The astonishing story of a singer-songwriter living on the streets of Nashville who met Jesus, got sober, and found international stardom at the age of 62. Doug Seegers left New York for Nashville in search of every songwriter’s dream. When he didn’t find success, he fell into a state of loneliness that fed an addiction he had battled since adolescence. Soon, he was homeless, playing his guitar on the street with a cardboard sign asking for money. But then he cried out to God in repentance and need, and God graciously met him. Doug then found sobriety, regained some footing, and in a miraculous moment was discovered outside a food pantry by a Swedish musician and documentarian who put his story on the air in Stockholm. Within days of the documentary airing--even though he still walked to the public library every day and acquired most of his belongings from nearby Dumpsters--Doug had the number-one selling song in Sweden. Going Down to the River is Doug’s inspirational story of faith, forgiveness, and the power of prayer and belief. It is also the never-give-up tale of a man who played music for 55 years without success only to become a chart-topping artist at the age of 62.

The American prison system has grown tenfold in thirty years, while crime rates have been relatively flat: 2 million people are behind bars on any given day, more prisoners than in any other country in the world — half a million more than in Communist China, and the largest prison expansion the world has ever known. In Going Up The River, Joseph Hallinan gets to the heart of America’s biggest growth industry, a self-perpetuating prison-industrial complex that has become entrenched without public awareness, much less voter consent. He answers, in an extraordinary way, the essential question: What, in human terms, is the price we pay? He has looked for answers to that question in every corner of the “prison nation,” a world far off the media grid — the America of struggling towns and cities left behind by the information age and desperate for jobs and money. Hallinan shows why the more prisons we build, the more prisoners we create, placating everyone at the expense of the voiceless prisoners, who together make up one of the largest migrations in our nation’s history.

In the peaceful town of Grace Valley, neighbors are like family—and just as meddlesome, too. June Hudson is the town's doctor, a caring, capable woman who now has a bit of explaining to do. People are beginning to notice the bloom in her cheeks—and the swell of her belly. Happily, DEA agent Jim Post is back in June's arms for good, newly retired from undercover work and ready for new beginnings here in Grace Valley. Expecting the unexpected is a way of life in Grace Valley, and the community is overflowing with gossip right now. Who is the secret paramour June's aunt Myrna is hiding? Does the town's poker-playing pastor have too many aces up his sleeve? But when dangers, from man and nature, rise up with a vengeance to threaten June and the town, this community pulls together and shows what it's made of. And Jim discovers the true meaning of happiness here in Grace Valley: there really is no place like home.

"You already been a punk. Least you can do is go out like a man." Then a dull popping sound and a quiet splash. In his third appearance in George Pelecanos's acclaimed series, Nick Stefanos has been spending too much time with bad women and bad booze. Which is why he wakes up one blurry morning on the banks of the Anacostia River, hungover and miserable -- and now a witness to a murder. With the help of a partner as straight-arrow as Nick is bent, Nick decides to track down the killer, an investigation that leads them through the roughest part of the nation's capital, and into the blackest parts of the human soul.

Originally published in 1867, this book is a collection of songs of African-American slaves. A few of the songs were written after the emancipation, but all were inspired by slavery. The wild, sad strains tell, as the sufferers themselves could, of crushed hopes, keen sorrow, and a dull, daily misery, which covered them as hopelessly as the fog from the rice swamps. On the other hand, the words breathe a trusting faith in the life after, to which their eyes seem constantly turned.