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They’re not wizards. They’re not powerful.
The Hedgewitch’s Charm follows a struggling hedgewitch and a haunted duke as they confront a deadly, possibly deliberate plague, discovering that compassion and failure can be as powerful and as dangerous as magic itself. What inspired you to center the story on failure and helplessness?
I felt that this was an interesting starting point for the story. The idea of fighting against something so small, and so unknowable as a sickness, it’s something that’s universal and also something that everyone can identify with. So many heroes in stories profess to have all the answers, and all the power. It’s this attitude of “I’m Superman, of course I can save the day.” What happens if our heroes are small? What happens if they don’t know what to do? What happens if they’re so very human? For me, that was an interesting place to start the story. Ipsinki has been there from the beginning of the series, and he has known failure. He’s just a man, and Gwendolyn, the hedgewitch is just a woman. They’re not wizards. They’re not powerful. They’re just people who want to do some good; and there’s real power in that.
Gwendolyn’s magic feels intimate and exhausting. How did you shape her relationship with magic and its limits?
I write her as kind of the anti-Kralc. He’s this wizard who acts as if he knows all the answers, and he’s almost cocky, in a way, with his power. She’s someone whose affinity with the earth, and with this desire to heal, grants her these gifts. Her power is of a much more humble nature, and so, like anyone confronting a large scale problem, she has her limits, and she is acutely aware of them. Whatever magic she has is limited in scope by her calling. She has a true sense of what’s right, and what is necessary. It’s from this place that her power comes from, and she accepts her limits.
Ipsinki carries both political responsibility and personal grief. How did you balance those two sides of his character?
For me, it’s these traits that make him a good leader. He recognizes what’s at stake on a far more intimate level than many of the other characters in the book. Here is a man who, through his years as a soldier, and through his mother who owns an inn, has cultivated a real relationship with the people on an individual level. This is something that is truly lacking with the royal family, with the rest of the nobility. It’s this quality that makes all of this so painful for him, but also makes him the perfect person to help tackle this problem. With the others in charge, it’s sad, but the lives being lost are just numbers on a page. It’s all so abstract. With Ipsinki, it’s not that at all. It’s “Oh my god, you mean Sarah died? I just spoke with her yesterday.” It’s his desire to know the people, and his relationships that drive him, and make him good at his job.
Disease and fear play a role in the story. Were there real-world anxieties or experiences that influenced how you portrayed the plague?
In a way, yes. I believe that all writers draw on their lives to some degree when they write. Funnily enough, I came up with this idea before the pandemic. It’s something that I came up with with my friend, An Tran, when we were working Bath Salts. The idea of a disease used as a weapon was something so scary to me. Add some magic to it, and we have The Hedgewitch’s Charm. There’s something so intrinsically tense that comes from a spreading disease. How does one fight against germs? It’s an invisible enemy that you can’t really confront. Writing it was interesting, as the disease almost became a character in itself.
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A strange illness is sweeping through the kingdom of Colonodona bringing death and pain wherever it hits. Gwendolyn, a young hedge witch has made the startling discovery that the illness is one that has been created out of magic. Leaving her home, she makes the trip to the capitol to see the King. There, she is teamed up with the Duke Ipsinki and sent out to find the wizard responsible. As this is happening, the disease strike the capitol infecting Ipsinki’s mother, Aud, and Sitnalta. It is now a race against the clock. Along the way, Gwendolyn realizes that Ipsinki is unlike any other man she has met, while the Duke sees that there is more to life than paperwork and duty. Regaining his love for adventure, he sees that he has more of a choice in front of him than he first realized.
The Romanov Legacy: Ahead of the Storm
The Romanov Legacy II: Ahead of the Storm by Fred G. Baker is a sweeping work of historical fiction that imagines the escape of two Romanov children in the final days of Imperial Russia. The story follows Alexei and Anastasia after their flight from captivity near Yekaterinburg, guided by loyalists of the White Army as civil war erupts around them. Baker blends real events with imagined rescue efforts, focusing on danger, secrecy, and survival during the collapse of the old order. The book moves through military action, quiet hiding, and emotional aftermath as the children face loss, fear, and an uncertain future.
I enjoyed the pacing and clarity of the writing. Baker writes in a clean, steady style that keeps things moving without confusion. I never felt lost in the geography or the politics. The scenes feel grounded and physical. Cold barns. Dark rivers. Mud, hunger, and fear. I felt the tension early. Some descriptions were a bit longer than needed, but I did not mind. They helped me settle into the world. The dialogue feels natural most of the time, and the emotional beats land with honesty. I felt real dread during the execution revelations and real relief during moments of safety.
I liked the ideas behind the story even more than the action. This book is clearly about loyalty, moral duty, and the cost of history on children who never chose their fate. I felt angry reading parts of it. I also felt grief. Baker does not soften the cruelty of the era, but he does offer a sense of human decency through characters like Tupolev and Anna. I appreciated that balance. The book does not feel preachy. It feels mournful and stubborn and hopeful all at once. I liked that the Romanovs are treated as people first and symbols second.
I found this book to be emotional and thoughtful. I would recommend it to readers who enjoy historical fiction with emotional weight and alternative history angles. It is a good fit for anyone interested in the Russian Revolution, lost possibilities, or stories about protecting the vulnerable during chaos. When I think about this book next to other popular Romanov novels, it feels more grounded and more urgent. Books like I Was Anastasia or The Lost Roses spend more time on mystery, romance, and shifting timelines, while this one stays locked on danger and survival. It reminds me more of a wartime escape story than a court drama. The scope is narrower, but the tension is stronger. I felt closer to the characters here than I often do in historical epics, and that made the story hit harder for me.
Pages: 292 | ASIN : B0G1JDFZ7B
It Was So Different And Refined
Most Glorious follows a gifted young architect as he navigates shifting empires, secret intrigues, and looming wars to discover how quiet courage can reshape the world. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
The period described in the book is set during the era known as the Dark Ages. What inspired me to write it was that I found that period to be, in fact, very enriching in multiple ways. Building the largest building in the world, Hagia Sophia, was a great example of that, because it was so different and refined from all the large buildings constructed earlier. Another inspiration was that the writings and films about the fall of Rome in 476 made it seem that it was the end of the Roman Empire. The Roman capital was transferred to Constantinople in 330; it had a long and prosperous life until it fell in 1453, almost a 1000 years after the city of Rome fell.
How did you approach balancing historical accuracy with the emotional intimacy of John’s personal journey?
To me, any story needs to have credibility. Accordingly, ensuring the accuracy of historic events was a very important concern when working on the manuscript. Furthermore, John was a young man; he had to grow, learn, and take on more responsibility in changing times. He was technically well-trained not only to consider challenges in construction but also in the beauty of the project. Facing complex architectural issues, an unpredictable emperor, a jealous court, and secret spies, was more than enough for someone who just wanted to build a perfect building.
John’s personal journey was aided by university training, a strong relationship with his companion and mentor, the quiet and surprising love of some family members, and a great confidence in his own skills. Besides the various challenges, John understood that any mistake in the construction of the largest building would be the last error of his career.
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
As I planned this book, it became obvious that several interwoven themes needed to be explored. These include John’s personal journey, court intrigues, war and conquest, spying, and the construction of an architectural marvel. Without them, the story would not be complete.
The world feels authentic, from Miletos’ shoreline to the Persian court. Which location was the most challenging to bring to life?
Miletos was the most difficult to describe, as its geographical location changed over time. Miletos was a city that likely had several small ports; now, the few remaining ruins of that city are located a considerable distance from the shore. To gain a sense of how the city appeared many centuries ago, I relied on past writings and maps of the city ruins, although knowledge of the history of climate change and Mediterranean terrain was also very helpful.
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However, his journey is not limited to stone and mortar. As John navigates the court intrigues of Constantinople, he finds himself entangled in political power struggles, the chariot-racing factions of the Blues and Greens, and the empire’s ongoing conflict with the Persians. Alongside figures such as the historian Prokopius and the great general Belisarius, John experiences firsthand the ambitions, betrayals, and heroism that shape history.
Blending real historical events with a gripping narrative, Most Glorious brings to life the grandeur and peril of the Byzantine world, showcasing the resilience of those who built its most enduring legacies.
Where The Winds Blow
Where The Winds Blow blends political satire, global intrigue, and adrenaline-soaked storm chasing into a single, fast-moving narrative. The book follows the rise of Path Finder, a grassroots movement born from grief and idealism, while powerful governments, criminal networks, and ordinary people collide around it. At the same time, the story weaves in a parallel thread of storm chasers barreling across Texas, where tempests both real and emotional hit with little warning. The plot swings from Irish funerals to boathouse diplomacy to desert border tensions, always nudged forward by colorful characters who often stumble into history by accident.
Reading it, I found myself laughing at moments I didn’t expect to laugh at and bracing during scenes that came out of nowhere, like the chaotic barbecue rescue early on or the tense debates inside the gilded halls of Peace Castle. The writing has a kind of cheeky confidence. The author slips from humor to sincerity in seconds, and somehow it works. I liked how the “science guides” at the castle go from bickering like rivals to forming a unified plan after being nudged by drinks, blunt truth, and a locked door. Those small human quirks make the big themes feel grounded. And the storm chasing chapters surprised me. The imagery of dirt clouds swallowing the vans and lightning cracking overhead felt alive. Moments like Simon dragging a stubborn tourist away from his dramatic self-sacrifice scene stuck with me because they were messy and relatable and oddly sweet.
The book plays with many threads. I enjoyed each storyline on its own, but sometimes the pace jumped so fast that I had to remind myself where we were and who was scheming or storm chasing or hiding from cartel lookouts. The Path Finder political satire is sharp and funny, especially scenes in Washington where we watch powerful people try to bend the movement to their will. The storm chasing plot, though, has this raw emotional pulse that could carry a book by itself. When the two worlds finally echo each other thematically, it lands.
I closed the book feeling satisfied. Where The Winds Blow is a good pick for readers who like stories with heart and humor mixed into real-world chaos, who enjoy political send-ups, or who don’t mind a chase through a thunderstorm or a bureaucratic maze. It’s lively. It’s warm. It’s playful. And it’s perfect for anyone who wants a story that reminds them that even the biggest changes in the world often start with a handful of imperfect people trying to do the right thing.
Pages: 313 | ASIN : B0G1KKJLYR
In the Wake of Golgotha
In the Wake of Golgotha braids the crucifixion story with a dark, present day New York crime narrative. Judas and Pilate walk the earth again as Jude Issachar, a social worker and literature instructor with a secret habit of controlled self-hanging, and Peter Pheiffer, a corporate lawyer drifting into a death penalty case that begins to wake an old guilt he cannot name. Around them moves Balthazar Bedrossian, an MRI tech who turns into a crucifixion-obsessed serial killer and leaves three men nailed to crosses in a Chinatown basement, with a bloody message that echoes words spoken on Calvary. The book moves between Golgotha, courtrooms, shelters, subways, and art museums. It treats time like a loop rather than a line. The result is a theological thriller about responsibility, addiction, justice, and the long reach of one moment on a hill.
The prose is lush and sensory, full of heat, dust, blood, and cramped city air, then suddenly snaps into something clipped and almost conversational. I liked that swing. It kept me slightly off balance, in a good way, and it fit a story where characters feel unmoored from their own lives. At times, the sentences pile up, and the metaphors jostle for space, and I caught myself rereading a passage not because I missed a plot point, but because the language had become thick and crowded. When the book slows down and lets a simple image stand alone, like the quiet of a homeless shelter after breakfast or the tap of a condemned man’s bare feet, it lands very hard.
The ideas in this novel gave me a lot to think about. The reincarnation of Judas, fully aware of his past betrayal, turns guilt into a chronic condition rather than a single act, and I felt the weight of that on Jude’s shoulders every time he touched his neck. Peter’s arc hit me in a different way. He walks around convinced he is an ordinary guy who chose corporate comfort, then finds himself face to face with a killer who recreates crucifixion while a hidden past claws its way into the light. That mix of legal procedure, spiritual dread, and moral confusion made the courtroom scenes genuinely tense for me, even before any supernatural hints came in. The book obsesses over punishment and mercy, over how a single choice repeats through history, and it keeps asking whether anyone can ever really start fresh. I finished sections feeling uneasy, but also weirdly moved, like I had been invited into a long argument between God, the devil, and everybody who ever stood between them.
In the Wake of Golgotha is not a casual beach read. It leans into graphic violence, addiction, death row procedure, and heavy spiritual questions, and it rarely lets the reader off the hook. I would recommend it to people who like literary crime fiction that has a strong theological spine, to readers who enjoy novels that play with myth and scripture, and to anyone willing to sit with messy questions about blame and forgiveness. If you are up for a dark, ambitious story that blends ancient sorrow with modern city grit, I think it is worth your time.
Pages: 354 | ASIN: B0FY3WCZWR
The Arkencrest Chronicles: Battle for Crossroads
The Arkencrest Chronicles: Battle for Crossroads is an epic fantasy that lays out a vast world shaped from the bones of a fallen god, threaded with nations, factions, magical histories, and a young man’s coming-of-age journey. The book opens with myth, maps, and lore, then shifts into the story of Bourdain, an eighteen-year-old raised in the scholarly city of Ikvia, who carries the weight of his parents’ mysterious deaths and the quiet push toward a larger fate. His decision to leave home and join a caravan heading into the wider world feels like the real spark of the narrative. The story blends high fantasy worldbuilding with a classic hero-sets-out structure, and it’s clear from the very first chapters that the stakes will eventually reach the scale of kingdoms and maybe even gods.
I kept noticing how much care the author put into the setting. Whole sections read almost like ancient chronicles, especially the creation myths and the detailed accounts of elves, dwarves, orcs, and other races. Sometimes those lore chapters felt dense, but in a way that reminded me of leafing through the appendices of a much-loved fantasy series. I found myself slowing down to appreciate the small touches, like the smell of ink and seawater in Ikvia or the way the elven forest seems to breathe around its people. When the story shifts back to Bourdain, the tone changes just enough to feel more grounded. His scenes have a quiet emotional center, especially his conversations with Kael and his uncle, which helped balance the heavier mythic material.
I also appreciated the author’s willingness to give readers a wide view of the world right away. You can feel that this is a story about more than one kingdom or one hero. The factions, the ancient seals, the threat of the Devourer, the politics of Sovar, there are a lot of threads, and the book asks you to trust that they’ll matter later. Sometimes I caught myself wishing the pace would sit a little longer with Bourdain before expanding outward, but I was also genuinely curious about each new layer. It felt like walking into a bustling market: overwhelming for a moment, then strangely energizing once you settle into the rhythm.
By the time I finished the opening arc, I felt invested. Bourdain is easy to root for. The world feels lived in. And the writing has a steady confidence, switching between poetic and straightforward without calling too much attention to itself. It’s the sort of fantasy that invites you in slowly, giving you the sense that you’re only glimpsing the start of something much larger.
If you love epic fantasy with rich lore, detailed cultures, and a world that feels ancient and complicated beneath the surface, this book will land well for you. Readers who prefer fast, plot-driven fantasy might find the early chapters a bit methodical, but anyone who enjoys settling into a world and watching a young hero take his first real steps into danger will find plenty to appreciate here. I’d recommend it especially to fans of expansive, map-filled adventures who like to feel the weight of history behind every choice.
Pages: 383 | ASIN : B0FYHW5ZLY
The Shattered Ones
The Shattered Ones follows Ace, a worn-down former protector living in a world swallowed by endless darkness. The sun has vanished. Cities crumble. People lose themselves. Ace tries to drink away what he used to be until a terrified man shows up with news that sparks a search for others like Ace. The story turns into a fight against a brutal gang, a ruthless corporation, and a rising evil while Ace pieces together a strange calling and a fragile hope. By the end, the light finally returns, and the survivors stand in a new world trying to understand what comes next .
I kept feeling this push and pull between grit and heart. The writing dives hard into bleak moments, and sometimes it hit me hard. The city felt alive in a sad way, full of broken people stumbling through pitch-black days. But the author slips in these quiet emotional beats that land with surprising force. Ace’s exhaustion felt real. His shaky hope felt real, too. Those shifts kept me leaning in. I found myself rooting for him even when he was trying his best not to care.
Then the book swings into big action scenes and wild turns. At first, I thought the scale jump might drown the human parts, but it actually worked for me. The chaos made the tender moments brighter. One scene near the end, when the group finally sees the first glow of returning sunlight, honestly caught me off guard with how moving it felt. The writing eases up and lets that warmth sit for a moment.
By the time the epilogue rolled in, the hopeful tone felt earned. The world is far from fixed, but the people are trying, and that small spark of rebuilding hit me in the gut. Seeing Ace in a park months later, watching kids laugh while the city comes back to life, made the whole journey feel worth it. It showed how much he lost and how much he still carries.
I’d recommend The Shattered Ones to readers who like dark worlds but need a thread of light to hold on to. Anyone who enjoys character-driven dystopian stories, rough-edged heroes, or tales about finding purpose in a broken place will get something out of this. It’s heavy at times, sure, but it leaves you with a feeling that you’ll remember.
Pages: 338 | ASIN : B0DBZX1FWS
The Magic Circle
The Magic Circle follows the life of Mary Armstrong, the daughter of a powerful senator whose secret history of incest, trauma, and metaphysical obsession comes to light through her diary. The narrator, Mary’s childhood friend, takes that diary and retells the story as a blend of memory, confession, myth, linguistics, erotic mysticism, and psychological unraveling. The book moves through Mary’s childhood abuse, her attempts to understand it through religion and philosophy, her fixation on the Magi, and her belief that orgasm and God are the same force. As the narrative unfolds, it spirals into ideas about guilt, family collapse, incest as cosmic metaphor, cultural history, race, violence, and the long shadow of forbidden desire.
Reading this book felt wild, stirring, and at times emotionally overwhelming. The writing swings between sharp humor, painful honesty, and surreal insight. Sometimes I felt pulled along by the narrator’s voice, which is chatty and almost confessional. Other times, I felt pinned down by the weight of Mary’s thoughts as she tries to decode her past through religion, linguistics, anthropology, and mythology. I caught myself reacting with both shock and strange admiration. The author does not flinch. She leans into discomfort, and the effect is gripping. There are scenes that left me uneasy, others that made me strangely moved. The mix of intellectual curiosity and emotional rawness kept me on edge in a way that felt honest. The book refuses to tidy anything, and I actually liked that. It mirrors the chaos Mary lived in.
What struck me most was how the story keeps circling back to the idea that forbidden intimacy shapes a life, long after the act itself. The narrator shows us how Mary interprets that childhood violation as something magical, terrifying, and foundational. Her thinking is messy and bold. It is full of leaps that made me raise my eyebrows and then reread the lines just to sit with them. I kept feeling that the book wanted me to see how trauma bends a person’s sense of God, morality, memory, and even language itself. The voice is emotional, angry, tender, and sometimes darkly funny. I felt pulled between sympathy and disbelief. It is rare to read something that so openly stirs up confusion and still feels intentional.
The Magic Circle left me feeling unsettled in a way I appreciated. It is not a light read. It is intense, clever, sometimes messy, and often surprising. I would recommend this book to readers who like psychological depth, taboo subjects, and stories that blend intellect with raw emotion.
Pages: 288 | ASIN : B0G45N7LFH
LITERARY TITAN 