Showing results for "The Green Book" in Literary Fiction

Fifty-two-year-old Michelle Banks is struggling to keep all the plates spinning. She’s a perimenopausal district nurse, caring for elderly parents. Her husband is wasting their money on children’s TV memorabilia, her teenage daughter is riddled with anxiety and her 16-year-old son is behaving secretively. Alexa is the only one who knows how much Michelle is juggling. Listening in via four smart speakers, she also knows that it’s about to get even worse. So, when Michelle pleads for help, Alexa decides to go rogue.

For years, he's been an object of fear, fascination...and fantasy. But of all the wicked rumors that shadow the formidable Alexander Moncrieffe, Duke of Falconbridge, the ton knows one thing for certain: Only fools dare cross him. And when Ian Eversea does just that, Moncrieffe knows the perfect revenge: He'll seduce Ian's innocent sister, Genevieve - the only Eversea as yet untouched by scandal. First he'll capture her heart...and then he'll break it.

The gripping new thriller from C.S. Green – featuring Detective Rose Gifford ‘A fascinating, eerie, and compelling police procedural with a creepy edge, and a knockout protagonist.’ Neil Lancaster ‘I loved Down Among The Dead. It was twisty and dark, compelling and deeply satisfying...

The incredible new novel from C.S. Green – featuring Detective Rose Gifford Something terrible happened in that house… ‘An enthralling, multi-layered crime novel that fans of Peter James and Lisa Jewell will adore’ MARK EDWARDS ‘This dark and tightly plotted supernatural thriller was a...

Considered by the author to be his finest work yet, this is a novel of realistic detail, heartfelt emotion, and dazzling imagination that builds a world listeners won't want to leave and spins a tale they won't want to end. In a town of amazing magicks, where the real and the imagined live side by side and the Faerie of legend know the automatons of the future, Time sees all - but even he cannot escape the prophecy of James Hart's return, which can only mean the death of Shadows Fall.

Daniel Green makes crop circles. As a member of a secret organization, he travels across the country creating strange works of art that leave communities mystified. He's always been alone; in fact, he prefers it. But when a dying farmer hires him in a last-ditch effort to bring publicity to a small Vermont town, Daniel finds himself at odds with his heart. It isn't long before he gets drawn into a family struggling to stitch itself back together, and the consequences will change his life forever.

“Shawna Yang Ryan’s propulsive storytelling carries us through a bloody time in Taiwanese history, its implications still reverberating today. The story is haunted by questions about whether Taiwan is a part of China or its own country, what the costs are of standing up for one’s beliefs...

Anne Shirley, the mischievous, carrot-topped waif of Anne of Green Gables, has grown into a lovely young woman who leaves the security of Prince Edward Island to enroll at Redmond College. There, she discovers a professor who believes education is wasted on women, ponders the security offered in marriage proposals, and a host of other questions of young adulthood.

As seen on The Today Show! The Friends We Keep is the heartwarming and unforgettable New York Times bestselling novel from Jane Green, author of Sister Stardust and The Beach House. Evvie, Maggie, and Topher have known one another since college. Their friendship was something they swore would...

Random House presents the audiobook edition of Workhouse Orphans by Holly Green, read by Julie Maisey. All they have left is each other... Life has always been tough for May and Gus Lavender. Their father went away to sea never to return, and then their mother falls victim to the typhus sweeping...

The New York Times bestselling author of Falling presents a warm, wise, and wonderfully vivid novel about a mother who asks her three estranged daughters to come home to help her end her life. Ronni Sunshine left London for Hollywood to become a beautiful, charismatic star of the silver...

The Knights of Solamnia were the greatest order of chivalry in the history of Krynn. After a knight has achieved the Order of the Crown and the Order of the Sword, he must then begin his training in the virtues of wisdom and justice in order to achieve the Order of the Rose, the highest of all orders. This is the third tale of Sir Pirvan the Wayward, whose reluctant and inauspicious beginnings bore few clues to his potential as a knight of the highest order. In a time when others of Solamnia had become corrupt and self-serving, Sir Pirvan maintained the dignity of the Order.

Despite his humble beginnings, Sir Pirvan has managed to ascend to the highest orders of the knights of Solamnia. Along the way, he has become known as the founder of an obscure group of knights whose own dubious pasts have helped to dub them the Wayward Knights. On the verge of a well-deserved retirement, Sir Pirvan once again answers the call of duty and the only allies he can rely on now are the Wayward Knights he himself recruited so many years ago.

This classic novel and winner of the Pulitzer Prize tells the story of an Italian-American major in World War II who wins the love and admiration of the local townspeople when he searches for a replacement for the 700-year-old town bell that had been melted down for bullets by the fascists...

Als ich das Ofenhückerl war, Erzählung von Peter Rosegger: Warum es so frostig wird heutzutage? Warum wir gefroren sind? Weil wir keinen ordentlichen Ofen mehr bauen können. Allen Respekt vor den schwedischen und russischen Öfen, gar zierlich sind sie und ein Zimmerschmuck und alles Mögliche, aber so recht gemütlich? So recht gemütlich ist nur der große, breite, behäbige Kachelofen mit seinen grünen oder braunen Augenreihen, mit seinem Holzgeländer und seiner Ofenbank. Die Ofenbank, wo die Kindheit und das Alter hocken, das Enkelein und die Großmutter – und die alten Märchen!

Weg nach Mariazell, Erzählung von Peter Rosegger: Mein Vater hatte elf Saatfelder, die wir "Kornweiten" nannten und wovon wir alljährlich im Herbst ein neues für den Winterroggenbau eigneten, so dass binnen elf Jahren jeder Acker einmal an die Reihe kam. Ein solcher Jahresbau lieferte beiläufig dreißig Metzen Roggen; für die nächsten drei Jahre wurde dann das Feld für Hafersaat benutzt, und die sieben weiteren Jahre lag es brach, diente als Wiese oder Weide.

Als ich mir die Welt am Himmel baute, Erzählung von Peter Rosegger: War damals ein Bursche von zwölf Jahren. Trug eine ungebleichte Leinwandhose, eine Jacke aus grauem Wilfling (grobes Gewebe aus Schafwolle und Garn) und eine buntgestreifte Zipfelmütze. War barfuß und ungeschickt im Gehen und Laufen, jeden Tag trug ich eine andre Zehe in der Binde. Die Haare hatte ich mit den fünf Fingern vorn herabgekämmt, mit den Zähnen kaute ich an einem Grashalm.

Als ich der Müller war, Erzählung von Peter Rosegger: Etwa ein Jahr nach dieser Wallfahrt gab's ein merkwürdig Geschichtchen daheim. - Nicht gar weit vom Hause, zwischen und unterhalb von Waldrainen und Wiesenlehnen, ist eine Schlucht. Sie ist voll dichtem und hohem Erlen- und Haselnussgebüsch, zwischen welchem Germen (Liliengewächse), Schierling und Sauerampfer wuchern.

Als ich die Christtagsfreude holen ging, Erzählung von Peter Rosegger: In meinem zwölften Lebensjahre wird es gewesen sein, als am Frühmorgen des heiligen Christabends mein Vater mich an der Schulter rüttelte: ich solle aufwachen und zur Besinnung kommen, er habe mir etwas zu sagen. Die Augen waren bald offen, aber die Besinnung! Als ich unter der Mithilfe der Mutter angezogen war und bei der Frühsuppe saß, verlor sich die Schlaftrunkenheit allmählich, und nun sprach mein Vater: »Peter, jetzt hör, was ich dir sage.

Das Schläfchen auf dem Semmering, Erzählung von Peter Rosegger: Das Mittagmahl war vorüber. Den Rest der Milchsuppe hatte der Kettenhund bekommen, der, dankbar mit dem Schweife wedelnd, die Schüssel so blank leckte, dass die roten und blauen Blumen sowie die Zahl des Geburtsjahres der geräumigen Tonschüssel klar zum Vorschein kamen. Der Hund beleckte, gleichsam zum Dank, dann auch noch die Blumen und die Jahreszahl, und gut war's.