Tag: Fiction Review

Review: Brilliant Genesia by Eva Barber

~ likelystory18 ~ 1 Comment

Synopsis:

In a society that cages women’s minds, a young girl’s disturbing visions lead her to Dr. Mitchell, a psychiatrist who helps her escape her predestined existence. Zara must now hide her true identity to follow her dreams of becoming a scientist studying dark matter. But when a tragic explosion shatters her world, she must flee to a different continent with her forbidden lover and their unborn child. In that new world, the foe from her past resurfaces and kidnaps her daughter. Zara must now follow her foe into a different realm.

Years later, her daughter, Emery, emerges from a different dimension with amnesia, forced to piece together her mother’s fragmented legacy to rediscover her own identity and the extraordinary power she possesses. Taunted by figures from her past she can’t remember, Emery must confront a multi-generational conspiracy that threatens to alter reality itself.

Favorite Lines:

“Ideas and thoughts are never stupid, Zara.”

“Fourth time is the charm?”

“She is the love of my life. She is my emery. I knew and loved her in a previous life, in another dimension, in another realm. She is my destiny.”

My Opinion:

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

Brilliant Genesia begins as a quiet, unsettling dystopian story centered on Zara, a girl growing up in a rigid society where gender roles are enforced with clinical calm. Her visions of a woman trapped behind glass feel, at first, like a psychological mystery. Is she ill? Is she imagining things? But the more Zara questions the world around her — the aptitude tests, the carefully controlled research, the expectations placed on girls — the more it becomes clear that the real instability lies in the system itself. The early chapters are heavy with tension, not because of explosions or spectacle, but because of silence: what Zara cannot say, what her father will not discuss, and what her doctor may or may not be protecting her from.

What works particularly well in the first half is the slow intellectual rebellion. Zara’s awakening doesn’t come through dramatic speeches. It comes through memory, curiosity, and the terrifying realization that she might be smarter — and freer — than the world wants her to be. The recurring image of the glass barrier becomes a powerful metaphor for confinement, truth, and generational suppression. The therapy sessions with Dr. Mitchell are layered with subtext, and the domestic pressure from her father reinforces how deeply control runs in Andalian culture.

But the book does not stay contained in that quiet psychological space. As the story progresses, the scope widens dramatically. New characters step forward, and the narrative shifts into something more kinetic and expansive. Underground facilities, covert movements, rescue attempts, confrontations with authority — the second half becomes much more action-driven and ensemble-focused. The stakes move from internal questioning to physical survival. What began as a personal awakening evolves into a larger reckoning with systemic control and hidden truths. The world-building grows broader, and the tone becomes more urgent.

This structural shift may surprise some readers, but it ultimately reinforces the book’s central theme: once truth surfaces, it spreads. The later chapters lean into loyalty, sacrifice, power, and the cost of confronting institutions built on deception. Where the first half feels claustrophobic and introspective, the second half feels dangerous and wide open. Together, they form a story that moves from quiet resistance to tangible action.

Summary:

Overall, Brilliant Genesia is a layered dystopian novel that blends psychological tension with broader sci-fi elements. It asks big questions about gender, autonomy, institutionalized falsehoods, and inherited control — and then explores what happens when those questions refuse to stay buried. Readers who appreciate both slow-burn intellectual rebellion and later plot-driven momentum will likely find this one compelling. Happy reading!

Check out Brilliant Genesia here!

 

Monthly Features – February 2026

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Twin Rivers by Jeremy Bender

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

Synopsis: The High Priest rules the city of Twin Rivers in the name of the Lord of Mercy, his AI god. In this land, where robotic Brothers complete all labor and humans are left to enjoy the fruits of this Eden, something rotten grows. Yonatan, a newly ascended Priest in the sclerotic Priesthood, is meant to shore up the faith of those left behind. Yet as Yonatan’s preaching takes him deep into the city’s bowels, he must confront heresy far deeper rooted than he ever imagined. When he sees one of the city’s paramilitary Keepers leave a young woman to die because of her unsanctioned implants, Yonatan must decide whether his faith in the Lord of Mercy outweighs his own belief in human exceptionalism.

Summary: Overall, Twin Rivers is a dense, unsettling dystopian sci-fi novel about a city that calls itself paradise while feeding on control, faith, and violence. Through priests, enforcers, and those left outside the walls, it explores how power hides behind ritual and how mercy becomes a weapon. Dark, intense, and uncomfortable in the right ways, it’s a story about what people are willing to ignore to keep believing they’re safe.

See the full review here: Twin Rivers
Purchase here

 

The Dog Years of Ananias Zachenko by Paul H. Lepp

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

Synopsis: What do you do when you run out of time? Ask Ananias Ezra Zachenko what he did after he was diagnosed. He set an agenda, took care of finances, delved into relationships, considered the heroic act. Didn’t go into denial, but defiance, there’s a difference.

He put it all in motion during the time he had left. A dog gets seven years to our one. Chenko rationalized the relationship by taking the best from both, our days the dog’s years and began to calculate. Anything to lengthen the short leash he is on.

During his dog years he planned for everything, but nothing turned out as expected. He concentrated on time, when he should have been looking at weight. No matter the type of year, when one runs out of time on this side, one has to figure out how to make weight on the other side.

Summary: Overall, The Dog Years of Ananias Zachenko  is a quiet, thoughtful novel about illness, time, and the way diagnosis forces a person to renegotiate their relationship with living. Grounded, reflective, and emotionally restrained, this story explores how we measure time when the future becomes uncertain — and whether time can ever really be controlled at all. 

See the full review here: The Dog Years of Ananias Zachenko
Purchase here

 

Her Ravishing Heartless Prince by A P Von K’Ory

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

Synopsis: He’s a European prince with a thousand-year lineage—and he hates her as much as he craves her.

Alyssa:

Prince Carl-Theodor Frederick Maximillian Christoph Albert Maria Johann Anselm is as insufferable as his name is long. Arrogant, powerful, entitled—everything I despise wrapped in devastatingly gorgeous packaging.

So I do what I do best: verbally eviscerate him and his precious bloodline with razor-sharp insults. I avoid him like the plague.

But avoidance only delays the inevitable.

Soon he has me exactly where I’ve been secretly fantasizing—on my knees before him. The problem? I can’t tell if this is seduction or revenge. Prince Hot and Cold swings between arctic ice and molten lava, dragging me to the edge of beautiful insanity.

The real question: will I survive the fall?

Prince Carl-Theodor:

Alyssa obliterates my world like a derailed train the moment we meet. Her beauty blinds me—then her vicious tongue insults thirteen thousand years of noble bloodline.

No one has ever dared.

As Head and Defender of the House of Saxony-Bremer, I vow on my ancestors’ graves to make her pay. I’ll bend her. Break her. Make her beg until she drowns in regret.

But here’s the twisted irony that threatens everything: hurting her destroys me too.

I can watch her crumble, hear her wounded cries—but the moment she surrenders, something in my chest stops cold.
Have I sworn an oath that will damn us both? And why does her pain feel like my own destruction?

Summary: Overall, this is a high-drama, ego-heavy royal romance where attraction and revenge walk hand in hand. If you enjoy dominant alpha tension, pride-fueled misunderstandings, and romance wrapped in luxury and lineage, this delivers an intense, indulgent ride.

See the full review here: Her Ravishing Heartless Prince
Purchase here

 

The 7 Albums of Stovepipe by Paul H. Lepp

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

Synopsis: From 1948 to 1982 nothing was as high mileage as a turntable. The speed limit was set at 331/3 rpms to take a spin down a highway of tunes on a ten-inch vinyl LP (Long Play) record album. The turning point 1982 when Compact Discs began to put the albums in our attics and closets. To some the change from LP to CD was a turning point on the same level as BC to AD. A wealthy collector has a well-trained staff they spend their time on finding the artifacts the turning points of the Boomer Generation left behind, items like Lee Harvey Oswalt’s belt, Jack Ruby’s cuff links. His staff comes across a nine word offer on the net, “Any Albums Made by the Stovepipe – Name Your Price.” He allows his staff to investigate, the project becomes an obsession. What they find out is a group known as The Chronologists are also interested in the authenticity of Stovepipe, the Musical Massiah between LP and CD, master of voice and instrument, lord of technology. Both Collector and Chronologists want to prove Stovepipe beyond a myth like Paul Bunyan or Johnny Appleseed, but for different reasons. One wants to prove he is alive, the other dead, and only one can be right.

Summary: Overall, a dense, unconventional novel that blends conspiracy, cultural history, and myth-making, The Seven Albums of Stovepipe is less about proving whether its central figure exists and more about why we need him to. The book rewards patient readers who enjoy experimental fiction, unreliable narrators, and stories that feel part oral history, part conspiracy file — especially those interested in music culture and how influence gets erased or mythologized. 

See the full review here: The 7 Albums of Stovepipe
Purchase here

 

Review: The 7 Albums of Stovepipe by Paul H. Lepp

~ likelystory18 ~ 2 Comments

Synopsis:

From 1948 to 1982 nothing was as high mileage as a turntable. The speed limit was set at 331/3 rpms to take a spin down a highway of tunes on a ten-inch vinyl LP (Long Play) record album. The turning point 1982 when Compact Discs began to put the albums in our attics and closets. To some the change from LP to CD was a turning point on the same level as BC to AD. A wealthy collector has a well-trained staff they spend their time on finding the artifacts the turning points of the Boomer Generation left behind, items like Lee Harvey Oswalt’s belt, Jack Ruby’s cuff links. His staff comes across a nine word offer on the net, “Any Albums Made by the Stovepipe – Name Your Price.” He allows his staff to investigate, the project becomes an obsession. What they find out is a group known as The Chronologists are also interested in the authenticity of Stovepipe, the Musical Massiah between LP and CD, master of voice and instrument, lord of technology. Both Collector and Chronologists want to prove Stovepipe beyond a myth like Paul Bunyan or Johnny Appleseed, but for different reasons. One wants to prove he is alive, the other dead, and only one can be right.

Favorite Lines:

“Every great turning point in history leaves behind some artifact of the moment.”

“Human nature moves in two gears: conscious and subconscious, what we see and what we dream. At times, human nature finds it hard to separate the real from the imagined. That it’s in our nature to combine the two and call it history.”

“The only thing we can’t afford is to overlook any moment in our time that changed us.”

My Opinion:

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

This is a book that doesn’t want to be read quickly. It wants to be circled, revisited, argued with, and maybe put down for a while before you come back. The Seven Albums of Stovepipe presents itself as a kind of investigation, but it quickly becomes something stranger: a meditation on authenticity, myth-making, and how culture decides what (and who) matters.

The framing device — a wealthy collector obsessed with historical turning points — works as more than a narrative hook. It becomes a lens for examining how we assign value. The artifacts, the surveillance, the obsession with documentation all point toward a deeper anxiety: that something meaningful slipped past unnoticed, and that history might have gotten it wrong. Stovepipe isn’t just a missing musician; he’s a missing explanation.

What’s most compelling is the book’s refusal to settle into a single genre. It reads at times like a conspiracy file, at times like oral history, and at others like philosophical riffing disguised as cultural criticism. The voices of the First Contacts feel intentionally uneven — not polished, not always reliable, but deeply convinced. Their certainty becomes contagious. You start wanting Stovepipe to exist simply because so many people need him to.

The language is dense, rhythmic, and unapologetically idiosyncratic. This is not streamlined prose. Lepp leans hard into repetition, digression, and accumulation, and that choice mirrors the book’s central question: does meaning come from clarity, or from persistence? The reader is asked to do work here — to follow long riffs, to sit with ambiguity, to accept that proof may never arrive in a clean form.

By the time the book reaches its later sections, the search itself feels more important than the answer. The Chronologists, the collector, the First Contacts — all of them are trying to control a narrative before it controls them. Whether Stovepipe is real almost becomes secondary. What matters is the hunger for belief, the fear of being late to history, and the quiet terror that the most important things might only exist on the margins, half-heard and easily erased.

This is a book about music, yes — but more than that, it’s about who gets to define influence. About how culture canonizes some voices while others survive only through rumor, devotion, and fragments. The Seven Albums of Stovepipe doesn’t give you answers so much as it dares you to decide what you’re willing to believe without them.

Summary:

Overall, a dense, unconventional novel that blends conspiracy, cultural history, and myth-making, The Seven Albums of Stovepipe is less about proving whether its central figure exists and more about why we need him to. The book rewards patient readers who enjoy experimental fiction, unreliable narrators, and stories that feel part oral history, part conspiracy file — especially those interested in music culture and how influence gets erased or mythologized. Happy reading!

Check out The 7 Albums of Stovepipe here!

 

Review: My Family and the End of Everything by Joe Graves

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Synopsis:

The end of everything begins closer than you think. Of course, it always includes such foul practices as bureaucratic corruption, disregard for science (or the overindulgence of it), and corrupted religion. But this is not where it starts. It begins much closer to home-smart homes to be exact, and well-intentioned inventions (they really did think it was a good idea)-and human consolidation, and old men doing their best to retire.

My Family and the End of Everything follows generations of the Profeta family as they march naively towards the setting sun. The ending doesn’t come with explosions-at least, not at first. It arrives quietly, in funerals, final meditations, historical preservation, and decisions no one remembers volunteering for. From networked houses and autonomous bots to terraformed worlds, time travel, dying suns, and suspiciously ceremonial banquets, these stories track humanity’s ongoing attempt to stay human, in all our gloriously human ways.

This isn’t one apocalypse, but several, for the world ends far more often than we’d like to admit. Yet somehow, through all of them, a family-and their stubborn faith in each other and in their God-finds a way to endure and present to us this question: If we could change the future, would we?

Favorite Lines:

As I do with all of my short story collection reviews, rather than favorite lines, here are a few of my favorite stories: The House, The Pivot, and The Day the Sun Died.

My Opinion:

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

This is one of those books that feels quiet while you’re reading it — and then very loud in your head afterward. I went in expecting a more traditional sci-fi dystopia: smart homes, neural implants, generational timelines, the sun literally going dark. And yes, all of that is here. But what surprised me most is how personal it feels. The novel is structured as a collection of short stories that tell family histories. Each story stands on its own, with its own setting, tone, and central character, but they’re stitched together by bloodlines, history, and a shared looming reality: the slow unraveling of humanity under the weight of technology, time, and its own ambition.

The early stories, like The House and The Water That Shapes Us, are intimate and unsettling. They explore smart homes that optimize autonomy away and villages wrestling with the moral cost of hyperconnection. But those are just the opening notes. As the book unfolds, we move into space brokers and gravity trials, time-traveling historians chasing the elusive “Pivot,” off-world settlements, generational missions, political maneuvering, and ultimately the literal death of the sun. Each short story feels like a snapshot from a different era of the same extended family — different centuries, different planets, different moral dilemmas — but all orbiting the same core questions: What shapes us? What do we inherit? What do we sacrifice to survive?

Because it’s structured as a collection, the pacing feels episodic. Some stories hit harder emotionally, some lean more philosophical, and others feel almost like thought experiments wrapped in narrative. That variety is part of the experience. You’re not meant to sink into one continuous arc; you’re meant to see evolution over time — spiritual, technological, familial. The repetition of certain themes across generations (connection vs. isolation, faith vs. efficiency, autonomy vs. optimization) is deliberate. It builds a cumulative weight rather than a single crescendo.

What makes the format work is the throughline of family. Even when the timeline jumps or the setting shifts from Earth to orbit to distant systems, you feel the continuity. The book reads like an archive passed down through centuries, asking whether progress always equals improvement. It’s ambitious in scope — far bigger than just one storyline — and that ambition is both its strength and its defining characteristic. If you go in expecting one protagonist and one conflict, you might feel untethered. But if you lean into the anthology-style structure, the mosaic effect becomes the point.

This collection is less about the end of the world and more about the slow rewriting of what it means to be human.

Summary:

Overall, I found this book to be a reflective, generational sci-fi that explores what we lose when everything becomes connected. Instead of flashy dystopia, this book offers quiet, unsettling plausibility — smart homes that optimize away autonomy, neural networks that gently suppress prayer, and families wrestling with what shapes identity across centuries. It’s thoughtful, faith-tinged, and morally gray in the best way. If you like speculative fiction that prioritizes emotional and philosophical depth over action, this one lingers. Happy reading!

Check out My Family and the End of Everything here!

 

Review: Her Ravishing Heartless Prince by A P Von K’Ory

~ likelystory18 ~ 2 Comments

Synopsis:

He’s a European prince with a thousand-year lineage—and he hates her as much as he craves her.

Alyssa:

Prince Carl-Theodor Frederick Maximillian Christoph Albert Maria Johann Anselm is as insufferable as his name is long. Arrogant, powerful, entitled—everything I despise wrapped in devastatingly gorgeous packaging.

So I do what I do best: verbally eviscerate him and his precious bloodline with razor-sharp insults. I avoid him like the plague.

But avoidance only delays the inevitable.

Soon he has me exactly where I’ve been secretly fantasizing—on my knees before him. The problem? I can’t tell if this is seduction or revenge. Prince Hot and Cold swings between arctic ice and molten lava, dragging me to the edge of beautiful insanity.

The real question: will I survive the fall?

Prince Carl-Theodor:

Alyssa obliterates my world like a derailed train the moment we meet. Her beauty blinds me—then her vicious tongue insults thirteen thousand years of noble bloodline.

No one has ever dared.

As Head and Defender of the House of Saxony-Bremer, I vow on my ancestors’ graves to make her pay. I’ll bend her. Break her. Make her beg until she drowns in regret.

But here’s the twisted irony that threatens everything: hurting her destroys me too.

I can watch her crumble, hear her wounded cries—but the moment she surrenders, something in my chest stops cold.
Have I sworn an oath that will damn us both? And why does her pain feel like my own destruction?

Favorite Lines:

“She emboldened, motivated, encouraged, and inspired me tirelessly over the months.”

“But above all else, I have half the entire planet’s butterflies residing merrily in my belly.”

“I love her like the devil loves sinners and God loves the devil for being capable of that.”

“For that, I’ll love him even after death and in every other entity form I become.”

My Opinion:

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

There is something wildly unapologetic about this book. From the first chapter, Alyssa announces herself as messy, sexual, ambitious, and emotionally reactive in a way that feels both over-the-top and strangely honest. She is not a soft heroine. She is sharp-edged, proud, dramatic — and I kind of loved that about her.

Carl-Theodor, on the other hand, is less brooding prince and more simmering strategist. His inner monologue runs on discipline, revenge, family honor, and suppressed desire. The tension between them is not sweet. It’s combative. Competitive. Magnetic in a way that feels dangerous rather than tender.

What really drives this book is pride. Hurt pride. Family pride. Social pride. Romantic pride. The entire story pulses with ego clashes and misinterpretations that spiral into obsession. Their chemistry thrives on restraint and retaliation. Every conversation feels like a fencing match. Sometimes they wound each other deliberately. Sometimes they do it accidentally. Either way, sparks fly.

The world-building is lavish — castles, heiress empires, royal jewelry, elite universities, helicopter landings at Burj Al Arab. It leans hard into opulence. If you like billionaire/royalty romance that fully commits to excess, this delivers.

That said, this book is not subtle. It is dramatic in all caps. Characters monologue. Emotions explode. Internal thoughts can be theatrical. But there’s a sincerity to it that makes it compelling even when it’s chaotic.

At its core, this is a story about two powerful people who refuse to yield first. It’s ego vs ego. Attraction vs revenge. Control vs surrender. And honestly? Watching them circle each other is half the fun.

Summary:

Overall, this is a high-drama, ego-heavy royal romance where attraction and revenge walk hand in hand. If you enjoy dominant alpha tension, pride-fueled misunderstandings, and romance wrapped in luxury and lineage, this delivers an intense, indulgent ride. Happy reading!

Check out Her Ravishing Heartless Prince here!

 

Review: The Journey of the Wish – Part I: The Grey Winter of the Enslaved by Stefanos Sampanis

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Synopsis:

I perceived the world and acknowledged all of its colours. There was truth; the kind you cannot simply speak of. A tale suits the cause better. It is a disguise that anyone can enjoy and if intrigued, look behind it. This is my testament. A fantasy saga exploring the most human reality. A Journey that lies ahead and matures with each page turned.

Favorite Lines:

“Yet, though that name somehow remained, most of his knowledge from those days is useless and forgotten – belonging to a life vastly different from the cursed existence he now endures.”

“More important than anyone, but least important to all.”

My Opinion:

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

The Grey Winter of the Enslaved is a book that doesn’t ease you into its world—it immerses you, then asks you to endure it. From the opening pages, it’s clear this is a story built on suffering, memory, and consequence, told through a mythic lens that feels both ancient and emotionally immediate. The prose leans lyrical and deliberate, often reading more like a lament or an oral history than a conventional fantasy narrative, which suits the story it’s trying to tell.

What stood out to me most is how deeply this book commits to the idea of loss as a permanent condition rather than a temporary obstacle. Glimm’s story isn’t about overcoming trauma in a neat, redemptive arc; it’s about surviving it, living alongside it, and being shaped—sometimes deformed—by it. The physical transformations inflicted on the Enslaved mirror the emotional ones, and the book never lets you forget the cost of endurance. Winter here isn’t just a season; it’s a system, a sentence, and a state of being.

The worldbuilding is dense and methodical, layered with gods, rituals, hierarchies, and mythic laws that govern who belongs where and at what cost. This isn’t the kind of fantasy that explains itself quickly or cleanly. Instead, it trusts the reader to keep up, to sit with uncertainty, and to piece meaning together over time. At times, this can feel heavy—especially when paired with the book’s emotional weight—but it also gives the story a sense of gravity and purpose. Nothing here feels accidental or decorative.

This is not an easy book, either emotionally or structurally. It lingers in grief, cruelty, and moral ambiguity, and it often refuses the comfort of hope. But there’s something quietly powerful in that refusal. The Grey Winter of the Enslaved feels less like a story meant to entertain and more like one meant to be witnessed. By the end, it leaves you with the sense that survival itself can be a form of resistance—even when it costs more than it gives.

Summary:

Overall, The Grey Winter of the Enslaved is a dark, myth-heavy fantasy that leans into grief, endurance, and moral cost rather than heroics or easy redemption. I found it to be an emotionally demanding and richly imagined story where survival comes at a steep price and loss is never fully undone. It’s immersive, somber, and unapologetically heavy. This story could be for readers who enjoy lyrical, myth-inspired fantasy; stories centered on suffering, memory, and survival; and worlds governed by harsh systems rather than hopeful destinies. Best for patient readers comfortable with slow pacing, dense worldbuilding, and emotionally heavy themes. Happy reading!

Check out The Grey Winter of the Enslaved here!

 

Review: Loving Remains by Esmeralda Stone

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Synopsis:

Isaac Collins is trying to run Teagan’s Funeral Home and keep his life as calm as possible.

Cory Hughes is just trying to keep her head—and her death consultant business—above ground.

Thrown together by circumstance, a bit of guilt, and a lot of attraction, Isaac and Cory begin an uncomfortable friendship and soon realize the things that make them different may also be why they can’t seem to stay away from each other. And it could be just in time. Because not everything is as it seems at Teagan’s Funeral Home.

A romantic mystery for adult readers looking for mature characters, honest and open-door intimacy, dark humor, and a happily ever after that feels earned.

Favorite Lines:

“There were some laughs that made you instantly laugh with them. Some  laughs that you couldn’t help but laugh at. And some laughs that were horrific and terrible, like a five-car pile-up you couldn’t turn away from.”

“No one should sit unclaimed for years on end, just waiting to see if someone remembered them.”

“I’ve learned that passing judgement on another person’s actions without knowing all the information can cause more damage than letting things go.”

“That death was supposed to be natural, which meant it was ugly and messy at times.”

My Opinion:

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

Loving Remains is one of those books where the premise sounds quirky—maybe even a little playful—but the emotional weight sneaks up on you fast. A romance set within the death industry could easily tip into gimmick territory, but this story doesn’t do that. Instead, it treats death as something constant, unavoidable, and deeply human, weaving it into a love story that feels tender, messy, and surprisingly grounded.

What really carries the book is its understanding of grief—not just as a singular event, but as something that lingers and reshapes people. Cory and Isaac aren’t blank slates waiting to fall in love; they’re both already carrying loss, anxiety, guilt, and complicated histories with death long before they meet. Their connection doesn’t magically fix those things. If anything, it brings them closer to the surface. That honesty gives the romance more depth than you might expect, especially for a book that also allows itself to be funny, steamy, and occasionally chaotic.

The death-industry setting isn’t just background flavor. It actively informs the book’s questions about control, ritual, and what it means to “do right” by the dead and the living. There’s a clear tension between traditional funeral practices and more personal, less sanitized approaches to death, and the book doesn’t pretend there’s one perfect answer. Instead, it shows how those choices are often shaped by fear, love, and the desire to protect ourselves from pain—even when that protection backfires.

That said, Loving Remains isn’t a light read emotionally, even when the tone is warm. It deals openly with loss, trauma, addiction, and mental health, and those themes aren’t just mentioned in passing. The pacing is steady, occasionally slower when it sits with heavier moments, but it feels intentional rather than indulgent. By the end, the book feels less like a traditional romance arc and more like a quiet argument for intimacy built on understanding rather than rescue.

Summary:

Overall, Loving Remains is a death-industry romance that’s far more emotionally grounded than its premise suggests. It blends grief, mental health, and love into a story that’s tender, funny, and occasionally heavy, without losing its warmth. It’s a romance about choosing connection while still honoring loss, and it treats death as something to be faced honestly rather than hidden away. Readers who enjoy character-driven romance, stories that engage thoughtfully with grief and mental health, and books that balance emotional weight with genuine warmth may enjoy this book. Happy reading!

Check out Loving Remains here!

 

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: Twin Rivers by Jeremy Bender

~ likelystory18 ~ 1 Comment

Synopsis:

The High Priest rules the city of Twin Rivers in the name of the Lord of Mercy, his AI god. In this land, where robotic Brothers complete all labor and humans are left to enjoy the fruits of this Eden, something rotten grows. Yonatan, a newly ascended Priest in the sclerotic Priesthood, is meant to shore up the faith of those left behind. Yet as Yonatan’s preaching takes him deep into the city’s bowels, he must confront heresy far deeper rooted than he ever imagined. When he sees one of the city’s paramilitary Keepers leave a young woman to die because of her unsanctioned implants, Yonatan must decide whether his faith in the Lord of Mercy outweighs his own belief in human exceptionalism.

Favorite Lines:

“Second chances are a gift, my boy. Be sure not to waste it, eh?”

“A single sentence had the potential to become a slogan, and a slogan had the power of dismantling everything.”

“Asa we say, your home is not where you’re born, but where you’re comforted.”

My Opinion:

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

Twin Rivers opens with ritual, doctrine, and history laid out in a beautiful and deliberate way. From the first pages, you can tell this is a world that believes deeply in its own order. Mercy is everywhere in name, carved into prayers and buildings, but the way it’s practiced feels narrow, controlled, and conditional. The city itself is immaculate, polished to the point of sterility, and that cleanliness starts to feel like a warning rather than a comfort.

Yonatan’s ascent through the Priesthood is both grand and humiliating in equal measure. The ceremony is overwhelming, public, and suffocating, and the book does a good job showing how power can feel less like triumph and more like a trap snapping shut. Yonatan wants approval. He wants belonging. He wants to believe. Watching him step into a role that demands devotion while quietly erasing his agency is uncomfortable in the way good dystopian fiction often is.

The shift to Samyaza’s perspective sharpens the story. As a Keeper, he is both enforcer and witness, wrapped in technology that amplifies his strength while dulling his humanity. His chapters are visceral and grim, full of streets that rot as soon as you leave the city center. What stands out is how little joy there is in violence here. Samyaza doesn’t feel powerful—he feels used. His doubts simmer under layers of obedience, stimulants, and scripture, and the book never lets him forget what it cost to be “lifted up.”

As the story expands beyond Twin Rivers itself, the contrast becomes sharper. The Wastes, the exiles, the Rejectionists, and the whispered histories all expose the cost of paradise. What the city calls protection, others experience as erasure. The idea that perfection requires control—and that control requires sacrifice—runs through the book like a low hum. When characters begin to push back, it feels dangerous not because of violence, but because belief is such a powerful thing to threaten.

What Twin Rivers does best is show how systems defend themselves. Faith, technology, and surveillance blur together until it’s impossible to tell where belief ends and programming begins. The city talks constantly about mercy, unity, and paradise, while discarding anyone who threatens that image. By the time the cracks widen—heresy, reapings, whispers from beyond the city—the question isn’t whether something is wrong. It’s how long the city can pretend it isn’t.

By the end, Twin Rivers is less about overthrowing a system and more about learning how systems survive. Change doesn’t come cleanly or all at once. It arrives through loss, exile, and small acts of refusal. The final images linger on memory and aftermath rather than victory, reminding the reader that even when cities fall or fracture, their ideas don’t disappear easily. This is a book about faith, power, and what happens when people decide they’d rather live with uncertainty than with lies.

Summary:

Overall, Twin Rivers is a dense, unsettling dystopian sci-fi novel about a city that calls itself paradise while feeding on control, faith, and violence. Through priests, enforcers, and those left outside the walls, it explores how power hides behind ritual and how mercy becomes a weapon. Dark, intense, and uncomfortable in the right ways, it’s a story about what people are willing to ignore to keep believing they’re safe. Happy reading!

Check out Twin Rivers 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