Escala’s Wish
Escala’s Wish follows Wigfrith Foreverbloom, a gnome bard who lures a crowd into a Dunwell tavern and then spins the story of Escala Winter, a curious pixie from the Court of Dreams who breaks sacred fey law with one impulsive kiss. That small act ripples outward. A mortal dies, a friend dies, Escala faces the terrifying Wane, and the balance between the fey realm and the world of Valla starts to shake. What begins as a mischievous prank grows into a long quest involving dragons, scheming fey courts, found family, and a final choice where Escala decides what love, duty, and sacrifice really look like.
I had a lot of fun with the way this book is told. The whole thing runs through Wigfrith’s performance at The Stag, so the chapters swing between his patter with the audience and the “real” scenes of Escala’s journey. It feels like sitting in the tavern yourself. The voice is warm, cheeky, and sometimes very silly, then it suddenly hits you with an emotional punch. I liked that contrast. The world-building lands in the same way. There is a huge amount of lore about the fey, the True Cycle, and the different courts, and sometimes Wigfrith leans into full lecture mode, like his long explanation of fey origins and baby myths. Now and then, I felt the momentum slow during those digressions, yet the detail also made the setting feel thick and lived in, not just a backdrop for fights and quips.
On the character side, Escala hooked me more and more as the book went on. She starts as reckless and a bit selfish, chasing the idea of romance the way a magpie chases shiny things. By the end, she owns the damage she caused, and her final decision to become “the boulder” and pull herself out of the Cycle was emotional for me. The book keeps circling back to what love actually is. We see it in Rowan’s stiff loyalty to the law, in Teresa’s choice to leave, in Roedyn’s quiet, stubborn devotion, and in Escala’s own growth as she learns that love is not a feeling you chase but a choice you keep making. I found that theme surprisingly moving. The big set pieces around Blackthorn Tower and the Dream Weaver give those ideas a lot of weight, so the climax feels earned, not just flashy magic and explosions.
I came away feeling like I’d spent time in a full D&D table story, only with sharper emotional through-lines and a bard who never lets the room go quiet for long. The tone leans light and chatty, yet the losses are real, and the final chapters carry a nice ache. I would recommend Escala’s Wish to readers who enjoy character-driven fantasy, people who like fey politics but want humor to cut the gloom. If you want heart, banter, big feelings, and a pixie who grows into a queen, it is a very satisfying start to a series.
Pages: 662 | ASIN : B0G1XRP6DW
Life after Narcissists
Life After Narcissists is a three-part blend of memoir, psychoeducation, and practical recovery guidance. Author Tracey-Lee Hogan begins with her own story of growing up in a house filled with violence, fear, and silence, then moves into composite portraits of women entangled in narcissistic dynamics at home and at work. From there, she explains how narcissistic behaviour operates as a pattern, how it affects the nervous system and decision-making, and why clarity only really arrives with distance. The final section lays out what she calls the Hogan Method, a staged approach to healing that mixes trauma-informed education, nervous system and gut support, nutrients and herbal medicine, lifestyle shifts, and a slow reconnection with self.
This is an emotional book. The early chapters that describe her childhood, the domestic violence, the constant scanning for danger, and the way school became both a refuge and another risk landed very hard for me. The writing is direct and clear, no fluff, and that made the cruelty and confusion even more stark. I appreciated how often she pauses the story to explain what was happening in her body at the time, then ties that into trauma research in the “Reflections” sections. It felt like sitting with someone who can say, “This is what happened to me, and here is what the science says about kids in that situation.” That mix of heart and head gave the book a lot of credibility in my eyes and kept me engaged, even when the material was confronting.
On one hand, I liked how systematically she breaks down narcissistic behaviours, the bonding and destabilising patterns, and the way abrupt disengagement hits the nervous system. Her language stays very grounded, and she avoids sloppy labels, which I respect. On the other hand, the detail in the naturopathic and herbal sections sometimes felt a bit dense to read straight through. As a reference, it is strong, and you can tell she has years of clinical practice behind it, but at times, I wanted more stories or practical moments. I still valued the clear warnings about self-prescribing and the repeated reminder to work with qualified practitioners, which kept that section from feeling like a quick-fix wellness pitch.
I came away feeling that Life After Narcissists is best suited to women who have already recognised that something was very wrong in a relationship and are now trying to make sense of the emotional and physical fallout. It will especially help readers who appreciate both personal stories and evidence-based explanations, and who are open to complementary medicine as part of their recovery. If you are looking for a breezy pop-psych book, this will feel too serious and too detailed. If you are tired of vague advice and want a compassionate, clinically informed guide that validates your nervous system as much as your feelings, this book will probably feel like someone turning the lights on in a dark room.
Pages: 336 | ASIN : B0GCC62Z3D
Lab Rat (Chronicles of Avilésor: War of the Realms Book IV)
In Lab Rat, author Sara A. Noë drops readers into Cato’s head the way the story drops Cato into captivity: abruptly, violently, with the taste of metal already in my mouth. He wakes bound inside a closed truck bed, is delivered to the underground Agency of Ghost Control, and gets reclassified as “Subject A7,” a “half-breed” anomaly whose powers can be forced on like switches. The book’s early movement is a gauntlet, chemical “Detox,” electrical testing, and surgically implanted ports, before Cato lands in Project Alpha’s cages beside other young prisoners (Ash, Jay, RC, Finn, Reese) and the feral, feared A6, while a larger prophecy thread hums in the background: seven and eight, roles and fates, pieces being placed whether anyone consents or not.
My first reaction was physical. Not “oh wow” physical, more like clenching-my-teeth, shoulders-up-by-my-ears physical. The prose leans into sensation with a kind of unblinking stamina: the “Detox” sequence reads like a ritual of dehumanization dressed up as procedure, and I kept noticing how often Cato’s dignity is treated as an inconvenience to be managed. When the story escalates to the port implantation, drills, the cold ring, the doctor who refuses the comfort-lie of “you won’t feel a thing,” I found myself admiring the author’s nerve even as I wanted to look away. It’s body-horror with a bureaucratic clipboard hovering nearby, which somehow makes it worse.
Alpha isn’t just a scary room; it’s a system that tries to “unname” people, sanding them down to numbers and compliance. That idea, identity as contraband, is what gave the brutality a point beyond shock. And then there’s Ash: her quiet endurance, the way the others speak around her pain because naming it out loud would re-open the wound, and the night-raid scene that is written to disgust rather than to titillate. The book’s tenderness arrives in odd places, like a stolen conversation with the holographic system ECANI, or Cato insisting on names instead of serials, and those small mercies felt hard-won.
Lab Rat is for readers of dark fantasy, paranormal fantasy, dystopian science-fantasy, and YA-adjacent captivity/escape thrillers, especially anyone who wants a morally ugly villain structure and a stubborn ember of found-family refusing to go out. The premise gave me flashes of The Institute by Stephen King, kids turned into “subjects,” cruelty rationalized as research, but Noë twists it through ghost physiology, Divinities, and prophecy math until it feels like its own bruised mythology. Lab Rat explores the cost of being remade by force and how a name, spoken, claimed, and defended, can be a kind of escape.
Pages: 460 | ASIN : B0G4SXMQ6C
From the Shallow End to the Deep End
From the Shallow End to the Deep End is a rich and deeply personal collection of ninety-five Shakespearean sonnets that moves through childhood memories, family histories, heartbreaks, faith, despair, and redemption. The book travels in a steady descent from innocence to complexity and then rises again toward clarity and grace. Its structure mirrors the stages of a life that has been lived with open eyes and a bruised but persistent heart, and each section lays bare a different layer of the poet’s world. Streator uses the traditional sonnet form to anchor experiences that feel modern, messy, and often raw, and the tension between old structure and new emotion is one of the book’s strongest features.
I was surprised by how quickly the writing pulled me in. The language is formal on the surface, but beneath it flows a current of sincerity that feels warm and human. I kept pausing at lines that carried a punch not because they were fancy but because they were honest. The poems about childhood felt especially sharp. Scenes of brothers growing apart, parents missing from the stands, and friendships fading hit harder than I expected. They had this way of stirring old memories in me, making me nod along and think, yes, I’ve been there, too. The sonnets in the middle section became heavier and darker, and I admit they made my chest tighten. When the poet spoke about loss, depression, and the desperate quiet of survival, the writing felt intimate. I appreciated that. It made the collection feel alive.
Sometimes the rhyme scheme amplified the weight of the words and made the pain or the joy ring louder. I caught myself smiling at the poems about his children because they warmed the whole book. They softened the darker stories without pretending everything is fixed or simple. That mix of light and shadow felt real to me, and I found myself admiring how Streator holds both without flinching. The shift toward faith in the later sonnets felt authentic, not preachy, more like a man trying to keep his footing after being tossed by life one too many times. It gave the final stretch of the book a quiet sense of hope.
I walked away from this collection feeling both moved and grateful. I’d recommend From the Shallow End to the Deep End to anyone who loves poetry that speaks plainly about life’s messiness while still finding beauty in it. I think it’s well-suited for readers who appreciate traditional forms but want the content to feel fresh, personal, and unguarded. It’s also a meaningful pick for anyone who has lived through family storms, heartbreak, or the slow rebuilding of a life. The book isn’t afraid to wade into deep water, and it invites you to step in with it, one sonnet at a time.
Pages: 109 | ASIN : B0GCPRF4RD
Blank Checks
In Blank Checks, author Genevieve Marshall drops a clean, addictive “what-if” into the modern world: an app that lets anyone enter, then, once a month, chooses one person to receive a literal blank check and write any amount, “tax-free,” for whatever dream they dare to price. The book moves in a kind of braided mosaic: we watch different lives in different places tilt on the hinge of possibility, while a quiet thread of investigation runs underneath, who built this thing, how it knows so much, and what the game is really doing to the people it touches.
What I liked most was the book’s globe-trotting energy. The scenes keep changing temperature, from silvery San Francisco fog to glossy Singapore opulence to European glamour, so the story never settles into a single neighborhood’s problems. Even when the premise flirts with pure wish-fulfillment, the author keeps tugging it back toward character; the money isn’t a magic wand so much as a spotlight. I found myself enjoying how the book treats “Dream BIG” as both an invitation and a test, because the most revealing moments aren’t the winners’ numbers, but their private logic for choosing them.
I also appreciated the author’s willingness to let the game misfire in ways that feel almost mythic. The standout example for me was the Düsseldorf model, who swings for an absurd amount and gets smacked by the bluntest message imaginable, “Insufficient Funds,” a little morality play delivered by touchscreen. That beat sharpens the whole book: it sets a boundary around the fantasy, and it hints that the “mastermind” isn’t just tossing money like confetti; there’s intention, constraint, maybe even a philosophy hiding behind the theatrics. When the curtain starts to lift on the tech (identity verification, location checks, the dart-at-a-spinning-globe randomness), the story shifts into a more conspiratorial key without losing its travelogue gloss.
I think Blank Checks is for readers who like mystery, suspense, techno-thriller intrigue, and contemporary adventure with a strong travelogue sheen, plus anyone who can’t resist a premise that asks, “What would you write, and what would it reveal about you?” The unraveling of the game’s machinery gave me a faint Dan Brown flavor, jet-setting secrets and engineered revelations, though Marshall’s tone is warmer, more interested in lives rerouted than puzzles solved. Blank Checks gives readers a glossy dream, a hidden hand, and the delicious question beneath it: what does your number say about you?
Pages: 480 | ASIN : B0G9B99VTY
The Prince’s Dress Dilemma
The Prince’s Dress Dilemma, by Sara Madden, follows young Prince Eric, a kid who seems to have it all. He is growing up in a palace with his twin sister, Erica, and their dog, Arthus. His days are full of games and little adventures, and every night he pulls on his favorite nightgown and drifts off to sleep completely content.
One morning, though, everything feels different. Eric wakes up to discover he’s had a growth spurt. Overnight, he’s shot up so much that none of his clothes fit, especially not anything fancy enough for the upcoming royal ball. He’s worried, but his parents aren’t. The king and queen quickly come up with a plan: they’ll send him to the dressmaker to have a royal ballgown made just for him. Once his new outfit is finished, Eric heads to the ball ready to enjoy himself, confident that he looks exactly the way he wants to look.
The Prince’s Dress Dilemma, by Sara Madden, is a short children’s book that feels perfect for young kids, especially as a bedtime read or a cozy rainy-day story. The plot is simple, the language is accessible, and the pictures help carry young listeners through the story without losing their attention.
It’s hard to talk about this book without mentioning the obvious: Eric wears nightgowns to bed and prefers dresses during the day. The book is welcoming to the LGBTQIA+ community, even though those terms never appear in the book, and it tells a supportive story for anyone who may find themselves in Eric’s shoes. Eric’s family accepts his clothing choices without fuss, and that quiet, steady support turns the story into one about exploring and celebrating gender expression that doesn’t always fit traditional expectations. The warm and charming artwork reinforces this, especially scenes from the ball that show same-sex couples dancing together.
Parents who want their children to grow up seeing and valuing diversity are likely to embrace The Prince’s Dress Dilemma. The story itself is gentle and good-natured. It encourages kids to feel comfortable in their own bodies and their own choices. That’s a message many parents can stand behind. And for the children who read this book, there’s a clear and valuable lesson: acceptance and kindness toward people who are different from you are not just important, they’re normal, and they’re good.
Pages: 43 | ASIN : B0C5P1TN2H
Out Of Step – Part One, A Memoir of the Vietnam War
In Out Of Step, author Francis Hamit walks readers through the Vietnam-era hinge where a messy young life gets snapped into military shape, first in Basic Training and stateside intelligence schooling, then into the quieter, stranger corridors of the Army Security Agency (ASA) and its SIGINT world. He frames the war as an intelligence contest as much as a jungle contest, admiring (with a bit of grudging awe) how North Vietnam built a formidable cryptographic service and set the terms of visibility, see clearly or be seen clearly, long before Americans turned it into a slogan.
What struck me first was the book’s refusal to behave like a tidy “war story.” Hamit’s voice is candid, prickly, and alert to the social physics of the Army: who gets hazed, who gets protected, who is quietly sacrificed to bureaucracy. He’s funny in a sharp-edged way, humor as a scalpel, not a comfort blanket, and he’s willing to show himself unflatteringly, including the bad motives that shove him into enlistment and the petty humiliations that sandpaper a person down. The prose keeps swiveling between the personal (family pressure, wounds, lust, shame) and the institutional (orders, cover stories, the odd not-quite-Army status of ASA), which made me feel the claustrophobia of being processed by a machine that doesn’t pause for individual anatomy.
My second reaction was an admiration for the way Hamit describes “realistic training” metastasizing into something darker, particularly the Tactical Training Course at Fort Devens, where simulated capture and interrogation drifts into sanctioned cruelty. Reading about the “menu” of coercion, electric shocks, the “Apache pole,” waterboarding, lands with a delayed thud, because it’s delivered not as a sensational reveal but as another entry in a long ledger of what people will justify when they think the future demands it. And yes: he warns early that sex is plentiful and the story is also a coming-of-age account, which changes the temperature of the memoir. This isn’t antiseptic recollection, it’s lived-in memory with sweat still in it.
This will hit best for readers who like memoir, Vietnam War, military history, espionage, SIGINT, and coming-of-age narratives, especially anyone curious about the war’s less cinematic strata: cover names (“Radio Research”), invisible bounties, and the daily discipline of not drawing attention to yourself while doing work the broader Army barely understands. If Tim O’Brien gives you the war as moral weather in The Things They Carried, Hamit gives you the war as a lived system, bureaucratic, occasionally absurd, and always humming with consequences. In the end, this is a memoir that doesn’t salute the myth of Vietnam; it interrogates it, and keeps its balance while doing so.
Pages: 196 | ASIN : B0G5483Y6L
Recognizing Emotions
Elsie’s Adventures to Harmony Hills: The Big Move follows a seven-year-old girl who faces a move that turns her world upside down and learns that big feelings don’t have to be scary. Was Elsie based on a real child, a personal experience, or a blend of many stories?
Yes, Elsie is inspired by a combination of my own experiences as a mom and my work as an educator. I’ve seen firsthand how moving can turn a child’s world upside down, whether it’s a local relocation or a family starting over in a new country. Many of the children I’ve worked with were English language learners navigating not just a new home but a whole new culture and environment. I’ve also worked with students in higher education who are teachers or aspiring principals, and through their experiences, I’ve seen how families cope with big changes and how children adapt and grow in the process. All of these experiences helped me shape Elsie’s story, allowing me to explore the mix of fear, excitement, and resilience that children feel during major transitions, and to show that big feelings, while challenging, don’t have to be scary.
Anxiety can be hard to explain, even to adults. How did you decide what language would feel safe and understandable for kids?
Anxiety can be an abstract and sometimes intimidating concept, even for adults, so making it understandable for children required careful thought. I wanted to create language that felt safe, clear, and relatable, so that kids could see their own experiences reflected without feeling overwhelmed. In my first book, Elsie’s Adventures to Brainy Cove, I introduced children to the brain science behind emotions, helping them understand why they feel what they feel in a way that is concrete and empowering. With The Big Move, I wanted to take that a step further by addressing anxiety—a feeling that can be confusing and even scary.
To make it approachable, I rely on visual language, metaphors, and storytelling. Illustrations and scenarios in the book also help children see that big feelings are normal, that they come to everyone, and that there are ways to cope and feel safe. My goal is for children to not only recognize their feelings but also feel validated and equipped to navigate them. Ultimately, I hope the book gives children the language and understanding to talk about anxiety and know that big feelings don’t have to be frightening—they can be understood, managed, and even a source of growth.
What skills do you hope children carry with them long after reading the book?
I hope children gain a strong sense of emotional literacy and resilience from reading the book. I want them to recognize and name their big feelings, understand that it’s completely normal to feel nervous, anxious, or overwhelmed, and know that these feelings don’t have to be scary. Beyond just recognizing emotions, I want to give children practical coping skills—ways they can calm themselves, stay grounded, and navigate change with confidence. A key part of this is helping them identify how anxiety or worry feels in their own bodies, so they can notice early signs and respond in healthy ways. Ultimately, my goal is for children to carry the understanding that their feelings are valid, that it’s okay to ask for support, and that they have tools to move through life’s transitions with courage, resilience, and self-awareness.
Will this book be the start of a series, or are you working on a different story?
Yes, this book is part of an ongoing series following Elsie’s adventures. Each book is designed to explore a different emotional challenge or growth moment, giving children practical tools and strategies for understanding and managing their feelings. Through Elsie’s experiences, readers can see that it’s normal to have big emotions, that they can navigate change and uncertainty, and that learning about feelings can be both empowering and even fun.
I’m also exploring new stories that continue to center on children’s emotional and social development, so there is much more to come from Elsie and her world. Each installment will introduce relatable situations, imaginative storytelling, and supportive lessons that children and the adults guiding them can carry into their own lives. My hope is that the series grows into a resource that children can return to again and again, helping them build resilience, empathy, and confidence as they face the ups and downs of growing up.
Author Links: GoodReads | Facebook | Website | Amazon
When Elsie finds out her family is moving to a brand-new town, she’s not so sure she’s ready for the big move. Her stomach flips, her chest feels tight, and her thoughts begin to spiral. Luckily, Granny Grace is there to help her understand what’s going on in her brain and body—and how to work through those big feelings.
Through imaginative storytelling and relatable characters, Elsie’s Adventures to Harmony Hills introduces young readers to helpful coping strategies like deep breathing, positive self-talk, and identifying emotions. With the help of Granny Grace and a clever metaphor involving a brain “guard dragon,” Elsie learns how to tame her anxiety and step into her new adventure with courage and confidence.
🌟 Includes a “Learning Spot” for caregivers and educators—featuring practical tips for recognizing signs of anxiety in kids and guiding them through emotional regulation strategies.
Perfect for ages 5–10, this book supports social-emotional learning (SEL) at home and in the classroom.
