Jekyll and Mr. HydeMedical school students Fettes and Macfarlane are charged with the unenviable task of receiving and paying for the institution’s research cadavers. When Fettes recognizes the dead body of a woman he saw alive and well just the day before, he suspects murder. Macfarlane, however, insists that the authorities would never believe they had nothing to do with her death. Reluctantly, Fettes agrees to keep quiet, but soon regrets his decision when another familiar corpse turns up—and takes on a life of its own.

    On campaign with the Adran army and far from her homeland, she is helpless when the young daughter she left at home is threatened. To make matters worse, General Tamas has put her lover in command of a Hope's End—the first charge through a breach straight into the teeth of enemy cannon and sorcery. To save the people she loves, Verundish will have to come up with a deadly solution...

    He was a gullible and excitable fellow, often so terrified by locals' stories of ghosts that he would hurry through the woods on his way home, singing to keep from hysterics. Until late one night, he finds that maybe they're not just stories. What is that dark, menacing figure riding behind him on a horse? And what does it have in its hands? And why wasn't schoolteacher Crane ever seen in Sleepy Hollow again?

    We looked at each other.‘Any clues?’ I asked.They shrugged.‘You can go in now,’ said Mrs Partridge, so in we went.He looked up from his desk. ‘There you are.’We agreed that yes, here we were.He gestured at his briefing table on which reposed several archive boxes and a fat folder.‘The County Archivist has been good enough to make available various documents requested by Dr Dowson. A condition was that we do not expose them to the hazards of a random delivery service.’ It was not clear whether it was the company or its delivery that was random, but we nodded anyway. ‘And so, I would like you, personally, to return these valuable documents with my compliments and thanks.’He handed Peterson an envelope.‘Of course, sir.’‘This afternoon, if you please.’Peterson glanced at his watch. ‘It’s already afternoon, sir.’‘How quickly you grasp my meaning.’‘I do my best, sir.’‘I have assured the County Archivist that my best people are on the job. They being unavailable, however, I have therefore designated my Chief Operations Officer, my Head of Security and my Deputy Director to fulfil this simple task.’His Deputy Directory, Head of Security and Chief Operations Officer assembled their best air of cool professionalism – which in our case consisted of standing a little straighter and not picking our noses. I don’t think he was impressed, staring at us bleakly for a few seconds and then demanding to know why we were still here.Since Peterson was burdened with the envelope, Markham and I seized the boxes and we left with all speed.‘Right,’ said Peterson, ‘I shall assume full control of this mission.’Markham made a rude noise.‘Get changed and meet in the car park in ten minutes. That’s ten minutes, Max. No wafting around in front of mirrors trying on dresses.’Now I made a rude noise.We met in the car park, shoving Markham and the boxes in the back, and departed.‘A nice afternoon out,’ said a voice from behind the boxes, and we agreed.Now I know what you’re thinking. I can hear exactly what you’re thinking, so I will say now that the boxes were delivered on time and to the correct destination. The County Archivist herself took delivery so God knows what was in them. Peterson, after a series of nudges from me, remembered to hand over Dr Bairstow’s letter of thanks and they gave us a cup of tea. They were lovely people. I wish I worked there. We set off for the return trip, hoping to be back in time for tea, and things started to go wrong almost immediately.Peterson caught my eye. I always think that sounds as if you’ve been indulging in a quick game of eyeball tossing, but I knew what he meant‘So,’ he said, almost casually, negotiating the last roundabout out of town and accelerating away, ‘how are things with you and Hunter?’‘OK,’ said Markham vaguely. ‘I think.’‘Don’t you know?’‘Well, it’s hard to tell sometimes, but I always think if she’s not coming at me with a kidney bowl then, you know, things aren’t too bad.’‘Why would she come at you with a kidney bowl?’‘Because she can’t find a bedpan.’Peterson tried again. ‘So – got any celebrations planned then?’‘What for?’‘Well, you have an anniversary coming up.’‘What anniversary?’‘Wedding. You know. You and Hunter.’There was a long silence from the back. ‘Don’t know what you mean.’‘I worked it out,’ said Peterson in his best I’m Peterson and I’m brilliant voice. ‘I’m looking at Hunter these days and she’s looking very well, isn’t she? Blooming, almost. And she’s a very moral girl is our Hunter. Well, she has to be since you don’t have a single moral to your name, so I reckon you had the ceremony just before or just after the Battle of St Mary’s which means there’s an anniversary coming up.’There was a lot more silence from the back.‘Oh come on,’ said Peterson. ‘Admit I’m right and the then the two of us can buy you a celebratory drink in the bar.’More silence.‘I’m right, aren’t I? Go on – say I’m right.’Even more silence.‘I don’t know why you won’t admit it,’ he said, slightly exasperated. ‘Are you ashamed of something? Wait until I tell Hunter you’re ashamed of her.’He paused, hopefully.Nothing but silence.I pulled down the passenger’s sun flap and looked at the mirror. Markham was sitting with his arms folded and a stupid grin on his face.‘I reckon,’ said Peterson, ‘the two of you snuck into the Register Office without telling anyone but I’m going to make you tell me just the same.’Silence.‘Right,’ he said. ‘You asked for it. Hold on tight, Max.’We swerved off the road into a field, skidding to a halt in a shower of dust, stones and indignant birds.‘What are we doing here?’ said Markham, picking himself up off the back seat and peering out of the window.‘We’re staying here until you tell us.’ He switched off the engine and folded his arms. ‘Not another yard until you tell us the truth.’Markham folded his arms. ‘Never.’I began to make plans for spending the rest of my life in a field.The silence dragged on, only to be broken by the sounds of Markham getting out.‘Where are you going?’ I said, in some alarm. ‘We’re still not supposed to go anywhere alone.’‘Well I’m not staying here with you two maniacs. If you want to sit in a field you can do it on your own. I’m off.’We watched him walk across the field and out of the gate.‘Bollocks,’ said Peterson.‘Well, that worked, didn’t it?’‘Bollocks,’ he said again.‘Look, why don’t you just check the records at Somerset House? It’s a simple enough process.’‘That’s not the point. I want him to tell me.’I surveyed the vast, empty field. ‘How’s that working out for you?’He cursed again and switched on the engineMarkham was a couple of hundred yards up the road. We passed his plodding figure with a merry toot of the horn.‘It’s four miles back to St Mary’s,’ I said, watching him recede in the wing mirror.‘Do him good.’‘Ronan,’ I said warningly. ‘We shouldn’t leave him alone.’‘No,’ he said reluctantly. ‘You’re right. We shouldn’t.’We pulled into a layby and waited.He never came.We waited some more.‘For crying out loud,’ said Peterson. ‘I know he’s Security Section, but surely even he can’t have got lost between there and here.’I sighed. ‘I’ll go and look for him. He might just be taking a rest.’‘I’ll come with you,’ he said, getting out. ‘No one should be alone, remember?’‘Markham,’ I said accusingly. ‘We left him alone.’‘He doesn’t count.’We walked to the bend and looked. The road was empty. We could see for miles. No Markham. Not anywhere.‘Shit,’ I said. We rotated slowly. Where could he be?‘He’s cut across the fields,’ said Peterson. ‘Hang on.’ He climbed onto the car roof and surveyed the flat countryside. The flat, empty countryside.‘Shit,’ I said again, beginning to panic. ‘We’ve lost him.’‘We can’t have,’ he said, climbing down.‘Then where is he? Oh my God, we’ve lost Markham.’‘Look,’ he said. ‘The little sod’s in a ditch somewhere. Either he fell in and hurt himself – perfectly possible – or he’s hiding under a hedge to teach us a lesson. We’ll go and find him, kick the living shit out of him for frightening us like this, and then he can buy us a drink afterwards.’I looked up. It was the only direction left. ‘Do you think he’s been snatched by aliens?’‘Always a possibility,’ he said, locking the car. ‘Although if so then they’ll be returning him in a hurry any minute now.’‘No, seriously,’ I said as we set off, him on one side of the narrow lane and me on the other. I peered into ditches and looked under hedges. ‘It’s the only explanation. You hear about this sort of thing all the time. You know – anal probing.’‘For God’s sake, Max, get a grip. Why on earth would super intelligent beings cross the vastness of space just to firkle around in Markham’s bottom area. Would you?’‘God, no.’‘Well there you are, then. Anything your side?’‘Nothing. Where could he be?’‘I don’t know, but it’s four miles back to St Mary’s.’It was at that moment we heard the car start up. We stood paralysed for a moment and then Peterson screamed, ‘Bastard,’ and set off at a run. I pounded along behind him and we raced back around the bend just in time to see Markham pull out of the layby. He waved, gave us a merry toot, and sped away out of sight.We skidded to a halt.‘Didn’t you lock it?’ I said accusingly.‘Of course I did, but it’s bloody Markham, isn’t it? He could hot-wire a rock’.‘It’s four miles back to St Mary’s.’‘He’ll stop around the next bend,’ said Peterson, reassuringly. ‘He’s just teaching us a lesson.’He was and he didn’t.Four bloody miles. With Peterson vowing grim retribution with every step.And we missed tea.

    These are but some of the men and women who fill this searingly imaginative and emotionally taut collection of short stories by Mark Haddon, that weaves through time and space to showcase the author's incredible versatility.     Yet the collection achieves a sum that is greater than its parts, proving itself a meditation not only on isolation and loneliness but also on the tenuous and unseen connections that link individuals to each other, often despite themselves. In its titular story, the narrator describes with fluid precision a catastrophe that will collectively define its victims as much as it will disperse them—and brilliantly lays bare the reader's appetite for spectacle alongside its characters'. Cut with lean prose and drawing inventively from history, myth, fairy tales, and, above all, the deep well of empathy that made his three novels so compelling, The Pier Falls reveals a previously unseen side of the celebrated author.

    I hope you enjoy!"

    Now his wife, Galatea is expected to be obedience and humility personified, but it is not long before she learns to use her beauty as a form of manipulation. In a desperate bid by her obsessive husband to keep her under control, she is locked away under the constant supervision of doctors and nurses. But with a daughter to rescue, she is determined to break free, whatever the cost...

    Doerr explores the human condition in all its varieties-metamorphosis, grief, fractured relationships, and slowly mending hearts-and conjures nature in both its beautiful abundance and crushing power. Some of his characters contend with tremendous hardship; some discover unique gifts; all are united by their ultimate deference to the mysteries of the universe outside themselves.

    When Alexander Healy suggests that it's finally time for his daughter-in-law to accompany them on their periodic fishing trip to White Otter Lake, it seems like the perfect opportunity for the four surviving members of the family to become reacquainted with one another. Fran is dubious at first, not really understanding what a fishing trip could do for them as a family.That was before she knew about the monsters in White Otter Lake, of course. The monsters change everything.Before long, the entire Healy clan is embroiled in a fight for the lives of the creatures that live in White Otter Lake, which may be the last of their kind in the world. If they want to save these majestic plesiosaurs, the family will need to find a way to come together in order to solve the mystery of what the guardian of White Otter Lake has disappeared to.It's bullets versus brains as the Healys finally step up to do their jobs, and preserve the crytozoological world. No matter what it takes.

    An influential novella by one of the most best-known writers of fantasy and horror, set in a place and time Blackwood knew well.

    A man travels to his son’s school to deal with the fallout of a violent attack and to make sure his son will not lose his college place. But what exactly has his son done? And who is to blame? A young woman trying to make it in LA, working in a clothes shop while taking acting classes, turns to a riskier way of making money but will be forced to confront the danger of the game she’s playing. And a family coming together for Christmas struggle to skate over the lingering darkness caused by the very ordinary brutality of a troubled husband and father.These outstanding stories examine masculinity, male power and broken relationships, while revealing – with astonishing insight and clarity – those moments of misunderstanding that can have life-changing consequences. And there is an unexpected violence, ever-present but unseen, in the depiction of the complicated interactions between men and women, and families. Subtle, sophisticated and displaying an extraordinary understanding of human behaviour, these stories are unforgettable.

    Interwoven with themes of brutality and faith, guilt and fear, helplessness and survival, the characters in these stories struggle to make meaning out of chaos. In "Redeployment", a soldier who has had to shoot dogs because they were eating human corpses must learn what it is like to return to domestic life in suburbia, surrounded by people "who have no idea where Fallujah is, where three members of your platoon died." In "After Action Report", a Lance Corporal seeks expiation for a killing he didn't commit, in order that his best friend will be unburdened. A Morturary Affairs Marine tells about his experiences collecting remains - of U.S. and Iraqi soldiers both. A chaplain sees his understanding of Christianity, and his ability to provide solace through religion, tested by the actions of a ferocious Colonel. And in the darkly comic "Money as a Weapons System", a young Foreign Service Officer is given the absurd task of helping Iraqis improve their lives by teaching them to play baseball. These stories reveal the intricate combination of monotony, bureaucracy, comradeship and violence that make up a soldier's daily life at war, and the isolation, remorse, and despair that can accompany a soldier's homecoming. Redeployment is poised to become a classic in the tradition of war writing. Across nations and continents, Klay sets in devastating relief the two worlds a soldier inhabits: one of extremes and one of loss. Written with a hard-eyed realism and stunning emotional depth, this work marks Phil Klay as one of the most talented new voices of his generation.

    To say more would spoil the revelatory nature of how this story unfolds.

    Supernatural detective Jack Nightingale is called in to investigate a young girl who appears to be possessed by an evil spirit.

    Now three bestselling Harlequin authors honor these remarkable women with stories inspired by their extraordinary contributions.In A Place in Her Heart, Boston bakery owner and women's shelter volunteer Katy McShea has traveled far to overcome her traumatic past. But apparently not far enough, because Callum Walsh suddenly reenters her life. The handsome navy SEAL doesn't have a clue how she felt about him in high school…or what happened after he shipped out. Five years ago, Cal thought he was doing the right thing. Now Katy�along with her mouthwatering miniature cupcakes�are awakening feelings too irresistible to ignore. All Cal wants is to cherish and protect her. Or will his guilt and Katy's reluctance to trust keep their chance reunion from becoming a mission possible?Look for A Place in Her Heart by Trish Milburn, along with two more free ebooks inspired by real-life heroines: Never Too Late by Christi Barth, and A Wing & A Prayer by Andrea Laurence. Visit the Harlequin More Than Words website at www.harlequinmorethanwords.com, or your favorite ebook retailer, to download these free novellas today.