The Reset Self
The Reset Self is a self-help book that argues you are not broken, you are over-conditioned, and most of your pain comes from living as a “role-self” instead of as a real person. Seravyna Böhm walks through how early family dynamics, cultural pressure, and constant performance teach you to become the Strong One, the Good Child, the Fixer, or the High-Achiever, then shows how expectation scripts and the nervous-system load of constant over-compliance turn into anxiety, resentment, burnout, and numbness. The heart of the book is a set of simple tools, like Role Naming, Expectation Tracking, the Fingertips Principle, Non-Compliance Experiments, Feeling Without Feeding, and the Daily De-Script, all aimed at helping you step out of old roles in real time and act from choice instead of fear.
I really like the core idea that “you are conditioned, not defective.” It feels kind, and it also feels sharp. The shift from “I need to fix myself” to “I learned this role, and I can unlearn it” has a surprisingly strong emotional impact. I also appreciate how clearly the book names common identities like the Strong One or the Peacemaker and then maps them to concrete patterns in work, family, and healing spaces. The chapter on the “invisible engine of misery” and the expectation–resentment loop hit hard for me, because it turns messy feelings into something you can actually see and work with. The latter material on ethics, choice, and accountability keeps the method from slipping into selfishness. It keeps repeating that understanding conditioning explains behavior and does not excuse harm, and that balance feels very grounded and humane.
I appreciated the writing and structure overall, especially the warm, steady voice that often feels soothing and reassuring. The author takes time with each idea, circling around it in a way that lets the message really sink in, with phrases and examples that come back like friendly reminders. The strong use of metaphor and direct address creates an intimate, conversational feel, which works well. The focus stays almost entirely on lived experience, which keeps the material accessible. What stood out most to me is that the tone remains compassionate, clean, and practical, and the case examples keep the tools grounded in real life.
I would recommend The Reset Self to anyone who feels like the “responsible one,” who is burned out from people-pleasing, or who has done a lot of therapy and self-work and still feels strangely stuck. It’s especially well-suited to high-functioning, over-thinking adults who look fine on the outside and feel empty or angry on the inside. As a clear, gentle guide for unhooking from old roles, easing the nervous-system load, and making everyday choices from something that feels more like your actual self, it is thoughtful, practical, and genuinely encouraging.
Pages: 231 | ASIN : B0GBZWFMRN
O Tubarão Que Queria Surfar / The Shark Who Wanted To Surf
The Shark Who Wanted to Surf by Isabel Ricardo is a fun, fact-filled story about a blue shark named Carmel who dreams of surfing like the “two-legged creatures” on the surface. Each time he swims close enough to learn, the humans panic and flee. Carmel is left disappointed. Still, he refuses to let fear or doubt wash away his goal. That persistence gives the book a heartfelt, encouraging tone.
Ricardo introduces a variety of sea creatures who become part of Carmel’s world. Along the way, readers pick up engaging facts about anatomy and behavior. Those details deepen the underwater setting while also tracking Carmel’s emotional journey. Some animals dismiss his dream as silly. That response may feel familiar to young readers who have ever been discouraged for wanting something different. Others respond with warmth. Fizz the dolphin and Tentaclaude the octopus stand out as steady sources of support. Their kindness shows how far encouragement can go when someone is learning, growing, or trying something new.
A standout feature is that the book is bilingual, which adds an extra layer of value to the reading experience. Seeing the story presented in two languages supports vocabulary growth and language confidence without interrupting the flow. It also invites shared reading between children and adults who may be stronger in one language than the other. In a story centered on reaching across differences and refusing to give up, the bilingual format feels especially fitting. It widens the audience, strengthens comprehension, and makes rereading even more rewarding.
The backgrounds are detailed and adorable. The underwater scenes feel lively and full of personality. The color and small visual touches make the setting welcoming, even when Carmel hits setbacks. The illustrations also strengthen the emotional moments, especially when Carmel feels hopeful and determined because his friends believe in him.
I would recommend The Shark Who Wanted to Surf to young readers who enjoy ocean adventures, and especially to anyone who needs a reminder that dreams are worth chasing. Even when others disagree. It’s a gentle, uplifting story about friendship, courage, and self-belief.
Pages: 109 | ISBN : 978-1962185783
Unrealized Power
Lucas James and the Legend of Maxa follows a sarcastic teen whose telepathic bond with an ancient alien forces him to confront power, responsibility, and what it means to protect someone. What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
The unrealized power I believe we have within us, was on my mind as I wrote this one. Along somewhat parallel lines is the idea that our external appearance doesn’t define who we are or our capabilities.
Lucas’s voice is very specific. Did that voice come naturally, or did it evolve as you wrote the book?
I knew his great power would come from his mind more than his physical self. I suspected Lucas would have a big personality and a lot of strong beliefs as I began to write. His grand ideas, coupled with the fact that he wasn’t thrilled about being at camp, gave way to him being pretty unique and memorable as he evolved – in my humble opinion.
The camp setting feels authentic. Do you have personal summer camp experiences that shaped Wee Great Falls and its rituals?
Going to several camps as a kid, and then later in life with my son, certainly resonated with me. Places like this are interesting and can feel like their own little worlds, which I hope is the sense of the setting created here.
The book balances slapstick chaos with genuine tenderness. How did you decide when to lean into humor and when to slow down for emotional moments?
I think humor is naturally woven into tenderness, love, and even fear, in life. When the characters are afraid, they look to something that makes them laugh as a distraction, while other characters might be humorous just by being themselves. At our core, though, I believe what drives most of us in the end is love. I’m glad that you appreciated this balance.
Author Links: GoodReads | X (Twitter) | Facebook | Instagram | Website | Amazon
When Lucas is forced to go to Adventurer Camp one last time, it’s far from just the conventional zaniness and ordinary traditions in the wilderness. The ground is rumbling and a mysterious flower is blooming all over camp, but more than that – he is seeing and hearing unusual things. Lucas learns more about the campgrounds and about himself, as he follows his intuition into a life or death situation.
A Tragic Character
Black Sheep follows a woman living through abuse who flees to London and rebuilds her life, only to realize the past follows you and she has to confront the ghosts that left with her. Were there particular real-life influences behind the novel?
No, the story just came to me, I think because it was my desire to create a tragic character so that I could save her, in fiction.
Gem feels intensely real. How did you balance vulnerability and toughness in her character?
I think there is a part of Gem in all of us, and I chose a strong constitution in someone rather than a ‘lay down and die’ response, maybe to give hope.
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
Counseling was a very important theme, having experienced therapy and part training to be a counselor, in the past, which gave me some knowledge and enabled me to picture the scenes with Gem and her therapist. Relationships were also high on the list, as we all have expectations of people that often fail. And I suppose I explored my own reactions, e.g., with school friends.
What does Black Sheep say about identity after trauma?
That life experience shapes you as a person, especially with trust. Whatever you go through stays with you forever, but I wrote with a positive outlook, as I didn’t want Gem to be defined by her past, but rather to learn from it and move on.
Author Links: GoodReads | X (Twitter) | Facebook | Website | Amazon
She eventually finds a career, love and the comfort of stability, none of which can erase a torturous past and the underlying bitterness gnawing at her tender soul.
A brush with the mystical brings change, as an unlikely guardian watches from the sidelines, infusing her thoughts and decisions by psychological transference. The dark, influential encounter guides her to a gratifying finale where she must compromise what is right to settle a long-awaited score.
Curiosity Matters
A New Way to Know follows Francis Bacon from a questioning boy to a power-brokering statesman, only to learn how costly truth can be when evidence collides with loyalty and politics. What drew you to Francis Bacon as a middle-grade protagonist?
What drew me to Francis Bacon as a middle-grade protagonist is that, before he was famous, he was simply a curious kid. Long before he became a powerful statesman or philosopher, he was a boy who asked a lot of questions, sometimes too many for the adults around him.
Middle school students understand that feeling. They live in a world where adults often say, “Because that’s just how it is.” Bacon was the kind of kid who answered, “But why?” That curiosity made him stand out. It also sometimes got him into trouble. I think many young readers can relate to that.
I was also drawn to the tension in his life between truth and loyalty. Growing up around the court of Elizabeth I, he saw how politics and power often mattered more than facts. Later, his friendship with Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex, forced him to face a very hard choice: What do you do when someone you care about is wrong? Do you protect your friend, or do you stand by the truth? That is a question young people understand, because friendships and loyalty are a big part of their lives.
Another reason I chose Bacon is that his greatest contribution wasn’t just one big discovery. It was a new way of thinking. He believed people should observe the world, test ideas, and look for evidence instead of just repeating what older books said. That message is powerful for young readers. It tells them that their curiosity matters. It tells them they don’t have to accept something just because it’s old or because someone important said it.
As a classroom teacher, I’ve seen how exciting it is when a student realizes, “I can think for myself.” Bacon’s story shows that even someone who helped shape modern science started out as a kid sitting in a classroom, feeling frustrated when his questions weren’t answered.
In the end, I was drawn to Francis Bacon because he wasn’t perfect. He was smart and ambitious, but he also made mistakes. He struggled with big choices. That makes him real. His story shows that searching for truth isn’t always easy, and doing the right thing can be painful. But it also shows that one curious kid with a notebook can change the way the world thinks.
What did you most want kids to feel about Francis Bacon beyond “famous thinker”?
More than anything, I wanted kids to see Francis Bacon as a person, not just a “famous thinker” whose name appears in a textbook.
Today, many of us benefit from ideas like the scientific method without ever thinking about the struggle it took to bring those ideas into the world. We enjoy the results. We quote the principles. But we don’t always see the cost. I wanted young readers to feel the weight of that cost.
Bacon didn’t just wake up one day and become important. He questioned teachers who didn’t like being questioned. He challenged traditions that had stood for centuries. He lived in a world where loyalty to powerful people, including figures like Elizabeth I, could matter more than evidence. He had to balance ambition, truth, friendship, and survival. Those pressures weren’t abstract; they were personal and painful.
So, beyond “famous thinker,” I wanted kids to feel his courage. Not loud, dramatic courage — but the quieter kind. The kind that keeps asking questions even when adults sigh. The kind that stands by truth even when it costs you friendships. The kind that keeps working on an idea when no one else fully understands it yet.
I also wanted them to feel empathy. Big ideas don’t float into the world on their own. They are carried by real people who doubt, struggle, fail, and try again. When kids understand that, they begin to see that greatness isn’t magic. It’s built — often slowly, often painfully.
If young readers finish the book thinking, “He was brave,” or “He paid a price,” or even, “That must have been hard,” then they’re seeing him clearly.
The modern classroom experiment frames Bacon’s legacy without hero-worship. What made you choose that structure, and what do you hope teachers or students do with it after finishing the book?
I chose the modern classroom experiment because I didn’t want Francis Bacon to feel distant or untouchable.
It’s easy to turn historical figures into marble statues that are impressive, but cold. I didn’t want hero-worship. I wanted my readers to have a connection. By framing his legacy through a modern classroom experiment, students can see that Bacon’s ideas aren’t trapped in the 1600s. They’re alive. They’re practical. They’re something a twelve-year-old can try tomorrow.
The classroom structure also does something important: it shifts the spotlight. Instead of saying, “Look how great Bacon was,” it quietly asks, “What happens when you try this way of thinking yourself?” The focus moves from admiration to participation.
As a longtime teacher, I’ve seen that students understand concepts best when they experience them. Reading about observation and evidence is one thing. Testing a question, collecting data, and discovering that your prediction was wrong, or right, that’s powerful. It creates ownership. And ownership matters more than memorization.
I also hope teachers use that structure as permission. Permission to slow down. Permission to let students ask messy questions. Permission to let them be wrong and then figure out why. Bacon’s method wasn’t about having the right answer immediately. It was about building a careful path toward truth.
What is the next book that you are working on, and when will it be available?
My next historical fiction project brings René Descartes to life for young readers.
If A New Way to Know explores how Francis Bacon helped shape a new method for discovering truth through observation and evidence, this next book shifts the focus to a different but equally powerful question: What can we know for certain? Descartes wrestled with doubt, reason, and the foundations of knowledge in a way that still influences how we think today.
As with Bacon, I’m not interested in presenting Descartes as a statue in a textbook. I want readers to see the human being — the young man who questioned everything, who struggled with uncertainty, and who tried to build a framework for truth from the ground up.
The book will be available this fall. I’m excited to continue the journey of introducing students to the thinkers behind the ideas they often take for granted — showing not just what they concluded, but what it cost them to get there.
Author Links: GoodReads | X (Twitter) | Facebook | Website | Amazon
From the bustling halls of Queen Elizabeth’s court to the risky friendships with ambitious nobles, Francis must navigate loss, loyalty, and the temptations of power. Along the way, he discovers that curiosity can be both dangerous and brilliant—and that true understanding comes from observing, experimenting, and thinking for yourself.
Part historical adventure, part scientific discovery, part coming-of-age story, A New Way to Know is the story of a boy who would grow up to change how the world learns forever.
We Are as Gods: A Survival Guide for the Age of Abundance
We Are as Gods argues that we now live in a world where technology has quietly given ordinary people godlike powers, from AI and robotics to biotech and planetary-scale climate tools, and that the real bottleneck is not the tech itself but our ability to think clearly, emotionally regulate, and act wisely at this new speed. The book walks through how exponential technologies created real material abundance, how our Stone Age brains mis-handle this flood of power and information, and then offers a psychological survival guide that mixes neuroscience, game design, and grand challenges to help readers build agency, meaning, and resilience in what the authors call an age of abundance.
The book is energizing. The stories are vivid and sticky. The opening riff that compares modern breakthroughs to biblical miracles lands hard, and it actually made me pause and look at my phone with fresh eyes. The structure is clear. Part 1 sets the stage, Part 2 shows real companies and projects surfing the waves, and Part 3 shifts into a self-help gear that feels more intimate and practical. I liked the way authors Diamandis and Kotler weave myth, cognitive science, and startup lore. The analogies help. Comparing information overload to a wrecking ball hitting our nervous system is simple, and it rings true. Their explanation of bias and attention feels grounded, and it helped me name things I only had a fuzzy feeling about before.
I enjoyed how bold the style is. The prose comes at you fast, like a live keynote talk poured straight onto the page, and it keeps the energy high. The constant drumbeat of examples gives the book a sense of momentum. Miracle after miracle, chart after chart, and it all adds to this feeling that you are racing through a highlight reel of the future. I still found myself curious to explore a few of the tougher stories, especially in the darker chapters where surveillance, bio risk, and inequality show up and then get lifted by the next hopeful case study. Their strong faith in entrepreneurs and incentive prizes comes across as a clear, confident stance, and while I could imagine an even deeper dive into policy and power, I liked that those themes are at least present, even if they stay mostly in the wings. I finished those sections impressed by the ingenuity on display and energized by the big questions that remain about who benefits, who pays the price, and how we can guide abundance so it feels intentional, fair, and shared.
The discussion of learned helplessness, attention collapse, and victim mindset resonated with me personally. I recognized my own doom scrolling, my own habit of telling myself the future is something that just happens to me. The tools they offer in the final chapters are not completely new, but the way they frame them inside this huge story of accelerating change gave them more weight for me. Agency, awe, and grand challenges sound like big abstract words. Here they come with clear explanations, concrete examples, and a kind of gentle shove that says: you do not get to sit this era out.
I would recommend We Are as Gods to readers who sit at the intersection of technology, leadership, and personal development, and who want a hopeful but not naive story about the next few decades. If you are a founder, an executive, a policy thinker, or simply someone feeling overwhelmed by AI and nonstop change, this book will give you language, metaphors, and mental models that can help you feel less like a victim of the future and more like an active participant. If you want a big, loud, data-heavy pep talk wrapped around some solid psychological advice, this is a very timely read.
Pages: 320 | ISBN : 978-1668099544
A Child’s Dream: Santa’s Parking Ticket & an Empty Sled
A Child’s Dream follows Krystal, a sleepy middle kid in an Appalachian town who keeps seeing the same wild dream of her whole community building a shining silver sled for the children. The book then zips up to the North Pole, where Santa is staring down a weird elf plague, a possible Christmas with an empty sled, and even a parking ticket, all while a whole cast of elves, doctors, and family members stumble through big problems, big feelings, and goofy adventures until everything comes together in a huge snowy Christmas parade.
Anita Yates’ writing is wonderfully talky and dramatic, with lots of arguments in kitchens, bus rides on twisty mountain roads, and Santa trying to fix things with karaoke and a Journey song. I liked how often the story slows down for tiny details, like stale biscuits that no one wants to eat or thrift-store finds that suddenly feel like treasure, because these little bits ground the wild North Pole stuff and made the people feel real. At the same time, the book is rich with scenes that jump from Krystal’s messy bedroom to medical lectures with elf interns to fashion makeovers for Mrs. Claus. I still found myself smiling a lot, especially in the funny family arguments and the moments where characters try hard to cheer each other up, even when money is tight and the future looks shaky.
What really stuck with me was the mix of silly and serious ideas. Under all the jokes, there is a heavy focus on second chances, being prepared for the moments that matter, and choosing purpose over comfort. You see it in Krystal, trying to help her parents by joking about those awful biscuits instead of complaining, in Lisa wanting to be a doctor after saving a baby on a mission trip, and in Robert walking away from sports glory to study medicine so he can treat wounded soldiers. The story also keeps circling back to grown-up ideas like job loss, the elders who refuse to leave home, refugees, and faith. Sometimes the shifts in tone felt a little jarring for me, like one page had me giggling at silly elf diseases and the next page dropped a heavy quote about suffering or sacrifice, yet I could tell the author cares a lot about every theme and wants readers to feel both seen and challenged.
I had fun with this book. A Child’s Dream feels like a full season of a holiday TV show rather than a quick bedtime read. I would recommend it for tweens who prefer busy stories with tons of side characters, plus adults who grew up in or care about Appalachian communities and enjoy Christmas tales that lean hard into hope, faith, and service. If you like chaotic family energy, heart-on-its-sleeve moral lessons, and a Santa who messes up, sings, and learns right along with the kids, then this is the perfect book for you.
ASIN : B0DY7JQSPX
