A Few Quick Ones

Why do pretty housewives like Amy Collins so often fall into that common trap - the afternoon hour at some bar? Do they drink because of loneliness, boredom with a society that offers too little to women? Or is it the other way around? Is it the alcohol itself that generates the urge for male companionship, excitement, thrills? A heavenly body in a deadly orbit of men and martinis, the golden Amy wasn’t old enough to vote. But she was old enough, smart enough, to know life need not be dull while Chip, her lusty husband, was away. All she had to do was drown her inhibitions in a bottle, then throw herself into the arms of the nearest man. If Chip learned of it, she could still hold him. He loved her, didn’t he? Besides she was by far the prettiest, sexiest thing in sight!

Jeeves—my man, you know—is really a most extraordinary chap. So capable. Honestly, I shouldn't know what to do without him. On broader lines he's like those chappies who sit peering sadly over the marble battlements at the Pennsylvania Station in the place marked "Inquiries." You know the Johnnies I mean. You go up to them and say: "When's the next train for Melonsquashville, Tennessee?" and they reply, without stopping to think, "Two-forty-three, track ten, change at San Francisco." And they're right every time. Well, Jeeves gives you just the same impression of omniscience. As an instance of what I mean, I remember meeting Monty Byng in Bond Street one morning, looking the last word in a grey check suit, and I felt I should never be happy till I had one like it. I dug the address of the tailors out of him, and had them working on the thing inside the hour. "Jeeves," I said that evening. "I'm getting a check suit like that one of Mr. Byng's." "Injudicious, sir," he said firmly. "It will not become you." "What absolute rot! It's the soundest thing I've struck for years." "Unsuitable for you, sir." Well, the long and the short of it was that the confounded thing came home, and I put it on, and when I caught sight of myself in the glass I nearly swooned. Jeeves was perfectly right. I looked a cross between a music-hall comedian and a cheap bookie. Yet Monty had looked fine in absolutely the same stuff. These things are just Life's mysteries, and that's all there is to it. But it isn't only that Jeeves's judgment about clothes is infallible, though, of course, that's really the main thing. The man knows everything. There was the matter of that tip on the "Lincolnshire." I forget now how I got it, but it had the aspect of being the real, red-hot tabasco. "Jeeves," I said, for I'm fond of the man, and like to do him a good turn when I can, "if you want to make a bit of money have something on Wonderchild for the 'Lincolnshire.'"

Soon to be a TV Series on AMC starring Pierce Brosnan and co-written by Philipp Meyer. Now in paperback, the critically acclaimed, New York Times bestselling epic, a saga of land, blood, and power that follows the rise of one unforgettable Texas family from the Comanche raids of the 1800s to the oil booms of the 20th century. Part epic of Texas, part classic coming-of-age story, part unflinching examination of the bloody price of power, The Son is a gripping and utterly transporting novel that maps the legacy of violence in the American west with rare emotional acuity, even as it presents an intimate portrait of one family across two centuries. Eli McCullough is just twelve-years-old when a marauding band of Comanche storm his Texas homestead and brutally murder his mother and sister, taking him as a captive. Despite their torture and cruelty, Eli--against all odds--adapts to life with the Comanche, learning their ways, their language, taking on a new name, finding a place as the adopted son of the chief of the band, and fighting their wars against not only other Indians, but white men, too-complicating his sense of loyalty, his promised vengeance, and his very understanding of self. But when disease, starvation, and westward expansion finally decimate the Comanche, Eli is left alone in a world in which he belongs nowhere, neither white nor Indian, civilized or fully wild. Deftly interweaving Eli’s story with those of his son, Peter, and his great-granddaughter, JA, The Son deftly explores the legacy of Eli’s ruthlessness, his drive to power, and his life-long status as an outsider, even as the McCullough family rises to become one of the richest in Texas, a ranching-and-oil dynasty of unsurpassed wealth and privilege. Harrowing, panoramic, and deeply evocative, The Son is a fully realized masterwork in the greatest tradition of the American canon-an unforgettable novel that combines the narrative prowess of Larry McMurtry with the knife edge sharpness of Cormac McCarthy.

"Since even before he could remember, people had always told Jonithan that he was special. Even at the end no one, not even I, could ever deny that." These were the first words spoken as people listened to the life story of their most influential king. His days had come to a sorrowful end; but his memory would live on. It would take hundreds of generations for his ideals to fade even though his name ever would. This is the story of Jonithan Frost; one of the most powerful and respected men of all and no time. This is a science fiction book about a young boy raised in a facility who grows to be a very powerful and influential person. It is book one in a series I am working on.