The Pirate by Harold Robbins. Read online, or download in secure EPUB format. The carpetbaggers by Harold Robbins - Free epub ebook download sites. Udgivet den maj 6, af. The carpetbaggers. Alcools Author:Harold Robbins. ISBN. 6. maj L.A. Requiem The dream merchants. check out here Author:Harold Robbins. source link ISBN pages. We pace at a sharp.
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Harold Robbins - Tycoon (retail) (epub) - dokument [*.epub] 'Harold Robbins is a master!' raved Playboy magazine of the consummate storyteller of our time. Miss. 2, Pages·· MB·1, Downloads. suficientes. Page 4. Harold Robbins. Los insaciables. ePub r Titivillus Page 5 Los insaciab. Harold Robbins (–) is one of the best-selling American fiction writers of all time, ranking 5th on the World's Best-Selling Fiction Author List just behind.
Harold Robbins - Tycoon retail epub Dokument: epub 1. Now he is at his scintillating best in this dazzling new novel of sex, money, power, and ambition as a network television maverick climbs his way to the top on a ladder of vanquished enemies. Jack Lear is driven by unbridled ambition. As a pioneering radio and television broadcaster, he makes a fortune, launches a network, and marries two women. But despite all he has, what can never be his continues to taunt him: the respectability of old money. The women in his life are legion. His first wife is a shrewd, gorgeous WASP princess who transforms him from the son of a Jewish scrap-metal king into a man of class, surrounded by the trappings of elegant wealth.
Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Nearly every conceivable combination of letters has been used as the call letters of a radio or television station somewhere. The call letters used for stations mentioned in this work of fiction, as well as television network initials, are emphatically not meant to be the letters of any real station or network anywhere.
Every station or network mentioned in this story is fictional or is used fictionally, even if by coincidence its letters are those of a real station or network.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. To my wife JANN, with all my love and happiness.
Late in the evening of Wednesday, August 19, she sat at a dressing table in their room at the Ambassador Hotel, brushing out her dark-brown hair. For the dinner earlier that evening with the Lears-Jack's grandfather, father, brother, and sister-in-law-she'd had it styled curling behind her ears, exposing her diamond earrings; but now she was brushing it out, making it smooth and glossy, the way Jack preferred it.
She had not yet wiped off her makeup. Her eyebrows, plucked into two delicate arches, were dark and well defined, but she had accentuated them even more with pencil. Her lashes were sharply delineated by mascara, her cheekbones were highlighted by rouge, and her carefully applied lipstick made her lips look lusciously dramatic. Brushing with her right hand, she held in her left a Herbert Tareyton cigarette in an amber holder.
She was wearing a pink silk crepe de chine teddy. Kimberly chuckled and shrugged. They had been married for two months.
Although they had sent invitations to his family, none of them had come to Boston for the wedding.
Jack and Kimberly had made this trip to Los Angeles to meet-or rather, to confront-the Lears. I can tell he thinks that it's odd, and maybe amusing, that I married a shiksa.
Actually, he doesn't dislike you. It's just that he sees you as disrupting his plans for me. My father is accustomed to having his own way. Motion-picture production. Leichtgewicht he calls him.
He talks that way, but I happen to know he's put money into Bob's business. He used silver tongs to lift ice cubes from the silver bucket Jack Lear was not one of America's handsomest young men.
He was characterized by a straightforward open face, with eyes that looked directly at you, and a heavy-lipped mouth that smiled readily and ingenuously. Already, when he was only twenty-five years old, his black hair was making a slow retreat, and he was at pains to comb it forward and try to cover the widow's peaks that were developing.
He had not bothered to shove his Camel into a holder and held it between two fingers as he pulled smoke deep into his lungs. It's barren. With a gaudy palace stuck up here and there to house the moguls.
We don't belong here. Jack stared at his wife with unalloyed pleasure. He had never known anyone else whose mind ran so closely in the same channel as his.
He could have anticipated her comment. She shrugged out of the teddy, pulling it down and stepping out of it. That left her nude except for her stockings and the garters that held them up, plus her shoes.
He drew her down on the bed beside him and began to fondle her breasts. He loved her breasts.
They were small and firm, with deep-pink nipples. He bent over her and sucked her left nipple between his lips. Even when he talked about houses you could download, you didn't tell him we are not going to live here. You didn't tell him you're not going into his business. He's called a ship breaker, but what he is is a glorified junkman-as my grandfather occasionally reminds him. I can't even think of it, Kimberly.
It's not just the business that's wrong for you. It's the idea of living under him! You warned me that your father is crude and. He is your father, and I wasn't going to use a word like that.
But you can't work for him, Jack. You're too good a man. He means to dominate you. Besides, you're too intellectual to go into-all right, your words-to go into the junk business. An intellectual needs a career that offers a chance to be creative. He considered himself an intellectual. His father and his brother were intelligent-one might even say aggressively intelligent-but they were not deep thinkers who were given to study, reflection, and speculation.
However, Masters secretly nursed literary ambitions and his first book of verse and several essays were published under the pseudonym of Dexter Wallace. He initially considered writing a novel about his early experiences, but soon gave up the idea. From , he began publishing a series of poems based on his experiences in Lewistown, Illinois, where he spent his childhood.
These were published in a St Louis magazine, under another fictitious name, Webster Ford. Finally, in , the entire collection was compiled into a single volume entitled the Spoon River Anthology.
In , Masters wrote The Genesis of Spoon River, in which he describes the book's background, its concerns, the conditions in which he wrote and also how it was received by readers. This autobiographical companion piece provides wonderful insight into the workings of the creative mind and is itself a document of great human interest. It allows the reader to have a glimpse of the great humane thinker and compassionate mind that created the Spoon River Anthology.
The book was an instant bestseller and found an immediate echo in the hearts of millions of readers from small rural towns and remote little settlements all over America.
The poems provide a rare and unconventional view of small town life and shatter quite a few myths that romanticize such an existence. The poems are in free style and the brilliant imagery and evocative turns of phrase make each one of them memorable.