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eBook Category: Suspense/Thriller
eBook Description: When a tabloid writer uncovers the truth behind the disappearance of a mega-lotto winner, he hears the words, "You're hired." But for Jude Johnstone, this could be one dangerous reality show. First he must find Howard Rosen's son, then negotiate the purchase of a Caribbean island for them, and finally stage a coup against the corrupt governor of a neighboring island. Howard, of course, wants credit for all of it. Why? For the same reason he engineered his disappearance in the first place, the instant after picking up his check--to be famous for more than fifteen minutes. But will Jude write this story Howard's way and make him the hero? Or will romance detour him? This off-beat adventure novel merges Survivor and The Apprentice with Lethal Weapon, and pits a former travel writer posing as a reality-TV producer against a wily dictator heading an opposing tribe of corrupt developers. What happens next is the stuff of Hollywood legend.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: March 2005

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [1.6 MB], eReader (PDB) [310 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [319 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [283 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [258 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [329 KB], hiebook (KML) [737 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [382 KB], iSilo (PDB) [262 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [328 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [367 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [413 KB]
Words: 92821
Reading time: 265-371 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Just so you know, let me tell you about Sal Valente. Picture a fat, middle-aged former union thug with one rolled up cotton sleeve revealing a tattoo of himself. Sal's a redhead whose perpetually rosy cheeks are not due to embarrassment, but rather from being slapped so often his chameleon face had long decided to stay that way. Flush and ready to print anything, he has come to inhabit a once tidy wood-paneled office with a nasty green Amazon parrot in a antique brass cage, and there he sits behind a cluttered mahogany desk with his hands resting palms-up on the edge. Call me delusional, but his wriggling fingers always reminded me of the legs of giant Brazilian roaches trying to turn over and escape being featured on page fourteen of the Celeb-Ration. That would be Benny's column on the bizarre in the world of science. Oh, and Sal's voice? It's not unlike the Godfather's, but with a pronounced nasal quality, as though he'd spent too much time underwater. Salt water, by the look of his red eyes.

"What ya got there for me, Jude?" Sal asked me, rendering his patented don't-disappoint-me stare. "Another humor column, I hope?"

Sal worked in a meat packing plant in Dallas before coming to Miami to take the reins of the tabloid. No one knew exactly what his connections were to get the job, but it was rumored he'd done some sort of illegal service for Martin Weinstein, the little prick publisher of the Celeb-Ration. The job probably involved the breaking of bones. Wishbones, most likely, because whatever education Sal possessed in the area of magazine editing and English grammar wouldn't have been able to parse The Cat in the Hat.

"What I've got," I replied, "is a migraine, Sal. Sorry, but have you got anything real for me is the better question. That's why I come in here with this hang dog look, see it? Any leads on the South Beach party tonight?"

"Stick to satire," Sal said. "Mark and Russ are coverin' that."

I sighed. Mark Messna and Russ Wells were fresh out of journalism school at FSU, having failed to make the recruiting cut to the Miami Herald or the Orlando Dispatch. True, they hadn't picked up anything of compromise in the way of ethics or self respect as roomies in college, thanks to frat parties and online term paper purchases. But their actual field experience was limited to those contacts who scouted for resumes, not for celebrities snorting coke with known felons. The little matter of how to keep their student loan creditors from holding a pocket mirror to their noses as they slept in a dumpster had brought them to Sal in the first place. And Sal, being inept at everything but delegation himself, always admired desperation more than he did credentials. In this way he was similar to the old curmudgeon he'd replaced, back when I'd first applied, after my failed career as a travel writer.

"You know, Giselle is supposed to be there tonight," I said, angling to be included somehow while I voiced my complaint.

"Forget 'er, she's eye candy," Sal declared. "Too skinny, anyways."

I chuckled as I admired the cheese Danish next to his telephone console. "Too skinny for what?"

"Huh?"

"Anyway, you can't be too skinny or too rich," I reminded him, quoting a fashion bible I hadn't read in a long time.