True Blue is a beauty, a dappled gray, and when Abby gets to take him to her family's ranch, she can hardly believe her luck. The horse needs a home: his owner—a woman brand new to the riding stable--was tragically killed in a car crash and no one has claimed him. Daddy is wary, as always. But Abby is smitten. True Blue is a sweetheart, and whenever Abby calls out, "Blue, Blue, how are you?" he  whinnies back. But sometimes True Blue seems...spooked. He paces, and always seems to be looking for something. Or someone. Abby starts to wonder about True Blue's owner. What was she like? What did she look like? One moonlit night, Abby could swear she hears a whisper in her ear: "He's still my horse." Filled with riding scenes and horse details, this newest middle-grade novel from a Pulitzer Prize-winner offers a mysterious and suspenseful almost-ghost story. From the Hardcover edition.

The year is 1908. Seventeen-year-old Rosalind Wallace’s blissful stay in England with her best friend, Cecily de Vere, has come to an abrupt end, which is fine with Rosalind. She was getting tired of being high society Cecily’s American “pet.” Her industrialist father is unveiling his fabulous new Transatlantic Express, the world’s first underwater railway. As a publicity stunt he has booked her on the maiden voyage—without asking. Rosalind is furious. But lucky for her, Cecily and her handsome older brother, Charles, volunteer to accompany her home. Fun turns to worry when Charles disappears during boarding. Then, deep under the sea, Cecily and her housemaid, Doris, are found stabbed to death in their state room. Rosalind is now trapped on Father’s train—fighting to clear herself of her friend’s murder, to find the killer, and ultimately to uncover the sinister truth behind the railway’s construction.

Soren and the Band are back. Coryn has retrieved the ember and it seems a golden age is dawning at the Great Ga'Hoole Tree. But all that is golden in not necessarily good. Soren, Twilight, Gylfie, and Digger face their biggest challenge yet as the young king, haunted by suspicion that haggish blood flows in his veins, hunts for the truth. His wanderings imperil himself and the good guardians who travel with him. Meanwhile, back at the tree, the influence of the ember is strong- and strange. The tree changes, as do the guardians left to govern in the young king's absence. Otulissa objects to the strange new ways, and her outspokenness puts her in grave danger. Someone must get word to Soren and the Band. But who?

A breakthrough new series from bestselling author Patrick Carman, featuring text and technology in an innovative new way. Strange things are happening in Skeleton Creek... and Ryan and Sarah are trying to get to the heart of it. But after an eerie accident leaves Ryan housebound and forbidden to see Sarah, their investigation takes two tracks: Ryan records everything in his journal, while Sarah uses her videocam to search things out... and then email the clips for Ryan to see. In a new, groundbreaking format, the story is broken into two parts — Ryan's text in the book, and Sarah's videos on a special website, with links and passwords given throughout the book.

When Portia Mullins discovers the love of her life is still alive her heart soars. But reality sets in immediately causing it to plummet when she realizes he doesn’t remember his past life with her. Unwilling to give up, she embarks on a loving quest to restore his life to him. Vance Mangum sees the beautiful girl claiming to be his wife, and while he can’t remember her, he can’t deny the intense pull he feels between them. Not knowing where else to turn, he agrees to give her the time she’s asked for and to assist her in the effort to recover his memories. The two quickly reconnect, but dark surprises are lurking in the wings when Vance discovers a desperate longing for something he feels he can’t withstand. Will he be able to resist? Or will evil raise its head in a new form, leaving Portia as the prey of the very man her heart desires? Darkness reigns supreme in this haunting tale of love and desperation, Of Witches and Warlocks, The Dark Rising.

To mark the 20th anniversary of the publication of "Amazing Grace," the spirited little girl with a big imagination is coming back to Puffin in two fun chapter books! In "Encore, Grace!," when Grace's family and group of friends change, Grace turns to her imagination to cope with things like a new girl in school and the death of a family friend. In "Bravo, Grace!," Grace deals with more change. This time her mother is remarrying and they are moving to a new house, there's a bully in school, and there's a new baby on the way! But despite all the changes, Grace always has her family and friends to support her, and she always finds a way to handle new situations in positive ways. Hoffman's successful African-American protagonist provides a wonderful role model for today's multicultural school community in this second volume of short, clear, event-filled chapters." - "Kirkus Reviews" review for "Encore, Grace!" "

Dawn Bosco races to find a treasure at Camp Wild-in-the-Woods   She is a terrific detective, but Dawn Bosco doesn’t want anyone at Camp Wild-in-the-Woods to find out that she is secretly afraid of horses. Even Jill Simon isn’t afraid of horses, and she cries all the time. Then Miss Perry, the counselor, announces that there will be a treasure hunt! Dawn knows she can beat Lizzie Lee, the Cool Cat Detective, to the prize. But she might have to face her fear to get there. This ebook features an illustrated biography of Patricia Reilly Giff including rare photos from the author’s personal collection.

“A fun YA sci-fi story with a compelling cast of characters.” —Kirkus Reviews on Infinity Sera is the obsession of a killer chasing a ghost. G is a soldier with too much blood on his hands. Dylan lost the only person he ever loved—and will stop at nothing to get her back. In a whirlwind chase that takes them back to where it all started, Sera, G, and Dylan will have to confront their demons—both physical and mental—and each other, in order to win their freedom.

This book was converted from its physical edition to the digital format by a community of volunteers. You may find it for free on the web. Purchase of the Kindle edition includes wireless delivery.

This book was converted from its physical edition to the digital format by a community of volunteers. You may find it for free on the web. Purchase of the Kindle edition includes wireless delivery.

At the Foot of the Mountain Range. Towards the close of a bright and warm day, between fifty and sixty years ago, a solitary man might have been seen, mounted on a mule, wending his way slowly up the western slopes of the Andes. Although decidedly inelegant and unhandsome, this specimen of the human family was by no means uninteresting. He was so large, and his legs were so long, that the contrast between him and the little mule which he bestrode was ridiculous. He was what is sometimes styled “loosely put together;” nevertheless, the various parts of him were so massive and muscular that, however loosely he might have been built up, most men would have found it rather difficult to take him down. Although wanting in grace, he was by no means repulsive, for his face, which was ornamented with a soft flaxen beard and moustache of juvenile texture, expressed wonderful depths of the milk of human kindness. He wore boots with the trousers tucked into them, a grey tunic, or hunting coat, belted at the waist, and a broad-brimmed straw hat, or sombrero. Evidently the times in which he travelled were troublous, for, besides having a brace of large pistols in his belt, he wore a cavalry sabre at his side. As if to increase the eccentricity of his appearance, he carried a heavy cudgel, by way of riding-whip; but it might have been observed that, however much he flourished this whip about, he never actually applied it to his steed. On reaching a turn of the road at the brow of an eminence the mule stopped, and, letting its head droop till almost as pendent as its tail, silently expressed a desire for repose. The cavalier stepped off. It would convey a false impression to say that he dismounted. The mule heaved a sigh. “Poor little thing!” murmured the traveller in a soft, low voice, and in a language which even a mule might have recognised as English; “you may well sigh. I really feel ashamed of myself for asking you to carry such a mass of flesh and bone. But it’s your own fault—you know it is—for you won’t be led. I’m quite willing to walk if you will only follow. Come—let us try!” Gently, insinuatingly, persuasively, the traveller touched the reins, and sought to lead the way. He might as well have tried to lead one of the snow-clad peaks of the mighty Cordillera which towered into the sky before him. With ears inclining to the neck, a resolute expression in the eyes, his fore-legs thrown forward and a lean slightly backward, the mule refused to move. “Come now, do be amiable; there’s a good little thing! Come on,” said the strong youth, applying more force. Peruvian mules are not open to flattery. The advance of the fore-legs became more decided, the lean backward more pronounced, the ears went flat down, and incipient passion gleamed in the eyes. “Well, well, have it your own way,” exclaimed the youth, with a laugh, “but don’t blame me for riding you so much.” He once more re-m–; no, we forgot—he once more lifted his right leg over the saddle and sat down....

“Hurrah! that’s the way to do it!” “Now, then, Tom, see if you can’t bring Dick home!” “Give him a swift one, Frank! Don’t let him hit it!” cried Sam Rover, merrily. “I’ll knock it down into the river!” retorted Tom Rover, as he caught up a bat and walked to the home plate. “I’m waiting for you, Tom!” sang out Dick Rover, who had just reached second base on a beautiful drive to right field. “Come now, it’s time we tied the score.” “Everybody in the game!” yelled Stanley Browne, who was in the coacher’s box. “Here is where we do ’em up!”

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“At my age, too,” began Miss Helen Campbell, leaning back in her seat and folding her hands with an expression of resignation. “At your age, what, dear cousin?” demanded Wilhelmina Campbell, superintending the strapping on at the back of the car of five extra large suit cases and other paraphernalia for a long trip. “Why should not things happen at your age as well as at ours? But at your age, what?” “At my age to turn emigrant,” exclaimed the little lady. “At my age to become a gypsy vagabond. Oh, dear, oh, dear! What would grandpapa have said?” “He would have been delighted, I am certain, Cousin Helen,” answered her young relative, “since he was a soldier and a jolly old gentleman, too, papa has always said.” “But such an up to date gypsy-vagabond-emigrant, Miss Campbell,” pursued Elinor Butler, “one who rides in a motor car and wears a silk traveling coat and a sky-blue chiffon veil.”