As a child, I was known as "Jessica Pelley." When I was nine, I went to a sleepover at a friend's house for the weekend. While I was away, my entire family was murdered. I would spend the next 30 years fighting, crawling, and clawing my way through the darkness. This wasn't just a national news headline, a cold case, or a true crime show. It was my family. And my life. I was the broken little girl left behind to tell this story. I am now "Jessi," in the pages of this unapologetic memoir, set free. *** JESSI - APRIL 29, 2016 April 29, 1989. A date I cannot forget. Numbers forever seared deep into my soul. It was 27 years ago, today. Jesus. Get a grip, Jessi. They’re just numbers. They don’t mean anything. You’re giving them power over you, again. That’s what I tell myself. But the numbers—those damn numbers—they haunt me. They always will. I cannot escape them. Not now. Not ever. For most people, dates are just numbers on a calendar. No big deal. Random markers of time affixed to the top left corner of small, white squares on a page to depict days filled with choices, chances, and opportunities. At least that’s what they are for the normal people. But I’m no longer one of them. For me, they serve as numeric reminders of the girl I used to be. A tragedy that would irrevocably and mercilessly alter the life of a little girl wearing dark blue jeans, canvas lace-up sneakers, and a white tee shirt, accessorized by prominent coke bottle glasses, her hair hanging in a messy bob. Her life would be forever dismantled. Gone. The moment they told me the words. The ones that I will never forget. At that moment, my life froze and shattered into pieces, splintering like bits of broken glass, dropping down onto the ground around me, like the remnants of a cracked windshield, falling fast before the spinning mind and broken heart of a wide-eyed little girl. Life, as I knew it, was over in that moment. What happened on April 29, 1989, has scarred me forever. A day that started out normally, before it became ensnared in marred memories, tucked between folds of tragedy and darkness. The lingering memories cut straight to the core of the hollow girl left behind. The darkness delivers itself to me, every year, on schedule. Steadily. Greedily. On the 29th day of April. Relentless. Haunting. It taunts the pieces of me that remain. Every single year. I try to lift myself out of the darkness. I tell myself the numbers shouldn’t matter. Not after 27 years have passed. Jessi, It’s just another day. You can do anything you want with it. Don’t slip into the darkness. But not even the voice in my head believes those lies I tell myself. Year after year, my happiness recoils, my thoughts run to a dark place filled with foggy memories and a void that swallows me whole. The door of despair opens and I’m trapped: alone, numb to the bone, emotionally deplete, void of all reality, space, and time. I hate the helplessness as I slip further into that dark place. A place that, long ago, was filled with light. A place where three little girls would sing happy songs, pick flowers, hold hands while skipping through tall blades of grass, and sit down at the dining room table, where they would bow their heads to pray before plates filled with food, in a home filled with laughter. Then it hits me—the life-defining, self-inflicted images of horror—of their final moments—dragging me deep into the darkness.

    Reggie wrote his EAST END STORIES in the early 1990s, but they haven't seen the light of day until now. In the book, he recalls the close-knit East End community in which he and his brother grew up, the characters in his family and neighbourhood, and of course, the many villains he worked with. Filled with anecdotes about the area’s most outlandish personalities and notorious criminals, and offering a fascinating journey around the Krays’ ‘manor’ including their favourite haunts and business enterprises, the book paints a vivid portrait of a London that has long since disappeared.

    Unflinchingly honest yet unfailingly hopeful, Rev. Sarah is a genre unto herself. You've never had this much fun going to church

    It was covered by Court TV and profiled on the Ricki Lake Show. Now, here is the intimate memoir of a shocking crime and its aftermath...one family's immediate and unforgettable story of what victims can suffer long after they should be safe.

    Still distraught, Abbie is passed to whoever will have her. Her new step mother subjects her to unimaginable physical, sexual and psychological torture and delivers her to local paedophiles in the entertainment business. During her single minded pursuit of fame Abbie’s step mother stops at nothing, beating and prostituting her own children.Abbie loses control and becomes well known to the local police. Not one person can get through to her because she has no fear, no self respect, no morals or self worth. With nothing to lose, she throws herself into one battle after another, blood and guts brawling between the skin heads and the mods on the streets of London.Her family eventually disowns her realizing they are unable to help. Abbie finds herself in the care of the Court until she is abandoned by children's homes and Social Services too. Alone, penniless and pregnant at the age of 16. Haunted by the secrets of her unspeakable past. Will anyone ever see her invisible tears?

    The elation of rescue quickly turns to hysteria when Poppy breaks free from a potential adopter during a torrential thunderstorm and disappears into a rugged, mountainous, 1,500 acre wilderness park, bordered by a busy road. In the quest to find Poppy, Teresa will work with rescue specialists, volunteers, psychics, a Native American who communes with owls, helpful neighbors, decidedly unhelpful strangers, a howling woman, the police, crushing dead ends, glimmers of hope, and her own emotional and physical limits as she sits in the wind and rain in the wilderness park for hours each dusk and dawn with bags of roasted chicken and her dirty socks, the human lure for a terrified beagle and packs of less terrified coyotes.   Meanwhile, Poppy encounters heavy rains, a homeless encampment, the Sheriff and his wife, a series of strangers, speeding traffic, hawks, and, ultimately, a world of people willing to do anything to protect rather than harm her. Through an unexpected late night encounter, Poppy is finally caught.  After her time in the wild, Teresa reunites with an unexpectedly transformed Poppy, now newly confident and brave and ready to be welcomed into her forever home.

    Winner of a Woman of the Year award from the New York City Chamber of Commerce and the National Organization for Mentally Ill Children, she eloquently recounts a lifetime of taking on seemingly hopeless cases and bringing these children, through painstaking therapy and love, back into the world. Unflinchingly honest, whether dealing with the raw pain of her patients' lives or with Rothenberg's own complex feelings for them, Children with Emerald Eyes explores the landscape of mental illness while never losing sight of the humanity within each patient.

    Raised in a household where secrets and sick rituals were part of daily life, Duncan was manipulated, bullied and raped from the age of four for over a decade. This is his story. Desperate to escape his father's tyranny, he tried to kill himself with an overdose. After a six-year battle with drink and drugs, which saw him living in squalor and arrested for possessing drugs, Duncan finally began to turn his life around. Courageously, he took his father to court where justice was finally done. Now happily married and with his father paying the price for his abuse, this is a devastating but compelling account of a boy who triumphed over evil.

    She was beautiful, she was blonde, and she dressed like a Kardashian.Then Claire met “him.” And it's hard to see evil in a man who's so hot.How many hot men does it take to screw up a life? Just one.The Sad Son reads like tequila shots with a friend- It's straight up, a little salty, and contains an inconspicuous worm. This true story unravels how Claire went from partying with rock stars, hitting all the hip nightclubs in Chicago and LA, and owning every dance floor she set foot on to becoming a single mother to a son she feared would kill her in her sleep. Her life veered to pure loneliness and denial as Claire unconditionally loved—and desperately tried to protect—a son who didn’t deserve his sad existence. And it’s a story of finally letting go when nothing else seemed to work.*This Book Contains Adult Content. Please Read A Note From The Author Below*I wrote this book to raise awareness of the many challenges family members face when someone they love is mentally ill. Even though this is a serious topic, I honored my personality and unfiltered tone with a conversational writing style so my story would be entertaining instead of . . . well, just sad. That said, if you’re looking for a wholesome, serious, informational book on mental illness, this is not the book for you. However, if you’re looking for a raw, humorous (and a little naughty) inside look at what I went through as a mom raising a mentally ill son, then grab a glass of wine and get comfy. And one more thing: if you can’t take a joke, set down this book and return under the rock from which you crawled. Consider that last sentence a test.

    It was left to Brenda's mother Elaine to sustain her stricken family, search for her missing child, and pressure the authorities for justice. From the first minutes of the investigation, suspicion fell on Michael Kay Green, a steroid-abusing "Mr. Universe" hopeful, but there was no proof of a crime, leaving police and prosecutors stymied.Tips and sightings poured in as lawmen and volunteers combed the Cascades forest in the biggest search on Northwest history. Years passed with no sight of the blue-eyed girl or the bright clothes she'd worn on the day she disappeared, but Elaine remained undaunted.Salt of the Earth is the true story of how one woman fought and triumphed over life-shattering violence and how she healed her family-and herself.

    Now, she's clean and sober, a married mother of three. As she found her way in her new life, she started sharing on social media as an outlet for her depression and anxiety. She struck a chord, several of her videos went viral (one with 46million views), and in the past year her following exploded from a few hundred thousand to more than 3 million.The memoir opens in the Florida women's prison where Tiffany was incarcerated for 180 days. The memoir flashes back in time to the events that led to Tiffany's imprisonment (during the time of her active addiction, Tiffany was dating and living with a cop), and moves forward to her eventual sobriety.

    But now in "Shadow of My Father," the real story of the King of the Volcano is revealed for the first time. John A. Gotti, who survived four trials and a parole violation hearing, in four years, without a guilty verdict, now takes up his pen to tell the story of his father’s unwavering dedication to the street, and how, as his son, he entered that life, and then, with his father’s permission, left the life of crime, and put the “Family” behind him to live a legitimate life with his real family. It is a saga of betrayal and redemption, and an insider’s view of how, at times, those who are tasked with upholding the law readily broke it to further their careers.

    After a rocky junior year of high school, Alexis Singer was lonely, stressed out, and vulnerable--the ideal target for an older man with bad intentions. When a message popped up on her computer screen one night from a message board acquaintance, she could never have known that by responding she was making a choice that would change her forever. By posing as a friend and confidant, the man gave Alexis the attention she desperately craved and weaseled his way into her life in an unimaginable way. Within weeks, Alexis was sucked into an emotionally dependent relationship, engaging in cybersex and sending him explicit photos of herself. Somewhere along the way, she lost who she was and put her dreams for the future, relationships with friends and family, and psychological well-being on the line. 'Not much about that first online conversation we had sticks out in my head except for his surprising interest in me. I probably would have forgotten about it if it weren't for that. I would have dismissed him as just another creep.' Because Truth Is More Fascinating Than Fiction www.louderthanwordsbooks.com

    Prince, coauthor of the highly regarded blog of the same name, examines how the life of the franchise mirrors the life of its fans, particularly his own. Unabashedly and unapologetically, Prince stands up for all Mets fans and, by proxy, sports fans everywhere in exploring how we root, why we take it so seriously, and what it all means. What was it like to enter a baseball world about to be ruled by the Mets in 1969? To understand intrinsically that You Gotta Believe? To overcome the trade of an idol and the dissolution of a roster? To hope hard for a comeback and then receive it in thrilling fashion in 1986? To experience the constant ups and downs the Mets would dispense for the next two decades? To put ups with the Yankees right next door? To make the psychic journey from Shea Stadium to Citi Field? To sort the myths from the realities? Greg Prince, as he has done for thousands of loyal Faith and Fear in Flushing readers daily since 2005, puts it all in perspective as only he can.

    matchmaker and her daily struggles to keep her self-esteem from imploding in a town where looks are everything and money talks. From juggling the demands of an insensitive boss… to the ups and downs of her own marriage to a Latin husband who doesn’t think that she is “domestic” enough, Marla writes with charm and self-effacement about the universal struggles that all women face in their lives. Readers will laugh, cringe and cry as they journey with her through outrageous stories about the indignities of dating in Los Angeles, dealing with overblown egos, vicariously hobnobbing with celebrities, and navigating the wannabe-land of Beverly Hills. In a city where perfection is almost a prerequisite, even Marla can’t help but run for the Botox every once in a while.