Mollys game book pdf free download

The main characters of this non fiction, autobiography story are ,. The book has been awarded with , and many others. Please note that the tricks or techniques listed in this pdf are either fictional or claimed to work by its creator. We do not guarantee that these techniques will work for you. Some of the techniques listed in Mollys Game: Inside the World of High Stakes Poker may require a sound knowledge of Hypnosis, users are advised to either leave those sections or must have a basic understanding of the subject before practicing them.

She was successful but felt like she was always coming from behind. Molly wanted more, and she got more than she could have ever bargained for. Her clients ranged from iconic stars like Leonardo DiCaprio and Ben Affleck to politicians and financial titans so powerful they moved markets and changed the course of history.

With rich detail, Molly describes a world that until now has been shrouded in glamour, privilege, and secrecy, one where she fearlessly took on the Russian and Italian mobs—until she met the one adversary she could not outsmart, even though she had justice on her side: the United States government.

Everyone wanted in, few were invited to play. Hundreds of millions of dollars were won and lost at her table. Molly staged her games in palatial suites with beautiful views and exquisite amenities. Molly Bloom grew up in Loveland, Colorado. She attended the University of Colorado at Boulder, majoring in political science. For several years Molly organized one of the largest high-stakes poker games in the country.

She currently lives in Los Angeles. I am standing in my hallway. High-beam, fluorescent light blinds me. I raise my trembling hands and my eyes slowly adjust to the light. I am facing a wall of uniformed federal agents stacked back as far as I can see.

They are armed with assault weapons—machine guns, guns I have only seen in movies are now pointed at me. Walk toward us, slowly, the voice commands.

There is a detachment, a lack of humanity in the tone. I realize that they believe I am a threat, the criminal they have been trained to apprehend. I walk on trembling legs, putting one foot in front of the other. It is the longest walk of my life. Fear grips my body, making it hard to breathe; the dark hallway begins to look blurry. I am worried I may pass out. I imagine my white negligee covered in blood, and I force myself to stay conscious.

Finally, I reach the front of the line, and I feel someone grab me, and push me roughly up against a concrete wall. I feel hands patting me down, running all along my body; then cold steel handcuffs close tightly around my wrists.

The man holding me guides me to my couch. Lucy runs over to me and licks my legs. Sir, I say shakily to the man who handcuffed me.

I think there must be some mistake. Then there is no mistake. He places a piece of paper in front of me. I lean forward, my hands still cuffed tightly behind my back. F or the first two decades of my life, I lived in Colorado, in a small town called Loveland, forty-six miles north of Denver.

My father was handsome, charismatic, and complicated. He was a practicing psychologist and a professor at Colorado State University. The education of his children was of paramount importance to him. That being said, he always encouraged us to pursue our dreams.

At home he was affectionate, playful, and loving, but when it came to our performance in school and athletics, he demanded excellence. He was filled with a fiery passion that at times was so intense, it was almost terrifying. Nothing was recreational in our family; everything was a lesson in pushing past the limits and being the best we could possibly be.

I remember one summer my father woke us up early for a family bike ride. The ride ended up involving a grueling vertical climb of three thousand feet at an altitude of almost eleven thousand feet. My youngest brother, Jeremy, must have been six or so, and he rode a bike without gears. I can still see him pedaling his little heart out to keep up, and my dad yelling and screaming like a banshee at him and the rest of us to ride faster and push harder, and no complaining allowed. Many years later I asked my dad where his fervor came from.

He paused; he had three grown kids who had far surpassed any expectations he could have dreamed of for them. At this point he was older, less fiery, and more introspective.

In my life and my career, I have seen what the world can do to people, especially girls. I wanted to make sure you kids had the best possible shot. He paused again. Or, I saw you all as extensions of myself.

From the other direction, my mother taught us compassion. She believed in being kind to every living thing and she led by example. My beautiful mother is the most gentle and loving person I have ever known.

She is smart and competent, and instead of pushing us to conquer and win, she encouraged us to dream, and took it upon herself to nurture and facilitate those dreams. When I was very young, I loved costumes, so naturally Halloween was my favorite holiday. I would wait anxiously each year, laboring over who or what I would be that year. I told my mother I wanted to be a duck-fairy. My mother kept a straight face. Well then, duck-fairy you shall be.

She stayed up all night constructing the costume. I, of course, looked ridiculous but her nonjudgmental support of individuality inspired my brothers and me to live outside the box and forge our own paths. She fixed the cars, mowed the lawn, invented educational games, created treasure hunts, was on every PTA board, and still made sure she looked beautiful and had a drink in hand for my father when he got home from work. My parents parented according to their strengths: my brothers and I were guided by their combined feminine and masculine energies.

Their polarity molded us. We would pile into the Wagoner and drive two hours to our one-bedroom condo in Keystone. No matter what the conditions were—blizzards, stomachaches, sixty below zero, we were always the first ones on the mountain. Jordan and I were talented, but my brother Jeremy was a prodigy. We all soon caught the attention of the head coach of the local mogul team and we began training and soon even competing. During the summers, we spent our days water skiing, biking, running, hiking.

My brothers played Pee Wee football, baseball, and basketball. I started competing in gymnastics and running 5K races. We were always moving, always training to go faster, be stronger, push harder. It was what we knew. At twelve, I was running a 5K when I felt a white-hot pain between my shoulder blades. After a unanimous first, second, and third opinion, I was scheduled for emergency spinal surgery.

I had a rapid onset of scoliosis. My parents waited nervously during my seven-hour surgery while the doctors cut me open from neck to tailbone and carefully straightened my spine which looked like an S and was curved at sixty-three degrees by extracting bone from my hip, fusing the eleven curved vertebrae together, and fastening metal rods to the fused segment. Afterward, my doctor gently but firmly informed me that my competitive sports career was over. He droned on, telling me all the activities I could not do and how one can lead a very fulfilling and normal life, but I had stopped listening.

Quitting skiing was simply not an option. It was woven too tightly into the fabric of my family. I spent a year recovering. I was homeschooled and I had to spend most of the day in bed. I watched longingly as my family left every weekend without me, sitting in bed while they flew down the slopes or went out on the lake. I felt ashamed of my brace and my physical limitations.

I felt like an outsider. I became even more determined to not let my surgery affect my life. I longed to feel a part of my family again; to feel the pride and hear the praise of my father, instead of the pity. With each lonely day I grew more and more determined to never again sit life out. As soon as the X-rays showed that my vertebrae had successfully fused, I was back on the mountain, skiing with a fierce determination, and by midseason I was winning in my age division.

By then, my younger brother Jeremy had taken the freestyle skiing world by storm. He was ten years old and already dominating the sport. He was also exceptional in track and football. His coaches told my father they had never seen anyone as talented as Jeremy. He was our golden boy.

My brother Jordan was also a talented athlete, but his mind was his greatest attribute. He loved to learn.