Mostrando resultados por autor "Bill Ciccotti" en Todas las categorías

I'm 67 and have worked hard all my life. But I still ended up losing my job. That's life. What you do after it all falls apart, well, that makes the real story. Cuba, lost Confederate gold, roadhouses, boat shows, Louisiana chain-gang blues, and I'm just getting started. For these are just a few of the embellished adventures in paradise you are about to enjoy. Tropical misadventures Key West-style. What are you waiting for? Get down here. Now. We’ll save a place at the Tree Bar for you.

New Orleans bar fights with the wrong guys. Louisiana penal chain gang blues. Key West misfits. How can doing something right go so tragically wrong? Falsely accused, railroaded and thrown into the swamps of Louisiana on a life sentence of malaria misery. Yeah, we escaped. But that was just the start of our chain of fools adventure.

The desert can kill you in many ways. And all of them, are permeant. The Sahara Desert, desolate, inhospitable, and deadly. In Morocco, the Sultan holds nominal power. The real power resided in the arms of the French army. The Foreign Legion. But not everyone was happy. A bandit warlord wanted the French out and massacred in whole. There were many evil brigands who sought chaos for their own depraved reasons. Yet, in that turbulent area, the magnificent French Foreign Legion shone brightly.

I am Mathieu Baptiste or at least what is still left of him. I am Chef de Bataillon, what the British call a Major. But as I walk, horseless through knee deep snow, rank is of no consequence. I started out on a fine ebony stallion commanding the 1st Squadron or the 1st "Elite". We rode on the blacks, 5th company on browns and blacks. But none of us ride now. All the horses are long gone in the army of Little Boney, Napoleon Bonaparte. We are on foot from now on. This is the story of a small French Calvary unit walking in retreat back out of Russia.

Twenty years ago, an east coast mobster killed a connected hood. He took off with the mobster’s wife and the dead guy’s stash. The mob has been searching for him for years. And they came to the bad lands of Montana with an ax to grind.

We were the tip of the spear, until we got too old for combat. Then we went private. Yeah, we’re older and slowing down a bit. But we’re still deadly. They took one of our family’s father. Kidnapped him, and that was a bad mistake. We work for money. But this one was personal. We were going up against the Mexican Cartel, at least a part of it. We were a ragtag handful of vagabond soldiers of fortune. The odds were greatly stacked against us. But some things are worth protecting.

This is the story of cowboys in Arizona who, after the Civil War, discovered dinosaurs and fought to save their ranches. It is a tale of dinosaur hunters with Winchesters and Henry rifles. You never learned about things like this in grade school, because the teacher was too scared to tell you about it.

Old age comes to all of us. We lose a step, or two along the winding trail of life. Reflexes tend to betray us at times. But that doesn't mean you can't go down swinging with your boots still on. Muddy and kind of worn I'll agree. But ours are still high-quality boots indeed. Four old men ride up into the magnificent Montana mountains to relive old times and tell ta few all tales. Adventure under the wild western skis. Cowboys and Indians? Old men yes indeed.

Death comes in many forms. He comes one day for us all. But hopefully, not with a gun. Live by the sword, you die with a knife in your back. If you have a crew - a good crew - you can postpone the reaper. But if the Hobo Killers come after you, well then, you and your crew are all going to hell. Those monsters have a flawless record. Number one on the hit parade. But when they came after the gentle don, well, that’s where we met them.

Bank robbers. Kidnapping. Big game poachers. Bar fights. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s a serial killer on the loose. It may be 2018 but this is still the wild, wild west. And out here the six gun rules the day. Bad men still do terrible things to good people. Evil is strong and damn cruel. A lawman is all that stands between the innocent and certain death. The question is, who among us is truly innocent?

Life is unpredictable. It can be a funny thing, if you stay alive to laugh. You never know what you'll catch along its twisted journey. Treasure? Trophy fish? A beautiful girl? Misfortune? How about all the above, plus crazed cartel killers and an insane drug lord. Just a simple fishing trip in Key West, gone to hell in the crash of an airplane. Right on top of discovering a sunken treasure. Murphy’s Law gone insane. If we could escape the death squad, rescue the girl, and dig up that treasure, plus avoid the sharks, while cheating the Grim Reaper, we just may have a tale to tell.

Bar fights. They can come back to haunt you. A simple altercation - OK, one that did get out of hand a few years ago at Niagara Falls started this whole fiasco. How were we supposed to know those clowns were the Ukrainian mob? Well, they knew it was us and haunted us over the years. Now its become bombs and death threats and time to finish this vendetta. They blew up my boat. Tried to kill me. Blew up Ryan’s house and tried to kill him, too. They threatened our friends - all our friends.

Key West Redemption is a fictional account of some truly crazy adventures here in paradise that have gone just a touch wild for this cast of bizarre characters. Car chases, square groupers, Key West bars, grand theft auto, boat shows, wise guys, zombies, Cuba, bad guys, pirates, bikers, bar fights, boat,s and sport fishing are just a few of the tales inside this audiobook. Oh yeah, and a touch of drinking. If you've ever been to Key West, then you will love this audiobook. If you don't know what Key West is, you're going to find out....

A speckled box tortoise finished its labored crossing of a rutted and shabby highway. A thin jackrabbit watched the reptile while rubbing its nose with a wrinkled forepaw. In the shadows, a rattlesnake watched both while deciding what it wanted to have for breakfast. And, the car rolled along. The sun drifted sluggishly over tall spiny cactus and haphazardly strung boulders. Blue skies. No problems? That relentless, molten sun beat down upon the weathered and cracked blacktop.

The warming sun’s reflection danced on the bushes mirrored in the pool water. Most never notice it. Fewer still ever appreciate it. Me, I love to watch it. And then I saw her.

Springtime in Montana. Cold, snowy, and chock full of danger. Depraved bandits ride into town during a snowsquall and hold several people hostage in a bank robbery suddenly gong terribly wrong. Cowboys and Indians attempt to help a tired Marshal free those terrified hostages. And hopefully keep them alive in a world of molten chaos.

Death at the Rodeo. There's a serial killer on the loose. He's hacking up Rodeo Cowboys with a vengeance. Cowboys and Indians, escape convicts, bar fights galore. Hell, there's even a kidnapped Indian girl thrown into the mix. Death stalks the rodeo and only a wild west Marshal can stop it. Saddle up for a hell of a ride, partners. Hold on tight, the action is about to commence. Everything in life will kill you. Choose something fun.

Tina, Biker’s Coffee, whatever you call it, it’s just as deadly. Crystal Meth. The heartbreaker, life taker, home wrecker - it was hitting the Jersey Shore. Tina had come to town with her kiss of death. The Don wanted us to stop them. We had to finish this. The Don was sending his top man, Johnny Koman, down. But we needed one more guy on this hell ride. A tough bulldog bastard. We needed Sal Bandino. Wise Guys versus Biker Madmen. Hell was coming to the Jersey Shore, and it was up to us to stop it. Two to the back of the head and all.

Death is the inevitable end to all of us. Or is it? Perhaps, not everyone dies. Some come back from the dead. Over. And over. And over again. Just ask Juan Baltasar de Cristóbal la Roja. For he, like Gaius Longinus, the Roman Centurion, walks the Earth eternal. But Juan dances at the Reapers fickle demand. He has been cursed into becoming a plaything for El Muerto. These are the stories of a tortured man who the Reaper has decided to pay with before feasting on him. A came of eternal chess if you will. Ebb and flow of conflict and chaos. No rules, no goals, no victory.

A casual trip to Puerto Rico. Fun, sun, and hot senoritas. What could possibly go wrong? Everything. A Spanish Don gets whacked. We get blamed for it. The cops, the mob, and even the cigar lady over on Esmeralda Avenue are out to kill us. We barely escape from the El Conquistador hotel with the cloths on our back. Wet bathing suits, no less. We’re not alter boys. I mean, we’ve left a few bloodstains on the wall. But we had no part in this tropical execution. But come hell or high water, we were going to even the score.