Blog Archives
THE LEADER CONNECTION
The book dives deep into the human side of leadership. It is part reflection and part manual, weaving together Parker’s personal journey with practical advice. He covers empathy, communication, adaptability, and the nuances of eight distinct leadership styles. The core message is clear. Leadership is not about authority. It is about building trust, connection, and growth within a team. Through stories, frameworks, and exercises, Parker paints a picture of leadership as a living relationship between people rather than a system of control.
Reading this, I felt drawn to Parker’s honesty. He doesn’t pretend to have been a perfect leader, and that humility makes the lessons hit harder. The mix of memoir and guide felt refreshing. Some moments, especially when he shared about his father, his son, or his own missteps, carried a warmth that made me pause. The book sometimes lists traits and challenges like lecture notes. The sincerity behind it kept me engaged, and I found myself reflecting on my own experiences with bosses who inspired connection versus those who drained it.
What stood out most for me was how personal and vulnerable his approach is. I appreciated the balance between theory and story. The chapters on servant leadership and authentic leadership especially struck a chord. They reminded me that good leadership often looks less like grand gestures and more like quiet acts of service. It reads like someone thinking aloud after a long career, eager to pass on everything they’ve learned.
I would recommend The Leader Connection to managers who are tired of dry business texts and want something more human. It’s also a good pick for anyone stepping into leadership for the first time and looking for guidance that feels grounded rather than academic. Parker doesn’t promise easy answers. What he offers instead is a lived-in, heartfelt reminder that leadership is about people, and that connection is what makes the work worthwhile.
Pages: 186 | ASIN : B0FN1VV122
The Phoenix Experiment
Aaron Ryan’s The Phoenix Experiment is a sweeping, futuristic tale that follows a group of orphaned teens conscripted into life aboard The Origin, a sentient science vessel orbiting Earth in the year 2471. At its heart, the book blends classic coming-of-age themes with science fiction, grief, and resilience. The Phoenix Experiments themselves are a chilling yet fascinating invention: a way for the bereaved to reconnect with the dead in dreamlike states, designed to ease loss and build future warriors called Speakers who can pacify banshees haunting Earth. The story unfolds through the eyes of Jax Hutson, a sharp and restless boy who longs to see his parents again, and it grows more tangled as the destruction of The Zephyr, the sister ship carrying girls, upends their isolated lives.
I found myself pulled in quickly by Ryan’s voice. The opening chapters do a good job of setting up the claustrophobic yet strangely wondrous life aboard The Origin. I loved the mix of sterile science fiction trappings with messy teenage emotions. Jax is both likable and frustrating, which feels honest for his age. His sarcasm and longing made me root for him even when he was being immature. I also appreciated how Ryan handled the Phoenix Experiments themselves. They are eerie, tender, and sad all at once, and that blend of emotions kept me hooked.
What I liked most was the way grief underpins everything. These kids are essentially being raised to weaponize their pain, and that idea is both fascinating and unsettling. Ryan doesn’t shy away from showing how loss shapes them, but he also weaves in humor and teenage banter that lightens the mood. The balance mostly works, though there were moments where the dialogue felt a little too modern, almost like kids from today had been dropped into a far-off future. Still, I can’t deny that it made them feel relatable, and that relatability deepened the impact of the darker themes.
I walked away feeling like The Phoenix Experiment was a story that mattered more for its emotional core than its sci-fi trappings. It’s a book about kids searching for connection, about finding ways to rise out of ashes, both literal and emotional. I’d recommend it to readers who enjoy character-driven science fiction, especially younger readers or anyone drawn to stories of grief and resilience wrapped in an imaginative premise. If you like your sci-fi less about hard technology and more about the human heart, this one’s for you.
Pages: 315 | ASIN : B0FNLY8YW3
Acceptance
The Wild Shepherdess follows a girl born under mysterious circumstances during a storm, and marked by the blessing of a dragon, who, despite growing up tormented, discovers moments of wonder while embarking on an unforgettable quest of self-discovery. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
It all started when I was doing an online class about fantasy novel writing when the pandemic struck. So, I was writing out what creatures to involve in the story, the character, and it just evolved.
You took your time in building Clara’s character and the story to great emotional effect. How did you manage the pacing of the story while keeping readers engaged?
I had to think about how much time I needed to put into Clara’s character, where it felt realistic but not over the top or corny. I also had to keep in mind that this was a world of danger, and Clara is not entirely safe from it.
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
It mostly focuses on the theme of acceptance. I feel that it’s important to surround yourself with people who truly value you as a person and the gifts you have.
Is this the first book in the series? If so, when is the next book coming out and what can your fans expect in the next story?
Yes. The Wild Shepherdess is the first book in the series, and I’m currently working on the sequel. I can’t give a precise date yet, but I can say there will be more human characters Clara interacts with, and the inclusion of Selkies to boot.
Author Links: GoodReads | Facebook | Website
We Are Not Promised Tomorrow
The Long, Lazy Summer follows a young boy who spends one last summer with his terminally ill mother, which deepens into lessons about love, loss, and the beauty of small moments. What made you write a story about this topic? Anything pulled from your life experiences?
Most of the children books I write are fiction fantasy with a lot of humor. The last few years, I’ve watched the Newbery Awards, and the books that won usually have a more serious tone to them. That really is the main reason I tackled this subject matter. I’ve had friends and family who have died of cancer, so that’s mainly why I focused on this area.
Surprisingly, real life ended up imitating art. My illustrator ended up finding out she had cancer when I was ready to start this book. She’s fine now, but this book almost didn’t happen. Then I faced my own mortality as well when I had heart problems this year. The ending of the book reflects the kind of thoughts running through my head at that time period.
What were some ideas that were important for you to share in this book?
The main ideas that were important to me were:
- Honesty of emotion. How would any adult feel going through that – facing their mortality and how do you explain that to a child?
- Love – what do we leave our loved ones after we are gone?
- Legacy – if you have a limited time left, what would be important to still do before you go? What do you want to be remembered for?
What is one thing that you hope readers take away from your story?
None of us are promised tomorrow. Look around you – are you living the life you truly wish to live? What do you think your loved ones will remember as being the most important part of your life?
I hope the Wonders of Childhood & Beyond series continues in other books. If so, where will the story take readers?
This series is intended to be unusual and perhaps unexpected. If the reader can learn to look at the world in a way different than they have before, then I will have done my job well as a writer.
Author Links: GoodReads | X | Instagram | Facebook | Website
For some of us, the greatest love and memories that we will hold in our hearts our whole lives through are the ones we experience and share with our parents.
They are part of our earliest memories and shape the lives we learn to live. They are our whole world, and when they leave us – when they pass over to the other side where pain and death can no longer touch us, we are left with an emptiness we can never again fill. To lose a parent is like losing a limb – you remember it being an essential part of your life even though it is no longer there. In many ways, you can still feel their spirits nearby, but they have moved beyond this realm where our five senses reign supreme and register into other senses of extraordinary perception we never knew we had.
For Raymond, it’s simple. He spends a beautifully long, lazy summer with his mother that he will never forget. His last one with her.
Nobody is promised forever. Any of us could leave this world at any moment. That being the case, what kind of memories would you leave your loved ones if you had a choice?
Broken Rooms
Broken Rooms is both a memoir and a novel, though it never settles quietly into one category. It tells the story of Sebastian Cole, a gifted mathematician from Sheffield who stumbles into the world of design, beauty, and wealth through a fateful meeting with Lady Judy Beardsley. What begins as weekend tutoring spirals into an immersion in luxury, power, and temptation. The book follows him through grand houses in London, decadent travels, passionate but destructive relationships, and the search for authenticity in a life caught between duty, desire, and dreams. This is a story about reinvention. It is about the tension between longing for beauty and grappling with the shadows of shame, heartbreak, and secrecy.
Reading it, I felt pulled into Sebastian’s inner world in a way that was both thrilling and heartbreaking. The writing is lush, almost cinematic, full of detail about fabrics, food, interiors, and scents. Sometimes, I caught myself pausing just to savor the descriptions of a chandelier or the taste of a Tarte Tatin. At other times, the excess weighed on me, the same way Sebastian is weighed down by the very luxuries he covets. I found myself admiring the author’s ability to weave emotion into objects, to make a velvet curtain or a marble foyer feel like characters themselves. Yet I also wrestled with frustration at Sebastian’s self-sabotage, at his naivety, at his constant return to toxic people who drained him. That tension kept me hooked, even when I wanted to shout at him to run in the opposite direction.
On a personal level, I connected with the book’s exploration of longing and identity. The novel is about design, yes, but beneath the wallpaper and chandeliers, it is about a man trying to carve out a place for himself in a world that doesn’t quite accept him. That struggle felt raw and real. There were moments that made me laugh, and others that left me sitting in silence, heavy with empathy. At times, I found the prose almost indulgent, yet that indulgence mirrors Sebastian’s journey. It is the language of someone intoxicated by beauty, love, and possibility, even when those things unravel. The book made me think not only about art and design, but also about how we all build rooms, real and emotional, to house our deepest desires.
Broken Rooms is not for everyone. Its pace lingers, its details are rich to the point of decadence, and its protagonist can be both magnetic and exasperating. But for readers who appreciate personal storytelling dressed in velvet and candlelight, who want to be transported into salons and safaris while also being invited into the quiet ache of the heart, this book will be a gift. I’d recommend it to lovers of memoir, design, travel writing, and anyone who has ever chased beauty while carrying their own brokenness.
Pages: 340 | ASIN : B0FNWB1LZL
A Blood Witch
A Blood Witch by Joseph Stone is a dark and richly layered horror novel that spins a multi-generational tale of supernatural possession, trauma, and resilience. The story begins with a shocking and disturbing prologue and stretches across decades, recounting the legacy of a family of women who are haunted, physically and emotionally, by a mysterious spirit named Daedrian. Told through a mix of modern narrative, historical documents, and deeply personal journals, the book gradually uncovers the cursed lineage of “witches” bound by blood, secrets, and spectral violence. At its core, it’s a ghost story steeped in abuse, inherited suffering, and the complexity of female power.
I found the writing bold and fearless. The book kicks off with a gut-wrenching scene that made my skin crawl, and that tone doesn’t let up. The prose is polished but visceral, with a rhythm that grabs you by the collar. The way Stone weaves historical entries, letters, and journal fragments into the plot makes the story feel deeply rooted in time, almost like unearthing a family’s buried past. That format worked well for me, even though it occasionally slowed the pace. Some passages made me stop reading just to process what I’d read. The emotional weight, the steady dread, and the lyrical yet brutal style are a lot, but it’s good. Really good. This book doesn’t aim for comfort. It forces you to look at what happens when silence, shame, and supernatural power converge across generations.
I admired the ambition of this book. Parts of the book horrified me, not just the ghost, but the humanity behind the horror. The sexual violence, the incest, the generational trauma. It’s all portrayed unflinchingly. There’s a point where you stop being afraid of the ghost and start being afraid of the people, or worse, the way pain becomes inherited. But there’s a strange beauty in that too. Fran’s arc, from confusion to clarity, from being haunted to facing down the legacy, gave the novel its emotional heart. And even though Daedrian is a terrifying figure, he’s written with eerie magnetism that makes you understand why these women, generation after generation, could fall prey to him. That’s good writing.
I think A Blood Witch is best suited for readers who don’t shy away from heavy themes. If you want a haunting that lingers in your chest, something that feels intimate and epic at the same time, this book delivers. I’d recommend it to fans of gothic horror, intergenerational dramas, or anyone who’s not afraid to be uncomfortable.
Pages: 431 | ASIN : B0FMKRR6H3
Drums of a Distant Tribe – A Son’s Message from the Great Beyond
When I first opened Drums of a Distant Tribe by David H. Hutton, I expected a memoir of sorts, maybe a straightforward walk through one man’s life. What I found instead was something much richer. The book moves through the author’s childhood, his brushes with danger, his youthful adventures, his confrontation with the Vietnam draft, and the long search for meaning after deep personal loss. It weaves together moments of joy, recklessness, grief, and revelation. At its heart, it’s a story about survival, resilience, and the search for truth about life and what may come after death.
Reading it felt like sitting across from someone who has lived more lives than most people can imagine. Hutton’s writing is vivid, sometimes poetic, sometimes raw, and always deeply personal. I admired how he captured the energy of his youth, from climbing water towers to chasing music that defined a generation. At the same time, I felt his fear and despair when the draft threatened to cut his life short, and later, when tragedy struck his family. The way he blends memory with reflection is emotionally potent. It reminded me that even ordinary choices can ripple through a lifetime, and that sometimes the line between recklessness and courage is paper-thin.
What struck me most was the honesty. He doesn’t hide from the ugly moments or try to paint himself as a flawless hero. The vulnerability in his storytelling gave the book a real pulse. At times, I found myself frustrated by his choices, then just as quickly, I felt protective of him, like I was watching a close friend stumble and get back up. His reflections on faith and death are heavy but not preachy. They feel like someone thinking aloud, searching alongside the reader rather than teaching from a pulpit. That humility, mixed with the depth of his experiences, gave the book an emotional weight.
I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys personal memoirs that are more than just a recounting of events. It’s especially powerful for those curious about the Baby Boomer generation, the turmoil of the 1960s and 70s, and the lifelong search for meaning that follows. But really, it’s for anyone who wants to be reminded that life is fragile, that survival is never guaranteed, and that hope can come even after the darkest nights. Drums of a Distant Tribe is not just one man’s story. It’s a mirror, and reading it made me take a hard look at my own.
Pages: 203 | ASIN : B0C1HJF3WZ
LITERARY TITAN 