The debut novel in a “riveting” Prohibition-era crime series “for readers who follow Kelli Stanley’s Miranda Corbie series or Reed Farrel Coleman’s Moe Prager books” (Library Journal). On the streets of Prohibition-era New York, Jersey Leo is one of a kind. A biracial albino known as “Snowball,” he makes his living as a bartender at a mob-run speakeasy. Abandoned by his White mother and frowned upon by his Black father, a former boxing champ, Jersey’s about to discover why he was always warned against working at a dive bar owned by one of New York’s most notorious gangsters. Duped into purchasing counterfeit moonshine, or “sugar pop moon,” with his boss’s money, Jersey must go undercover to track down the bootlegger who took him in—before his boss does him in. The clues lead him to Philadelphia, where his attempt to lure out the cheat nearly gets him killed. With a price on his head, Jersey seeks help from the only man he can trust, his father. But as Jersey and his dad delve into the origins of the mysterious sugar pop moon, stunning secrets about Jersey’s past come to light—truths that could pave the way to a very different future for Jersey. . . . “Funny, poignant, and thrilling. A terrific read!” —Kevin Baker, bestselling author of Dreamland, Paradise Alley, and Strivers Row “Harsh as a slug of 190-proof moonshine.” —Rebecca Cantrell, New York Times–bestselling author of A City of Broken Glass “Authentic period, savvy style, and memorable characters.” —Kelli Stanley, award-winning author of City of Dragonsand City of Secrets “Sure to appeal to fans of Mickey Spillane, Raymond Chandler, and . . . Robert Fate’s edgy Baby Shark series.” —Booklist

Set phasers to cozy in this humorous outer space series starter readers are calling Veronica Mars meets Star Trek. (Or is it Judy Jetson meets Stephanie Plum? You decide!) Sylvia Stryker has no business being on the next Moon Unit Cruise Line, unless you count aspirations and dreams. The career that once felt within her reach—Intergalactic Cruise Ship Security—disappeared the day her dad was arrested for collusion with space pirates. Since then, she’s begrudgingly been running the ice mine for her aging mother, the two of them social pariahs amongst their fellow Plunians. Everything changes when the uniform lieutenant position on Moon Unit 6 opens up days before departure. Sylvia immediately puts her hacking skills to use, uploading bogus credentials onto the crew manifest. Now to just lay low, do her job, and impress the new boss. Her plan goes off without a hitch until a non-celestial body falls from the uniform inventory closet after departure. Reporting it means drawing attention, the very opposite of laying low. When the head of security shows up to investigate and throws her into the spaceship holding cell, her onboard status shifts from staff to prisoner. If Sylvia can’t expose the killer herself, she’ll be bunking with her dad at the local space prison. National bestselling author Diane Vallere sends you out of this world alongside the uniform lieutenant on an intergalactic cruise with and a dead body and plenty of suspects! What readers are saying: “I really enjoyed this mixture of science fiction and cozy mystery.” “I loved how Vallere combined science fiction, mystery, drama, and humor making this book very enjoyable and hard to put down.” “I gave it a try simply because the author was Diane Vallere….I'm so glad I did….Just as you would expect, this is a totally FUN murder mystery that doesn't disappoint!” “It's like Sherlock Holmes in space... but better!” “I loved this mystery set in space.” “It is a murder mystery. It is a spy story. It is a futuristic science fiction story. It is pure genius and entertaining from start to finish.” “It's as if Star Trek married a cozy...very well done! Read and enjoy!” It's not easy being purple, especially when you're trapped on a spaceship with people who want to arrest you for a crime you didn't commit...and the one who did. Murder on a Moon Trek is the quirky first novel featuring uniform lieutenant Sylvia Stryker. If you like unique characters, delightful plots, and cool futuristic fashion, you'll love Diane Vallere's entertaining interstellar series. Previously published as FLY ME TO THE MOON. Is it a cozy mystery set in space, or an outer space with a cozy mystery? You decide! CHAPTER ONE EXCERPT: When Moon Unit 5 kicked off its inaugural trip from my home planet of Plunia, I expected the uniform closet to be stuffed to capacity. I just hadn’t expected it to be stuffed with a body. But here we were, light years from the space station where we’d departed, and instead of a closet of freshly laundered uniforms, I had a dead man. No matter how thoroughly I'd planned for today, I never could have planned for this. Maybe he wasn’t dead. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he’d had a late night partying before today’s departure and crawled into my uniform closet to take a nap. As unlikely as that explanation was, I wasn’t yet willing to accept the more probable reality. I knelt next to him and checked for a pulse on the side of his neck. His skin was cold to the touch, which was either due to his not-alive state or the twenty-degree difference between earthling temperatures (his) and Plunian temperatures (mine). In this case, it was both. No pulse, no breathing. A Code Blue. Moon Unit Corporation ran a fleet of cruise spaceships whose mission was to provide relaxing getaways to one of our galaxy’s moons. Ever since I’d learned they were reopening after years of inactivity, I’d fantasized about working for them. The fact that I’d hacked my records into their system was a minor technicality. My job was to manage the uniforms during the moon trek, and as long as I did my job and avoided ship security, my fantasy would become a reality. But this was bigger than managing uniforms. Regardless of the risks to me, I had to contact the bridge. I could send a general message over the staff communication network. I stepped away from the pile of spilled uniforms and shifted to the computer that sat above the console in the middle of the room. It was standard issue, a flat black folio with colorful buttons and a low-definition screen. Only the top members of the ship and paying passengers were given high-def equipment. For the rest of us, it was the bare minimum, Moon Unit Corporation’s way of making sure distractions didn’t surround us. To the right side of the computer was a clear plastic dome that protected a shiny red button that, despite learning about during emergency protocol training, I’d hoped never to have to use. This was a button message. I flipped the dome up and pressed the button. “Uniform Ward to the bridge. Lieutenant Sylvia Stryker reporting. There’s a situation in my ward.” “What kind of situation?” asked a female voice. It sounded like my immediate supervisor, Yeoman D’Nar. There was no official reason for her to be on the bridge during departure, but senior officers of the ship were given an open invitation to witness the launch with Captain Swift. D’Nar was exactly the type to insert herself where she wasn’t wanted. “I’m pretty sure it’s a Code Blue.” Pretty sure? I was completely sure. There was no doubt I was looking at a Code Blue. “Don’t be reckless. A Code Blue is serious. I think you made a mistake.” I bristled at her accusation but kept my voice in check. “It’s not a mistake. I memorized the codes last night.” “I don’t think you have a Code Blue. Check the BOP and report in as applicable.” The BOP—Book of Protocols—was a 237-page manual that outlined the proper method for handling everything from hydrating vacuum-packed meals to subordination expectations between low-level officers and high-ranking ones. Every ship in the galaxy had a BOP. Crew members were expected to know the rules and regulations of the ship, but the BOP existed as a backup when something unexpected happened. I picked up a small hand mirror from the nearby uniform alterations station and held it in front of the officer’s mouth. No condensation. Code Blue, alright. I hadn’t been lying about having memorized the list of codes from the BOP. I’d bought a used copy of an old Book of Protocols from the black market and studied it from cover to cover. No doubt it was outdated. The Moon Units 1-3 had had their share of trouble, and the problems with the Moon Unit 4 were still classified, but I had to start somewhere. I flipped through the pages of the Moon Unit 5 BOP, looking for an updated list of warning codes. Because my knowledge had come from the old BOP, I’d created a finding tool: a cross-reference of everything in the old manual and where to find it in the new one. I’d also had a copy of the BOP made and organized it the way I would if I were in charge of ship security. Someday, I would be. When people stopped judging me by what my dad had done before they arrested him and took him away. But today wasn’t someday, and even though the bridge blew off my call, I still had a problem that had nothing to do with uniform management. I studied the deceased officer. Who was he? A quick assessment of his uniform indicated his position and rank: red shirt, two bands circling his cuff, standard issue black pants, and gravity boots. Second navigation officer of Moon Unit 5. There were no visible wounds to indicate how he’d died. He wasn’t wearing an air purification helmet like I was, so I disconnected my inhalation tube from the oxygen tank under my uniform, held the tube in front of his mouth, and sniffed. Cherries and menthol. I reconnected the tube and then put my hand under his chin and opened his mouth wide. His tongue had a stripe of bright red down the middle like he’d been sucking on a throat lozenge. It was common practice among crew members during takeoff because frequent swallowing kept ears from plugging up. “What are you doing?” said a voice behind me. I turned my head and bumped my protective fiberglass bubble helmet on the closet door. My helmet bounced off the surface. I blinked a few times and then looked up. Uh-oh. Even if I’d been face to face with the man in the uniform ward, he would have towered over me. He had a bald head and dark, pointed eyebrows that shielded dark eyes. Long, straight nose and lips that were drawn in a line and turned down on the sides. His arms crossed in front of his body, and his biceps bulged below the hem of the short sleeves of his dark blue jumpsuit. My mind flashed over a series of facts and images I’d memorized before my official first day, and I reached one conclusion. This man was from the maintenance crew. My know-it-all boss must have told him I called in the wrong code and sent him here to clean up whatever mess I’d caused. “I’m Sylvia Stryker. I spoke with Yeoman D’Nar about a Code Blue. Did she send you?” He looked over my shoulder at the body. “Move,” he said. I stood quickly. The action triggered a bout of vertigo. I put my hand on my counter just behind where I’d left the open Book of Protocols. Yikes! If this guy saw that I’d torn apart and rearranged the protocol manual, he’d report me to ship security without a second thought. I moved a few inches to the left and turned around to block his view of the counter. “They must have notified you. You’re with maintenance, right?” His expression didn’t change. “I haven’t heard anything about a Code Blue.” “Oh.” I looked over my shoulder to where I’d moved the body. “Maybe the bridge was busy with takeoff.” Unlike my uniform, the muscular man’s didn’t have the Moon Unit insignia—a silver number 5 surrounded by circles on their axis like the rings around Saturn, all contained in an orange patch edged in black thread. It was the same insignia on my ID card and woven into the carpet in the employee lounge and on the cover of the BOP and every single uniform in the inventory closet. But it wasn’t on him. Still, the deceased officer deserved to be in a more honorable location than the inventory closet and I needed help moving him. But since there was the tiniest chance that ship security would uncover the fact that I hadn’t indeed been hired through proper channels and might be viewed as a stowaway on board the ship, I’d planned to lay low until we’d cleared the breakaway point in our moon trek. Maybe Yeoman D’Nar’s lack of urgency was a blessing in disguise. “He’s dead,” I said. “How?” “I don’t know. He was inside the uniform closet when I got here. I checked for a pulse but couldn’t find it.” “You need to notify the bridge.” “Well, duh,” I said. “I probably know the ship protocols better than you do. I contacted the bridge and told Yeoman D’Nar I had a Code Blue, but she didn’t believe me.” I looked at the body over the large man’s shoulder. “Can you help me move him? I have to prep for departure, and I can’t do that while he’s blocking my inventory.” The man’s back was to me, but he turned his head to the side so I could see his profile. His eyebrow raised again. He slipped his arms under the officer’s neck and knees and then stood up and lifted him like he was lifting a bag of potatoes. Plunia was filled with potato farms, and when I wasn’t working in the ice mines with my mom, I’d often played in the potato fields. I was pretty sure Plunian potatoes weighed a lot less than the second nav officer. The maintenance man set the body on the reclining bench alongside the inside wall of the uniform ward. He draped a dressing gown over him, covering his face and red shirt. The dressing gown was only so long, though, so the officer’s bottom half still showed. “Your ward is off limits,” the maintenance man said. “No!” I said. “I mean, this is my job on the ship. I expect today to be slow because everybody is probably wearing their best uniform, but still, if I don’t open the uniform ward, the crew will ask questions.” “Do you have something to hide?” he asked. I crossed my arms over my magenta uniform. “You ask a lot of questions for a janitor.” He seemed surprised, and then his lips pressed together, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “Why do you think I’m the janitor?” “I don’t recognize your uniform, and I know all the different ones on the ship. The only people on the ship wearing uniforms that don’t come from my ward are the janitorial crew.” The cabin doors swished open and a man in gray walked in. “Neptune, Captain Swift is waiting for you in engineering. He says the crack isn’t sealed.” “Neptune?” I asked. I looked back and forth between the new guy and the one who’d been asking all the questions. “I thought Neptune was the head of Moon Unit security division?” “I am,” the original man said. Oh, no. I’d heard about Neptune. He was the one person I’d been hoping to avoid. ---------------------------------------------- For fans of Star Trek, Star Wars, Dune, UFO, The Orville, Galaxy Quest, Lost in Space, and The Jetsons...who also like Hallmark Mysteries. Diane-Fans describe “her vintage Vallere goodness,” and say she is a “great storyteller” with “a way with creating strong female characters and intrigue” who is “a superb and very humorous writer.” Her gift of creating “spunky sleuths in fun settings” take readers to Dallas, Palm Springs, Los Angeles, Pennsylvania, and outer space.

Enjoy this humorous outer space time travel mystery adventure with uniform lieutenant Sylvia Stryker and a supporting cast of quirky aliens by national bestselling author Diane Vallere… Tomorrow is yesterday and next week may never come in this new space adventure with notes of Veronica Mars and Lost in Space! Sylvia Stryker is the Moon Unit Corporation’s employee of the month. Impressive, since her side gig solving intergalactic mysteries takes up most of her time. But she is put to a new test after her mentor, Neptune, flies through a wormhole to meet with a reclusive scientist about the faulty chip powering their lunar module. The contact has been hiding from accusations of murder on another planet. Even more startling is the identity of the scientist: a family member Sylvia never thought she’d see again. When Neptune’s space pod vanishes into a parallel timeline, Sylvia is quick to follow, but a face-to-face with her younger self threatens her reality. She is thrust into a time-bending journey where the unsolved murder becomes central to her mission. With a missing boss, a malfunctioning navigational system, and a family reunion hanging in the balance, Sylvia’s race against time just might save the world…or eradicate it from existence. Can Sylvia repair the circuits of time, or will she stay lost in space with a killer? For fans of Star Trek, Star Wars, Dune, UFO, The Orville, Galaxy Quest, Lost in Space, The Jetsons, Back to the Future, and Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Diane-Fans describe “her vintage Vallere goodness,” and say she is a “great storyteller” with “a way with creating strong female characters and intrigue” who is “a superb and very humorous writer.” Her gift of creating “spunky sleuths in fun settings” take readers to Dallas, Palm Springs, Los Angeles, Pennsylvania, and outer space. CHAPTER ONE EXCERPT: “We have a problem,” Neptune said. “Just one?” I asked. My morning had been spent repairing the intake valve on the Moon Unit’s air conditioning unit and trying, unsuccessfully, to reboot the Intergalactic Positioning System. We were somewhere between the docking station and Earth’s moon. This was a test drive of the new Moon Unit designs, sent on a mock journey designed to identify and work out the kinks before we took on paying passengers. There had been some trouble with Moon Unit Cruises in the past, and this was management’s way of minimizing bad press if something went wrong this time. On paper, the trip was a straight shot, and I was more concerned about what would happen if the AC crapped out than the possibility of criminal activity amongst the skeletal crew. “There’s an asteroid headed to Earth,” Neptune continued. “Trajectory has it hitting the planet and knocking it off its axis in the next sixteen hours.” “I studied Earth at the Space Academy. Asteroids have landed there before, and there’s never been any long-term damage.” “This time is different.” He turned his back to me and keyed a command into my computer. We were standing in the uniform ward, which is where I was officially assigned to work. Neither the crew nor the passengers on the Moon Unit knew I doubled as an undercover security agent between laundering and folding uniforms, and that worked out just fine for me. On my first few moon treks, my work on the side hadn’t been sanctioned, and this way was a lot more secure. Moon Units were cruise ships that delivered on the promise of vacation getaways on various moons in the galaxy. Our home base was on a space station between two of the thirteen colonies that made up the galaxy. When the company first started out, each Moon Unit had a number, but somewhere after the eighth iteration, MU-Corp settled on a mass-produced design and offered franchise opportunities to the masses. Now, there were any number of ships flying around from the docking station to moons and back, and I was but one of their employees. There’d been some talk about pulling the original crew members from flights to handle new employee orientation, but no one had contacted me about it. Though that might have something to do with my unsanctioned activities in the past. Neptune was a behemoth of a man, a solid wall of muscle and sex appeal wrapped up in black tech gear from head to toe. I had a similar outfit but had to wear a crew uniform to keep the passengers from learning about my double life. Neptune typed a command into the computer, and a three-dimensional image appeared in the air between us. It rendered the solar system that included Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars. Using hand motions, he zoomed in on the image and blew up the portion that showed Earth. Our destination, Earth’s moon, was visible, as was a small white spaceship with the Moon Unit logo on the side. Trailing us but headed the same general direction was an irregularly shaped mass that looked not unlike a broken piece of a frozen Mars Bar. It turned over itself as it moved, slowly inching toward the blue marble. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the object. My finger got too close to the 3D rendering, and the image blinked, as if on the fritz. I pulled my finger away, and the fritz dissolved into a ripple that spread outward toward the edge. “Sorry. I’m still getting used to this thing.” “That’s the asteroid.” “It’s bigger than Mercury!” “That’s the problem.” “Where did it come from?” He pointed to the edge of the rendering. “Current flight path indicates it came from the Kuiper Belt.” “You live outside the Kuiper Belt. Have you ever seen an asteroid that size?” “No.” “Doesn’t that make you curious? About where it really came from? Who set it in motion? If it’s a freak of nature or a nefarious plot to take out Earth? Maybe Earth wasn’t even the destination. Maybe it was sent to take out your ranch.” “When did you add conspiracy theorist to your resume?” I turned my back to him, exasperated, and threw my hands up in the air. “I don’t believe this,” I said then turned back and put my hands on my hips. “If there’s ever a time for conspiracy theories, it’s when a giant asteroid is on its way to take out a planet.” We stood there in a face-off: me with hands balled into fists that rested on my hips, Neptune with his beefy arms crossed over his broad chest. We’d found ourselves in this stance before, but even worse, the sketch artist who’d been employed by the Moon Unit Corporation to capture spontaneous moments on each Moon Trek had found us in this position, too, and our likeness hung next to the vending machines in the employee lounge. I would have made a stink about it, but considering the other position Neptune and I sometimes found ourselves in, I considered it a good thing the sketch artist didn’t have access to our crew quarters. For all of the times we’d found ourselves at an impasse, I’d never once experienced Neptune giving in, but I knew one day I would wear him down. For starters, I was half his size, which meant I had twice the energy. I had exactly zero scientific data to back that up, but simply believing it got me up most mornings. “So there’s an asteroid of unknown origin headed toward the third planet from the sun,” I summarized. “I agree with you. That is a problem. What do you propose?” “An emergency ship is going to rendezvous with the Moon Unit at Zulu Twenty. I’m going to board that ship.” I glanced at my space watch. “That’s in less than an hour!” He continued as if I hadn’t interrupted him. “If I can get into position, I can hitch onto the end of the asteroid before it slingshots around Venus. The increased weight tacked onto the asteroid should change its course.” “Who’s flying the emergency ship here?” “It’s a self-driving vehicle.” “I can’t believe you trust that technology.” I jabbed my finger at the 3D rendering again, this time not caring that with every jab, the image distorted then returned. “You’d have better odds warning Earth and involving their military.” “Can’t. Earth’s moon is a military-free zone. That was the only way these vacation packages could be green-lit. If they dispatch Space Force, they’ll be in violation of a dozen regulations. If anybody finds out they deployed, there will be accusations, and just filing the paperwork to contest those accusations will bankrupt the planet.” Time hadn’t been kind to planet Earth. First, people blamed it on the population. More people meant more need for resources, and initially, that meant new industries. But when space travel became viable, the wealthiest residents packed up and moved to a newer, shinier planet, taking with them the capital that funded those industries. Most of the planets had been retrofitted with domes and energy grids to allow residential development, and there’s nothing the wealthy like more than a chance to get in on the ground floor of a new real estate development. So while living quarters popped up on Mercury, Venus, Mars, and Jupiter, Earth, the OG of home bases, was left to scramble for a new identity. It took a long time for Earth to recover from the change to their population makeup, and the history books described it as a dark stain on the planet’s history. Eventually, they rebuilt, depending heavily on trades passed down through generations. New leaders accepted that they could no longer ignore the siren call of the solar system to their aspirational residents, and they licensed off the moon as their most valuable asset to keep hungry developers from attempting to buy it outright. Moon Unit Corporation was the leader in the space cruise sector, and it was rumored that a late-night meeting between our CEO and Earth’s representative had resulted in a handshake deal that gave us exclusive rights to the planet’s only natural satellite. A lot of people felt MU Corp had taken advantage of Earth, but thanks to my ability to hack into the dark web and access the content of redacted documents, I knew the deal had single-handedly kept the planet from becoming the property of the highest bidder. After fighting space pirates and corrupt government officials, it felt good to know I was on the team of the good guys. Neptune studied me. We’d been working together for a few years now. Our first meeting had been less than auspicious. He assumed I was guilty of murder and tossed me in the spaceship clink. It wasn’t until later, after I thwarted a plan to sabotage the spaceship we were on and catch the real murderer, that he acknowledged my usefulness. It took a little bit longer to convince him to train me in spaceship security, though we’d both agreed that my official position as uniform manager was a valuable cover for clandestine operations. The last big case we’d solved, we’d come at from separate angles. Neptune had been arrested for a crime he didn’t commit—I always wondered if that made him feel any guilt about what he’d done to me, but I had yet to broach the subject—and I’d scoured the dark web for months trying to design a mission to bust him out. But as was usually the case, a simple jailbreak turned into a production that had repercussions felt around the whole galaxy. Since then, a few things had changed. Federation Council, the reigning body that governed the thirteen colonies, had found itself in dire need of restructuring. Unchecked terrorist acts from space pirates had kept the council from seeing corruption within its own ranks, and the tradition of one-and-done elections for councilperson positions had been called into question. A new, radical group of movers and shakers didn’t accept the rules as they’d been laid out centuries ago, and as more and more alien life forms got displaced from their habitats, thanks to violence, each of the thirteen colonies became more assorted. Even Colony Thirteen, where prisoners were sent to serve out their sentences, had become a mix of rehabilitated criminals who had nowhere else to go when their time was up. In more personal matters, Neptune and I acknowledged that there might be more to our synergy than an employer/employee relationship, but choosing a relationship over work wasn’t in either of our cards. I’d spent my life dreaming of space travel from Plunia, the planet where I’d grown up, and Neptune had fought in multiple wars defending the galaxy. We worked well together. Being half-Plunian helped, as it quickly smacked down any possible emotional attachments that my human half inconveniently reared. I couldn’t speak for Neptune, but I thought it was better this way. The Moon Unit corporation had given him a promotion and made me Employee of the Month, so I was pretty sure they agreed. “The emergency pod has an override code,” Neptune said as if no time had passed. “If anything goes wrong with the autopilot, I can turn off the system and drive it manually. The Moon Trek is on target to circle Earth’s moon in three days. That gives me plenty of time to head off the asteroid and return.” “And if all doesn’t go as planned?” “It’s your job to see that it does.” Already, I didn’t like the sound of this. “I already have a job. I have two! What if I don’t have time to rescue you too?” “I’ll float around the galaxy for infinity.” “You think I won’t let that happen, but it might be nice to get a break in my workload for a while.” “I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about the moon landing. You’ll need to oversee it.” Oh, right, fine. The rescue mission wasn’t about him. It never was. Except that one time when it was. Neptune didn’t like to talk about that. “The bridge has the coordinates for the moon landing,” Neptune said. “The captain and the first officers are monitoring the journey. There is a clear path from here to the moon, and the space travel controllers have confirmed a cease in space traffic for the duration of our trip.” “It’s amazing what a little tourist money can buy.” Neptune stifled a smile at my cynicism. Ever since Earth officials discovered how much money they could make by converting the moon to a vacation destination and renting out packages to various cruise ships in the galaxy, trips to the moon had been added to our regular rotation. It was among the less expensive getaways one could take on a Moon Unit, and the company found it worthwhile to maintain an entry-level experience to get potential repeat customers into its marketing funnel. “So,” I said, returning to the matter at hand, “if the ship is on autopilot and the first officers have everything under control, what’s there for me to do? Aside from my uniform management responsibilities.” “You’re off uniforms while I’m gone. I need you suited up in your security rig in case I need to communicate with you.” “If I’m going to maintain my cover, I can’t just abandon the uniform ward.” “Get Pika to handle it. She’s managed before, hasn’t she?” I rolled my eyes. Pika was a playful pink Gremlon with an undiagnosed attention deficit disorder and an unchecked attraction to anything that sparkled. Relying on Pika would have consequences, though it was difficult to predict what they would be. “What if something goes wrong? How will I reach you?” “You won’t. For the twenty-three hours I’m gone, it’s up to you to handle whatever comes your way.”

One Nation Under Baseball highlights the intersection between American society and America's pastime during the 1960s, when the hallmarks of the sport--fairness, competition, and mythology--came under scrutiny. John Florio and Ouisie Shapiro examine the events of the era that reshaped the game: the Koufax and Drysdale million-dollar holdout, the encroachment of television on newspaper coverage, the changing perception of ballplayers from mythic figures to overgrown boys, the arrival of the everyman Mets and their free-spirited fans, and the lawsuit brought against team owners by Curt Flood. One Nation Under Baseball brings to life the seminal figures of the era--including Bob Gibson, Marvin Miller, Tom Seaver, and Dick Young--richly portraying their roles during a decade of flux and uncertainty.

War in the Ring presents a riveting nonfiction book for kids about a boxing match that represented the growing tensions between the United States and Nazi Germany in the lead up to World War II. Joe Louis was born on an Alabama cotton patch and raised in a Detroit ghetto. Max Schmeling grew up in poverty in Hamburg, Germany. For both boys, boxing was a path out and a ladder up. Little did they know that they would one day face each other in a pair of matches that would capture the world's attention. Joe grew into a symbol of inspiration to a nation of Black Americans hoping to carve a slice of the 'American Dream' in a racially fractured country. Max, on the other hand, became a Nazi symbol for the superiority of the Aryan race. The battles waged between Joe and Max still resonate, and the cultural implications of the international sensation continue to reverberate far past the ring.

It was 1976 when Leon and Michael Spinks first punched their way into America’s living rooms. That year, they became the first brothers to win Olympic gold in the same Games. Shortly thereafter, they became the first brothers to win the heavyweight title: Leon toppled The Greatest, Muhammad Ali; Michael beat the unbeatable Larry Holmes. With a cast of characters that includes Ali, Holmes, Mike Tyson, Gerry Cooney, Dwight Qawi, Eddie Mustafa Muhammad and dozens of friends, relatives, and boxing figures, ONE PUNCH FROM THE PROMISED LAND tells the unlikely story of the Spinks brothers. Their rise from the Pruitt-Igoe housing disaster. Their divergent paths of success. And their relationship with America. The book also uncovers stories never before made public: the big paydays, the high living, the backroom deals. It’s not afraid to tackle an issue rarely discussed: Does the heavyweight title deliver on its promise to young men in the inner city? This is the definitive story of Leon and Michael Spinks. And a cross-examination of heavyweight boxing in 20th century America.

From the great popularizer of alternative medicine, here is a collection of essays about his travels to South America in the early 1970s in search of information on altered states of consciousness, drug use in other cultures, and other matters having to do with the complementarity of mind and body. Andrew Weil's experiences during this time laid the foundation for his mission to restore the connection between medicine and nature. In The Marriage of the Sun and Moon, now updated with a new preface by the author, the esteemed Dr. Weil attempts to empower patients to take fuller charge of their destinies.

The latest sequel in the Prohibition-Era crime series is “hard-boiled enough to remind readers of Hammett and Chandler,” featuring the biracial bartender up against a corrupt cop (Kirkus Reviews). Jersey Leo knows what it means to be the underdog. After all, he’s the guy known on the streets as “Snowball,” a biracial albino working the bar at Philadelphia’s Ink Well, a Prohibition joint serving up moonshine to a mostly Black clientele. So when death row inmate Aaron Garvey calls to ask for one last favor, Jersey can’t say no. Aaron may be a convicted cop-killer, but he’s also the childhood friend who stood up to Jersey’s bullies. As a Black kid with the kind of colorless features only the mother who abandoned him could love, Jersey had a lot of enemies. And the numbers keep growing, though this time it’s crooked cops looking to break Jersey’s legs—or worse—after Aaron springs himself from prison just moments after he and Jersey share his last meal. But that doesn’t stop Jersey from hiding the escaped convict while he uncovers the real story about what happened that night Aaron pulled the trigger. Even Jersey’s father, a former boxing champ, is on his side this time, along with Jersey’s childhood crush, Myra Banks. With his dad in his corner and a good-looking dame on his arm, will Jersey uncover the truth before it’s too late? “Compelling. . . . Florio has an unerring feel for the era and people, and we believe in these characters. Readers will cheer for Leo, a tough guy with a heart of hurt.” —Publishers Weekly (starred review) “Hits a comfortable niche between hard-boiled and breezy.” —The Philadelphia Inquirer

Can love prevail over lust? Or is Valentine Lobo doomed to replay a tragedy written long ago by his ancestors? His marriage to Mirella Canalis isn’t just a means to an end any longer. After almost losing his bride, Valentine has realized his feelings for her run deep and he would do anything to keep her safe. Even if that means forfeiting his only chance to conceive an heir. But old and new enemies have other plans for Valentine and Mirella, and his sacrifice could be all for naught. Space opera, steamy romance & shifters!

The crop of candy corns is shrinking! Is someone playing a trick? Mellie the Caramel Fairy and her friends will find out! At the Harvest Festival all the fairies expect to eat candy corn, but Mellie discovers that the Chuchies are back and have been digging in the fields, pulling up the candy corns before the fairies can collect them. Princess Lolli will see that the Chuchies learn a lesson, and Mellie and her friends harvest a new crop of candy corn just in time.