Listening while millionaires expound their lucrative philosophies is an interesting journalistic gambit. Unfortunately, millionaires don't always have enough to say to fill an interesting book. Eleven members of the contemporary Horatio. Alger contingent evidence their common interest. Whatever the familiar product or service -- Lancome perfumes, houses and Holiday Inns, Bulova watches, independent films -- the maxim seems to be the same: never miss or lose a chance make that profit. The skyscraping egos necessary for the game reveal here their own rules for big-time capitalism. Some call on God for a partner (Let me build two thousand units this year, O Lord); others on ingenuity; most all of them represented here counsel and live the ""law of hard work."" The sampling, however, glorifies the millionare trade by excluding those that don't fit the myth. In a way it's refreshing to read the words of the ambitious, successful unknowns who are in the rarefied ninety percent bracket. The novelty itself wears thin when they begin to sound disappointingly alike. But perhaps that's a view due to a difficulty in extrapolating from the lower ranks. A biography of dollars and the who own them--for aspirants or successes in the same game, for evidence proving that millionaires are psychotic and bad for society or that they are lovable and good for it. Pay your money, you get your choice.