AuthorHouse Spotlight: Harold Robbins & The Amazing Kreskin
What do the world's greatest mentalist and the best-selling American fiction author of all time have in common? They're both published at AuthorHouse!
Harold Robbins, a novelist known for steamy passion in his works, stirs up passion of a different kind in The Adventurers, a story of revolution and danger in the sultry jungles of South America. As a young boy, Diogenes Alejandro Xenos, witnesses the murder of his mother and sister by a band of marauders. As “Dax” grows to adulthood, he channels his fear and hatred into a desire for revolution, swearing revenge on those in power as he upsets the status quo.
His actions make him an outlaw, living on the fringes of society in a land turned upside down with corruption. He is wanted by men and women alike—but for very different reasons. This epic tale of escape from the horrors of a third-world regime is one of Harold Robbins’ most ambitious novels ever, combining his trademark sensuality with political intrigue and a globe-spanning variety of exotic locales. Lose yourself in The Adventurers.
PREVIEW:
I was playing in the hot sun of the front yard when I heard the first thin scream from far down the road toward town. My dog heard it too, for suddenly he stopped frisking around me and the little adobe hut I was trying to build in the hard-baked dirt. He looked up at me, his eyes white and frightened, his yellow tail curving protectively against his testes. He stood very still and began to tremble.
"Quién es?" I asked, my hand reaching to soothe him. I knew he was frightened but I didn’t know why. The scream had been eerie and curiously disturbing but I wasn’t frightened. Fear is something that has to be learned. I was still too young. I was six years old.
There was the rattle of gunfire in the distance. It quickly died away and then came the sound of another scream, this one louder and more terrified than the first.
The dog broke and raced away to the cane field, ears flat against his head. I ran after him, screaming, "Perro! Perro! Venga aqúi!"
By the time I reached the edge of the field he was already gone. I stood very still, trying to locate him by sound amidst the heavy stalks.
"Perro!" I shouted.
He did not come back. The sugarcane rustled slightly in the warm breeze. I could smell its pungent sweetness. It had rained last night and the sugar was wet and heavy in the stalks. Suddenly I was aware that I was alone.
The workmen who were there only a few minutes ago were gone. They had vanished like the dog. I stood there thinking that my father would be very angry with them. At ten centavos an hour, he expected each of them to give him a full measure of work.
"Dax!"
The scream came from the house behind me. I turned around. My older sister and one of the kitchen girls were standing on the galería along the front of the house.
"Dax! Dax!" my sister screamed, her arm waving.
"The dog ran into the cane," I shouted back, and turned once more to look into the field.
A moment later I heard her footsteps behind me and before I could turn around she had scooped me up in her arms and was running back toward the house. I could hear her labored breath against my ear and the sobbing husky murmur of her voice, "Ah, Dios! Dios!"
My mother was at the doorway even before we reached the galería. "Quickly. A la bodega!" she hissed. "The wine cellar."
Written by: Harold Robbins
Published by: AuthorHouse Self Publishing Company
Date published: 06/30/2010
ISBN: 978-1-45204-567-2
Available in Paperback
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