Guns are drawn, and in the ensuing hail of bullets, only the husband walks away. However, police soon find out, that what seems to be a robbery gone wrong is anything but. The Case of the Ragged Stranger, as the tabloids dubbed it, is a tale of deceit, betrayal, and depravity, a stranger-than-fiction mystery story whose shocking solution riveted the nation and made it one of the most sensational crimes of the Jazz Age.

    He did not claim he was God’s agent. Did he believe in God? Did he look for a sign when he was desperate? Did he follow the Divine Will? Many believers are not followers; many followers are not believers. Is he a believer or a follower or both?

    Working a rural beat in God's Own Country he finds that life and crime in the countryside continue to throw up fresh challenges.

    I couldn’t speak to any of my family. It was like I’d been found guilty before I could be proved innocent’Losing a child is any mother’s worst nightmare, but how do you grieve when you’re being blamed for his death? When Sarah Rose discovered her 15-month-old son Kamran had been brutally murdered, she was immediately put under arrest. The days she spent in jail were terrifying and harrowing, but it was when she heard the results of the post-mortem that the truth hit her: her boyfriend, Nicholas, the man she’s loved and trusted, had beaten her little boy to death. Heartbroken, isolated and alone, she knew she’d have to fight to prove her innocence and put Nicholas behind bars.Tragic, moving, yet ultimately uplifting, this is story of a mother’s love and her battle for the truth.

    For "The People's Princess," Larry King asked many people who knew Diana, some officially and some more personally, for their favorite memories. Sir Richard Branson recalls Diana sitting in the cockpit of one of his private planes with baby Prince William on her lap; as they flew past Windsor Castle she announced, "On our right you have Grandma's house!" Heather Mills, who, like Diana, has been a tireless campaigner for charitable causes, recalls Diana's work to eradicate the scourge of land mines, as well as the time she was photographed shaking hands with an AIDS patient in a London hospital, doing so much to counteract the stigma associated with the disease at the time. British radio and television personality Chris Tarrant recalls how clearly nervous he was upon meeting Diana for the first time, and how she put him at ease with an incredibly rude joke about Kermit the Frog. Photographer Tim Graham remembers Diana lying on the floor with baby William in order to coax a smile from the young prince. And her chief bodyguard recalls how happy and at peace she seemed on the day he agreed to her simple request: to be allowed to walk, truly alone for once, along a beautiful, deserted beach. Some of these recollections are warm and intimate, celebrating Diana for her ability to make a human connection with everyone she met, others are perceptive and revealing, even about Diana's human failings and frailties. Together, they coalesce into a multifaceted portrait of a woman that the world has long desired to know a little better.

    Alone in a snowy wilderness without any way of calling for help he knew his chances of survival were slim.Darkness Descending is the harrowing and psychologically compelling account of the next four freezing days and nights as he dragged himself to safety, battling constantly with extreme pain, biting cold, and his own, often hallucinatory swings between hope and despair.

    With a sharp eye for detail and a keen sense of humor, Eric Raff recounts what its like to hit the road with no plan and no destination.If you've ever thought of giving it all up to take off and travel, No Sense of Direction might just give you the incentive to do it.

    He was fired by his airline, stripped of his FAA licenses, tried, convicted, and sent to Federal prison. This was a first. It had never occurred before. Lyle Prouse came from a WWII housing project in Kansas and an alcoholic family where both parents died as a result of alcoholism. He rose through the ranks of the United States Marine Corps from private to captain, from an infantryman to a fighter pilot. He made his way to the pinnacle of commercial aviation, airline captain...then lost it all. Today he is a recovering alcoholic with nearly twenty-two years sobriety. This story describes his rise from the ashes of complete destruction from which he was never to fly again. It is full of miracles which defy all manner of odds. In a long and arduous journey, he eventually regained his FAA licenses. He never fought his termination; he considered it fair and appropriate. Miraculously, after nearly four years, the President/CEO of his airline personally reinstated him to full flight status in spite of all the adverse publicity and embarrassment. In effect, the President/CEO gambled his own career by taking such a risk on a convicted felon and publicly acknowledged alcoholic pilot. In another stunning event, the judge who tried, sentenced, and sent him to prison watched his journey and reappeared eight years after the trial. He became the driving force behind a Presidential pardon although he'd never supported a petition for pardon in all his years on the bench. Lyle retired honorably as a 747 captain for the airline he'd so horribly embarrassed and disgraced. He lives with his wife of nearly forty-nine years and has five grandchildren. He continues to work with all the major airlines in their alcohol programs. He is also active in his Native American community, and he provides hope to those struggling with the disease of alcoholism, no matter who they are or where they are.

    Suspended for a few seconds, they float in their own space and time with their own hidden prospects. For want of a better term, we call these moments “magical” and when we remember them they are cloaked in a halo of special meaning.’For 14-year-old Johnny Clegg, hearing Zulu street music as plucked on the strings of a guitar by Charlie Mzila one evening outside a corner café in Bellevue, Johannesburg, was one such ‘magical’ moment. The success story of Juluka and later Savuka, and the cross-cultural celebration of music, language, story, dance and song that stirred the hearts of millions across the world, is well documented. Their music was the soundtrack to many South Africans’ lives during the turbulent 70s and 80s as the country moved from legislated oppression to democratic freedom. It crossed borders, boundaries and generations, resonating around the world and back again. Less known is the story of how it all began and developed. Scatterling of Africa is that origin story, as Johnny Clegg wrote it and wanted it told. It is the story of how the son of an unconventional mother, grandson of Jewish immigrants, came to realise that identity can be a choice, and home is a place you leave and return to as surely as the seasons change.

    Welcome to laughing until it hurts while covered in bodily fluids. Welcome to simple math at very high stakes. Welcome to an incredibly inappropriate sense of humor. Welcome to serving people on the most stressful days of their lives. Welcome to putting your hands in places you never imagined they'd be. Welcome to your front row seat to the ballad of life and death. That's not the welcome that this nurse was looking for, but that's the one he got. Irreverent and audacious, this brutally honest memoir covers what it’s like to come of age in an American Hospital. Welcome to a rollicking peak behind the curtain to what medical providers, and the health care system, are truly like.

    She worked in discount advertising and wore elastic pants. She did, however, have a long-term girlfriend whose announcement one summer day that she was leaving left the author with nothing. A bewildered Razer takes the advice of her beauty therapist and soon embarks on one hundred dates inside a calendar year. This book is that account. Will she get over the ex? Will she find true love, or even someone to boff her? All will be revealed, in a naked, funny and frankly embarrassing record of a life lived in apps and desperation.

    For the boy inside the pages . . From Charles: I am often asked about my childhood. How I grew up. Where. What informed me as a writer, man and child of God. Starting with some of my earliest memories, these are stories of that place in me. That kid in me. In here you will find honest admission of my mistakes, failures, successes. Note: these are not fiction and this is not a novel.These stories are as true as I can remember. In these pages, you will hear the beginnings of my voice as a writer, the things that were troubling me — things I didn’t know how to voice out my mouth so they bubbled up and out my fingers. You will also hear my unshakable and childlike faith in a sovereign and good Heavenly Father.I wrote most all of these stories between my sophomore year in high school and my senior year in college so my temptation here and now was to edit them. To make them sound like me today, the writer I’ve become after almost thirty years with this keyboard on my lap. For the record, I have not done that. What you read today, is what I wrote then. (That doesn’t mean they’re sloppy. I’ve cleaned them up a bit.) But, as a result, you hear my early voice. And while it is ripe with mistakes and a wordiness long since edited out of me, there’s also an innocence and purity that I cherish.For those of you looking for my next novel, this is not it. But, it will give you insight into the novels you have read or might read. I’ve entitled them, “River Road,” because I grew up there. Because that hallowed ground along the St. Johns River holds a tender place in my heart. Because the valiant, sweaty kid I knew back then is still running around with Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn and he holds an absolute faith that fishing is a more noble pursuit than school, that he can play in the NFL, that men don’t die of hiccups, that he can still cat-walk his Schwin Mag Scrambler over sixty nine parking spaces, that swallowing Levi Garrett chewing tobacco won’t hurt him and that girls actually think it’s cool, that throwing tangerines at cars is good training for arm strength, that being a bully to a buddy hurt his heart, that a pellet to the gonads is excruciatingly painful, that when my praying mother hit her knees next to a wrecked car and bleeding man that she towered over the men around her, that forgiveness is the toughest thing that kid will ever offer another and that God can and will kill the devil. Enjoy.

    Hungry, homeless, and bouncing in and out of the foster care system, Jimmy spent more nights wandering and sleeping in the streets than he cares to remember. His father left before he was born. And his mama, when she wasn't in a mental hospital or behind bars for various small offenses, was simply too overwhelmed, trying to survive herself.Walk to Beautiful is the powerfully emotive account of Jimmy's childhood and the unconditional love and acceptance Russell and Bea Costner gave to Jimmy. This elderly couple provided a stable home and the chance for him to complete his education. Jimmy says of Bea, "She changed every cell in my body." After his high school graduation, Jimmy went on to earn a degree in Criminal Justice because, as he says, "I knew a lot about it." But in his heart Jimmy wanted to write songs and sing.A music company opened its doors to Jimmy, and he moved to Nashville to pursue his dreams. He had several memorable hits, such as I Love You This Much, Paper Angels, and Do You Believe Me Now?, which remained at #1 for three consecutive weeks on the Billboard Chart.But success was not satisfying. Jimmy remembered where he came from, and he wanted to give back. With his Meet Me Halfway campaign—a 1,700 mile walk from Nashville to Phoenix—Jimmy walked halfway across America, raising awareness for foster children. Along the way he not only found a lot of crazy things, such as coins, keys, a plastic Jesus, and a Lucille Ball ashtray; but he also found himself. And more important, he found a way to forgive the people who had hurt him. Jimmy learned how to walk to beautiful—and so can you.

    Although intense, it's written with much humour, and hope. In the author's own words: "As a schoolboy already caught up in addiction, I stood outside of a McDonald's waiting for a man I thought was my friend. A friend I met online. It would change my life forever. I was a streetwise kid growing up in a tough housing scheme. But the Internet was a new phenomenon. Euphoric Recall details my recovery from extreme trauma and addiction. As a Scottish working-class lad who grew up in a new town—Livingston—I also survived brutal experiences with suicide, violence, and severe mental health issues. One day, I decided to write a memoir about it. I hold nothing back.”

    Becca surprised everyone with a rare genetic disorder called Noonan's syndrome. As Becca struggled to survive her family plunged into poverty. Their remarkable journey out of poverty is a story of it's own, but within the pages lie secrets much more important we all should know.Tiny Titan by Ann Yurcek launches a new kind of Mother’s Day story for all the countless mothers in America who dedicate their lives to exceptional children with special medical and mental health care needs. The story and the children are real. BOOK ONE - BECCA'S STORYIn 1989, the Yurceks sixth child, Becca was born with a rare genetic disorder, and while she struggled to survive, her family tumbled into poverty. This is the true and inspirational story of their journey out of poverty and the many miracles they received along the way. BOOK 2 - GIVING BACK In the spirit of giving back, they adopted and reunited five siblings separated in foster care. And for their new children they fought for resources in mental health and child welfare with the same tenacity they had fought for Becca in the medical world. Others' said their journey was impossible, but they proved them wrong.Winner Gold Mom's Choice - Best Adult Non-Fiction5 Star Dove AwardBooks & Authors - Best InspirationalTINY TITAN SAMPLE CHAPTERBy Ann Yurcek -9- Christmas I sunk into despair. The holiday was fast approaching and Christmas was the last thing on our minds with Becca critically ill in the PICU and everyone else sick too. There was no money for gifts, and there was no time to buy or make anything. I was sick, tired and depressed over the circumstances we found ourselves in. If the phone rang, I was afraid to answer it because it might carry the news that Becca was worsening or no longer here. The phone was a constant reminder of trouble. It rang with bill collectors waiting for money. It rang when medical personnel had more dreaded news or another crisis for Becca. My emotions rose and fell like tidal waves, up, up, up and down, down, down. I tried not to think; not thinking was how I coped. It was like the stairs I ran at the hospital, up and down, and then I’d stop and sit, empty and mindless. I could not think about my children going without gifts at Christmas, but our lives were impossibly out of control. We had fallen into a dark hole due to no fault of my innocent children. At any moment they were going to lose their new baby sister. They were caught in the tidal wave of catastrophic illness when they needed a Santa most to give them hope. How would I explain to my children that Santa forgot them?I was used to planning ahead and beginning in July bought two presents each month to cover birthdays and Christmas. Over the years my frugal plan had worked flawlessly. I squirreled away the hottest toys for Christmas gifts with early season purchases. While other families were school shopping I was making wishes come true. It was a challenge to make my kids birthdays and Christmas memorable. I love the holidays and I began to bargain shop for Marissa’s September birthday gift. I budgeted a little each month until Christmas, finding sale and clearance treasures, completing my shopping race under budget. In November we celebrated Jim, Nathan and Ian’s birthdays followed in December by Matt’s birthday, and then Kristy’s birthday in early January. The gifts I bought with Jim’s carpet points guaranteed the boys November birthday gifts. Matt at age three was easy; all I needed was something big. Big for my little kids were exciting and ten dollars went a long way. Other than that I had nothing.