Dr. Adam Bloom has the perfect life. He's financially secure and lives in a luxurious house with his wife, Dana, and their twentytwo- year-old daughter, Marissa, a recent college graduate. Late one night, his daughter wakes him up and says, 'Somebody's downstairs.' Adam uses his gun to kill one of the unarmed intruders, but the other escapes. From that moment on, everyone's life in the Bloom household will never be the same.

Adam doesn't feel safe, not with the other intruder out there somewhere, knowing where he lives. Dana suggests moving but Adam has lived in the house all his life and he doesn't want to run away. As the family recovers from the break-in and the Bloom's already rocky relationship rapidly falls apart, Marissa meets a young, talented artist named Xan. Adam feels that something's not quite right with Xan, but his daughter ignores his warnings and falls ever deeper in love with him. When suspicious things start happening to the Blooms all over again, Adam realizes that his first instinct about Xan was probably dead on.

With , Jason Starr is at his best, crafting a harrowing page-turner that will blow readers away.

David Miller is in a funk. He recently slumped down the journalistic food chain from the Wall Street Journal to a finance rag called Manhattan Business. The reason for Miller's fall: his unhealthy obsession with his sister only increased after she died of cancer. In addition, the young reporter lost his friends after rejecting their prescient assessment of his girlfriend as "psychotic"-and she's repaid his loyalty by partying the nights away with another man. So when Miller's lost wallet leads to a shakedown by a junkie hooker, he figures it's just another bad episode in the bleak sitcom of his life. But then the hooker's jealous boyfriend dies, potentially putting Miller on the hook for a murder rap. Flames licking at his heels, Miller grimly soldiers through a squalid story that takes on his flattened affect as it navigates the usual sordid twists and dares readers to give a damn. It's the literary equivalent of a Big Mac or Snickers bar: satisfying to devour but immediately forgotten-save for a familiar pang of guilt about straying from healthier fare.

James Taylor has always had strange dreams. Now a new terror has entered James sleep, bringing wit h it visions of a death and carnage. Visions of a beast that stalks human prey and slaughters without remorse. Visions that soon become a reality for the residents of Newton , Texas as the creature's victims are discovered.

From Publishers Weekly

Starred Review. Starr (The Follower) traces the life of a New York bar bouncer down on his luck in this sinister noir tale. Tommy Russo, an aspiring actor, wants in on the deal of a lifetime: purchasing a racehorse with several other backers. Gambling addict Russo barely has enough money to buy a burger, let alone contribute 10 grand, so he hocks a girlfriend's jewelry and then moves on to stealing from his boss's safe. Russo's gradual spiral down into complete degeneration is so expertly crafted that readers will be shocked to compare the hopeful actor with his final incarnation as hardened criminal. Starr expertly combines elements of hard-boiled crime novels with a dark view of human nature to create a one-of-a-kind, mesmerizing read. (June)
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From Booklist

Starr revisits the territory of his Nothing Personal (2000), paring the story of a doomed gambler down to its most basic elements for a swift, irresistible plummet through the darkness. Tommy Russo is a struggling actor (is there any other kind?) working as a bouncer and playing the role of his lifetime in his daily portrayal of someone with a soul, in place of which he hosts an unhealthy appetite for long odds and easy money, a fierce temper, and a genius for denial. Pursued by his trusting boss’s boozy wife—more wolverine than cougar—Russo never stops grabbing for the brass ring, and heaven help anyone who gets in his way. Russo embodies addiction’s insatiable sociopathic drive: he is a shark in human form, fated to swim continuously or die, casually devouring lovers, friends, and associates without a second thought. Round and round and round he goes, and where he’ll stop, nobody knows. Pulpy thrills for the Jim Thompson set. --David Wright

James Taylor has always had strange dreams.

Sometimes they are just that: dreams. But sometimes, the dreams come true.

Now a new terror has entered James sleep, bringing wit h it visions of a death and carnage.

Visions of a beast that stalks human prey and slaughters without remorse. Visions that soon become a reality for the residents of Newton, Texas as the creature's victims are discovered.

Like it or not, James knows it is up to him to act. Alone or with the help of local law enforcement, he plans to use his special talent to stop this monstrous Doppelganger before it strikes again.

Raised above his father’s Toronto bookstore, Vincent Starrett grew to love books, especially mysteries like those of Arthur Conan Doyle. Over the course of his career, Starrett was a reporter, critic, and novelist. He also wrote mystery stories for pulp magazines, creating his fair share of unique characters, brought to life in this collection of thrilling mystery novelettes . . .

In “The Blue Door,” two young men, searching for one last drink after a Saturday night of partying, find themselves in a predicament the likes of which only well-known mystery writer Bartlett Honeywell can solve.

In “Too Many Sleuths,” bibliophile bookseller and amateur sleuth G. Washington Troxell investigates the case of a murdered spinster with the help of his friend, crime reporter Frederick Dellabough.

In “The Woman in Black,” veteran journalist Volney Kingston can usually figure out any conundrum life throws his way, but when a mysterious woman clad all in black begins following him around, he must turn to famed Chicago private investigator Jimmy Lavender.

Other featured stories include “The Fingernail Clue,” “The Wrong Stairway,” “The Street of Idols,” “A Volume of Poe,” “The Skylark,” “The Ace of Clubs,” and “Out There in the Dark.”

Soy Zen.Zen es mi nombre, traducido a su lenguaje. Al lenguaje de ustedes, claro. Digamos que yo no tengo nombre. Pero, aproximadamente, me denomino Zen, en mi propia escala vital.No soy un ente vivo, en el concepto de ustedes, al menos. Pero vivo. Existo. Y, como tal, pienso, reflexiono, observo, veo...Ninguno de ustedes lo diría, viéndome. Si es que pudieran verme.No soy materia. No tengo forma. No me parezco en nada a ustedes. Soy... apenas un chispazo, una lucecilla parpadeante y rápida que penetra en su atmósfera terrestre. En realidad, para que me comprendiesen mejor, debería decirles que soy puro pensamiento, o bien pura energía mental viva.

Es curioso.Nunca había visto esa luz. Nunca.Hay muchas luces en el cielo oscuro. Muchas, cuando no las cubren las nubes. Esas oscuras y feas nubes que, cuando estallan sobre uno, revientan materialmente en agua, en fulgores y en estruendos. La Tierra, entonces, se conmueve y agita. El fuego todavía hierve con demasiada fuerza en sus entrañas. Los lagos de lava caliente borbotean allá, en la brumosa distancia caliente. Son como erupciones a flor de piel, de ese fuego interno y terrible que aún no hace mucho invadía la superficie de este maldito cuerpo celeste donde he nacido y donde vivo.