In Joe Gannon's debut novel, Night of the Jaguar, a former Sandinista guerrilla comandante turned cop investigates a series of murders that appear to be political executions. Sandinista Police Captain Ajax Montoya is six days sober and losing his mind. How else to explain his nights waking in bed, his hand wrapped around that bloody-minded stiletto from the old days, or the presence outside his window, a face with no eyes watching him? How far the heroic have fallen. Ajax was once the gallant comandante guerrillero. A hero of the Nicaraguan revolutionaries in their long uprising against the Ogre and his hated National Guard. Back then he'd been the guy who got the bloody missions -- as a lowly grunt with that blade, or the commander of an entire front. Back then he knew what was what and who to trust. But as the clarity of war gave way to the hazy reality of peace, Ajax fared less well. And after he took the fall for an assassination he had no part of, he tumbled into a bottle, and maybe out of his mind. Now he's a homicide investigator in Managua solving murders and sweating through the nightmares from his guerilla days. When he's called to investigate a robbery turned gruesome murder, Ajax recognizes the marks of a surprising enemy - the CIA mercenary army known as The Contra. This isn't just a random murder; this is an execution, a call to war. Or is it? And why does no one want to know but Ajax? As the bodies pile up and a red-headed gringa who should be his enemy enchants his thoughts, Ajax questions whether he can stay sober, sane, and alive long enough to figure it all out.

Vainglory begins in France in 1429, the year of the Siege of Orléans, as Victoire de Gloriole regains possession of the family castle from the English following the Battle of Agincourt. Having consolidated his position by marrying a beautiful Englishwoman, Victoire sets out to rebuild a dynasty and a castle. However some years on, he finds himself without a legitimate heir, and at war with a family of scheming cousins. From Joan of Arc and the 15th century wars with the English through to Catherine de Medici and the slaughter of the Huguenots, Vainglory tells the story of a power-hungry family who will let nothing and no one get in their way. Cleverly plotted and beautifully written, it is a historical novel of rare class.

"The latest entry in National Geographic's popular photo line gives readers a front-row seat to the wonders of landscape photography. Choosing from among the world's best portfolios, curators at National Geographic have arranged a symphony of photographs that tell the story of a single day, from dawn's first light to the closing moments of sunset, from daylight to dark. Short legends accompany every photograph to explain the picture, the scene it conveys, or how the photographer captured it, along with quotations from literature that provide historical context. With the widest possible array of perspectives, close-ups, and details, these photos present a lifetime of vision, each page a new experience of time and light"--

From the pen of acclaimed writer M. Shayne Bell, winner of the Writers of the Future Contest, here are futures to make come true . . . and also futures that should never come true -- but will.

When it comes to obesity, diabetes, heart disease, cancer, and depression, everything you believe is a lie. With research gleaned from the National Institutes of Health, T.S. Wiley and Bent Formby deliver staggering findings: Americans really are sick from being tired. Diabetes, heart disease, cancer, and depression are rising in our population. We’re literally dying for a good night’s sleep. Our lifestyle wasn’t always this way. It began with the invention of the lightbulb. When we don’t get enough sleep in sync with seasonal light exposure, we fundamentally alter a balance of nature that has been programmed into our physiology since day one. This delicate biological rhythm rules the hormones and neurotransmitters that determine appetite, fertility, and mental and physical health. When we rely on artificial light to extend our day until 11 p.m., midnight, and beyond, we fool our bodies into living in a perpetual state of summer. Anticipating the scarce food supply and forced inactivity of winter, our bodies begin storing fat and slowing metabolism to sustain us through the months of hibernation and hunger that never arrive. Our own survival instinct, honed over millennia, is now killing us. Wiley and Formby also reveal: -That studies from our own government research prove the role of sleeplessness in diabetes, heart disease, cancer, infertility, mental illness, and premature aging -Why the carbohydrate-rich diets recommended by many health professionals are not only ridiculously ineffective but deadly -Why the lifesaving information that can turn things around is one of the best-kept secrets of our day. Lights Out is one wake-up call none of us can afford to miss.

Boys' Life is the official youth magazine for the Boy Scouts of America. Published since 1911, it contains a proven mix of news, nature, sports, history, fiction, science, comics, and Scouting.

It's a funny thing, but most monsters seem to be of the opinion that it's men who are the monsters. You know, they have a point.ExcerptTen minutes after the crackup, somebody phoned for the Army. That meant us. The black smoke of the fire, and the oily residues, which were later analyzed, proved the presence of a probable petroleum derivative. The oil was heavily tainted with radioactivity. Most likely it was fuel from the odd, conchlike reaction-motors, the exact principles of which died, as far as we were concerned, with the crash.The craft was mainly of aluminum, magnesium and a kind of stainless steel, proving that, confronted with problems similar to ones we had encountered, aliens might solve them in similar ways. From the crumpled-up wreckage which we dug out of that Missouri hillside, Klein even noticed a familiar method of making girders and braces lighter. Circular holes were punched out of them at spaced intervals.I kept hunting conviction by telling myself that, for the first time in all remembered history, we were peeking behind the veil of another planet. This should be the beginning of a new era, one of immensely widened horizons, and of high romance--but with a dark side, too. The sky was no longer a limit. There were things beyond it that would have to be reckoned with. And how does unknown meet unknown? Suppose one has no hand to shake?The mass of that wreck reeked like a hot cinder-pile and a burning garbage dump combined. It oozed blackened goo. There were crushed pieces of calcined material that looked like cuttlebone. The thin plates of charred stuff might almost have been pressed cardboard. Foot-long tubes of thin, tin-coated iron contained combined chemicals identifiable as proteins, carbohydrates and fats. Food, we decided.