Have you ever wished for a miracle? Come on now. Of course you have. You know you have. For, which of us on this planet, atheists included, has not at one time or another, and with the heart of a beggar, pleaded, entreated, prayed, even bargained for a miracle of one sort or another to be granted, whether for ourselves or someone else? Now, let us never confuse miracles with magic. Magic is just that - hocus-pocus, fake, sham, not real, no matter how impressive and baffling. Again, let us not confuse miracles with favours - favours from the Almighty and favourite saints, all part and parcel of the popular novena culture of Catholics, and prayed for daily by the faithful for receipt of all manner of personal intentions. Nor are we talking the "Wow! How did that happen?-It's-gotta-be-a-miracle!" kind of miracle. No, no, no. At the risk of sounding redundant, we're talking real miracles here!
But, Dr. Adam Bell is surely not confused. Oh no. As Chief Investigator, he knows the difference only too well. After all, 'miracles' are his official business at the Bureau of Scientific Scepticism (B.O.S.S.), and his good nature and intellectual curiosity soon cause him to delve more deeply than required into the anatomy and character of miracles - all in keeping with the bureau's secret agenda. This happens not a moment too soon as it turns out, when without warning his own dire need for a miracle transforms his usual impartial, objective, routine work with the federal government bureau into an inordinately personal, life-and-death chase. Adam is also, of necessity, himself inherently transformed from the quiet, plodding, somewhat hesitating investigator, unused to police work, into a man on a mission, a father-to-be with a cause, where time is of the essence, and there's no room for error... Join him in the chase of his life!
About the Author
Eliot H. Bailey was born on Wednesday August 10th 1983 at 3 a.m. on the beautiful Caribbean island of St. Lucia - an island that has produced two Nobel laureates. His parents, both educators, have devoted their lives to teaching the arts. Eliot was named after T.S. Eliot - "one 'l', one 't'" - as he was wont, from the tender age of eighteen months, to inform all and sundry who might ask his name. Eliot was a curious child who started talking when he was about ten months. As a young boy, he asked questions galore and spouted creative ideas. Being British (as well as St Lucian), he would spend his summers back in his father's homeland of England visiting family and, in his teens, chose to live there on his own for a year. It was during this time that he was moved to chronicling his days and jotting down his thoughts on life and the parade of characters that crossed his path. Much of this writing was done on the spur of the moment as he sat in train stations or on park benches.
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