Jackie Myers’ Stop Snoring Dad! is a hilariously charming children’s book that turns a familiar bedtime struggle into a lively little adventure. The story centers on Louie, a young boy who lies awake night after night because his dad’s snoring rattles the room. Sleep feels impossible. Louie refuses to give up. He launches a parade of inventive plans to silence the noise, each one more absurd than the last. Garlic makes an appearance. Tadpoles get involved. Louie tries everything he can dream up. The results? Total failure, delivered with escalating, laugh-out-loud payoffs. In the end, Louie lands on a simple solution that finally helps him drift off.
The book shines because it mirrors the way kids actually think. Big ideas. Zero limits. Jackie Myers captures that untamed imagination with warmth and wit. Louie’s strategies are delightfully ridiculous, and young readers will love watching each scheme unfold. The pacing stays brisk. The writing stays clear. Short, direct sentences keep the story accessible for early readers and ideal for read-aloud time.
Jack Foster’s illustrations add a whole extra dose of fun. The artwork is expressive and packed with detail, giving Louie’s plans a visual punch that often delivers its own jokes. Louie’s face says everything. Dad snoozes on, blissfully unaware. The chaos builds, page by page. Kids will stay hooked even before they can fully read the text.
Under the humor sits a thoughtful lesson. Louie learns he can’t control his dad’s snoring. Effort doesn’t change it. Persistence doesn’t fix it. What does change is Louie’s response. That message lands gently, without turning preachy. The book also celebrates creativity and bold problem-solving. Louie’s ideas don’t work, yet they matter. Imagination leads the way. Trial and error becomes part of the fun.
This children’s book is a guaranteed giggle-maker with real value underneath the laughs. Stop Snoring, Dad! is playful, clever, and full of heart, an easy win for bedtime routines and family bookshelves alike.
Maude’s Magical Ear Trumpet by Chris Husband is a whimsical, deeply heartwarming children’s book. It offers a gentle reminder: listening can change everything. The story introduces Maude, a kind, cheerful older woman who has begun to struggle with her hearing. Her doctor provides a most unusual ear trumpet. Maude quickly learns it is no ordinary device. A magical twist transforms it into something extraordinary. The trumpet lets her hear more than words. It reveals the truth beneath them.
What follows is a tender, uplifting journey. Maude uses her new trumpet to truly listen to the people around her. She offers comfort. She gives kindness. She makes space for understanding wherever she goes.
The book’s strength is its simplicity and warmth. Short, easy-to-follow sentences keep the pace light and inviting. The language feels almost poetic. The gentle rhythm draws young readers in and helps the message land naturally. Through Maude’s encounters with her daughter, shopkeepers, friends, and neighbors, children see that listening is more than sound. It is attention. It is care. It is empathy in action.
The illustrations by Corryn Webb add another layer of charm. Each page features soft, expressive artwork that brings Maude’s world to life. Her bright coat. Her spotted hat. The quiet emotional exchanges that unfold in small, meaningful moments. The visuals support the tone beautifully and guide young readers toward what characters feel, not only what they say. That reinforcement matters. Emotions deserve notice.
One of the book’s most memorable elements is the closing revelation. The magic was never truly in the trumpet. It lived in Maude herself. Her caring heart. Her willingness to listen with intention. That message lingered with me long after the final page.
This is a lovely read that children are likely to adore. Maude’s Magical Ear Trumpet teaches empathy, compassion, and the quiet power of listening in a way that feels magical and deeply human. It leaves young readers calmer, kinder, and a little more inclined to listen closely to the world around them.
The What If Book is a quick ride through a pile of playful questions about the world. Each page tosses out a wild idea and then pokes it with another question. Superpowers, walking fish, talking dogs, ice cream oceans, and storybook jumps all show up. The book ends by handing the mic to the reader and asking for their own what-if.
I liked the tone of the book right away. It feels curious and bouncy. It sounds like a kid thinking out loud. The writing is clean and light. No heavy lessons. No finger wagging. I felt a little spark of curiosity and imagination on every page. Some questions made me laugh. The dolphin ride to school felt sweet and silly, and I loved the kindness question near the end. The ideas feel open and kind. There is room to dream without rules. The book trusts kids to think. It does not explain too much. It lets the questions hang.
Every page has a charming illustration that pulls the question off the page and makes it feel real. The colors are bright but soft and cozy at the same time. Each scene feels friendly and inviting and never too busy. The pictures do a great job of guiding my imagination without boxing it in. They add personality and heart, and my kids enjoyed pointing out several details on the page. The ice cream ocean scene was wonderful and could be a poster all on its own.
I would hand this picture book to young kids who like to wonder. It works for bedtime chats and classroom circles. It fits families who enjoy asking questions and laughing together. If you like children’s books that open doors instead of closing them, this one is a great pick.
My Twelve-Year-Old Wife: Erased Memories drops the reader straight into a world where time folds, grief bites hard, and reality keeps shifting under the characters’ feet. The book follows Dan, a man who loses his wife brutally, then hurls himself backward through time to save her. He lands in 2003 and discovers a teenage version of Celia, a younger and sharper incarnation of the woman he loved, and a chilling truth about Lang, the man who killed her. As Dan struggles to protect her, time glitches, memories warp, and past and future versions of Lang collide. The story moves fast, and the stakes sit right at the throat from the opening chapter.
I kept feeling the tension coil in my chest whenever Dan slipped between timelines. His heartbreak is loud. His fear is louder. I found myself rooting for him even when he made choices that scared me. The writing surprised me with small, quiet moments tucked between scenes of dread. A breakfast. A joke. A breath of calm before the ground cracked open. They made the danger feel personal instead of mechanical, and I loved that steady tug between ordinary life and cosmic consequences. There were times when the dialogue carried more weight than the action itself, and those were the moments that resonated with me.
Time travel is usually all rules and logic, but here it felt messy and emotional, which I liked. Time behaves like a living thing. It twitches when Dan pushes it. It punishes him when he presses too hard. I also appreciated how the author handled trauma. Nothing is graphic, but the emotional fallout hit real. Celia’s distrust, Dan’s guilt, the thin places in the world that react to their fear, all of it landed with a strange mix of warmth and dread. I kept forgetting to breathe during the scenes under the bleachers, especially when the masked figure flickered in and out of sight. The writing there felt sharp and cold in the best way.
I would recommend this book to readers who enjoy psychological thrillers with a strong emotional core, and to anyone who likes their time travel tangled with heartbreak instead of gadgets. If you want a story that creeps under your skin and sits there long after the last page, this is a good one. Author Dan Uselton turns time itself into a monster, and the result is unforgettable.
I Always Knew We Were Meant for You follows two hopeful bear parents as they wait, watch, and prepare across the seasons for the children they know are destined to join their family. What was the inspiration for your story?
The inspiration for I Always Knew We Were Meant for You was born during the waiting period of our adoption journey—a time when your heart holds an immense, quiet space of love for a child you have not yet met. While we were waiting, my heart ached with longing and hope, and I often found myself thinking about my future children and what this journey might feel like for them.
One evening, during a moment of deep reflection, I realized the message I most wanted to give them: that this love was always meant for them, and that our family was destined to find one another. I wanted my child to know that wherever they were in the world, there was a mother and father preparing, believing, and loving them long before we met. This story became my way of saying, I always knew we were meant for you.
The book centers on waiting with hope rather than anxiety. Why was that emotional tone important to you?
Hope has always been the foundation of this journey, and it is something I intentionally center in my writing. My path to motherhood came with challenges, and hope sometimes waivered—however, it was something I had to learn, lean into, and grow through my faith. Over time, I came to understand that hope is one of God’s greatest gifts, especially within the adoption journey, where trust and love are being built long before a child arrives.
There were moments when holding onto hope felt difficult, but during those times, God placed people in my life who continually spoke truth into my heart, reminding me, “You will be an amazing mother.” Hearing those words again and again allowed hope to take root. Eventually, I began to feel what I had always known to be true—that this journey was meant for us, and that waiting, when held with hope, could be a beautiful and sacred space. It is my intention to give these loving words of hope to adoptive families, which is precious and sacred to me for these reasons.
There is a gentle spiritual presence throughout the book. How did you decide how much faith to include?
Faith was the quiet thread I held close while writing this book—a way of staying connected to my future adopted children during a season of waiting. Along our journey, I experienced gentle moments and messages that reassured me there was a divine presence guiding us toward our future little ones. Readers will find some of these messages threaded into the story.
At the same time, it was important to me that the book feel welcoming to adoptive families of all faiths and spiritual backgrounds. The spiritual presence in the story is meant to reflect the beauty of what is often felt rather than seen—the deep knowing that love is already at work. My hope is that readers, no matter their beliefs, feel connected to that quiet truth: that love, in its purest form, always finds its way.
Who did you picture holding this book when you wrote it: a parent, a child, or both together?
When I began writing, I pictured a quiet, tender moment of reading this book to our adopted children—holding them close and sharing words meant just for them. As the story unfolded, I began thinking about all the other children who deserve to hear this same message of love and belonging. I imagined adoptive families everywhere reading the book together, building trust and connection through shared moments.
What started as a poem written for my own children grew into something more. I Always Knew We Were Meant for You is meant to offer children a special gift—the reassurance that they were always meant to be connected through the spirit of love. My hope is that the book gently connects children with their adoptive families, reminding them that love was waiting for them long before they arrived, and that they have always belonged.
As Mama and Papa Bear embark on their path building their adoptive family, they are drawn to special spiritual connections through love. In having a special knowing, like a star’s whisper or a flower’s bloom, they await to embrace their future adopted children. Mama and Papa Bear ponder on all the ways their love has been created for their children, finding peace in knowing their adoptive family is a gift from God—first possible, then beautifully true. This beautifully illustrated, heartwarming children’s book celebrates the journey of adoption through Mama and Papa Bear and their beloved cubs. It offers a message of hope, unconditional love, and belonging through a spiritual connection for children awaiting their adoptive families. I Always Knew We Were Meant For You will offer children a special gift that they were always meant to be connected through the spirit of love.
Lunches with Ed is a moving memoir about loving someone through dementia—through home care, nursing homes, Covid windows, final goodbyes, and the small moments that never let go. At what point did you realize this story might help others beyond your own family?
I realized that this story may help others when an unbiased associate read it and became so emotional she called me up in tears expressing how deeply the book touched her. I later found out that she was in the midst of caring for her husband and the book was a comfort to her.
How did your understanding of love change as Ed’s dementia progressed?
I came to really understand the meaning of “in sickness and health”, “for better or worse”. Marital love does not just end because your spouse gets ill. Ed was the same person I loved and he needed me more now than ever. The journey has made me more empathetic and caring.
How did you balance honoring Ed’s dignity while sharing the strange or disorienting behaviors dementia caused?
I sought to portray Ed as the kind and caring person that he always was while trying to present a true picture and not sugar-coat the ebbs and flow of daily life living with dementia. His sensitive, peaceful nature was still there hidden underneath all the confusion. I sought out the best care for him and also tried to shield him from unnecessary intrusions and visitors who were only mere acquaintances.
How do you carry Ed with you now, after telling his story
I carry him in my heart. I think of the good times we had, the laughter we shared. Whenever I think of him I find myself smiling.
When a devoted wife stepped into the role of caregiver for her husband during his journey with dementia, she found solace in journaling — capturing the routines, challenges, and quiet triumphs of daily life. What began as a private coping tool became a heartfelt guide for others walking the same path. Lunches with Ed offers practical insights born from lived experience, not theory. It’s a gentle, honest companion for those navigating the emotional terrain of caregiving — validating the sadness, frustration, and fear that often come with it, while also celebrating the moments of laughter, connection, and unexpected joy. Compact and comforting, this book is designed to be kept close — on a nightstand, in a purse, or tucked into a drawer — ready to remind caregivers that they are not alone. Above all, it’s a tribute to the enduring love that caregiving calls forth, and the strength found in showing up, day after day.
Secret Hotwife Auction follows Jay, a small-market radio host whose marriage to Luna teeters between stagnation, resentment, and a forbidden erotic current neither of them fully acknowledges. When Luna becomes entangled in a coercive arrangement with Turrell, a domineering figure from her strip-club job, Jay finds himself secretly watching as Luna is pulled into a world of degradation, power play, and chaotic desire. What begins as suspicion becomes voyeuristic shock, then a spiraling series of nights in which Jay bears witness to Luna’s submission, her awakening, and his own uncomfortable hunger to see more.
Reading this in the first person felt almost destabilizing. Jay’s voice wavers between self-pity, grim fascination, and a strange tenderness that persists even in the most explicit moments. His narration is confessional but unreliable in a human, flawed way, as if he’s trying to justify not intervening, even while cataloging every detail with forensic attention. I found myself both repelled and drawn in. The erotic scenes are not merely graphic; they’re narratively freighted, charged with humiliation, longing, shame, and the dizzying relief of letting go. Jay’s emotional oscillation, wounded husband one moment, breathless voyeur the next, gives the story a queasy intensity that lingers.
What surprised me is how the book balances raw explicitness with genuine psychological tension. Luna isn’t simply objectified; she’s volatile, frightened, exhilarated, and sometimes fiercely self-possessed. Jay, meanwhile, discovers parts of himself he clearly didn’t anticipate. Even the seedier settings like the rundown strip club, the back-door midnight encounters, and the bar’s clandestine auction, are described with a kind of smudged realism that makes the story feel less like fantasy and more like a secret someone shouldn’t be telling you. That transgressive intimacy is the book’s true power.
Readers who gravitate toward erotica, cuckold/hotwife fiction, and BDSM-inflected power-exchange stories will find this novel exactly in their wheelhouse. Fans of authors like Penthouse-era John Cleland redux or the darker edges of Selena Kitt may recognize a similar willingness to plunge past boundaries without blinking. Secret Hotwife Auction is unabashed, messy, and compulsively readable, a story that doesn’t ask for permission and doesn’t apologize. A feverish, boundary-testing descent into desire that’s hard to look away from.
I read Too Strong For Your Own Good by Anette DeMattio straight through with very few pauses. The book is about what happens when strength turns into self-erasure. DeMattio shares her personal story of illness, burnout, trauma, and recovery while guiding the reader toward a softer and more embodied way of living and leading. The core idea is straightforward. Being strong for too long can disconnect you from your body, your needs, and your joy. The book blends memoir, reflection, and gentle exercises meant to help readers come back to themselves.
What struck me most was the voice. It feels intimate and unfiltered, like someone sitting across from you telling the truth without cleaning it up first. I felt seen more than once, and that surprised me. Some moments made my chest tighten. Others made me laugh in that tired recognition kind of way. The writing is emotional and direct. It repeats ideas on purpose, which at times felt comforting and at other times felt heavy. Still, I never doubted the author’s sincerity. Her lived experience gives the book weight, and I trusted her because she never pretended to have an easy fix.
The focus on listening to the body felt grounded and human, not preachy. I appreciated how often she reminded the reader that exhaustion is not failure. The spiritual language is rich and expressive, and the extended metaphors show how deeply the author wants the reader to fully feel and absorb the message. The heart of the message kept pulling me back. I felt encouraged, challenged, and oddly calmer by the end. It felt less like being taught and more like being invited.
I would recommend this book to people who are tired in a way sleep does not fix. It is especially good for caregivers, leaders, high achievers, and anyone who has built a life around holding it all together. If you are open to reflection, emotion, and slowing down, this book can feel like a deep exhale and a quiet companion when you need one most. Too Strong For Your Own Good: Success With Soul reminds you that real strength isn’t pushing harder. It’s finally listening to yourself.
