Bullets Butterflies

Crush

The fascinating story of gravity, from its intimate role in our daily lives to its cosmic significance. Gravity is at once familiar and mysterious. It’s the reason for the numbers on your bathroom scale, the intricate dance of the stars and planets, and the evolution and eventual fate of the universe. In Crush, James Riordon takes readers on a tour of gravity from its vanishing insignificance on the microscopic scale to its crushing extreme inside black holes. From the moment we lift our heads as infants until the moment we lie down and ultimately surrender to its pull at the end of our lives, we labor under the burden of gravity. It has guided the shape and structure of our bodies over eons of evolution and sculpted the Earth as it cooled from a blob of molten rock. As Riordon explains, the stars couldn’t shine without gravity holding them together. Even the atoms that form you and everything around you were forged in stellar furnaces that gravity built. It took Einstein to realize that gravity is not, in fact, a force at all, but instead the curvature of space and time. A fascinating and memorable read, Crush examines our personal relationships with gravity, explores gravity’s role in making the universe uniquely hospitable for life, and even reveals how the mundane flow of water in your kitchen sink offers a glimpse into the secrets of black holes.

For Heaven's Eyes Only

I’m Eddie Drood. AKA Shaman Bond, a member of the Drood family. We Droods have been holding back the forces of darkness for generations. It’s a hell of a job—and we’re good at it… But now, the Droods have hit a bad patch, what with the death of our Matriarch and the discovery that she was killed by one of our own. It’s left us in more than a bit of disarray, and it goes without saying that those forces of darkness are taking advantage of the situation. There’s a Satanic Conspiracy brewing—one that could throw humanity directly into the clutches of the Biggest of the Big Bads, forever. Things are looking grim—and here I am, not able to be of any help. On account of I’m dead…

American Butterflies