Read one way, this book describes all the wonderful things aunts do, and when turned over, it depicts why uncles are special.

All the fruits gather together and enjoy a rhyming party, but poor Orange feels left out because he does not rhyme with anything--until Apple invents a new word.

A girl experiences a tumultuous and overwhelming visit from her aunts, but when they finally say good-bye she discovers that the uncles are on their way to visit.

There's a time for yes—and there's a time for no. Oh Hell No! is a collection of art and essays that serve a much-needed reminder to say no to anything that might waste our precious energy. Reclaim your time with the help of these sassy illustrated sayings and astute insights. • A timely celebration of the joy of saying no • Features passionate prose from feminist scholar Sara Ahmed • Includes actionable advice from author and journalist Dani Katz From polite refusal to emphatic rejection, we need that two letter word now more than ever. Oh Hell No! is a reminder and a celebration of the universal human right to say "I would prefer not to." • The ultimate naysayer's manifesto • The perfect self-purchase for feminists, introverts, activists, realists, or burned-out overachievers who are trying to say "no" more often • You'll love this book if you love books like The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living a Good Life by Mark Manson; Boundaries Updated and Expanded Edition: When to Say Yes, How to Say No To Take Control of Your Life by Henry Cloud and John Townsend; and F*ck Feelings: One Shrink's Practical Advice for Managing All Life's Impossible Problems by Michael Bennett MD and Sarah Bennett.

From the USA TODAY bestselling author of Sweet Thing and Nowhere But Here comes a love story about a Craigslist “missed connection” post that gives two people a second chance at love fifteen years after they were separated in New York City. To the Green-eyed Lovebird: We met fifteen years ago, almost to the day, when I moved my stuff into the NYU dorm room next to yours at Senior House. You called us fast friends. I like to think it was more. We lived on nothing but the excitement of finding ourselves through music (you were obsessed with Jeff Buckley), photography (I couldn’t stop taking pictures of you), hanging out in Washington Square Park, and all the weird things we did to make money. I learned more about myself that year than any other. Yet, somehow, it all fell apart. We lost touch the summer after graduation when I went to South America to work for National Geographic. When I came back, you were gone. A part of me still wonders if I pushed you too hard after the wedding… I didn’t see you again until a month ago. It was a Wednesday. You were rocking back on your heels, balancing on that thick yellow line that runs along the subway platform, waiting for the F train. I didn’t know it was you until it was too late, and then you were gone. Again. You said my name; I saw it on your lips. I tried to will the train to stop, just so I could say hello. After seeing you, all of the youthful feelings and memories came flooding back to me, and now I’ve spent the better part of a month wondering what your life is like. I might be totally out of my mind, but would you like to get a drink with me and catch up on the last decade and a half? M