A Time Best Book of the Year · An Entertainment Weekly Best Book of the Year · A People Best Book of the Year · Winner of the CWA Silver Dagger Award · A Finalist for the Edgar Award for Best Mystery Novel First published in 1992, Peter Høeg's Smilla's Sense of Snow instantly became an international sensation. When caustic Smilla Jaspersen discovers that her neighbor--a neglected six-year-old boy, and possibly her only friend--has died in a tragic accident, a peculiar intuition tells her it was murder. Unpredictable to the last page, Smilla's Sense of Snow is one of the most beautifully written and original crime stories of our time, a new classic.

Now in paperback, a beautifully illustrated guide to the white and green sign of spring. Elegant flowers dressed in simple white and green, snowdrops look far too fragile to deal with wintry weather. But that’s just what they do, and they have become treasured by horticulturalists for their ability to flower in the earliest parts of the year. In this book, Gail Harland explores the role snowdrops have played in gardens and popular culture alike, as a treasured genus for enthusiast growers and an important symbol of hope and consolation. Harland explores a variety of cultural meanings for the deceptively petit flower. In Victorian England snowdrop bands encouraged chastity among young women. They have been favorite subjects in paintings in many different eras, and today they are the iconic symbols of several hope-giving charities. Poets and writers have written extensively about them, as have pharmacists, who have used their chemical, galantamine, in the treatment of Alzheimer’s disease. Today some of their rarer bulbs can fetch record-breaking sums, and annual festivals that celebrate them draw people from all over the world. Walking among their brilliant white beds, Harland offers an ideal companion for any plant-lover who has ever eagerly awaited this treasured sign of spring.

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