamp paintings to champagne cork chairs, are "borrowed" from the "human beans" who tromp around loudly above them. All is well until Pod is spotted upstairs by a human boy! Can the Clocks stay nested safely in their beloved hidden home, or will they be forced to flee? The British author Mary Norton won the Carnegie Medal for The Borrowers in 1952, the year it was first published in England. This repackaged paperback edition still has the delightful original black-and-white illustrations by Beth and Joe Krush inside. A charmer!Awards: 1952 Carnegie Medal, a Lewis Carroll Shelf Award BookDon't miss the other classics in the Borrowers series: The Borrowers Afield, The Borrowers Afloat, The Borrowers Aloft, and The Borrowers Avenged., Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2003-04-01, 3<

2003, ISBN: 0152047379

[EAN: 9780152047375], Near Fine, [SC: 6.99], [PU: Clarion Books], The Borrowers—the Clock family: Homily, Pod, and their fourteen-year-old daughter, Arrietty, to be precise—ar… mais…

[EAN: 9780152047375], Near Fine, [SC: 6.99], [PU: Clarion Books], The Borrowers—the Clock family: Homily, Pod, and their fourteen-year-old daughter, Arrietty, to be precise—are tiny people who live underneath the kitchen floor of an old English country manor. All their minuscule home furnishings, from postage stamp paintings to champagne cork chairs, are “borrowed” from the “human beans” who tromp around loudly above them. All is well until Pod is spotted upstairs by a human boy! Can the Clocks stay nested safely in their beloved hidden home, or will they be forced to flee? The British author Mary Norton won the Carnegie Medal for The Borrowers in 1952, the year it was first published in England. This repackaged paperback edition still has the delightful original black-and-white illustrations by Beth and Joe Krush inside. A charmer!Awards: 1952 Carnegie Medal, a Lewis Carroll Shelf Award BookDon’t miss the other classics in the Borrowers series: The Borrowers Afield, The Borrowers Afloat, The Borrowers Aloft, Books<

ISBN: 9780152047375

Clarion Books. Used - Very Good. Very Good condition. Book 1. A copy that may have a few cosmetic defects. May also contain light spine creasing or a few markings such as an owners name… mais…

Clarion Books. Used - Very Good. Very Good condition. Book 1. A copy that may have a few cosmetic defects. May also contain light spine creasing or a few markings such as an owners name, short gifters inscription or light stamp. Bundled media such as CDs, DVDs, floppy disks or access codes may not be included., Clarion Books, 3<