Tag: Fiction Review

Review: Constants by E.B. Miller

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Synopsis:

Mark Robson is trapped in flux.

Every 18 minutes and 32 seconds he wakes up in a new reality, then dies.

The only clues to help him stop this crazed cycle and return home to his pregnant wife are the people, things, and events that reappear across worlds,

…or what he calls his constants.

Told in real time, with every chapter unfolding in a different world, Constants is a tightly-plotted exploration of reality, identity, and humanity’s search for meaning across the furthest reaches of our collective imagination.

Favorite Lines:

“That truth has to live somewhere, so for now it resides in his head.”

“Death was the exclamation mark at the close of that final inescapable argument of life’s utter meaninglessness.”

“You can’t leave me. You’re a constant.”

“Meaning takes shape from afar, so appreciate what you can.”

My Opinion:

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

Constants is one of those books that starts with a premise that sounds fairly easy to explain and then gets much, much stranger the longer you read (in a good way). Mark Robson is trapped in what he calls “flux,” where every eighteen minutes and thirty-two seconds he finds himself somewhere new, usually shortly before dying in some increasingly bizarre way. One moment he might be sitting in a psychiatrist’s office, the next he is somewhere completely removed from the world he knows. The only things he can really hold onto are the patterns that keep repeating, particularly his wife Lya, the exact eighteen-minute-and-thirty-two-second countdown, and eventually his troubled twin sister Alex. At first, I was mostly interested in figuring out the mechanics of what was happening to Mark, but the book gradually makes it clear that the bigger question isn’t really where he is. It’s why any of it is happening at all.

A lot of what makes the story work is how ridiculous and serious it manages to be at the same time. Some of Mark’s existences are genuinely funny or completely absurd, while others are violent, frightening, or surprisingly sad. The constant countdown gives even the strangest worlds a sense of urgency because Mark knows that no matter what he discovers, he only has a few minutes before everything disappears again. I also really liked the recurring therapy sessions with the Psychiatrist. Those scenes give the story somewhere to breathe and allow Mark to actually examine the theories he keeps developing about flux. Is he hallucinating? Dead? Jumping between dimensions? Is someone controlling him? The running percentages Mark and the Psychiatrist assign to the different possibilities were a clever way to show how their thinking evolves as the evidence changes.

What surprised me most was how much emotional weight the story eventually gives Mark’s relationships. Lya initially seems like his one safe place, but even that becomes complicated because the versions of her he encounters don’t necessarily share the same history he remembers. Meanwhile, his search for Alex becomes increasingly important as we learn more about their childhood, their mother’s death, Alex’s addiction, and Mark’s guilt over not being able to save the people he loves. Underneath all the strange worlds and increasingly elaborate deaths, Mark is someone who was struggling with emptiness long before flux began. He keeps believing that if he can just solve the mystery, find the right constant, or get home to Lya, he will finally feel whole. The book gradually starts questioning whether returning to his old life would actually fix anything.

The final portion is where Constants takes its biggest swing, and I think it will also be the part readers have the strongest opinions about. Without completely spoiling it, the answer to Mark’s situation changes the context of basically everything that came before it. The novel becomes openly metafictional towards the end and includes a confrontation that ends up being one of the most interesting parts of the novel for me because it asks whether suffering really needs to produce meaning at all, or whether that’s just another story we tell ourselves because we’re uncomfortable with the possibility that there may never be a satisfying answer (you’ll see when you get there!).

I also appreciated that the ending ultimately lands somewhere quieter than I expected. After spending so much of the book desperately searching for certainty, Mark doesn’t necessarily find it. Instead, he reaches something closer to accepting uncertainty itself. The idea that darkness and the unknown don’t automatically equal emptiness felt like a fitting conclusion for a character who has spent so much of his life terrified that nothing matters. Constants is definitely weird, philosophical, occasionally chaotic, and sometimes deliberately frustrating, but I think that’s also what makes it memorable. It takes a very strange science fiction premise and uses it to ask surprisingly human questions about why we’re here, whether anyone is watching, and whether a fleeting moment can still matter even when we know it has to end.

Summary:

Overall, Constants is a strange, ambitious blend of science fiction, dark comedy, existential fiction, and metafiction that follows a man trapped in a cycle of new realities that reset every eighteen minutes and thirty-two seconds. What initially feels like a mystery about multiverses and repeated deaths gradually becomes much more interested in depression, mortality, faith, memory, free will, and our need to believe there is some larger explanation for why we suffer.

I think this will work best for readers who enjoy high-concept speculative fiction that isn’t afraid to get philosophical, especially those who like stories about alternate realities, unreliable perceptions of reality, existential questions, and books that eventually become aware of themselves as stories. Readers who need very concrete worldbuilding rules or a straightforward explanation for every mystery may find parts of it frustrating, but readers willing to follow the book into increasingly strange territory will find a lot to think about after it’s over. Happy reading!

Check out Constants here!

 

Review: Eidolon: From the Case Files of the OHR by C.L. Stiles

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Synopsis:

When a man vanishes from a Kansas City diner — pulled through reality by forces no one can explain — Nathan Quipp knows it’s only the beginning.

As director of the Office of Hidden Realms, Nathan has spent his career keeping the supernatural world invisible to those who can’t handle the truth. But something is moving even deeper beneath the surface. Ley lines are surging. Cross-realm incursions are rising. And a near-divine source whispers the need to find the missing man — the Eidolon.

Now Nathan’s team is scattered across two continents and twelve centuries, racing to piece together a mystery that reaches from the streets of Kansas City to ancient Stonehenge and back again. The Veiled world is fracturing. The Unveiled are running out of time.

And something much older than the OHR is finally paying attention.

Eidolon: From the Case Files of the OHR is the first installment of the OHR Case Files.

Favorite Lines:

“Magic or no magic, she wasn’t starting Sunday without coffee.”

“You just found out the world is even bigger and stranger than you thought…And I won’t lie and say there’s nothing to fear.”

“The Keeper peered deeper into Nathan where the true battle raged. Not of flame, but of faith, of love. No, the memory of love.”

My Opinion:

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

Eidolon feels like a mashup of urban fantasy, paranormal procedural, supernatural horror, and found-family adventure, but in a way that’s genuinely fun instead of overly self-aware. The setup hooked me almost immediately. A man vanishes inside a diner without any trace of magic, one witness remembers what happened while others mysteriously forget, and suddenly we’re pulled into the hidden world of the OHR, the Office of Hidden Realms. From there the novel opens wider and wider, introducing ghosts, fae, magical investigators, shapeshifters, strange prophecies, hidden archives, and a growing sense that something ancient and catastrophic is moving behind the scenes.

What worked best for me was the tone. The book balances mystery and danger with a surprisingly relaxed, conversational style that makes the world feel approachable even when the lore gets complicated. Sandra and Jasmine especially carry a lot of the early momentum. Their dynamic is one of the strongest parts of the novel because Sandra has this exhausted, sarcastic competence while Jasmine reacts to the supernatural world in ways that actually feel believable. She’s overwhelmed, curious, skeptical, and fascinated all at once. Their conversations help ground the story whenever the mythology starts expanding outward.

Nathan’s storyline adds a very different emotional layer to the book. Underneath all the monsters and magical investigations, there’s a pretty consistent thread of grief running through the novel because of Anne’s death and Nathan slowly reconnecting with abilities he thought were gone. I liked that the emotional side never completely disappears beneath the action. The supernatural elements matter, but the characters’ personal losses and fears matter too. Even some of the side characters, like Mia or Taft, feel more fleshed out than you’d expect in a book juggling this many concepts.

The worldbuilding is honestly huge. The OHR itself feels like a blend of Men in Black, The Dresden Files, Supernatural, SCP Foundation, and folklore-heavy urban fantasy. Every few chapters the reader gets introduced to something new: magical archives, latent abilities, weavers, fae bargains, edge events, ancient beings, hidden blogs, undead archivists, and supernatural politics. Normally this amount of lore would bog a book down, but Stiles usually keeps things moving by tying the exposition directly to active investigations or character interactions. The inserted guidebook sections and informational entries were also a smart choice because they help explain the setting without forcing characters into unnatural exposition dumps.

That said, the book absolutely prioritizes atmosphere, lore, and character interactions over tight plotting. There are stretches where the story feels episodic, almost like watching a supernatural TV series with monster-of-the-week energy slowly building toward a larger threat. Personally, I think that structure mostly works because the cast is enjoyable to spend time with, but readers looking for a very streamlined plot may occasionally feel like the story wanders. 

I ended up really enjoying this. The novel has genuine personality, and that matters a lot in crowded urban fantasy. It feels written by someone who genuinely loves folklore, supernatural horror, conspiracy fiction, and paranormal investigation stories. More importantly, it feels like the author actually enjoys these characters. By the time the larger mythology involving the Serpent King and the Eidolon itself starts taking shape, I was invested enough that I wanted to keep following the OHR into future books.

Summary:

Overall, Eidolon is an urban fantasy/paranormal mystery novel centered around the Office of Hidden Realms, a secret organization dealing with supernatural threats hidden beneath everyday life. The story mixes magical investigations, folklore, ghosts, fae, monsters, prophecies, and hidden conspiracies with a surprisingly emotional undercurrent about grief and identity. The tone balances humor, mystery, horror, and found-family energy while gradually building toward a much larger supernatural conflict. Readers who enjoy The Dresden Files, Supernatural, Men in Black-style organizations, SCP-style lore, paranormal procedurals, or ensemble urban fantasy casts will probably have a great time with this. Happy reading!

Check out Eidolon: From the Case Files of the OHR here!

 

Review: Lasting Remains by Esmeralda Stone

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Synopsis:

A funeral director searching for a way to start over.
A private investigator who refuses to leave the unknown alone.
And a case that proves the truth doesn’t always set you free—it can bury you.

Someone is hiding the truth.

Funeral invoices don’t match services. Families can’t find their loved ones’ graves. People keep disappearing.

None of it is accidental.

Emily Collins wants nothing to do with it—or the man who brought trouble to her door ten months ago: private investigator Cian “Oz” Ozdemir.

After walking away from her, Oz is back. This time, he’s calling in the favor she owes him.

He needs her funeral service expertise. She wants him gone.

But working side by side forces them to confront the connection they’ve tried to ignore since the day they met.

The deeper they dig, the more chilling the truth becomes. Because someone is using the funeral business to hide far more than accounting errors.

And if Oz and Emily keep searching for answers, the greatest risk they face isn’t losing their lives—it’s losing the life they could build together.

Favorite Lines:

“As long as she was with other people or had something physical to keep her busy, she felt marginally normal.”

“The way you threw yourself at me the other morning, I didn’t feel safe waiting another six months.”

“We’ll have to find a house near a cemetery.”

My Opinion:

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

Lasting Remains picks up with Emily Collins trying to rebuild her life and career after the fallout from the first book, and honestly, that emotional baggage gives the story a stronger backbone than I expected going in. Emily is working at the newly opened funeral home, A Good Mourning, trying to move forward while still carrying around a mountain of guilt, resentment, and anxiety. The book immediately throws readers back into the strange little world Esmeralda Stone has built, where funeral planning meetings can involve goats pulling wicker caskets, but serious conversations about grief, ethics, and trauma are never too far underneath the humor.

What I liked most about this one was the balance between the mystery plot and the character tension. The suspicious funeral invoice investigation could have easily become dry, but instead it turns into this genuinely interesting unraveling of fraud inside the funeral industry while also forcing Emily back into contact with Oz, who is equal parts infuriating and compelling. Their dynamic carries a huge portion of the book. They bicker constantly, both of them are stubborn to an almost unreasonable degree, and there’s a steady undercurrent of attraction that keeps every interaction tense. The cemetery scene in particular is one of the strongest sequences in the novel because it finally pushes all of Emily’s bottled-up fear and recklessness into the open. It felt suspenseful in a way that didn’t seem overdone.

The humor also worked better for me here than in a lot of mystery-romance hybrids. The funeral industry setting gives the author a lot of room for dark comedy, and Stone leans into it without making the story feel flippant. The conversations between Isaac and Cory were probably my favorite parts outside of the main plot because they bring a warmth and weird domestic energy to the book that offsets Emily’s spiraling internal monologue. There’s also a very Midwestern specificity to the writing that makes the setting feel lived in instead of generic. Little details about local politics, cemeteries, church gossip, family businesses, and small-town scandal all helped the world feel grounded.

Summary:

Overall, I thought Lasting Remains worked well as a blend of mystery, romance, and dark humor. It has a messy emotional core in the best way. The funeral home setting continues to be one of the more unique backdrops I’ve seen in this type of story, and the chemistry between Emily and Oz gives the book a constant tension that kept me reading even during quieter sections. It feels like a story about grief, guilt, attraction, and survival disguised as a quirky mystery novel, and I mean that as a compliment.

Readers who enjoy character-driven mysteries, slow-burn romance, morally complicated protagonists, and small-town drama will probably have a great time with this one. Happy reading!

Check out Lasting Remains here!

 

Review: Greet Suzon for me by Vince Rockston

~ likelystory18 ~ 2 Comments

Synopsis:

The year is 1686. King Louis XIV’s dragoons arrive in Alençon. Their mission: to brutally eradicate the Huguenot faith.

The d’Albert family’s flight is shattered when marshals ambush their wagon, seizing the father. Now, the fate of his family rests on young Gédéon. He must navigate treacherous, hostile lands, protect his mother and ailing sister, and find a boat to take them to the safe shores of Jersey.

Favorite Lines:

“A servant is not greater than his master.”

“Let’s leave that in the Lord’s hands’ – Did I really say that?”

“Can’t we each take responsibility for our own lives?”

My Opinion:

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

Greet Suzon for me is one of those historical novels that feels very grounded in ordinary people’s lives rather than grand political spectacle, even though huge historical events are constantly shaping everything around the characters. The story follows young Gédéon d’Albert and his Huguenot family in late seventeenth-century France during the escalating persecution of Protestants under Louis XIV. What surprised me most was how intimate the novel feels despite the historical scale. The religious oppression, arrests, threats, and growing danger are all there, but Rockston filters most of it through family life, friendships, travel, worship gatherings, and the perspective of a teenage boy trying to understand a world that suddenly feels unstable.

The opening chapters are honestly very strong. The attack on the Huguenot temple immediately establishes the fear hanging over these communities, but what gives the scene weight is how personal it feels through Gédéon’s eyes. He’s angry, impulsive, confused about why people who claim to follow God hate each other so much, and still young enough to swing between childish revenge fantasies and genuine spiritual questions. I liked that he doesn’t come across as unrealistically noble. He acts like an actual teenager growing up inside a frightening political and religious climate. His relationships with his sisters, especially Madeleine, also help soften the heavier material and give the story warmth.

One thing the book does very well is atmosphere. Rockston clearly did a huge amount of historical research, but unlike some historical fiction that reads like a textbook in disguise, this novel usually folds the details naturally into the story. The secret Protestant meetings, the courier missions, the coded greetings, the fear of informants, the stories of pastors disappearing into prison or slavery on galleys — all of it creates a believable sense of danger without feeling overly dramatized. I especially enjoyed the travel sections because they make seventeenth-century France feel alive. Forests, villages, river barges, ports, safe houses, marketplaces, and isolated farms all become part of the experience.

The emotional core of the novel, though, is really about faith, loyalty, and responsibility. Gédéon slowly realizes that the adults around him may not be able to protect him forever, and that shift gives the story more emotional depth as it progresses. His growing awareness of political reality feels believable because it happens gradually. The book also spends a lot of time exploring how persecution changes families and communities, not just physically but emotionally. Some people flee, some compromise, some resist quietly, and others cling harder to faith because it is the only thing left that feels stable.

The biggest thing readers should know going in is that this is a slower, character-driven historical novel rather than an action-heavy adventure. There are tense moments and real danger, but the pacing is deliberate. The dialogue and narration occasionally feel a little formal, which honestly fits the setting most of the time, though there were places where conversations sounded more polished than natural. Still, I appreciated how sincere the book felt. Rockston clearly cares deeply about the historical reality of the Huguenots and the human cost of religious persecution, and that passion comes through on nearly every page.

Summary:

Overall, Greet Suzon for me is a thoughtful historical novel about a Huguenot family trying to survive increasing persecution in seventeenth-century France under Louis XIV. Through the perspective of teenage Gédéon, the story explores faith, family loyalty, exile, fear, and growing political oppression. The book balances detailed historical research with emotional family-centered storytelling and strong atmosphere. Readers who enjoy slower historical fiction, religious history, coming-of-age stories, or novels about resilience during persecution will probably connect strongly with it. Fans of character-focused historical fiction rather than battle-heavy epics will likely enjoy this most. Happy reading!

Check out Greet Suzon for me here!

 

Review: Bloom: Crisis in the Mediterranean Sea by Andrea Morani

~ likelystory18 ~ 1 Comment

Synopsis:

SOMETHING IS SPREADING BENEATH THE SURFACE

Along the Mediterranean coast, people are dying or falling ill. Marine life is vanishing. The sea, once a source of life, is becoming a silent threat. No one knows why—or how far it will go. Called in to investigate, Dr. Marco Fassi and his team of scientists uncover unsettling patterns that point to something vast and unseen, pulsing beneath the water. As the phenomenon spreads, they’re forced to confront the terrifying possibility that nature itself is no longer under control.

For fans of Michael Crichton, Franck Schätzing, and eco thrillers grounded in real science, BLOOM delivers a chilling, high stakes mystery where the natural world becomes the greatest threat. Propulsive and eerily plausible, this gripping novel will leave you questioning what lies beneath the surface

Favorite Lines:

“Nature is staggeringly intricate—and largely mysterious—so much so that countless forces, known or unknown, could trigger catastrophes that endanger humanity. This isn’t a doom- and-gloom perspective; it’s a reminder that we live on a fragile balance.”

“The fate of not just the Mediterranean, but perhaps all the world’s oceans, rested on their success.”

“From then on, he made sure to never take their love for granted again. “

My Opinion:

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

Bloom feels like a mix of environmental thriller, disaster novel, and science-heavy speculative fiction. The setup immediately pulled me in because it starts with something that feels believable: the Mediterranean Sea warming, marine ecosystems shifting, and strange deaths beginning to happen around the coastline. The early chapters in Sardinia are honestly the strongest part of the book for me. The scenes with Sylvie and her parents on vacation create this calm, almost sentimental atmosphere before everything turns terrifying in a matter of minutes. The sudden collapse on the water and the confusion surrounding the dead fish and strange smell genuinely felt unsettling.

What I appreciated most was that Morani clearly knows the science behind what is being written about. The book dives deeply into harmful algal blooms, phytoplankton, saxitoxins, synthetic biology, and environmental collapse, but it usually does so through characters who are actively trying to solve the crisis. Marco’s sections especially carry the story once the scope expands beyond Italy. He’s written as a scientist first, and sometimes that makes him emotionally distant, but I actually thought that worked for the character. His family issues with Jasmine and his guilt over balancing science with real life gave the story a more human center amid all the technical discussions and global panic.

The scale of the crisis becomes surprisingly massive as the novel continues. What starts as isolated deaths and strange marine behavior escalates into continent-wide fear, collapsing tourism, political tension, ecological disaster, and desperate scientific experimentation. I liked that Morani didn’t keep the story small. The sections aboard the Seagull and the debates about drastic containment measures made the book feel bigger and more urgent as it went on. There are moments where the novel almost reads like a cinematic pandemic thriller, except the threat comes from the ocean instead of a virus.

That said, this definitely leans more toward “science thriller” than fast-paced action novel. The scientific explanations are frequent and detailed, sometimes to the point where the pacing slows down considerably. There are stretches where characters explain theories, toxins, genetics, or environmental systems for pages at a time. Personally, I didn’t mind most of it because the author clearly put real thought into the plausibility of the disaster, but readers looking for nonstop suspense may struggle with those sections. The dialogue can also feel a little formal at times, especially during scientific discussions where nearly every character sounds highly academic.

Still, I found Bloom genuinely interesting because it feels sincere. Morani clearly cares about the environmental themes and the science behind them, and that passion carries the book through its weaker moments. The story works best when it balances human fear with scientific uncertainty, showing how fragile modern systems really are when nature starts behaving unpredictably. It’s the kind of novel that makes you think twice the next time you hear about warming oceans or harmful algal blooms in the news.

Summary:

Overall, Bloom is a science-heavy environmental thriller about a deadly marine catastrophe spreading through the Mediterranean Sea. The novel blends disaster fiction, biology, ecology, and speculative science with family drama and global political tension. It starts strong with eerie coastal deaths and gradually expands into a large-scale international crisis involving toxins, algal blooms, and desperate scientific intervention. Readers who enjoy Michael Crichton-style scientific thrillers, environmental fiction, outbreak stories, or speculative eco-disaster novels will probably get the most out of it. Happy reading!

Check out Bloom: Crisis in the Mediterranean Sea here!

 

Review: Maze: Short Stories to Faze by Sean Sheehan

~ likelystory18 ~ 1 Comment

Synopsis:

Step into a world where ordinary lives take unexpected turns, and the line between reality and mystery blurs. In this compelling collection, each story weaves a web of intrigue, delving into the hidden corners of human nature and history:

  • Two shop assistants are unsettled by a young girl’s eerie fascination with insects, a curiosity that spirals into something darker.
  • A train driver struggles to piece his life back together after a tragic incident on the tracks.
  • A pensioner battling cognitive decline questions whether he holds the key to solving a murder near his home.
  • A burglar’s routine robbery leads to a chilling discovery that will haunt him forever.
  • The fierce rivalry between twin sisters erupts, leaving devastation in its wake.
  • A pharmacist is thrust into a life-or-death confrontation with the IRA during Ireland’s War of Independence.
  • A traveller finds himself ensnared in the chaos of Ireland’s armed struggle for freedom.

Spanning contemporary Britain, modern Ireland, and the turbulent days of 20th-century Ireland, Maze: Short Stories to Faze masterfully explores themes of identity, memory, and morality. With its diverse settings and richly drawn characters, this collection challenges perceptions and lingers long after the last page.

Favorite Lines:

As I do with all of the anthologies and short story collections that I read, rather than pulling favorite lines, I like to spotlight a couple of the stories that stood out to me the most: The Maze and The Pharmacist.

My Opinion:

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

Maze: Short Stories to Faze feels like sitting around listening to someone tell eerie local legends, strange moral tales, and old Irish ghost stories while rain taps against the windows. The collection jumps between crime fiction, psychological horror, folklore, tragedy, and dark little character studies, but what ties it all together is Sheehan’s fascination with ordinary people drifting into unsettling situations. The stories aren’t flashy or overly literary. Instead, they lean heavily into atmosphere, conversation, and the quiet weirdness that can sit underneath everyday life.

The standout for me was definitely “The Maze.” It starts almost deceptively simple, introducing supermarket workers, elderly couples, and lonely men in a very observational way, but gradually the story tightens into something genuinely sinister. Albert is one of the creepiest characters in the collection because he never feels exaggerated. His awkwardness and odd conversational habits make him believable long before the full horror of what he’s capable of becomes clear. At the same time, Pat and Maeve provide the emotional center of the story. Their aging, memory lapses, and quiet affection for one another give the story a melancholy warmth that balances the darkness extremely well. The final sections involving Pat’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis were honestly more emotionally affecting than I expected from a crime-centered story.

A lot of the collection works this way. The stories are often less concerned with twists and more interested in human behavior. Sheehan spends time on small details: cups of tea, village gossip, old songs, awkward conversations, routines, and social rituals. Sometimes that pacing really works because it creates a strong sense of place and personality. The Irish settings especially feel authentic without trying too hard. Stories like “The Pharmacist” lean heavily into Irish history and political tension, while others move into stranger or more psychological territory. The overall effect is that the collection feels varied without completely losing its identity.

That said, the writing style is very straightforward. Readers looking for highly polished prose or subtle symbolism may find some stories a little blunt in how they deliver information or themes. Some stories also end a little abruptly, almost like modern folktales rather than fully fleshed-out literary pieces. But honestly, I think part of the charm of the collection comes from that simplicity. It reads like a storyteller more interested in getting the unsettling idea across than showing off stylistically.

Summary:

Overall, I enjoyed this collection more than I expected to. There’s a sincerity to it that helped a lot of the stories land emotionally, especially when the darker material is contrasted against ordinary human tenderness. The best stories linger because they mix cruelty, loneliness, memory, and morality together in a way that feels grounded instead of theatrical. Readers who enjoy unsettling but character-focused stories, small-town atmospheres, morally strange characters, and anthology collections with a classic storytelling feel will probably enjoy this one. Happy reading!

Check out Maze: Short Stories to Faze here!

 

Review: County Road 2400: A Midwest Noir by Sal Nudo

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Synopsis:

One night of “mailbox metal” was supposed to be a reset. Instead, it became a life sentence.

Illinois, 1998. Tommy Cancio and Todd Wells are fueled by cheap beer, jagged lines of cocaine, and the midnight fog of Champaign County. The mission is simple: a high-speed pass and the satisfying ping of a baseball bat against a rural mailbox.

But when the bat hits something wet and heavy on County Road 2400, the music stops.

What follows is a desperate, mud-caked crawl into a different kind of darkness. From the suffocating rows of unharvested corn to a concrete hole beneath an abandoned Indiana burger stand, Tommy discovers that the Midwest doesn’t just grow crops—it buries secrets.

Trapped with half a million dollars in drug money and a silent “gentle giant” for a jailer, Tommy must confront the ghosts of his past—and the very real predator coming to collect.

In the heart of the Heartland, the distance between a “good time” and a shallow grave is shorter than you think.

Favorite Lines:

“All for a pumpkin, Todd. You died for a fifty-cent gourd.”

“The guy wasn’t just a drunk; he was a rabbit on the run.”

“I don’t speak English today, Tommy.”

My Opinion:

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

County Road 2400 reads like someone threw a 90s Midwest burnout story into a blender with noir fiction, small-town crime drama, and just enough dark absurdity to make the violence feel grimly funny instead of purely brutal. The novel opens with one of the strongest hooks I’ve read in a while: two drunk, coked-up friends speeding down an Illinois backroad smashing mailboxes with a baseball bat when one of them accidentally obliterates what they think is a person sitting roadside. From there, the story spirals into a chain reaction of panic, bad decisions, accidental deaths, desperate escapes, heroin addicts, corrupt luck, and the kind of bleak Midwestern atmosphere where everybody seems trapped by geography, poverty, or their own terrible impulses.

What makes the book work is the voice. The writing style is lean, aggressive, and loaded with vivid imagery without becoming overly flowery. Nudo has a really strong sense of place, especially when describing Illinois cornfields, roadside bars, junky motels, drainage ditches, and dying small towns. The atmosphere almost becomes its own character. There’s a constant feeling that the landscape itself is swallowing these people whole. Tommy Cancio is also a surprisingly effective central character because beneath all the stupidity and violence, there’s still a deeply sad guy underneath trying to outrun a life that was probably doomed long before the story even started. The book never pretends Tommy is innocent, but it also understands that people can become trapped inside one catastrophic night and keep digging themselves deeper trying to escape it.

The middle section involving Tommy hiding in Indiana was probably my favorite part of the novel because the tone shifts from crime thriller into something almost existential. The abandoned burger joint cellar becomes this horrifying little psychological prison where Tommy slowly loses his grip on reality. The hallucinations involving Todd, the darkness becoming physically oppressive, and the bizarre emotional attachment to the cellar itself all worked really well for me. There’s a strong Coen brothers energy running through parts of the book where terrible people keep colliding with even worse luck, but underneath the violence there’s also genuine loneliness and desperation. Sheriff Levi Keller ended up being another standout character because he feels exhausted and human rather than written as some perfect noir lawman. His cancer diagnosis and growing weariness mirror Tommy’s emotional deterioration in an interesting way.

The novel is definitely pulpy and exaggerated at times, but honestly I think that’s intentional. The dialogue can occasionally feel theatrical, and there are moments where the noir style becomes so heightened it borders on comic-book bleakness. But the story commits fully to that tone, and because of that it mostly works. The pacing is fast, the chapters move quickly, and the writing constantly throws memorable images at the reader. Even small details stick in your head, like the J.D. Drew bobblehead lodged in Todd’s eye socket or Tommy crawling through cornfields while combines harvest around him. The epilogue also surprised me because it gives the novel a strangely melancholic ending rather than a simple crime-story conclusion.

Summary:

Overall, County Road 2400 is a dark, fast-moving Midwest noir packed with desperation, bad luck, guilt, violence, and the feeling that one reckless night can permanently ruin multiple lives. It reads like a collision between rural crime fiction and 90s grunge culture, with enough psychological weight underneath the suspense to keep it from feeling shallow. Readers who enjoy bleak Americana, morally messy protagonists, and atmospheric crime fiction will probably burn through this very quickly. Happy reading!

Check out County Road 2400: A Midwest Noir here!

 

Monthly Features – May 2026

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

A Moment’s Surrender by John Burt

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

Synopsis: A Moment’s Surrender follows freshman writing instructor Paul Bishop in the aftermath of the murder of his former best friend, the renowned poet Tom Corbin. Haunted by guilt and bound by a devastating secret, Paul takes it upon himself to care for Tom’s terminally ill widow, Susan. But the truth he withholds — that Tom had planned to leave Susan for another woman, Paul’s own long-ago lover Rachel Lake — draws Paul into a painful triangle of loyalty, betrayal, and unresolved desire. Caught between the two women, Paul must navigate a web of grief and deception that threatens to undo them all.

Summary: Overall, I thought A Moment’s Surrender was ambitious, thoughtful literary fiction that trusts its readers to sit with discomfort instead of racing toward easy catharsis. It’s a novel about failed courage, unresolved longing, self-deception, and the stories people construct to make their lives bearable. More than the murder itself, what lingered with me afterward was the sadness of watching people recognize exactly what is broken inside themselves while still remaining unable to change. This will probably work best for readers who enjoy psychologically dense literary fiction, emotionally complicated relationship dynamics, and novels deeply interested in art, memory, morality, and the gap between who people want to be and who they actually are. 

See the full review here: A Moment’s Surrender
Purchase here

 

At Death’s Door by Allen Rebot

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

Synopsis: One wrong turn. Seven locked doors. No way out.

When Kayla wakes up in a silent, snow-covered forest void of all life, her only sanctuary is a mysterious, pristine manor nestled among the trees. Inside, the coffee is hot and the decor is lavish, but the inhabitant is nowhere to be found. The only thing more unsettling than the silence is the hallway of doors, each etched with the image of a different beast.

At the end of the hall stands the “Gnarled Door,” a mass of intertwined roots that refuses to budge.

When Kayla finds a silver skeleton key, she inadvertently begins a descent into a series of waking nightmares. Each door she unlocks transports her into a twisted reality born from her own deepest fears: a claustrophobic dollhouse guarded by a predatory jack-in-the-box, a schoolhouse haunted by shadows of her past, and a museum where history refuses to stay dead.

As the manor begins to rot around her, Kayla realizes she isn’t just a guest; she’s a participant in a trial for her soul. To escape the “Forest of Souls” and avoid becoming a shadow herself, she must collect every key and face the truth of how she arrived at Death’s door.

In this house, your nightmares aren’t just in your head-they’re right behind the next door.

Summary: Overall, if you like atmospheric horror with creepy objects, distorted reality, monstrous toy imagery, shifting environments, and relentless tension, there’s a good chance this will work for you. It feels like a haunted maze built by someone who grew up loving horror movies, escape rooms, creepy pasta, and nightmare-fueled video games.

See the full review here: At Death’s Door
Purchase here

 

 

 

Review: Talisman: A Time Travel Mystery by Tom Catalano

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Synopsis:

A time travel mystery. Prominent archaeologist Henri Rutherford and his young protégé discover an ancient skeleton clutching a mysterious device. They have no idea what it is or where it came from. When they start repeating the same day over and over again they know they have something that could change the world–for better or worse. Will they use the time travel device for the betterment of society–or their own gain? Can they keep it from being stolen? Can they avoid the government agent willing to do whatever is necessary to get it and rule the world? Their lives are in danger and the future is in jeopardy. The race is on, and time is running out.

Get ready to depart on an exciting time travel journey through mystery, suspense, greed, murder, treachery, paranoia, heartache, and love!

Favorite Lines:

“If luck wasn’t volunteered, it was your right to make it. Or take it.”

“Discoveries are not meant for the discoverer. They are meant for humanity. Nothing can be gained by keeping it a secret.”

“And the future? Well, the future would stay right where it belonged. Unknown and always ahead of them.”

My Opinion:

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

Talisman feels very much like an old-school science fiction adventure in the best possible way. From the opening archaeological dig on a remote Caribbean island, the novel immediately leans into mystery, danger, and curiosity. When Professor Rutherford and his student assistant John Shaw uncover a strange gold object clutched in the hand of a skeleton, the story quickly shifts from straightforward archaeological fiction into something much stranger involving time distortion, greed, murder, and alternate realities. The pacing moves fast right from the start, and unlike a lot of modern sci-fi that gets buried in technical explanations, this book keeps its focus on suspense and momentum.

What worked best for me was how readable it all was. The writing style is simple and direct, but it keeps the story moving constantly. The early sections involving Rutherford were especially strong because he’s such a morally slippery character. He starts as a respected academic but slowly reveals himself to be selfish, manipulative, and increasingly paranoid once the artifact is discovered. The repeated scenes where reality itself begins shifting around him genuinely create a creepy atmosphere. There’s a strong The Twilight Zone influence throughout the novel, which Catalano openly acknowledges in the front matter, and honestly that comparison fits. A lot of the book reads like an expanded sci-fi mystery episode from that era, complete with moral consequences attached to human greed and ambition.

John ends up becoming a much more likable emotional anchor for the story than Rutherford. He has that classic earnest, intelligent protagonist energy that works well in adventure fiction like this. Hannah was another character I enjoyed because she balances out some of the more arrogant personalities around her and adds a grounded emotional presence to the story. The dialogue can occasionally feel a little theatrical or overly explanatory, but it also adds to the nostalgic feel of the novel. This doesn’t read like hyper-modern sci-fi trying to sound gritty or cynical. It feels intentionally sincere and pulpy in a way that reminded me of older speculative fiction paperbacks.

The biggest strength of the book is probably its imagination. Once the time travel elements fully emerge, the story becomes increasingly unpredictable and ambitious. There’s a genuine sense that anything could happen, and the novel clearly enjoys playing with paradoxes, altered timelines, and questions about fate.

Summary:

Overall, Talisman is a fun, fast-moving sci-fi mystery that feels written by someone who genuinely loves classic speculative fiction. It blends archaeology, suspense, murder, and time travel into an entertaining story that rarely slows down for long. Readers looking for hard science fiction packed with technical detail may want something deeper, but readers who enjoy imaginative, accessible time travel stories with strong mystery elements will probably have a good time with this one. It especially feels suited for people who miss the style of older science fiction where the mystery itself mattered more than realism. Happy reading!

Check out Talisman: A Time Travel Mystery here!

 

Review: At Death’s Door by Allen Rebot

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Synopsis:

One wrong turn. Seven locked doors. No way out.

When Kayla wakes up in a silent, snow-covered forest void of all life, her only sanctuary is a mysterious, pristine manor nestled among the trees. Inside, the coffee is hot and the decor is lavish, but the inhabitant is nowhere to be found. The only thing more unsettling than the silence is the hallway of doors, each etched with the image of a different beast.

At the end of the hall stands the “Gnarled Door,” a mass of intertwined roots that refuses to budge.

When Kayla finds a silver skeleton key, she inadvertently begins a descent into a series of waking nightmares. Each door she unlocks transports her into a twisted reality born from her own deepest fears: a claustrophobic dollhouse guarded by a predatory jack-in-the-box, a schoolhouse haunted by shadows of her past, and a museum where history refuses to stay dead.

As the manor begins to rot around her, Kayla realizes she isn’t just a guest; she’s a participant in a trial for her soul. To escape the “Forest of Souls” and avoid becoming a shadow herself, she must collect every key and face the truth of how she arrived at Death’s door.

In this house, your nightmares aren’t just in your head-they’re right behind the next door.

Favorite Lines:

“Trees, long since made barren by winter, stood around me like vultures waiting for their next meal to breathe their last”

“The owner of this place might be weird, but their drink-making skills are impeccable.”

“I refused to acknowledge the lantern-like eyes that watched us from behind the trees.”

My Opinion:

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

There’s a very specific kind of horror book that feels like it was written by someone who genuinely loves being scared. Not in a polished, prestige horror way where everything is symbolic and emotionally restrained, but in the “what nightmare can I throw at the reader next?” kind of way. At Death’s Door absolutely falls into that category.

This book wastes almost no time dropping you into danger. Kayla wakes up stranded in a freezing forest with no memory of how she got there, finds an isolated house in the middle of nowhere, and things immediately begin spiraling into increasingly surreal nightmare logic. What starts as eerie haunted-house horror turns into something much stranger and meaner. The dollhouse section especially is where the book really hooked me. Once the scale starts changing and Kayla ends up trapped inside the dollhouse itself, the story goes from creepy to genuinely claustrophobic.

One thing I appreciated was that the horror never really sits still. A lot of indie horror novels introduce one cool concept and stretch it thin for 250 pages. This one keeps escalating. Every room feels like its own contained nightmare with different rules and imagery. The toy room, the jack-in-the-box, the cardboard canyon, the doll family at the dinner table… it all feels very visual and cinematic. You can tell the author has a strong imagination for creature design and environmental horror. Some of the imagery honestly feels like it would translate perfectly into an indie horror game.

The jack-in-the-box scenes were probably the standout for me. There’s something deeply unsettling about the way childish things are described throughout the book. The toys don’t just become scary because they move. The descriptions linger on textures, sounds, proportions, weird smiles, and movement patterns in a way that feels intentionally uncomfortable. The scraping sound of the jester dragging its box around became one of those recurring horror details that instantly creates dread every time it comes back.

I also liked that Kayla reacts like an actual person most of the time. She panics, swears, bargains with herself, makes dumb choices, then adapts anyway. She doesn’t suddenly become hyper-competent just because the plot needs her to survive. There’s a messy, exhausted quality to her narration that helps the book feel grounded even when the story gets completely surreal.

The pacing is probably one of the book’s strongest qualities. Chapters move quickly and almost always end with either a reveal, a new threat, or a shift in environment. It makes the book very easy to binge. I kept telling myself “one more chapter” because the structure naturally pushes you forward.

The strongest thing the novel does is maintain this feeling that the world itself is hostile and wrong. Not just haunted. Wrong. The house doesn’t operate on normal logic, the toys feel malicious in an almost fairy-tale way, and the constant shifts in scale and reality make everything feel unstable. It reminded me a little of survival horror games where every new area introduces a completely different flavor of fear.

Summary:

Overall, if you like atmospheric horror with creepy objects, distorted reality, monstrous toy imagery, shifting environments, and relentless tension, there’s a good chance this will work for you. It feels like a haunted maze built by someone who grew up loving horror movies, escape rooms, creepy pasta, and nightmare-fueled video games. Happy reading!

Check out At Death’s Door here!