Tag: fantasy

Review: Fragile by Deborah Jay

~ likelystory18 ~ 1 Comment

Synopsis:

If you could heal your own body, what risks would you take?

When a childhood accident reveals Betha has a talent for magic, her terrified family insist she must never use it, for in Tyr-en, sorcery attracts the death penalty.

Brokered in marriage to an elderly lord, Betha must give up her dreams of serving in the kingdom’s guard, but as court life and intrigue become her adult world, she starts to discover there are advantages to her new position.

Settling into the privileged life of a noblewoman, she is unprepared when false accusation brings tragedy to her family, yet she determines to bring the guilty party to justice. Will she be able to do so without using magic? Or will she die trying?

FRAGILE is the origin story of a character who grew from a bit part in book #1 of THE FIVE KINGDOMS series, to a major player by book #3. It is a stand-alone story, but also an ideal entry point into the main series.

Trigger descriptions of injuries, self-harm, and torture.

Favorite Lines:

“She might never achieve her childhood dreams, but she could at least make the most of her situation.”

“Some things are worth a woman enduring for the benefits they bring.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Fragile is one of those books that looks like it’s going to be about magic, but ends up being about power — who has it, who doesn’t, and what it costs to take some back for yourself. From the opening chapters, Betha is framed as small, breakable, and constrained by everyone else’s fear. The irony, of course, is that she may be the most dangerous person in the room.

What makes this story compelling isn’t just Betha’s forbidden healing magic, but the way that magic is entangled with pain, control, and pleasure. This is not a clean, heroic ability. It’s intimate. Addictive. Complicated. The narrative never lets the reader forget that Betha’s power comes from harm — and that knowledge quietly shapes every choice she makes.

The world-building is confident without being overwhelming. Court politics, marriage arrangements, social hierarchy, and religious doctrine all feel lived-in rather than explained. Betha’s forced marriage to Lord Herschel is especially effective in how unromantic and transactional it is. The book doesn’t soften that reality, and it doesn’t rush Betha’s emotional adjustment either. Her growth feels incremental, often uncomfortable, and deeply human.

Friendship becomes one of the story’s strongest counterweights. The relationships Betha forms with other women at court — particularly Denia and Pirolanni — give her access to information, influence, and a kind of education she was never offered at home. These scenes crackle with subtext, gossip, and quiet maneuvering, reminding the reader that survival in this world often depends on who is listening when you speak.

By the time the novel moves into its darker turns — accusation, captivity, and reckoning — Betha is no longer simply reacting. She has learned how to endure, how to observe, and how to choose when to act. Fragile doesn’t pretend that power comes without consequence, but it does argue that denying yourself agency can be just as dangerous. In the end, the title feels less like a description of Betha herself and more like a warning about the systems built to contain her.

Summary:

Overall, Fragile is a character-driven fantasy that’s far more interested in power, autonomy, and survival than spectacle. What stands out most is how Betha’s healing magic is framed as intimate, dangerous, and morally complicated rather than heroic. The book excels at quiet tension—court politics, constrained marriages, and female friendships carry as much weight as the magic itself. While dark and sometimes uncomfortable, the story feels intentional and controlled, ultimately arguing that denying agency can be as destructive as wielding power recklessly. Happy reading!

Check out Fragile here!

 

Review: Daughters of the Crosslands by Brian Kerr

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Synopsis:

An immortal bond. A brother stolen by death. A sister who must risk everything to bring him back.

Senya never wanted to be a hero. But when a spectral woman arrives to deliver a harrowing claim—her twin brother is trapped in the Crosslands between the living and the dead—she has no choice but to fight for him.

Hunted by seductive wraiths and pursued across a wilderness of shadows, Senya must master terrifying new powers awakening inside her. Drawn into her struggle by fate and bloodshed, a scarred hunter with a haunted past seems to be her only real ally.

But saving her brother may be the bait for a far darker game—one that could ultimately destroy Senya along with everyone she loves. To unlock the truth, she must face a ruthless self-made queen of the Crosslands who will stop at nothing to seize Senya’s powerful gifts in order to command the origins of life itself.

Perfect for fans of Robin Hobb, Guy Gavriel Kay, and Katherine Arden, this is an epic fantasy of deadly secrets, haunting magic, and a sister’s fight against the shadows.

Favorite Lines:

“All I know is that the memory of friendship around here isn’t what it used to be.”

“I love you and we pay one another with promises we will keep, not with useless secrets.”

“Change can come hard…Or it can come easy. But change will always come, like Father used to say. I guess we might as well embrace it as best we can.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Daughters of the Crosslands opens in a place that feels lived-in rather than legendary. Senya’s world is built from small, physical details: stew simmering over a fire, lambs struggling to survive, the quiet work of tending life in a hard place. From the first chapter, the book makes it clear that this is not a story about chosen glory, but about endurance. Senya isn’t waiting for adventure—she’s trying to keep things alive, and already failing in ways that worry her.

What gives the story its weight is Senya herself. She is capable, guarded, and deeply tired in a way that feels earned. Her gifts have always set her apart, and the book doesn’t romanticize that isolation. Being different has cost her safety, trust, and belonging. When Cevellica appears at her door, the moment is unsettling not just because of the supernatural elements, but because it threatens the fragile stability Senya has fought to build. The danger isn’t only what lies beyond the door—it’s what being seen will cost her inside the settlement.

The relationship between Senya and her brother, Raedwin, forms the emotional backbone of the story. Their bond is complicated by love, resentment, and a long history of damage left in Raedwin’s wake. The book does something rare here: it allows Senya to be both loyal and angry, protective and exhausted. Helping him would mean reopening old wounds, and the story never pretends that sacrifice is noble just because it’s expected.

As the Crosslands and their messengers begin to encroach more fully on Senya’s life, the book shifts into a story about fear—how communities respond to it, and how quickly protection turns into exile. The settlement’s decision to cast Senya out feels brutal but believable. Kerr has written Daughters of the Crosslands in such a way that it is at its strongest when it explores this quiet cruelty: the way people justify harm when they believe it will keep them safe. By the time Senya leaves for Pentmore, the question is no longer whether she will act, but what it will cost her to do so.

Summary:

Overall, Daughters of the Crosslands is a slow-burn fantasy about isolation, responsibility, and the cost of loving someone who keeps walking into danger. Centered on a woman who just wants a quiet life but can’t escape her past, the story explores fear—personal and communal—and how quickly safety becomes an excuse for cruelty. Grounded, tense, and deeply human, it’s a fantasy that cares more about consequence than spectacle. Happy reading!

Check out Daughters of the Crosslands here!

 

Monthly Features – January 2026

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Your Best Year Yet by Linda Kneidinger

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Synopsis: What if one small challenge each week could unlock your best self?

If you’ve ever felt stuck in a loop of habits that don’t serve you—or like you’re drifting through life instead of living it fully—this book is for you.

Your Best Year Yet is a fresh, practical guide to personal growth, offering 52 weekly challenges that help you break old patterns, build empowering habits, and live with intention.

Each challenge is grounded in powerful principles from psychology, neuroscience, and personal development—and delivered in bite-sized, actionable steps you can apply right away.

Inside, you’ll learn how to:
• Overcome limiting beliefs
• Build habits that support your goals
• Shift your mindset for long-term success
• Cultivate emotional resilience and self-awareness

Whether you’re brand new to self-help or already on your journey, these weekly prompts will meet you where you are—and help you take the next meaningful step forward.

By the end of the year, you’ll have built a life of greater clarity, confidence, and purpose—one powerful challenge at a time.

Stop drifting. Start living with intention. Make this your best year yet.

Summary: Your Best Year Yet is a grounded, compassionate guide for readers who want meaningful change without burnout or self-criticism. It’s especially well-suited for those interested in personal growth, mindset work, emotional awareness, and habit-based change, particularly readers who feel overwhelmed by more aggressive self-help approaches. This is a book for people who value reflection, consistency, and practical tools that fit into real life.

See the full review here: Your Best Year Yet
Purchase here

 

Teramar Archangel: Faith Runs Dry by T.M. Murray

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Synopsis: Jessica instinctively knew she graduated onto a new plane of consciousness. Dear as a remembered kiss, her former life as humanity’s nursemaid appeared to be over. Sensations like taste and smell had come alive. Branded with a woman’s name and personality, Jessica soon discovers how to synthesize organic life with mechanized appliances. Efforts to conceal these new talents however fail to escape notice of the young Capet royals. Wary princesses soon conclude Jessica has evolved into something that is much more than a miraculous machine.

Set in modern New York and a fictional feudal planet called Teramar, this novel tempts the feral temperament of Internet connoisseurs through a lubricious story that puts the R back into romance. While technically a sequel, Teramar Archangel stands on its own to be read by anyone. As with all of T. M. Murray’s work, this new book roots for progressive relationships despite persistent bigotry leveled at color, humble origins and same-sex love. Racing hearts on a dreary Monday are always this story maker’s goal.

Summary: I experienced Teramar Archangel: Faith Runs Dry as a dense, character-driven science fiction novel that prioritizes psychological tension and political consequence over spectacle. It will appeal most to readers who enjoy thoughtful science fiction, AI-centered narratives, political intrigue, and morally complex characters. This is a book for readers who like their speculative fiction layered, uncomfortable, and willing to sit with ambiguity rather than resolve it neatly.

See the full review here: Teramar Archangel: Faith Runs Dry
Purchase here

 

The Men of the Mountain by Drew Harrison

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my  honest opinion.

Synopsis: Inscrutable and Ever-Watchful Masters

The Renn of Fort Hope place their faith in simple laws. They must trust the Dicta, those wise rules left by their forebearers; they must fear the savage Krieger, whose raids keep Renn walls perpetually splintered; and they must revere the Men of the Mountain, the magnanimous mystics who are stewards of their world.

For Cade, a clanless trapper, survival is a matter of following the rules. But when the Men of the Mountain took his sister—the only Renn ever chosen to return to their sacred peaks—Cade’s faith withers over five years of agonizing silence.

Now, a star has fallen from the sky, and its arrival threatens to spark an inferno. The Dicta are clear: all things from the sky belong to the Mountain. To hide its discovery is a death sentence… but its crater also houses a secret the Men of the Mountain would kill to protect. Forced to defy his gods alongside unlikely allies, Cade is drawn into a conflict where every secret he uncovers reveals a more terrifying lie at the heart of his world… everything is a cage, and the price of freedom is paid in blood and ash.

Summary: I found The Men of the Mountain to be a slow-burn, character-driven fantasy that prioritizes moral weight and worldbuilding over spectacle. It will appeal most to readers who enjoy literary fantasy, grim or grounded worldbuilding, and stories that examine power, belief, and resistance through ordinary lives. This is a novel for readers who value immersion, patience, and emotional consequence, and who don’t need their fantasy to shout in order to feel powerful. 

See the full review here: The Men of the Mountain
Purchase here

 

A Symbol of Time by John Westley Turnbull

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Synopsis: Survival requires sacrifice. But what if the price is an entire world?

Their home is cold and dying, choked by the toxins of their own progress. Now, an advanced alien species looks toward the Third Planet—Earth—with hope and fear. They see a fertile paradise, but one that is hostile, hot, and dominated by massive, predatory reptiles.

The choice is stark: die in the heat, or remake this new world in their own image.

As they descend to alter the climate and purge the planet of its prehistoric masters, they set in motion a chain of events that will echo through geological time. A Symbol of Time weaves palaeontology and astronomy into a chilling tale of survival. As the new masters of Earth terraform the planet, the question remains: does high intelligence inevitably carry the seeds of its own destruction?

Summary: A Symbol of Time is a quiet, reflective science-fiction novel about leaving a dying world and carrying its mistakes with you. Rather than focusing on action, it centers on memory, leadership, responsibility, and the fear of repeating history. It’s reflective, emotionally grounded, and more concerned with consequence than conquest—ideal for readers who like their sci-fi slow, deliberate, and heavy with meaning.

See the full review here: A Symbol of Time
Purchase here

 

Review: Asaylia by David Brimer

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Synopsis:

Julie Wade’s grandmother is not your ordinary grandmother. The locals tell wild tales about her supposed witchcraft and the myriad of secrets hidden on her vast estate in the central Florida swamps. During a summer visit, Julie discovers the stories may be more than just fiction, and her grandmother may be dabbling in more than just witchcraft.

Julie suddenly finds herself trapped in the wintry world of Sidhe without memory of how she arrived. There she finds others who live under the iron will of The Great Spirit, none remembering how they became prisoners in the perpetual winter. It is only upon the arrival of the enigmatic stranger, Asyalia, that Julie discovers the horrifying truth of The Great Spirit and accepts a destiny she never knew was hers.

David Brimer, author of the acclaimed The Devil You Know and Piedmont, returns with a brand new epic of suspense and wonder. Full of the same sharp storytelling and unexpected twists Brimer is known for, Asaylia explores new territory of fantasy unlike anything you’ve ever read before.

Favorite Lines:

“These people are so proudly backward.”

“You’ll only be as miserable as you make yourself.”

“Let time decide whether our paths cross again.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Asaylia begins as a deeply grounded story about displacement—geographical, emotional, and generational. Julie Wade isn’t swept into another world right away—she’s exiled from Chicago and dragged into a summer she doesn’t want, in a place that feels sticky, isolated, and wrong from the moment she arrives. Central Florida presses in on her with heat and silence, and the story lets that discomfort linger. It’s the kind of opening that trusts the reader to sit with unease instead of rushing toward spectacle.

At the center of that unease is Julie’s family, especially her grandmother. Mrs. B’s home feels carefully arranged, overly controlled, and just a little too watchful. The garden gnomes, at first odd and almost funny, slowly take on a different weight. Rules are everywhere. Explanations are not. Julie senses that the adults in her life are managing her rather than protecting her, and that realization lands with a familiar teenage sting. The book does a good job of showing how confusion can feel like betrayal, especially when it comes from people who claim to love you.

When the fantastical elements finally rupture the realism, Asaylia does not abandon its emotional core. Instead, it expands it. The mushroom circle is not just a portal—it’s a reckoning. Memory, guilt, and buried identity become literal forces, and the cost of ignorance is made brutally clear. Asaylia herself emerges not as a benevolent guide, but as a hardened survivor shaped by violence and duty. Her world is cold, ruthless, and governed by consequences, and Julie’s arrival destabilizes more than just the balance of power. Watching Julie move through this world is less about learning magic and more about learning the truth—about herself, about her family, and about what has been done in her name.

The latter half of the novel accelerates into something darker and more urgent, where family history, magical warfare, and moral responsibility collide. The reunion between Julie and her mother is one of the book’s most emotionally charged moments, transforming love into a weapon against erasure. By the time the truth of Mrs. B’s role is confronted, Asaylia has fully shed any coming-of-age softness. What remains is a story about choosing to remember, even when remembering hurts, and about deciding whether love excuses harm. It doesn’t offer comfort so much as clarity, and that choice gives the ending its weight.

Summary:

Overall, Asaylia is a dark fantasy rooted in family secrets, lost memory, and the damage caused by people who believe they’re doing what’s best. What begins as an unwanted summer slowly turns into a fight for truth and survival. It’s unsettling, emotional, and often harsh, but it never loses sight of the human cost at the center of the story. Happy reading!

Check out Asaylia here!

 

Review: The Men of the Mountain by Drew Harrison

~ likelystory18 ~ 2 Comments

Synopsis:

Inscrutable and Ever-Watchful Masters

The Renn of Fort Hope place their faith in simple laws. They must trust the Dicta, those wise rules left by their forebearers; they must fear the savage Krieger, whose raids keep Renn walls perpetually splintered; and they must revere the Men of the Mountain, the magnanimous mystics who are stewards of their world.

For Cade, a clanless trapper, survival is a matter of following the rules. But when the Men of the Mountain took his sister—the only Renn ever chosen to return to their sacred peaks—Cade’s faith withers over five years of agonizing silence.

Now, a star has fallen from the sky, and its arrival threatens to spark an inferno. The Dicta are clear: all things from the sky belong to the Mountain. To hide its discovery is a death sentence… but its crater also houses a secret the Men of the Mountain would kill to protect. Forced to defy his gods alongside unlikely allies, Cade is drawn into a conflict where every secret he uncovers reveals a more terrifying lie at the heart of his world… everything is a cage, and the price of freedom is paid in blood and ash.

Favorite Lines:

“…guilt as heavy as mountains press me to silence, to inaction…”

“Forten’s eyes burn with hatred—hatred at the Men of the Mountain, at the Krieger, and presumably at himself for failing to save the woman he loved…but they settle on me last, and that hatred does not abate. Instead, it blooms like a bonfire tossed fresh firewood. Perhaps he hates me most of all…for bringing all of this down, for failing to protect any of them from any of it, for doing nothing while he stood firm against those who would defile her body.”

“Where music lives, void can not…fresh tears spill down my face at the remembrance. This special silence is no void…none could call this silence empty, as it reverberates with love, with pain, with admiration, with wonder, with loss.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

The Men of the Mountain takes its time, and that patience is one of its greatest strengths. From the opening chapters, the book establishes a lived-in world where belief, labor, and survival are inseparable. Cade’s voice feels grounded immediately, shaped by routine, trade, and quiet loss. The writing lingers on the physical textures of his life — snow, hides, wood, hunger — not as decoration, but as the fabric of his reality. This is a story that understands how much meaning is carried in daily work, and how fragile that meaning becomes when power enters the picture.

What stood out to me most is how carefully the book handles authority. The Men of the Mountain are not introduced as distant myths or abstract forces. They arrive with ceremony, language, and expectation, and the imbalance of power is palpable long before violence ever appears on the page. Cade’s resentment and fear feel earned, not reactionary. His questions are quiet ones at first, rooted in absence, memory, and unanswered loss, and the book allows those questions to deepen slowly rather than rushing him toward rebellion.

The arrival of the fallen star is where the story shifts, but it never abandons its emotional center. What could have become spectacle instead becomes intimate and tense. Cade’s response is not heroic in the traditional sense. It is hesitant, conflicted, and deeply human. His sense of obligation competes with fear, curiosity, and grief, and the book never simplifies that internal struggle. The woman from the sky is not treated as a symbol or a prize, but as a destabilizing presence that forces Cade to confront the limits of the world he’s accepted.

By the end, The Men of the Mountain feels less like a story about overthrowing power and more like a meditation on what it costs to question it at all. The novel is interested in erosion rather than explosion — how belief wears thin, how obedience curdles into complicity, and how courage often looks like stubborn persistence rather than grand defiance. It’s a book that trusts atmosphere, interiority, and moral tension to do the heavy lifting, and that trust pays off.

Summary:

Overall, I found The Men of the Mountain to be a slow-burn, character-driven fantasy that prioritizes moral weight and worldbuilding over spectacle. It will appeal most to readers who enjoy literary fantasy, grim or grounded worldbuilding, and stories that examine power, belief, and resistance through ordinary lives. This is a novel for readers who value immersion, patience, and emotional consequence, and who don’t need their fantasy to shout in order to feel powerful. Happy reading!

Check out The Men of the Mountain here!

Review: Tenet of the Undying: Yielded Freedom by Nathan Gregg

~ likelystory18 ~ 1 Comment

Synopsis:

Fight. Win. Die. Repeat.

That summed up Ren’s life. Or rather, both lives.

After dying a veteran in a dead land, Ren’s soul is snatched up by a Goddess to be her pet warrior. But despite every bloody assignment, Ren won’t die. His new master yanks his soul from the jaws of death each time, his second chance at life now a blur of pain and service without end.

Until his moment to escape finally comes, to a place not even she can find.

But this new world is strange. They have magic here. Their culture is utterly foreign, just as foreign as Ren is to them. In a world ruled by sects and cultivators and mana arts, might makes right. Only the strong survive.

Good thing that’s what Ren does best.

Ren’s found his freedom, and he intends to keep it at all costs. Even if he must yield some of it to yet another master… and understand a strange new power before it kills him a final time.

The Goddess’ dog is off his leash and sharpening his fangs.

Favorite Lines:

“The world had ended regardless of their struggles, after all. But that didn’t seem right.”

“Worn, but not broken. Tired, but still willing to fight”

“A man is not defeated until he considers himself to be.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Tenet of the Undying: Yielded Freedom is a brutal, emotionally charged fantasy that never lets the reader forget the cost of survival. From the opening chapters, it’s clear this is not a story interested in clean victories or heroic simplicity. Instead, it follows Ren through cycles of violence, endurance, and moral erosion, asking what freedom actually means when it must be earned through endless suffering. The tone is unflinching, often grim, but it never feels gratuitous. Pain here has purpose, even when it’s overwhelming.

Ren is a compelling protagonist precisely because he is worn down. He is powerful, but never invulnerable. His strength is counterbalanced by exhaustion, grief, and an accumulating sense of responsibility for those who die alongside him. The arena, the cultivators, the monsters, and the larger cosmic forces all blur together into a system that feeds on struggle. What stood out to me is how often Ren’s internal conflict mirrors the external one. Every fight pushes him forward physically while pulling him apart mentally, especially as his tenet awakens and demands something from him that he doesn’t fully understand.

The relationship between Ren and old man Ren is the emotional backbone of the book. Their dynamic is layered with mentorship, manipulation, love, resentment, and inevitability. It’s clear that everything Ren is becoming was shaped deliberately, and that realization lands heavily. The book handles this relationship with patience, allowing its full weight to unfold over time rather than relying on a single revelatory moment. The result is a quiet devastation that lingers long after the scenes themselves end.

Worldbuilding in Tenet of the Undying: Yielded Freedom is expansive but never detached from the characters living inside it. Cultivation levels, cosmic entities, and apocalyptic stakes are filtered through individual loss and memory. Even when the scale becomes immense, the narrative keeps returning to bodies, wounds, fear, and choice. By the later sections, the story feels less about winning and more about enduring without losing one’s humanity entirely.

What stayed with me most is how the book treats freedom not as a reward, but as a burden. Freedom is something Ren is promised, fights for, and ultimately questions. The novel refuses to present liberation as an endpoint. Instead, it frames it as a responsibility that can destroy you if you’re not prepared to carry it. That tension gives the book its emotional gravity and sets it apart from more conventional progression fantasy.

Summary:

Overall, Tenet of the Undying: Yielded Freedom is a dark, emotionally intense fantasy that blends cultivation, cosmic horror, and character-driven tragedy. It will resonate most with readers who enjoy grim fantasy, progression fantasy with consequences, and stories that interrogate power, sacrifice, and freedom rather than celebrating them outright. This is a book for readers who want depth alongside action, and who are comfortable sitting with discomfort long after the final chapter. Happy reading!

Check out Tenet of the Undying: Yielded Freedom here!

Monthly Features – December 2025

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

The Orichalcum Crown by J.J.N. Whitley

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Synopsis: Makoto lost her mother to a battle she can’t remember before being adopted into the Kauneus Empire’s royal family. Upon her eighteenth birthday, she receives her mother’s necklace from the emperor. Makoto’s memories slowly return, haunting her with visions of her lost sister and her mother’s murder.

She is torn between the family and answers awaiting her across the sea and the relationships with her family, best friend, and his handsome brother. Makoto fears returning home will cast doubt upon her loyalty to the emperor and sever her from the family. After all, Kauneus has no need for a disloyal princess.

Makoto’s eldest adoptive sister, Athena, remains banished from Zenith Palace for uncovering the emperor’s secret bastard. She is visited by her former dragon uncle, who shares a rumor that the emperor will be assassinated during the annual ball. Athena has no choice but to break her exile to save her father. Returning home risks death, but she’ll pay any price for her family’s safety.

As night falls upon the ball, lurking shadows and hidden agendas threaten the empire’s fragile peace. Makoto and Athena must navigate the delicate lines between loyalty and betrayal and learn what they are willing to sacrifice for freedom, truth, and family.

Summary: The Orichalcum Crown may be best suited for readers who enjoy character-driven fantasy, political intrigue, and emotionally grounded coming-of-age stories. Fans of epic fantasy who value internal conflict over constant action will appreciate its pacing and tone. It also works well for readers drawn to themes of grief, found family, and morally complex authority figures, making it a strong choice for those who enjoy thoughtful, atmospheric fantasy with emotional weight. 

See the full review here: The Orichalcum Crown
Purchase here

 

Portraits of Decay by J.R. Blanes

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Synopsis: Up-and-coming young artist Jefferson Fontenot has everything going for him: The hot New Orleans art scene has noticed him, and he’s finally found his true love, Nevaeh Parker. But Fontenot’s bright future hides a darkness known as Gemma Landry— the artist’s lover and art scene influencer. Gemma believes Jefferson’s talent holds the key to her seizing control of the popular Carondelet Street Gallery. But when Gemma discovers Jefferson’s infidelity, she enslaves the artist with a poison she acquired from swamp-dwelling witch Mirlande St. Pierre.

Now trapped in a rotting body and plagued by hellish visions, Jefferson finds himself reduced to a zombie-like servant for his unhinged ex, while Nevaeh is forced to embrace her past, hoping to save the man she loves. As the dark curse courses through Jefferson’s veins, everyone involved soon discovers—in the most brutal of fashions—the terror that awaits when you cross Gemma Landry.

Summary: Portraits of Decay is not a comfortable read, but it is an effective one. It examines obsession, artistic ego, and emotional captivity with an unflinching eye, allowing its characters to be ugly, damaged, and honest. The horror lies less in the supernatural than in how easily control can masquerade as love, and how ambition can justify cruelty. This is a novel that trusts its readers to sit with discomfort and draw their own conclusions, and it is stronger for that restraint.

It will resonate most with readers who enjoy psychological horror, literary horror, and character-driven dark fiction. It is especially well suited for those interested in stories about artistic identity, toxic relationships, and emotional manipulation. Fans of slow-burn tension, morally complex characters, and atmospheric settings will likely find this novel both disturbing and deeply engaging.

See the full review here: Portraits of Decay
Purchase here

 

Review: The Stars Must Wait by Carmelo Rafalà

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Synopsis:

Carmelo Rafalà writes stories that are profound, surprising, and beautifully realised. He imagines fantastic worlds and protagonists of immense complexity, subtlety and depth. His stories do not give easy answers, but stimulate and absorb the reader.

In this collection of science fiction and fantasy stories you will find:

  • A zealous convert, a woman of rumour and myth, and a dangerous pilgrimage across pirate filled seas.
  • A warrior travels to a far land to mourn and put his violent past behind him, but strange gods of an even stranger people intrude.
  • Abandoned in the Ozarks, sisters face a malevolent presence reaching out from the darkness.
  • Two friends struggle with their strained relationship, but reconciliation may literally require other realities. These are stories of identity and belonging, and our deep-seated desire to control our own narratives. Discover this unique and talented author.

Favorite Lines:

As I do with all short story collections, rather than pulling my favorite lines, I am sharing my favorite stories from this collection: The Roots of Love, Slipping Sideways, and The Stars Must Wait.

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

This is the kind of collection that asks you to slow down. Not because it is difficult to read, but because it refuses to be skimmed. Each story in The Stars Must Wait feels deliberate in its construction, grounded in character first and world second, trusting the reader to stay with uncertainty for longer than most speculative fiction does. Rafalà writes people who are already in motion when we meet them, carrying guilt, faith, grief, or longing, and the stories unfold around those inner pressures rather than racing toward spectacle.

What stood out to me most is how often these stories are about belief, not as an abstract concept but as something embodied. Belief shows up as religion, loyalty, memory, family, ideology, and even habit. Characters cling to systems that have shaped them, sometimes long after those systems have begun to fail. There is no neat moral accounting here. Instead, Rafalà lets contradictions sit on the page. People act with sincerity and still cause harm. Others do terrible things for reasons that feel uncomfortably understandable.

The emotional weight of the collection surprised me. These are speculative stories, but they are deeply intimate. Parents and children, siblings, lovers, and surrogate families recur throughout, often strained or broken by larger forces. The speculative elements never feel ornamental. They sharpen the emotional stakes rather than replacing them. Even the most unsettling moments are grounded in recognizable human fears: abandonment, erasure, complicity, and the desire to belong to something larger than oneself.

By the time I reached the later stories, there was a quiet accumulation at work. The collection began to feel less like a set of individual pieces and more like a sustained meditation on responsibility and consequence. The Stars Must Wait does not offer easy catharsis. It lingers. It leaves you thinking about what people owe each other, and what happens when survival and morality drift out of alignment.

Summary:

The Stars Must Wait is a reflective, emotionally grounded collection of speculative fiction that prioritizes character, moral ambiguity, and human connection over plot-driven spectacle. Readers who enjoy literary science fiction, thoughtful fantasy, soft dystopia, and emotionally complex short stories will likely find a lot to admire here. This is a book for readers who appreciate stories that ask questions rather than answer them, and who are comfortable sitting with discomfort, contradiction, and quiet aftermaths. Happy reading!

Check out The Stars Must Wait here!

 

Review: Heroless by Antoine Monks

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Synopsis:

It’s been fifteen years since the supervillains conquered the world, and Ledge Carp—better known as the maniacal Crime Clown—is restless. With his archenemy Fox Man long dead and no one left to challenge him, the world feels dull.

When an alien warlord named Siege returns to Earth with an armada prepared for invasion, Carp must join forces and defend their fragile world with the very villains who despise him.

Former superhero Elizabeth Morrison struggles to find peace. Haunted by doubts about her worth as a hero and the bloody final battle that ended it all, she’s pulled back into her past and into the mystery of what really happened the night the heroes fell.

As their paths draw towards each other, old powers stir, old enemies rise, and the line between hero and villain blurs as the world faces destruction.

HEROLESS is a story of broken champions, ruthless survivors… and the cost of a world with no heroes left.

Favorite Lines:

“They think in terms of comics and heroics or else they’d use their gifts for other things.”

“Heroes don’t know how to live quietly.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Heroless opens in a world where the story everyone expects has already ended. The heroes lost. The villains won. And the people left standing are not celebrating so much as drifting, stuck inside the long shadow of a victory that hollowed them out. The book begins with Ledge Carp, formerly the Crime Clown, and immediately sets the tone: this is a story about aftermath, boredom, regret, and the uncomfortable quiet that follows conquest. Carp is cruel, vain, tired, and strangely sad, and Monks allows him to be all of those things at once without softening the edges.

What makes Carp compelling is that he is neither repentant nor triumphant. He misses the game. He misses Fox Man not as an enemy, but as a purpose. The city he once reshaped into Clown Town has faded back into gray, mirroring his own internal stagnation. The world-building here is rich but lived-in. This isn’t a dystopia explained through exposition so much as one revealed through neglected details, decaying spectacle, and bitter humor. The New Order feels less like an efficient regime and more like a coalition of powerful people barely tolerating one another.

As the narrative expands beyond Carp, Heroless becomes even more interesting. Elizabeth’s chapters offer a sharp contrast, bringing readers into the quieter grief of a former hero who survived but was never celebrated in the same way. Her memories of patrolling, forming the first hero teams, and idolizing figures like Blue Saturn and Justice-Hand feel painfully sincere. Elizabeth’s story captures the loneliness of stepping back into civilian life with memories no one else shares and no language to explain them. Her longing is not just for heroism, but for belonging.

The villains, too, are given surprising dimension. Figures like Doctor Corman, Fire Ruby, Grey Skull, and others aren’t simply evil masterminds. They are egos in constant tension, bound together by convenience and fear rather than loyalty. The introduction of a mysterious new superhuman becomes less about threat and more about disruption. It forces everyone, heroes and villains alike, to confront what power actually means in a world already broken.

What stayed with me most after finishing Heroless was its refusal to romanticize either side. Heroes were flawed long before they fell. Villains are not fulfilled by their victory. The book is less interested in battles than it is in identity, legacy, and the question of what people become when the roles that once defined them no longer apply. It’s cynical without being empty, and thoughtful without being nostalgic.

Summary:

Overall, Heroless as a layered, emotionally grounded take on the superhero genre that focuses on what happens after the mask comes off, permanently. It works best when it explores disillusionment, memory, and power without offering easy redemption or clear moral anchors. Readers who enjoy darker speculative fiction, morally complex characters, and stories about identity after collapse will likely find this deeply engaging. This is a superhero story that isn’t really about heroics at all, but about survival, relevance, and what lingers when the world moves on. Happy reading!

Check out Heroless here!
Check out the book trailer here!

Review: The Orichalcum Crown by J.J.N. Whitley

~ likelystory18 ~ 2 Comments

Synopsis:

Makoto lost her mother to a battle she can’t remember before being adopted into the Kauneus Empire’s royal family. Upon her eighteenth birthday, she receives her mother’s necklace from the emperor. Makoto’s memories slowly return, haunting her with visions of her lost sister and her mother’s murder.

She is torn between the family and answers awaiting her across the sea and the relationships with her family, best friend, and his handsome brother. Makoto fears returning home will cast doubt upon her loyalty to the emperor and sever her from the family. After all, Kauneus has no need for a disloyal princess.

Makoto’s eldest adoptive sister, Athena, remains banished from Zenith Palace for uncovering the emperor’s secret bastard. She is visited by her former dragon uncle, who shares a rumor that the emperor will be assassinated during the annual ball. Athena has no choice but to break her exile to save her father. Returning home risks death, but she’ll pay any price for her family’s safety.

As night falls upon the ball, lurking shadows and hidden agendas threaten the empire’s fragile peace. Makoto and Athena must navigate the delicate lines between loyalty and betrayal and learn what they are willing to sacrifice for freedom, truth, and family.

Favorite Lines:

“Even a good dog could still bite.”

“Of all the things she wanted to remember, now she had something she wished to forget.”

“She burned brightly for those she loved but scorched her enemies.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

From the very first pages, The Orichalcum Crown feels weighted with memory loss, grief, and inherited responsibility, but it never leans too heavily into melodrama. Instead, it allows those emotions to surface naturally through Makoto’s perspective. What struck me most early on was how tender the writing is even when it’s describing frightening or brutal moments. Pain and wonder exist side by side, which gives the story a softness that makes its harsher scenes more impactful.

Makoto is a compelling protagonist because she isn’t framed as heroic in the traditional sense. She is frightened, uncertain, and often confused, but never passive. The tension between who she is expected to become and who she actually is drives much of the emotional arc. The idea of “beauty in strength” repeats throughout the novel in ways that feel earned rather than symbolic. Strength here is not dominance or fearlessness, but endurance, restraint, and the ability to care when it would be easier to close oneself off.

The political dynamics and family structures add depth without overwhelming the personal story. Emperor Rudolph is especially well written; his affection, cruelty, fear, and pride all coexist in a way that makes him unsettling yet believable. Relationships feel earned, particularly the bond between Makoto and Ephraim, which provides warmth and safety in a story that often feels cold and precarious. These quieter connections ground the larger fantasy elements and make the stakes feel intimate rather than abstract.

What ultimately makes The Orichalcum Crown linger is its refusal to simplify morality. No one emerges unmarked by violence, grief, or compromise. Even moments of love are threaded with loss. The novel trusts the reader to sit with discomfort, to hold conflicting truths at the same time, and to recognize that survival often reshapes people in ways they did not choose. It feels like the beginning of a larger saga, but it stands confidently on its own as a story about identity, power, and the cost of protection.

Summary:

Overall, The Orichalcum Crown may be best suited for readers who enjoy character-driven fantasy, political intrigue, and emotionally grounded coming-of-age stories. Fans of epic fantasy who value internal conflict over constant action will appreciate its pacing and tone. It also works well for readers drawn to themes of grief, found family, and morally complex authority figures, making it a strong choice for those who enjoy thoughtful, atmospheric fantasy with emotional weight. Happy reading!

Check out The Orichalcum Crown here!