Blog Archives
Cascadia’s Call
Neha Hewitt’s Cascadia’s Call is a heartfelt coming-of-age story about Ari, a fourteen-year-old girl uprooted from Boston after her father’s death and sent to live with relatives in Portland while her mother pursues a demanding journalism career. The novel moves through Ari’s grief, her rocky adjustment to a new city, and her clashes with cultural expectations, all while weaving in mysterious symbols tied to her family’s heritage, most notably a necklace that seems to carry an uncanny power. It is both a portrait of adolescence and a meditation on family, loss, and belonging.
I found myself drawn into Ari’s raw anger and aching loneliness. Hewitt captures the turbulence of being a teenager so vividly that I often felt like I was back in my own messy adolescence, stumbling through identity and yearning for control. The writing is crisp and accessible, yet it carries real weight, especially in the quieter scenes where Ari longs for her father or struggles with the heavy silences between herself and her mother. At times, the dialogue made me laugh in recognition, and at other times it brought a lump to my throat.
I’ll admit there were moments when Ari’s stubbornness grated on me, and I caught myself wanting to shake her into patience. But that’s part of why the story works. She feels like a real teenager, with sharp edges and contradictions that make her alive on the page. I also admired the way Hewitt didn’t shy away from difficult conversations about culture, tradition, and feminism. Those scenes felt risky, sometimes messy, but honest. The supernatural hints with the birds and the necklace added just enough mystery to keep me guessing without overwhelming the emotional heart of the story.
This book would be a strong recommendation for teens navigating change, parents trying to understand their children, and anyone who appreciates stories that blend culture, grief, and a dash of the mystical. Cascadia’s Call is the kind of novel that keeps you thinking, not because it resolves everything neatly, but because it captures how uncertain and yet hopeful growing up can be.
Pages: 242 | ASIN : B0FJF5VC19
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
Just Play Like You Do in the Basement: Coming of Age as The Drummer for The Greatest Entertainer in the World
This memoir tells the story of Rick Porrello’s journey from a basement in Cleveland Heights to the bright lights of stages around the world. He begins as a boy with sticks in his hands, pushed forward by the weight of family expectation, the shadow of his brother’s rising star, and the complicated legacy of both music and crime. His story weaves through smoky clubs, shimmering showrooms, and a world tour alongside Sammy Davis, Jr., the greatest entertainer of his time. Beneath the sparkle is a quieter story: a young man trying to find his place, pulled between loyalty to family and a growing pull toward another life, one rooted in service and self-discovery.
Reading this memoir stirred something deep in me. The writing has an unpolished honesty that made me feel like I was sitting across from Porrello while he told his story. Sometimes the sentences clipped along fast, like drumbeats rattling off the snare. Other times, they slowed, stretching out like a cymbal crash that hangs in the air. What hit me hardest was how vulnerable he was about his family, especially his father’s expectations and his brother’s spotlight. That tension made the glamorous parts shine brighter because you could feel the cost of them. I caught myself grinning during his first rehearsal jitters, then sinking back when the family’s past with organized crime crept in. It’s raw and messy in places, but that mess feels authentic.
What I liked most was how he balanced the glitter of the stage with the grit of ordinary life. He doesn’t hide the chaos. The burn scars, mob ties, and bad choices. That makes the triumphs hit harder. His memories of Sammy Davis, Jr. felt electric, full of awe but never blind hero worship. The writing has its loose, wandering moments, like a story shared late at night, but I found it charming. I was moved by how much of it is about family love and the ache of carving your own identity.
I’d recommend this memoir to anyone who loves music, but also to people who enjoy personal stories of struggle, ambition, and growth. You don’t have to be a drummer to feel the pulse of this memoir. It’s for readers who like to be pulled behind the curtain, to see the sweat along with the spotlight. If you’ve ever felt torn between who your family wanted you to be and who you felt you were meant to become, you’ll find yourself nodding along with Porrello’s journey.
ISBN : 9798987831243
Be Kind and Do Good
Amber Luna My Bright Light weaves together the stories of two teenage girls navigating the challenges of middle school, family expectations, and their own self-doubt. Where did the idea for this novel come from?
I have three young adult children. As I watched them grow up, I remember feeling so grateful that each of them had genuinely good friends. As they became teenagers, I was impressed by how my children handled some tough situations with those friends—whether it was helping them through a personal problem, forgiving them after a petty fight, or walking away when a friendship became unhealthy.
During those moments, I often wondered: Would my life as a struggling teen have been different if one of them had been my friend? Writing Amber Luna My Bright Light was my way of giving myself that friend.
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
Friendship—having a good friend or being a good friend—is at the heart of this story. Kindness, helping others, personal growth, and gratitude are all key themes woven into the story as well. When I was writing Amber Luna, I wrote myself a note and read it every time I sat down to write. It said, “Not every act of kindness comes with applause or an award. Often, our best intentions go unnoticed. Be kind and do good anyway. You have the power to change one person’s life, and the ripple effect of your kindness, the light you shine, will multiply in ways you may never see.”
It was just as important for the story to convey that we all have doubts and insecurities. No one has all the answers, but with time and experience, we gain knowledge and the courage to step into who we’re meant to be.
Can we look forward to more work from you soon? What are you currently working on?
Yes! I’m currently drafting the sequel to Amber Luna My Bright Light (working title: Mari’s Light Burning Bright). The story follows Mari’s healing journey, showing that tending to our mental health is rarely a straight line. It has ups and downs, and at times it may feel like there’s no destination. But it’s in the process of seeking answers, taking small steps forward, and learning from the people who come into our lives that helps us discover our strength and our light.
Author Links: GoodReads | Instagram | Facebook | Website
Amber’s bold, colorful style and quick wit make her stand out—but underneath, she’s a whirlwind of doubts, hiding a secret talent she’s too afraid to share. Mari, quiet and cautious, is carrying far more than just her bags. She’s struggling under the weight of guilt, expectations, and trauma she hasn’t been strong enough to face—yet.
They’re both 13. They’ve both just finished eighth grade. And they’re about to meet at Camp Evergreen, a summer camp in the middle of nowhere. As their unlikely friendship grows, their differences don’t keep them from discovering something they’ve both been missing— the freedom to be themselves.
Told from two perspectives, Amber Luna My Bright Light is a tender and empowering story that reminds us that finding yourself isn’t about changing or conforming but remembering who you’ve always been. Sometimes, it takes borrowing someone else’s light to see your own. And the bravest thing you can do is let it shine.
The Heart Scarab: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel
The Heart Scarab is a sprawling and layered fantasy tale set in the richly imagined world of the Duchy Wars. The story weaves together the fates of warriors, mystics, and serpents in a landscape scarred by mining, politics, and old tribal magic. Atrium introduces us to Bybiis, Raykiim, Ulaya, and a cast of many others who grapple with serpents both literal and symbolic. At the center are the mysterious serpent pouches, objects of power and danger that drive much of the conflict. The novel is both an adventure and a meditation on power, sacrifice, and what it means to serve something larger than yourself.
The prose is often strange and textured, with voices that shift from tribal chants to raw dialogue. At first, it made me stumble, but then I leaned into it and realized that Atrium wanted me to feel disoriented, just as her characters are when they confront forces beyond their control. I admired the guts it takes to write like that. Some sections flowed like a river, pulling me along without effort. Others were jagged, forcing me to slow down, reread, and sit with the unease. I liked that tension.
I kept coming back to the characters. Bybiis is wounded and stubborn, scarred inside and out, but she burns with an energy that made me root for her even when she drove me crazy. Raykiim had this mix of charm and darkness that made me wonder how much of him was his own and how much came from those serpent pouches he guarded. And Ulaya, chasing her twisted experiments, was chilling in her certainty. What hooked me most was the sense that everyone here carried scars, literal or otherwise, and the story kept asking whether scars make us stronger or just remind us of what we’ve lost. The emotional weight of that question stayed with me.
The Heart Scarab isn’t an easy read, and I don’t think it’s supposed to be. It’s for readers who enjoy being challenged, who like complex worlds with no hand-holding, and who don’t mind wandering through passages that feel more like songs or riddles than straightforward narrative. If you want to be immersed in a world that feels alive, harsh, and unpredictable, with writing that pushes you out of your comfort zone, then The Heart Scarab is worth your time.
Pages: 539 | ASIN : B0FLF6ZHN1
Amber Luna My Bright Light
Amber Luna My Bright Light tells the intertwined stories of Amber and Mari, two teenage girls navigating the tangled mess of middle school, friendships, family expectations, and the deep, quiet ache of self-doubt. Amber’s voice is sharp and funny, but tinged with loneliness as she deals with a toxic ex–best friend and the relentless gaze of social media. Mari’s chapters are softer but heavy, weighted by her struggles with faith, belonging, and a private pain she hides from even her closest friend. Both perspectives weave together into a portrait of adolescence that’s as tender as it is raw, capturing the ways we protect ourselves, sometimes at the expense of connection.
I found the writing genuine. Marquart nails the rhythms of teenage thought. How one minute you’re making sarcastic jokes about socks, and the next you’re falling into an emotional sinkhole you can’t climb out of. The alternating voices feel distinct without being forced. Amber’s chapters pulse with humor and bite, while Mari’s carry a quiet, simmering ache. There are a lot of small, everyday details, like shopping carts, awkward hallways, and bad hair days, that make the story feel authentic. At times, the pace slows to deliver those details, but the authenticity more than makes up for it. It reads like someone cracked open a diary and let you peek at all the messy pages.
What resonated with me wasn’t the big dramatic moments, but the small ones: a song on the radio, a mean-spirited Instagram post, a parent missing a school event. These are the cuts that don’t bleed much on the outside but leave marks you keep tracing with your fingers years later. The book doesn’t shy away from the darker parts like bullying, loss, and the pull toward self-harm, but it never feels exploitative. Instead, it treats those moments with respect, letting them sit there, uncomfortable but honest. It’s the kind of story where you want to hug the characters, even when you want to shake them a little, too.
By the time I reached the last page, I didn’t feel like I’d read a coming-of-age story so much as lived alongside two girls during the hardest stretch of their young lives. This isn’t a book that ties everything up neatly, and I liked that. Life doesn’t hand you perfect endings, and Amber Luna My Bright Light knows it. I’d recommend it for anyone who remembers what it felt like to be thirteen and unsure, for teens who feel unseen, and for adults who’ve forgotten how much the small things mattered back then.
Pages: 240 | ASIN : B0FCQ1QG3S
Beyond the Paddock
Beyond the Paddock is a coming-of-age novel that weaves together street racing, foster care, and elite equestrian sport into a powerful story of brotherhood and transformation. Set against the vibrant and chaotic backdrop of Inglewood and the tranquil horse farms of Kentucky, the book follows foster brothers Julian and Cameron Taylor, two Black teens navigating a world stacked against them. After a brush with the law, they are unexpectedly placed in the custody of their court-appointed attorney, Reign Brooks, and sent to rural Kentucky to live under the eye of her estranged father, a horse trainer embroiled in scandal. What begins as punishment slowly transforms into purpose, as the boys discover their unlikely talent in show jumping, ultimately rewriting the legacy of their upbringing.
What struck me most about Beyond the Paddock was how seamlessly Kimberly Ann Harrison blends grit and grace. Her writing is rich with texture. The dialogue pops, especially between the brothers. It’s fast, funny, and raw. The emotional tension never lets up, but it doesn’t feel heavy-handed. Harrison balances moments of fear and heartbreak with humor and hope, creating a rhythm that feels like real life. I appreciated the details of the world she built, from the foster system’s red tape to the unfamiliar traditions of equestrian sport; every element felt lived-in and personal.
What really got me, though, was the heart. This story isn’t just about fast cars and fancy horses. It’s about found family, second chances, and fighting like hell to stay together. Julian’s fierce protectiveness over his brother resonated with me. His desire to rise above and still cling to his roots is painfully relatable. And Cameron is a spark, sometimes reckless, always real. Watching him fall in love with horses, despite himself, made me feel like I was falling too. The arc they travel together is bumpy and full of bad decisions, but it’s never without love. Harrison makes you root for them, even when they’re messing up big time.
Beyond the Paddock is a story about rewriting the rules and reclaiming your place in a world that never expected much from you. It’s gripping and full of swagger, but it’s also soft where it counts. I’d recommend this to anyone who’s ever felt out of place, especially teens and young adults who crave stories where street smarts and heart collide. If you loved The Hate U Give or Friday Night Lights, this one’s for you.
Pages: 447 | ASIN : B0FBHCXKGQ
Blood on the Mountain
Blood on the Mountain, by Kristian Daniels, is a deeply personal coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of family conflict, small-town traditions, and the slow unraveling of childhood innocence. The story follows Noah as he navigates a tangle of faith, family expectations, and the painful realities of growing up different. Through his eyes, we see the sting of bullying, the quiet terror of not fitting in, and the tentative steps toward self-discovery both in terms of identity and sexuality. The novel blends these intimate struggles with generational drama, love stories, and moments of hope, creating a portrait of adolescence that feels as raw as it does real.
The writing pulls you right into the emotional center of each scene. The author captures the ache of wanting to belong and the fear of being yourself, especially in a world that can be both judgmental and unkind. The depictions of bullying are tough to read but impossible to ignore. They’re sharp and often mirror the subtle cruelties that linger after the school bell rings. Against this backdrop, Noah’s quiet journey toward accepting his sexuality unfolds in small, tender moments that contrast beautifully with the hostility around him.
The ideas here resonate on multiple levels. This isn’t just a story about teenage hardship. I think it’s about the courage to live authentically in the face of fear. The book speaks to the LGBTQ experience without turning it into a cliché or a token subplot. Instead, it weaves identity and sexuality into the fabric of Noah’s growth. It also asks hard questions about family loyalty, faith, and the cost of speaking your truth in environments that demand silence. While I enjoyed the novel, I believe that some of the antagonists felt a bit too black-and-white, but the emotional honesty in Noah’s perspective more than balances that out.
I’d recommend Blood on the Mountain to readers who value heartfelt and character-driven stories. Especially those interested in LGBTQ narratives, anti-bullying themes, and the messy, beautiful process of self-discovery. It’s a moving, sometimes difficult, but ultimately hopeful read.
Pages: 393 | ASIN : B0FLVW2J1J
LITERARY TITAN 