A new holiday classic! Scared by a storm, Twinklestar, the least reliable reindeer, bolts--causing Santa and his sleigh to crash-land. And though Santa has dropped into a friendly neighborhood, he's not safe: Jeremiah Goblynch, the ruthless new leader of the Council of Yuleland, is determind to put an end to children's wishes and turn the holiday season into his own personal moneymaking scheme. As the last REAL St. Nick around, only Santa stands between Goblynch and his grinchlike plan. With the help and hope of kids Charlotte and Ben, Santa must face Goblynch and his Nutcracker goons to save Christmas!

    If your little boy loves dump trucks, diggers, and building fun, Diggy is sure to be a treat! For fans of "Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site," and "Where do Diggers Sleep at Night."

    Getaway, is going to take them on a field trip. Mr. Getaway always has the something exciting in mind and this trip is not different – Santa’s workshop! Elves are everywhere, working happily, and creating mounds of toys. There is not a sad face in all the activity. Not a bit of complaining about the work. What did the kids learn from watching the elves? They learned that work is good! Santa agreed! All in rhyme, this delightful story is charmingly illustrated with over 40 images. If you enjoy the books of Dr. Seuss, the Berenstains, Suzy Spafford, Sandra Boynton, and Laura Numeroff, you’ll love MR. GATEAWAY AND THE CHRISTMAS ELVES. If this sounds like something you would like, scroll up to download your copy. You might also want to take a peek at THE TREE-WITHIN-THE TREE, another delightful holiday book by Sally Huss.

    Suitable for ages 2 to 102.

    and Mrs. Nie. As a token of gratitude, Mrs. Nie gives Jenny a crystal angel -- her most prized possession. But the greatest gift comes after Jenny's family is struck by tragedy, and Mrs. Nie provides a miraculous Christmas Eve gift -- on the wings of an angel -- that heals their hearts...

    Then an unlikely friendship with an old rag-and-bone man, Mr. Prodhurst, leads him into the greatest challenge of his life. For Mr. Prodhurst bequeaths his peculiar-looking horse, The Gladiator, to Joe -- with only enough money for a couple of weeks feed!How can Joe possibly look after the horse properly? He is determined to try. Otherwise, The Gladiator will have to be put down...A tense and absorbing tale of one boy's courage and determination to succeed against all the odds.

    Seuss, P.D. Eastman, and Sandra Boynton, your child will fall in love with "Goodnight Farm Animals."This is a fun twist on the classic story, "Goodnight Moon." As the sun sets on the farm, it is time for the animals to say goodnight. With beautiful illustrations and fun rhyming text, this book will surely be a favorite.

    

    He was a tight man. Everything about him was close and quiet; his gestures were short and clean, with no wasted movement. His eyes were bright and hard, the kind of blue you might see in the sky at high noon, if you looked straight up at the sky; almost white, but still pale, pale blue. He had dark yellowish circles under his eyes that rested on his cheekbones where the skin was drawn tight, as if he might have liver trouble from too much drinking, but he was physically sound and the circles came from playing stud poker all day and all night for many years. He had been playing in the back room of Hoban’s Pool Room and Poker Parlor since Monday at 4 p.m. It had started out as fooling around and then, as happened so many times, it developed into a game. The others began to drop in and a gig was working. It was nickel-and-dime stuff as long as it was The Kid and The Shooter and Pig, but when Carey and Carmody came in, both of whom bet the Cardinals and had won nicely over the weekend double-header, the play moved, deceptively, from nickel-and-dime to a quarter and a half and then wide open. It was Wednesday now, eleven in the morning. The game, like an endlessly circling bird, moved with a slow inexorable pace toward the center pot of money that grew magically with each dealt hand; revolving hands of cards, accompanied with a musical comment of silver upon silver tossed into the center of the table as the chant was heard, so soft as to be a litany calling on ghostly assistance and deliverance. “Queens bet.” “A half.” “In.” “Kicking it a half.” “And another half.” “And a half more.” “Buck and a half to me, and a half more.” The ritual quickened. It was the fourth card. Now the whisper and flutter of paper money would wash into the middle of the table. Someone dealt. The cards sliced through the smoky airless room like silent stealing death. And with each card, face up, a chant of destiny from the dealer, for he was the sole instrument in the life of a rambling-gambling man, bringing face up for all the world to see the next wonderful secret. There is nothing more for the gambling man. It is all there, sealed in the narrow turn of the next card. “A five to the queens, a jack to the possible, a nothing to the fours, an ace to the kicker, and the Gun shoots himself a red ten. Still queens.” “Queens check.” The raiser came back with a touch, a breath, feeling his way into those checking queens like a man fumbling in the dark. He touched it and then the queens slammed down hard on him. “Twenty dollars.” It was the clap of doom. Three players dropped out and it was back to the raiser. He hesitated. He knew three fours could not beat three queens. And to make sure (though there was another card coming and another chance) there were three queens, it would cost him twenty dollars. Pig had the fours. The Kid had the queens. They looked at each other’s cards. They were past the point as rambling-gambling men where they could play each other’s faces. Pig played the cards. There was no hope in playing The Kid. And it was not worth twenty dollars to see if The Kid was bluffing. He folded. The Shooter gathered up the cards and began to shuffle. In his huge hands the cards were like summer moths around a light, fluttering, singing, tightening and then disappearing as he cut them and rippled them again. The Shooter was acknowledged as the best man with cards along the Mississippi and west to Vegas. He looked over at The Kid who was stacking his half dollars. “They say Lancey is in town,” he said softly.

    I live with my dad who has a big tattoo that says Live to Ride. He is so strong he can lift up a car, but he can't tell me what he's thinking. Maybe he's thinking about my mother who shot through.Sugar Boy is my best friend. We hang around down at the river, in the bush tunnel, or beside the railway tracks riding our bikes fast enough to beat the train. There's only two of us, but we're the whole team.I don't know what would happen if I didn't have Sugar Boy . . .

    . .When Stella and three other junior explorers get separated from their expedition can they cross the frozen wilderness and live to tell the tale?

    They do everything together, from curling up in their basket to playing fetch in the park. Twiglet understands Fennel like no one else, especially her life-long dream of winning Crufts. There's just one problem: Fennel isn't a dog. And a girl can't win a competition for dogs, no matter how much she acts like one.Can she?

    He does not have any spots, you see! He keeps seeing spots wherever he goes… One spot, two spots, three spots, Four! And many, many, many more. “Where did you get your spots?” he asks. Join Andrew as he discovers how the ladybug, the leopard and the owl came to have spots and discovers that spots often appear when you are least expecting them! This is a wonderful rhyming picture book for children of all ages.

    and doing his best to avoid his very, VERY grumpy yeti guardian, Tobu.But life is about to get a whole lot more crazy-adventurous for Ash.When a brave rescue attempt reveals he has amazing magical powers, he's whisked aboard the Frostheart, a sleigh packed full of daring explorers who could use his help. But can they help him find his family . . . ?

    He is very, very hungry... He visits different places in search of food... Do you think he will find something to fill his rumbling tummy?