One of the Best Humor Books of 2021! (Vulture) You are a HUMAN MAN navigating every day life, dating, bus etiquette, and other important human concerns. You are definitely NOT A WOLF. Life is good. You have a job, an apartment in a nice part of town, and an online dating profile that’s recently yielded as many as three matches. From the outside, it would appear you’re a human man that has all the pieces of a stable and functional life. But you also have a horrible secret. You’re not a human man at all. You're a WOLF. Based on the immensely popular Twitter account @SickOfWolves, this interactive story follows you, (who, if anyone asks, is NOT A WOLF) as you go about normal life, making choices that will either reveal your true identity or allow you to keep your cover. Each choice is crucial to your survival and, more importantly, your burgeoning graphic design career. Will you navigate water cooler gossip without arousing suspicion? Can you go on a date without bringing up how much you love ham? Or is it perhaps time to throw this human world to the wind and return to the woods from whence you came?

From New York Times bestselling author Mariko Tamaki (Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me, Harley Quinn: Breaking Glass) and artist Yoshi Yoshitani (Zatanna and the House of Secrets) comes a story about Mandy, the daughter of super-famous superhero Starfire. Seventeen-year-old Mandy, daughter of Starfire, is not like her mother. Starfire is gorgeous, tall, sparkly, and a hero. Mandy is not a sparkly superhero. Mandy has no powers. She’s a kid who dyes her hair black and hates everyone but her best friend, Lincoln. To Starfire, who is from another planet, Mandy seems like an alien, like some distant, angry, light-years away moon. And ever since she walked out on her SATs, which her mom doesn’t know about, Mandy has been even more distant. Everyone thinks Mandy needs to go to college and become whoever you become at college, but Mandy has other plans. Or she did until she gets partnered with Claire, the person she intensely denies liking but definitely likes a lot, for a school project. When someone from Starfire’s past arrives, Mandy must make a choice: give up before the battle has even begun, or step into the unknown and risk everything to save her mom. I Am Not Starfire is a story about teenagers and/as aliens; about knowing where you come from and where you are going; and about mothers.

Sydney seems like a normal 15-year-old freshman. She hangs out underneath the bleachers, listens to music in her friend’s car, and gets into arguments with her annoying little brother ― but she also has a few secrets she’s only shared in her diary. Like how she’s in love with her best friend Dina, the bizarreness of her father's death, and those painful telekinetic powers that keep popping up at the most inopportune times. In this collection of the self-published minicomic series, Forsman expertly channels the teenage ethos in a style that evokes classic comic strips while telling a powerful story about the intense, and sometimes violent, tug of war between trauma and control.

Two fuzzy creatures go to an amusement park and discover that being frightened may not be as scary as one thinks.

The readers who enjoyed Guilty but Innocent requested that Author Walter Prucnel write a sequel. It took deep thought to exceed the mystery plot of the first book. All Is Not What It Seems surpasses the intriguing plot of murder, treason, and espionage. How terrorist can overthrow the American Government without firing a single shot. PI Dick Macy interviews a convicted murderer for a possible client

Was Shakespeare a queer? Why is cross-dressing a recurrent theme in his exceptional plays like The Merchant of Venice, As You Like It, Twelfth Night, The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Cymbeline, The Taming of the Shrew and The Merry Wives of Windsor as well as his sonnets? This book provides insights into this dilemma, though the answer lies far beyond centuries..

Rita MacNeil has long been recognized as one of the East Coast's great singer-songwriters. As a young girl with the dream of becoming a singer, she overcame a series of seemingly insurmountable obstacles and achieved success by believing in herself and refusing to give up. A trailblazer, Rita played an integral role in the women's movement in Canada and forged a path that was unique to her, paving the way for future generations of east coast musicians. Charlie Rhindress first came to know Rita as he collaborated with her on his play Flying on Her Own, incorporating more than twenty of her songs into a script that told the story of her life. For this new biography, Rhindress did extensive research and interviewed many of the people who worked with her and knew her best. The story of a strong, sensitive, complex woman emerged and the result is a powerful and moving portrait of a unique woman and important artist of her times.

National Book Award Finalist! Instant New York Times Bestseller! The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian meets Jane the Virgin in this poignant but often laugh-out-loud funny contemporary YA about losing a sister and finding yourself amid the pressures, expectations, and stereotypes of growing up in a Mexican-American home. Perfect Mexican daughters do not go away to college. And they do not move out of their parents’ house after high school graduation. Perfect Mexican daughters never abandon their family. But Julia is not your perfect Mexican daughter. That was Olga’s role. Then a tragic accident on the busiest street in Chicago leaves Olga dead and Julia left behind to reassemble the shattered pieces of her family. And no one seems to acknowledge that Julia is broken, too. Instead, her mother seems to channel her grief into pointing out every possible way Julia has failed. But it’s not long before Julia discovers that Olga might not have been as perfect as everyone thought. With the help of her best friend Lorena, and her first love, first everything boyfriend Connor, Julia is determined to find out. Was Olga really what she seemed? Or was there more to her sister’s story? And either way, how can Julia even attempt to live up to a seemingly impossible ideal? “Alive and crackling—a gritty tale wrapped in a page-turner. ”—The New York Times “Unique and fresh.” —Entertainment Weekly “A standout.” —NPR

Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. HeathcliffÕs dwelling. ÔWutheringÕ being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they must have up there at all times, indeed: one may guess the power of the north wind blowing over the edge, by the excessive slant of a few stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily, the architect had foresight to build it strong: the narrow windows are deeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting stones. Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of grotesque carving lavished over the front, and especially about the principal door; above which, among a wilderness of crumbling griffins and shameless little boys, I detected the date Ô1500,Õ and the name ÔHareton Earnshaw.Õ I would have made a few comments, and requested a short history of the place from the surly owner; but his attitude at the door appeared to demand my speedy entrance, or complete departure, and I had no desire to aggravate his impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium. One stop brought us into the family sitting-room, without any introductory lobby or passage: they call it here Ôthe houseÕ pre-eminently. It includes kitchen and parlour, generally; but I believe at Wuthering Heights the kitchen is forced to retreat altogether into another quarter: at least I distinguished a chatter of tongues, and a clatter of culinary utensils, deep within; and I observed no signs of roasting, boiling, or baking, about the huge fireplace; nor any glitter of copper saucepans and tin cullenders on the walls. One end, indeed, reflected splendidly both light and heat from ranks of immense pewter dishes, interspersed with silver jugs and tankards, towering row after row, on a vast oak dresser, to the very roof. The latter had never been under-drawn: its entire anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye, except where a frame of wood laden with oatcakes and clusters of legs of beef, mutton, and ham, concealed it. Above the chimney were sundry villainous old guns, and a couple of horse-pistols: and, by way of ornament, three gaudily-painted canisters disposed along its ledge. The floor was of smooth, white stone; the chairs, high-backed, primitive structures, painted green: one or two heavy black ones lurking in the shade. In an arch under the dresser reposed a huge, liver-coloured bitch pointer, surrounded by a swarm of squealing puppies; and other dogs haunted other recesses.