Tag: Likely Story Blog

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: Intrinsic by W.H.B.

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Synopsis:

Christopher Franklin, the proud and only son of a New York literary royalty, from birth he is built and destined to nothing less than greatness. One day, out of disappointment, he makes the dangerous decision to change and turn into someone who is not. He consciously decides to entangle his life with a miserable soul. Abruptly he learns his first lesson from life, miserable souls only bring misery, with one act he will lose everything, in one evening he will be reduced to nothing. No greatness, he becomes a nobody.

Years passed by and Chris settled into his life as a taxi driver, Brooklyn is home, and the miserable soul is still around him and has gotten more miserable with the years. This time is different, he is a dad of two beautiful daughters with unconditional love, their safety is his new purpose in life, nothing and no one is above his girls. He also discovers a dear friendship with his neighbor and confidante, a place of solace.

One night, without warning, a triggered chain reaction will take Chris into a ride of a lifetime, nothing will be ever the same, lies and secrets are uncovered, he was played and fooled, he didn’t know anything about who he is and, once again, he is reduced to nothing, rock bottom is where he belongs. Suddenly, out of nowhere, greatness at last, he has the privilege to show who he is, royalty. He will rise while making sure others will fall, miserably.

Life is fair, but not for all.

Favorite Lines:

“Life is fair—but not for all.”

“Pay it forward. At some point we all need help.”

“No matter what, things have to return to where they naturally belong—a universal rule.”

“I don’t predict the future. I don’t want to, and I don’t need to. I am simply ready and prepared for whatever it throws at me. The only thing I know is no matter what it brings, I will always be the one who decides when and how it’s going to end. Simple control. Control is when you never fail to punctuate the present moment.”

My Opinion:

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

Intrinsic immediately stands out as a very ambitious and emotionally driven novel. From the opening pages, the book throws readers into a vividly detailed version of New York City that feels alive with movement, history, and personality, and there’s an unmistakable sincerity behind the writing that kept me engaged. The narration is rich and reflective, almost cinematic at times, and the story quickly establishes itself as something much larger than a straightforward family drama. It’s interested in morality, destiny, identity, sacrifice, and what truly defines a good person, all through the life of Chris Franklin, a taxi driver carrying far more emotional weight and history than people around him realize.

What stood out most to me was Chris himself. He’s written almost like an old-fashioned idealized protagonist: endlessly kind, thoughtful, generous, intelligent, patient, hardworking, devoted to his children, and seemingly able to connect deeply with everyone he encounters. In lesser hands that could have made him feel flat, but the novel balances it somewhat by surrounding him with emotional tension and instability, especially within his marriage to Mary. The family scenes were honestly the strongest part of the book for me because they feel emotionally loaded even during ordinary conversations. There’s this constant undercurrent of volatility in the household where Chris is trying to preserve warmth and tenderness for his daughters while navigating Mary’s anger and emotional instability. Those scenes created much more tension than the larger philosophical passages.

The book also has a huge sense of nostalgia attached to New York City. The opening chapters almost function as a love letter to the city in the late 2000s and to a version of urban life that feels increasingly distant. Taxi driving, neighborhood delis, late-night cigarettes on fire escapes, crowded avenues, old bookstores, political conversations about Obama’s election, family-owned buildings, and references to pre-smartphone daily life all combine to create a very specific atmosphere. Even when the writing style becomes (intentionally) overly elaborate, there’s still a genuine affection for the setting that makes the world feel lived in. The flashbacks to Chris’s privileged teenage years also help explain why he feels emotionally divided between who he used to be and who he became.

What stayed with me most after finishing Intrinsic was how emotionally sincere it felt. The book wears its heart on its sleeve in a way that feels increasingly rare, especially in modern fiction that often leans detached or overly cynical. Chris’s love for his children, his constant desire to protect the people around him, and the lingering sense that something larger is shaping the course of his life all give the story a strong emotional core. Even during quieter moments, there’s a feeling that the novel is building toward something meaningful. It’s the kind of book that is less focused on rushing from plot point to plot point and more interested in exploring the emotional weight behind the choices people make and the lives they build.

Summary:

Overall, Intrinsic feels like a character-driven literary drama disguised as a philosophical thriller. It’s ambitious, emotional, reflective, and there’s enough heart underneath it that I stayed invested in Chris and his family. Readers who enjoy emotionally heavy family sagas, morally driven protagonists, reflective narration, and stories centered around sacrifice, destiny, and identity will probably connect strongly with this one. It feels less interested in realism and more interested in exploring what kind of person someone chooses to become when life repeatedly tests them. Happy reading!

Check out Intrinsic 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!

 

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: A Moment’s Surrender by John Burt

~ likelystory18 ~ 2 Comments

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.

Favorite Lines:

“In fact, they depended on each other and couldn’t quite be themselves without the challenge of the other.”

“Poetry was not just about feelings. It was not just a representation of something in the world, or an argument, or a short narrative told in heightened language, or a decorated moral proposition. It was an occasion to know something through the poem that you can’t know in any other way.”

“He did not want to want what he wanted, but he wanted it anyway, and every promise he made to himself divided him from himself, so that what he wanted to be and what he actually was faced off against each other.”

My Opinion:

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

There’s a heaviness hanging over A Moment’s Surrender almost immediately, and not just because it opens with a murder investigation. The real weight of the novel comes from emotional paralysis, from the way people spend years avoiding truths they already know about themselves. The story follows Paul Bishop, an adjunct writing instructor whose former best friend, celebrated poet Tom Corbin, is found murdered after secretly planning to leave his wife Susan for Rachel Lake, Paul’s own former lover. Paul knows the truth about where Tom was headed before he died, but instead of exposing it, he starts lying almost instinctively, first to the police, then to Susan, and eventually to himself. What makes the novel work is that it understands lying not as villainy but as cowardice, hesitation, shame, and the desperate hope that maybe reality can somehow be delayed if nobody says it out loud.

What surprised me most about this book is how emotionally layered it is beneath all the literary and philosophical discussion. This is very much a novel about intellectual people trying to think their way out of grief, guilt, desire, and regret, only to discover that intelligence does not make anyone emotionally brave. Paul especially feels painfully real in that regard. He’s someone who once imagined a larger, more meaningful life for himself and now finds himself stuck grading freshman papers in Reno, circling old failures and unresolved relationships. The sections involving Rachel are some of the strongest in the novel because she represents both artistic intensity and emotional danger in a way that still unsettles Paul years later. Susan, though, quietly becomes the emotional center of the book. Her love for Tom, even knowing exactly who he is, gives the novel much of its sadness. There’s a recurring idea throughout the story that the deepest truth about a person may not be the worst thing they’ve done, but the struggle they can never fully overcome, and I think the book handles that idea with a surprising amount of compassion.

The academic setting also feels authentic in a way a lot of literary fiction does not. Burt clearly understands the strange mixture of ego, insecurity, idealism, exhaustion, and performance that exists inside literary academia. The conversations about poetry, philosophy, religion, and aesthetics are not there just to sound smart. They genuinely reveal character and worldview. At times the novel almost reads like a long argument between competing ways of understanding art and morality. Paul wants poetry to mean something transcendent while Corbin increasingly sees art as tangled up in power, ambition, and self-interest. Rachel falls somewhere darker and more dangerous in between. These conversations can be dense, but they rarely felt empty to me because they are always tied back to emotional wounds the characters are carrying. Even the landscape descriptions, especially around Pyramid Lake and the desert highways, feel connected to the emotional isolation of the characters rather than existing purely for atmosphere.

This is definitely a slow, reflective novel. Readers looking for a fast-moving mystery may struggle because the murder becomes less important than the emotional wreckage surrounding it. There are sections where the philosophical discussions and internal reflections run long, and occasionally the book risks becoming too enamored with its own intelligence. But honestly, that excess also feels true to these characters. These are people who intellectualize because they do not know how else to survive themselves. The style fits the emotional world of the story.

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. Happy reading!

Check out A Moment’s Surrender 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!

Review: Against All Odds by Richard A. Danzig

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Synopsis:

Chance Cormac faces a personal and professional crisis as he loses faith in the law and himself. He abandons his practice and life in Brooklyn to volunteer to represent illegally detained immigrants throughout the country. From the federal courts to the infamous CECOT prison in El Salvador, against all odds, Chance struggles to rescue a client who is imprisoned without any hope of escape. While Chance pursues justice, his former paralegal and first love Sally McConnell, is forced to confront her husband’s cancer and the cyberbullying of her daughter Melody by a student in her high school. Chance must regain his faith in order to save those who need him most and himself.

Favorite Lines:

“A cut can’t heal if you keep taking the bandage off.”

“It’s not magic, Chance, it’s diplomacy”

“The solitude and calmness have permitted me to look in, not out.”

My Opinion:

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

This book feels like it’s juggling a lot. Legal drama, spiritual awakening, political commentary, personal redemption arc… and somehow it works.

At the center is Chance Cormac, who is not exactly subtle as a protagonist. He’s a lawyer, a bit of a crusader, a bit of a mess, and very clearly someone the story wants you to see as both flawed and morally grounded. You meet him already carrying a lot—loss, burnout, disillusionment with the legal system—and the book just keeps stacking things on top of that.

The plot moves in a way that feels almost episodic at times. One minute you’re in a courtroom dealing with immigration law and media chaos, the next you’re inside a prison that reads like something out of a dystopian novel, and then suddenly you’re on a pilgrimage walking through monasteries and reflecting on faith.

That shift shouldn’t work as well as it does, but there’s a through-line: Chance trying to figure out what any of it means. Not just justice in a legal sense, but justice in a human sense. And more than that, whether any of it actually matters in the long run.

The prison sections are where the book hits hardest. They’re not subtle, but they’re effective. The conditions are brutal, and the message is clear: systems fail people, and sometimes they do it in ways that feel almost impossible to fix. There’s a rawness there that cuts through the more philosophical parts of the story.

At the same time, the book doesn’t stay in that darkness for too long without pulling back into something more reflective. The spiritual elements aren’t just background noise—they’re baked into the story. Near-death experiences, questions of faith, purpose, second chances… it all leans pretty heavily into the idea that suffering is supposed to mean something.

Where the book really lands, though, is in its quieter moments. Conversations with Melody, the way grief shows up in small, ordinary interactions, the exhaustion that comes from trying to keep doing the “right thing” when it doesn’t seem to change anything.

By the end, it leans hard into redemption. Not in a clean, tied-up way, but in a “keep going anyway” kind of way. There’s loss, there’s some resolution, and there’s this underlying suggestion that maybe the point isn’t winning—it’s continuing to show up.

Summary:

Overall, this is a layered, sometimes messy mix of legal drama, social commentary, and spiritual reflection centered on a burned-out lawyer trying to do the right thing in a system that often doesn’t reward it. Readers who enjoy character-driven legal fictions may enjoy this book. Happy reading!

Check out Against All Odds here!

Monthly Features – April 2026

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

SETTUP by TK Thoits

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

Synopsis: Respected neurologist and researcher Stella Murray was confident the FDA would approve the experimental medication based on its demonstrated superior efficacy. Knowing a serious side effect would not derail the approval process, she reports that a patient had a significant reaction to the investigational drug.

Shortly thereafter, Grand Rapids Detective Troy Evans is called to investigate the suspicious death of a Site Monitor who, he learns, worked with Murray. Evans asks Murray to educate him on the unfamiliar world of medical research. She discloses that conducting investigational drug studies has become a multibillion-dollar industry, with power brokers providing more oversight than the government.

When Murray informs Evans that a second Site Monitor has been killed, they team up to take down the corruption that is mercilessly burying unwelcome researchers and results of a promising drug trial.

Summary: Overall,  SETTUP is a fast, detail-heavy medical thriller that starts in the ER and expands into a layered story involving clinical trials, corporate pressure, and a criminal subplot. The medical realism is strong, and the tension builds as the threads begin to connect. The tone can shift a bit—especially with the assassin storyline—but it adds a darker, more unsettling edge. Best for readers who like medical dramas with conspiracy elements and multiple POVs rather than a single, straightforward narrative. 

See the full review here: SETTUP
Purchase here

The Knight’s Last Stand by Bear Pardun

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

Synopsis: In a world where gods walk among mortals and divine tyranny crushes the innocent, one knight’s investigation into ritual murders uncovers a conspiracy that threatens to consume an entire city. Commander Victus Andreas discovers that the seemingly random cult killings in Lindly are part of a far darker plan—the dark elven goddess Lestar seeks to harvest the souls of every citizen to feed her master’s insatiable hunger for power.
When Victus returns from his annual pilgrimage to find his city overrun by disguised dark elves posing as holy inquisitors, he must rally a small band of loyal soldiers, his adopted son Aris, and unlikely allies to stand against overwhelming odds. As ancient magic tears through the city and divine politics threaten to destroy everything he’s sworn to protect, Victus faces an impossible choice: save his people or preserve his own soul.
With breathtaking battles, complex characters wrestling with duty and honor, and a magic system that explores the cost of power, Battle of Lindly launches an epic fantasy series that challenges the very nature of divine authority. In Bear Pardun’s richly imagined world, heroes are forged not by destiny, but by the courage to defy gods themselves.

Summary:  Overall, I found this book to be a gritty, sincere fantasy that leans hard into classic themes of honor, sacrifice, and legacy. The writing had an emotional core — especially the father-son relationship and the relentless sense of duty.  If you like fantasy that is sincere about honor, duty, and sacrifice, then this book could be for you. 

See the full review here: The Knight’s Last Stand
Purchase here

Review: The Brighter the Light, The Darker the Shadow by Verlin Darrow

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Synopsis:

Kade Tobin needs every bit of his wisdom as the leader of a rural spiritual community to remain true to his core values as murders pile up around him. Drawn into helping to solve the mystery by a sheriff’s detective, Kade sorts through the array of quirky seekers on the community’s land, only to end up as the defendant in a suspense-filled trial. He struggles to maintain a stance of kindness while he endures bullies in the jail, a vengeful DA, and the pending judgment of twelve strangers. As the prosecution parades witness after witness, the mounting evidence against Kade becomes alarmingly damning. If he were a juror, Kade believes he might vote to convict himself at this stage of his trial. But he also trusts the universe. Kade remains confident that a force greater than himself–and the justice system–has other plans for him. Or does it?

Favorite Lines:

“Most of us humans are burdened by the tyranny of continuity—the ongoing, sequential storylines we feel compelled to construct. What about directly experiencing life—letting it tell us about itself?”

“The world isn’t going to adapt to suit us. We need to transform ourselves to match it as best as we can in order to step away from an adversarial relationship with it.”

“The truth is what matters…If telling it brings up feelings for me, it’s my job to manage those internally. I’ve found that when I avoid something uncomfortable, it just sets up a day of reckoning. It usually ends up worse than whatever the original experience would’ve been.”

My Opinion:

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

This one opens in a way that feels deceptively calm. A man, his dog, a quiet morning in a spiritual community tucked into the Santa Cruz mountains. Then there’s a body. And just like that, whatever sense of peace existed gets pulled apart.

What makes this book interesting isn’t really the murder itself. It’s the lens we’re forced to look through. Kade Tobin isn’t your typical protagonist. He’s not scrambling, panicking, or even especially reactive. He’s… observing. Processing. Filtering everything through this spiritual framework that’s supposed to keep him grounded, even when something objectively horrific is sitting a few feet away.

And honestly, that tension is the most compelling part of the book. There’s this constant push and pull between detachment and reality. Kade wants to “experience everything fully,” but when faced with something truly brutal, he flinches like anyone else. That contradiction feels very human, even if the surrounding philosophy sometimes drifts into abstract territory.

The community itself is where things really start to take shape. The Brethren of Congruence is filled with people who are, for lack of a better word, messy. Not in a dramatic, over-the-top way, but in a very believable one. You’ve got people running from past lives, people trying to fix themselves, people who probably shouldn’t be living in a secluded group dynamic at all. The interviews with each member are where the book slows down, but also where it gains texture.

Some of those conversations feel intentionally frustrating. Characters dodge questions, spiral into philosophy, or fixate on things that seem completely irrelevant to a murder investigation. At first it reads like distraction, but over time it starts to feel more like a point. These people don’t operate on the same wavelength as the detective, and that disconnect creates a kind of quiet friction throughout the story.

Detective Cullen is a solid counterbalance. He’s grounded, practical, and increasingly irritated by everything he’s dealing with. His skepticism gives the story structure when it threatens to drift too far into introspection. The dynamic between him and Kade works because neither fully respects the other’s worldview, but they still need each other to move forward.

This is not a traditional mystery. If you’re expecting tight plotting and constant forward momentum, this might feel slow. The narrative is more interested in ideas, personalities, and internal dialogue than in building suspense in a conventional way.

That said, there’s something quietly effective about how it all unfolds. The sense that something is off, not just with the crime but with the people around it, lingers in the background. And the deeper you get into the community, the less certain everything feels.

It’s less about solving a murder and more about understanding the environment it happened in.

Summary:

Overall, this is a slow-burn, character-driven mystery set inside a secluded spiritual community. The story leans heavily into philosophy, interpersonal dynamics, and psychological nuance rather than fast-paced plot. Readers who enjoy introspective or philosophical fiction that feature more character studies than action may enjoy this book. Happy reading!

Check out The Brighter the Light, The Darker the Shadow here!

Review: The Long Return by Scott E. Adams

~ likelystory18 ~ 2 Comments

Synopsis:

In the forgotten logging town of Blowville, some memories refuse to stay buried.

Decades after the hemlock mills fell silent, Jonas Clarke has built a new life far from the shadows of Bailey Run. But when fate draws him back to the place he once called home, he returns as a man with only fragments of his past; haunted by a name, a feeling, and the sense that something in those woods still waits for him.

As Jonas begins to piece together the life he lost, he is pulled into the long-quiet mysteries that shaped Blowville’s darkest years: a troubled town, secrets sealed beneath the hollow tree, and the uneasy pact forged by the men who tried to bury the truth. With each revelation, Jonas uncovers not only the story of a town swallowed by its own history, but the part he played in it, and the price that was paid to keep its secrets hidden.

Book Three brings the saga to its final reckoning, bridging past and present as Blowville’s last unanswered questions rise to the surface.

Favorite Lines:

“He felt as though he had just clawed his way back from somewhere real.”

“You’re becoming yourself. Not whoever you were before, but who you choose to be now.”

“They aged together quietly, without hurry or drama. Their love did not flare; it glowed, steady as a coal ember in winter.”

My Opinion:

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

There’s something quietly unsettling about The Long Return, and I don’t mean that in a horror sense right away. It starts soft. Almost too soft. A boy wakes up with no memory, in a hospital, with nothing to hold onto except a single name—Clara—and a body that remembers more than his mind does. From the first few chapters, you can feel the story leaning into that slow, patient unraveling of identity. It doesn’t rush you. It lets you sit in the discomfort of not knowing.

What really surprised me is how much of the book isn’t about the mystery at all—at least not at first. Jonas builds an entire life in Altoona. He heals, he works, he marries Evelyn, he has children, and for a long stretch, the story almost convinces you that the past doesn’t matter. That maybe it shouldn’t matter. There’s something oddly comforting in those middle sections—like watching someone choose peace over truth. But underneath it, there’s always this quiet tension. The name Clara never fully goes away. The symbol, the dreams, the flashes of snow and water—they linger in the background like something waiting its turn.

And then the book shifts.

The later sections—especially once Jonas returns north—feel like a completely different layer of the same story peeling back. What I appreciated is that the payoff isn’t just “oh, here’s what happened.” It’s heavier than that. The truth isn’t just memory—it’s responsibility. When Jonas finally confronts the past at the clearing, it’s not just about remembering Clara—it’s about reliving it. The scene at the tree is one of the strongest in the book, because it collapses time completely. You’re not reading about what happened—you’re in it. The river, the attack, Clara calling his name—it all hits at once.

And Clara herself… I think this is where the book either works for you or it doesn’t. She isn’t just a lost love or a tragic figure. She becomes something more symbolic by the end—memory, guilt, unfinished truth, maybe even something tied to the land itself. When Jonas finally reunites with her—not as a memory, but as something real, something waiting—it’s less about romance and more about release. The ending leans into that almost spiritual, folklore-like tone where the valley remembers, where people become part of it. It’s not clean. It’s not overly explained. But it feels intentional.

If I had to sum up the experience, it’s a slow-burn story about choosing to forget—and what happens when the past refuses to stay buried. It’s quieter than most books in this space, but when it finally hits, it hits in a way that feels earned.

Summary:

Overall, The Long Return is a slow, atmospheric story that starts as a quiet “man rebuilding his life” narrative and gradually turns into something deeper and more haunting. The first half is grounded and almost comforting, but there’s always a subtle unease underneath. The second half pulls everything back to the past, revealing a heavier, more emotional truth that recontextualizes everything that came before. Not action-heavy, but very deliberate—best for readers who like slow reveals, emotional payoff, and a slightly eerie, almost folklore-like ending. Happy reading!

Check out The Long Return here!