Josie Macomb hadn't expected to meet Teagan O'Roarke when she drove up to the deserted old cabin, but he was there, in her dreams. A werewolf, Teagan dream walked with her, making love to her, showing her a love with a gentleness she'd never known before. But he could only be there in her dreams, a fact that Josie had to find a way to reconcile. But would he stay in her dreams or would Teagan be the man that Josie needed?

Dreaming the English Renaissance examines ideas about dreams, actual dreams people had and recorded, and the many ways dreams were used in the culture and politics of the Tutor/Stuart age in order to provide a window into the mental life and the most profound beliefs of people of the time.

I am one who has come to true love in the last third of their lives. First of all almost broken in my life, I found myself based on the fact much later discovering that experience with love and broken heart I remained inside, open to love, and chance was no longer a coincidence, and exactly the right opposite of me feels addressed, and he knew before that he would probably fall in love with me. It is a voluntary matter, and nobody can foresee when that will be the case !

When truth and lies have been used as a weapon. When you fight an enemy from the past using lies, and truth becomes the weapon with which you fight that enemy. The story takes you to an ancient land under siege. The history of Keldarra is long but forgotten. A distant past when someone knew the Wolf Riders would rise. They also knew they would come to an end. The Truth: Words spoken. Still spoken to speak a lie. Marrida. Alagur. Each individual has a reason for wanting change. But can the reasons co-exist without clashing? Can truth prevail when each of them exists because of lies? When they discover similarity it reveals a hidden past, a past that means so much more than either knew.

A collection of profound and piercing poems from a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize about navigating the modern world in search of beauty that will endure Fever of Unknown Origin opens at a remote crossroads, where the speaker considers the intersection of history, beauty, and destruction: “the past / is paper / and the present, a match . . .” What follows is an urgent tour of landscapes—environmental, political, and personal—that reframes our perception of modern America and leads the reader into “An empire of rags and photons” where we must look to the past to clarify our futures. With sublime wit and a Whitmanian eye, McGrath delivers a stunning collection of warnings, love letters, and praise songs for all that manages to weather the perennial pressures of time: frog ponds, stadium rubble, and the endless cycle of seasons, which usher us deeper into an era we cannot yet know.

Gulinger High had changed locations to what some of the kids jokingly called "the projects' (which they weren't, by the way). But most people didn't dare go outdoors to mingle with the natives...except for the ever daring Rick Deacon who just doesn't comprehend danger even when he is in the middle of it. Or that's what those in Gulinger High said. But real danger is lurking in the shadows where the unsuspecting teen werewolf cannot see. Good thing Tom Brown has insatiable curiosity and is just as heedless as Rick when it comes to the unknown. Otherwise this full moon would end up being Rick's last.

Gaia Holmes’ third collection of poetry transports us to the edge of things: to remote, treeless islands, to dark, unfathomable mines, to the gaping maw of grief. With frailty and ferocity, these poems map out the strange absences left in our lives when a rupture occurs – like the sudden appearance of a sinkhole – threatening to pull everything else down with it. Where the Road Runs Out is a powerful and intimate portrait of loss, isolation, and ultimately healing. Above all, it is a paean to the landscape, and the myths, magic and mysteries that lie just beneath the surface. ‘More like incantation or witchcraft – Gaia’s poems are spells, taking the most ordinary and mundane of things, and working some metamorphosis on them, so they shine like stars – tiny but brilliant.’ – Sara Maitland