The Eye of Zeitoon

Told in the East

For one thing, they'd credit you with sense enough to bring her in without being told. For another, the messenger who took the note might have got captured on the way—they wouldn't want to tell the sepoys more than they could help.

The Lion of Petra

Despite the fact that Talbot Mandy is more famous for having written the more popular King of Hebrew screws, this story of adventure in the desert will surely please the reader. An Englishman who accompanies the famous American James Graham in a dangerous journey through the Petri desert tells of this in order to resist Ali Higg's cruel and deadly robber in his own fortress. Powerful desert chifthan, Ali Higg terrorizes the Arabs, and does not unite them. Along with James Grim is his wife and companion, as well as a senior thief and his many sons and grandchildren. Will they succeed?

Caesar Dies

Putting Crime Over by Hulbert Footner. When Madame Roska Storey and her secretary are robbed, a plan is put in place to catch the robbers as well as their leader. She is the best private detective of England, but her stories are international. Her way to resolve the mystery is original and bring you in a new world. So we are introduced to the fascinating Madame Rosika Storey, fearless and intelligent, who plays cat-and-mouse with killers, goes undercover to break up criminal gangs, and unravels deadly mysteries. A strange, yet interesting tale that was actually written in the 1920s.

Affair in Araby

Also published under the title The King in Check, Affair in Araby is part of action-adventure writer Talbot Mundy's popular Jimgrim series, which chronicles the globetrotting exploits of British secret service agent James Schuyler Grim. In this thrilling installment, Jimgrim finds himself in the middle of a maelstrom of political one-upmanship between various factions from France, Syria, and Jerusalem.

The Winds of the World

Talbot Mundy was born William Lancaster Gribbon on April 23rd 1879 in London. After a particularly undistinguished record at Rugby School, he ran off to Germany and joined a circus. After his return, from Germany, he left Britain to work as a relief worker in Baroda in India, followed by further adventures in Africa, the Near East and the Far East. His initial inclination was to be a con artist, a confidence trickster and exploit other areas of petty criminality. However with a change of location to the United States and a near fatal mugging he decided that life as an upright citizen was now more to his liking. At age 29 he had decided on Talbot Mundy as a name and three years later in 1911 he began his writing career. Obviously late but it was still to be prodigious none the less. Many of his novels including his first 'Rung Ho!' and his most famous 'King - Of the Khyber Rifles are set during the British Raj in India. In early 1922, Mundy moved to San Diego, California and in late 1923 began writing perhaps his finest novel, Om, the Secret of Ahbor Valley. Whilst much of Talbot's early life was used in his work it seems he was not particularly proud to return to these places or indeed say to much more about his earlier escapades. Although his writing was to prove very popular over the years and has been revived on many occasions since his death it is fair to say that both his writing and his life were colourful. He married a number of times and still believed that his business dealings would make him very rich. However much of his life would not go as planned and it took several marriages in the hope of finding true happiness. His sixth wife, Dawn, gave birth to a girl on 26 February 1933 shortly after their return to England. Unfortunately the child died shortly after birth. Thereafter he wrote little but much of his work was republished and his name kept in print. On 5 August 1940 Talbot Mundy died from complications associated with diabetes.

The Ivory Trail

Sometimes a big and dangerous adventure is fabulous wealth. There were hundred million pounds of ivory in those places that just waited for them! But, of course, the ivory was hidden in the darkest heart of Africa, and if they came out of the continent, they would certainly have to deal with the colonial government. But what a wonderful adventure without danger and call?

The Almighty Heiress Unmasked: Divorce The Past, Inherit The World

Once the real heiress came back, Katherine was thrown out by her "parents" and ridiculed by her fiancé. She walked away-and claimed the dynasty that had been hers all along. With every mask stripped off, she shocked everyone. "Mysterious illnesses? I cured them." "Hacker attacks? Pathetic." "Luxury brands? I owned the design copyrights." Her former family demanded a fortune for "raising" her. Katherine huffed, "Keep dreaming!" Her ex begged to reunite. "Get lost. You weren't worthy of me." Meanwhile, a tycoon fell hard, thawing from aloof to devoted, finding new ways to pull her close.

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule. While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?" When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child." He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me. "He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect. Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards.

Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine

I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting." When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home. Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name. He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal. I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing. As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life.

She Took The House, The Car, And My Heart

After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary-but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.

Scars of Betrayal: The Heiress They Tried To Erase

Kelsie's biggest regret in life was getting involved with Judge, the icy Captain. She pursued him for three years, married him for two, thinking she'd warmed a stone, only to be met with nothing. Her mother-in-law disliked her, her husband was indifferent, and a fragile "white moonlight" would occasionally try to get her attention. Until she witnessed Judge and Angelique meeting secretly at a hotel, her heart shattered, and then she discovered she was pregnant. Kelsie sneered, threw down the divorce papers, and decisively ran away, disappearing without a trace. When they met again, she was a successful single mother, surrounded by suitors. In the pouring rain, the once aloof man humbly stopped her car, pleading in a hoarse voice, "Kelsie, come home with me." The car window rolled down, and a little boy, nine-tenths like him, coldly warned in a cute but fierce tone, "Want to date my mommy? Ask me first!"