Kenneth Allen has been busy every day of his life. He cannot stay still. He has travelled extensively around the world by road, air, and sea for more than fifty years, and he still does. Every day he sees stories that need to be told. He could never write them all. The author of many books, he spent several of his early years editing and publishing monthly magazines and writing articles for numerous publications. He has produced several movies films, one of which won the highest award in the Australian Film Industry and gained him international exposure and recognition. All his films can be found in the Australian Film Archives in the nation's capital, Canberra. He has been successful in founding many different businesses over a long business history and is still a director of several companies. He is the founder and owner of a national auto finance company in Australia that was established twenty years ago. He has a large and close family. Happily, many of them also live in the same coastal village as he and his wife, Joan. The village is located two hundred kilometres north of Sydney. Many of his family work at the head office of the finance company, which is in the same small village. His marriage to his long-su ering wife is often a blur due to their constant travel, business, and family responsibilities. However, they are all a great part of his life, which would have been very poor without his wife's undeniable contribution. Terrorists Don't Choose Their Parents examines the lives of several people caught up in the awful world of terrorism. They are not real people, but they could be. They represent people in different walks of life, but in every case, they are consumed with one desire: success, happiness and the seedy world of terrorism. Every time Kenneth writes a story, he is aware that it will be read by someone who loves stories. He cherishes every reader who reads his stories. He knows that every person also has a story to tell, but not everyone has the time, desire, or ability to tell their story. Such a pity.