The War of the Roses has over time emerged as a synonym for modern divorce and its emotional aftershock. Since its publication it has spawned numerous film and stage adaptations, endless discourse on the dynamics of divorce as well as becoming part of the legal jargon describing the proceedings t...
A senator's daughter turned Washington, D.C., homicide detective, Fiona investigates a murder with explosive consequences on Capitol Hill. Through a combination of wit, intuition, and creative deduction, Fiona unlocks the secret to a gossip columnist's murder. The fifth novel in the acclaimed ser...
In a perfect world, people like Edward Davis and Vivien Simpson would never have met. He's a happily married man; an ambitious aide to an important Congressman who loves his wife. She's a happily married woman; a housewife with a young son and a dog who absolutely adores her lawyer husband. They ...
The stunning wife of the Austrian Ambassador is kidnapped and murdered. The bones belonging to a vanished young girl are discovered. Both share the same starling clues that point to a powerful, seductive and womanizing Senator. Besides solving the mystery, will Fiona Fitzgerald, homicide detectiv...
Warren Adler is a prolific and talented writer of books, plays, and screen plays. His play and subsequent movie, the highly successful “War of the Roses,” earned numerous awards and he has sold film rights for another 12 of his books, a testament to the appeal of his writing. “American Quartet”...
Warren Adler is the acclaimed author of 25 novels, published in 30 languages. Two of his books, "The War of the Roses" and "Random Hearts" were made into major motion pictures. He lives in Jackson Hole, Wyoming and New York City. Jenny, a "nice" girl from the Midwest, is swept off her feet by a h...
From the carcass of a Washington D.C. car bomb explosion, the CIA launches an investigation into the mysterious events leading to the assassination of Chilean dissident and infamous casanova, Eduardo Allesandro Palmero. As CIA investigator Alfred Dobbs rummages through the evidence, Palmero's po...
Considering there aren't many reviews, I will do one. This may contain spoilers.I found this book at a garage sale and picked it up because I thought it looked interesting. It has sat on my bookshelf for the last 5 years or so until finally, after reading heaven is for real and the fault in our s...
Slow Cooker, not a Pot BoilerThis book was first published in 1977, during Carter's administration. Russian politics were very different then from today, and this book will make little sense unless that is kept in mind. The missles that Russia was most immediately concerned with at that time were...
Washington D.C's struggling underclass and the U.S. Capitol's socially prominent and politically aggressive upper strata collide in a horrifying crime. Homicide Detective Fiona Fitzgerald once again battles prejudice and privilege to uncover the truth, confronting her own demons while sparring wi...
His real name, in his mind, was Itch. He had been known as Itch for sixty of his seventy-two years, ever since his grandfather, in his broken Yiddish-English got up from his nap in a bad mood after Itch had put a baseball through his bedroom window. "Dot Izzy gibt mir an Itch." Someone had heard ...
I met her that summer in Rockaway when nearly every boy in our crowd had girlfriends. I picked her up on the beach, which was the way we boys met girls. They all wanted to be part of our crowd. Helen was sixteen and I was eighteen and going to summer school at City College in the years when they ...
a tiny headline in the local paper read, followed by a single paragraph: “Services were held today for Charlotte Harrigan, twenty-five, at the Glorification Church. Mrs. Harrigan, a native of New York City, had been a recent convert to the Church. She died over the weekend of accidental drowning....
Izzy said as they drove. “Know what?” “That he was using his game time for other purposes.” “But why would he lie to his best friend?” Fiona asked out loud. Izzy pondered the question. &nbs...
"Who is Cousin Irma?" She studied the card, the postmark, "New York City" in the center of the canceled imprint and the name "Mrs. Nathaniel Z. Shankowitz" with her Sunset Village address. She searched through the imaginary archives of the family tree, both on her and her ex-husband's side, final...
He’d seen them only because as a boy he had been Big Ed’s helper on his chimney sweep rounds back before the war. Reminders like that plagued him now, not because they didn’t comfort him in his daydreams, but because they inevitably ended in the present. He shuddered and ...
The mist had disappeared early and the view from the window was panoramic, with the mountains and the valley sharply etched. Charles sat propped up by the overstuffed pillows on the high feather bed. Earlier, a barber from the nearby town had come by to cut his hair and shave him, an old custom t...
It could only be defined as a lightning bolt. If the tip of the bolt reached out and touched you, then you were obliged to slip through the seam of the flash into the void of destiny. Jack Harkins was certain that such a moment had arrived. As he walked up the winding stairway of the White House ...
"I feel awful about missing it," Maggie said. "It was fabulous," Carol said. "Wasn't it, Ken?" "Super," Ken said. Firelight flickered in Meade's eyes as he talked, pausing only to drink, then refilling his glass from the whiskey bottle sitting on the ground near the legs of his director's chair. ...
Even in his silk paisley robe and matching pajamas and ascot, Farber struck Fiona as a sleazeball. He had opened the door of his townhouse on Capitol Hill himself, as if he were expecting them. It was promptly seven A.M. "Come in, officers," Farber said, smiling broadly. "Right on time." Fiona sh...
They were silent all the way up Connecticut Avenue, but as she made the left on East West Highway and headed toward his building, he could no longer remain silent. “Why didn’t you tell her all of it? She’s obviously on your side.” Cooper was not wit...
He was impatiently waiting for Churchill to arrive. Because the train was so closely associated with Roosevelt, Truman felt uncomfortable. It was only the second time he was on board, having used it once to make a quick whistle-stop tour at the urging of Roosevelt during his campaign for Vice Pre...
She was sure she was impregnated on their trek through Yellowstone. Perhaps she had not followed the directions she had been given about the use of the birth control pills. She would never be certain. The condition complicated their dilemma. They pondered running away, having the child, their lov...
Not that it hadn't surfaced in different guises during that time, mostly in unpleasant and painful recall. On those rare occasions when the memory did surface, it always came disguised in dreams, mostly nightmares, sometimes remembered on awakening, the faces blank, the bodies distorted. Only the...
Chairs had been placed a dozen rows deep in front it. Every seat was filled and a respectful crowd stood behind the chairs and along the rotunda's rim. From her vantage along the rim, Fiona could see the grim faces in the front row, the chief mourners. Jack McGuire sat between what were obviously...
MICKEY TOLD HIMSELF AS HE LOOKED INTO one of the lobby mirrors on his way to the dining room. The derisive Yiddish expression brought on a broad clownish smile and a rumbling hysterical giggle. Of course it was crazy, he thought, but then again, wasn’t it a noble act? There were few enough acts o...
Deskmen and reporters, lifting weary eyes from copy paper, might have assessed his mood as one of self-imposed hypnosis, a kind of daydreaming. News aides turned their eyes away self-consciously, as though fearing their own curious gazes would be an intrusion on the executive editor. But while Ni...
Like most Washington media types, he loudly proclaimed the exercise an orgy of back-scratching and hors d'oeuvre munching; nothing more than a chance to dress up and exchange trivia. When not officially invited for press coverage, media people publicly criticized these events, as if the act of pu...