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KRIS PR
KRIS PR is a wild, heart-thumping ride through a neon-soaked Manchester of the future, where genetic editing and cybernetic mods clash with old-school policing and gritty human instinct. The book centers around Kris, an “Edit” police officer, genetically enhanced but fiercely clinging to human values, who stumbles across a mysterious girl named Aimee. She’s young, scared, possibly modded beyond anything he’s seen, and very much in danger. From that moment on, everything goes sideways. The novel blends cyberpunk dystopia with raw character introspection, combining action, ideology, and just the right splash of existential dread.
G.S. Morgan doesn’t just describe a futuristic Manchester; he drops you into it with both boots on the cobbles. The prose is rich and textured, almost poetic at times, but then whips around into sharp, no-nonsense grit. Take the opening scene: Kris cruising through the night, haunted by doubt, the streets “held together with rusting – yet unyielding – steel wire.” There’s this beautiful, ugly honesty to the world. I found myself rereading lines just to soak them in. And then, the action kicks off hard. The alleyway scene where Kris finds Aimee is utterly gripping and I didn’t blink for three pages.
The ideas packed into this story go way deeper than cool tech and shootouts. Kris wrestles constantly with what it means to be “better,” as an Edit, as a man, as a protector. His Nietzschean upbringing and loyalty to “The 8” code make for some intense inner dialogue. It’s not subtle, but it doesn’t try to be. He’s torn up about fear, strength, and failure. When Kris is ambushed and chooses to flee, only to later wrestle with profound shame and guilt in the wreckage of his overturned patrol car, the moment lands with striking emotional weight. It’s raw, honest, and deeply human. He isn’t portrayed as an invincible figure; he’s someone navigating fear and survival in a world that demands perfection. That kind of vulnerability, especially within a narrative dominated by enhanced beings, feels both rare and powerful.
Then there is Aimee, a character cloaked in enigma, her presence both unsettling and compelling. She appears to be an ordinary child, yet her connection to advanced biotechnology, including a remarkable ability to quite literally vanish, sets her apart in ways that challenge both the reader and Kris himself. Despite the extraordinary nature of her abilities, she is never reduced to a mere plot device. She is perceptive, composed, and retains a quiet innocence that contrasts sharply with the chaos around her. The relationship between Kris and Aimee is layered with unease and quiet empathy, complex, unfinished, and refreshingly ambiguous. What stands out is that Kris doesn’t fully understand his own drive to protect her. There is no grand revelation or heroic rationale, only instinct, and a deeply human impulse to act in the face of uncertainty. It’s this restrained, unresolved tension that gives the story emotional depth beyond the conventions of typical science fiction.
KRIS PR blew me away. It’s a genre-bending, brain-scrambling mix of noir, sci-fi, and psychological drama with a sharp philosophical edge. The writing’s bold. The world is cracked and humming. The characters, especially Kris, are deeply flawed and alive. If you like your stories with tension, tech, and a soul, this one’s for you. I’d recommend it to fans of Blade Runner, Altered Carbon, or anyone who’s into thoughtful action stories with bite.
Pages: 395 | ASIN : B0F3Y1HRJV
ONLY ONE FOOT TO THE EAST: A tale of overcoming adversity, travel adventure, acceptance, and finding love
At its heart, Only One Foot to the East is the story of Lucy, young, vibrant, and full of spirit, whose life takes a brutal turn after a motorcycle crash leaves her severely injured, ultimately losing a leg and living with a colostomy. From this trauma, the novel spins out into a journey of healing, discovery, and survival as Lucy navigates not only her new body but the tangled mess of love, independence, and the 1970s counterculture. There’s tragedy here, sure, but there’s also grit, and humor, and surprising beauty.
Right off the bat, what grabbed me was how raw and unflinching the writing was. The opening chapter doesn’t hold back. Lucy’s pain is laid bare, bone, blood, and all. James doesn’t pretty up her trauma. He describes the shattered leg, the emergency surgeries, the stoma with brutal medical accuracy, and it’s hard to look away. But what really stuck with me wasn’t just the clinical detail; it was Lucy’s rage. “The anger was what saved her from serious depression,” the book says, and you feel that, viscerally. It reminded me that healing isn’t always graceful. Sometimes it’s sweaty, pissed-off, and ugly. And that’s okay.
What surprised me most was how the novel balances all this trauma with a real sense of wanderlust and rebellion. Once Lucy begins to recover, she heads off on a trip through Europe, India, and Australia. These chapters feel like an entirely different book, in a good way. The rehab scenes are heavy, but the travel bits are wild. Psychedelics, philosophy, friendships, and some questionable decisions. The contrast between sterile hospitals and chaotic hostels gives the book real range. And it doesn’t shy away from the darker parts of the hippie era; there’s drug smuggling, addiction, and betrayal. Yet through it all, Lucy never stops evolving. She gets lost, but not defeated.
The book would pull me right back in with something honest. Like the moment Lucy sees her amputated leg for the first time in the mirror, or when she tries to wear flip-flops again and realizes her prosthetic won’t allow it. These little moments feel more powerful than the big philosophical musings. They hit harder, and they feel real. When the love story with Zak reemerged, it’s messy, complicated, full of weed smoke and arguments, and it doesn’t feel like a fairytale. It feels like two broken people clinging to each other in the storm.
This book is for anyone who’s had to rebuild themselves from scratch. If you’ve ever felt like your body betrayed you, or the world turned on you, or you just didn’t fit the mold, this book will sit with you, cry with you, and maybe laugh a little too. It’s rough around the edges, but that’s the point. For readers who love character-driven stories with emotional depth, a dose of dark humor, and a bit of wanderlust, Only One Foot to the East hits the mark. It’s not a light read, but it’s a worthwhile one.
Pages: 217 | ASIN : B0F4PWCWY1
Snow: Cursed
Snow: Cursed takes a classic fairytale and shatters it like glass underfoot. We start with a familiar image: Snow White, pale as snow, hair black as night. But instead of dwarves singing in the mines, we get blood, betrayal, and wolves with names like Big Bad and Dummy. This story spins out into something entirely new, grittier, darker, and painfully human. At its heart, it’s about identity and control. Who are you when the world decides you’re evil before you even take your first breath?
What stood out most to me was the prologue. Finnegan immediately immerses the reader in a morally ambiguous space, blurring the lines between good and evil. The opening passage reads like a blend of philosophical reflection and personal testimony. Statements such as “no one is truly good, and no one is truly evil” are particularly striking, establishing the thematic foundation for the rest of the novel. Rather than presenting a simple fantasy, the prologue invites deeper reflection on the assumptions we make about people and the lasting impact of the roles society assigns them.
Snow herself is fascinating. She starts out fragile and frightened, learning that her own father plans to burn her alive because of a curse. That scene involving Merlin and the journal was particularly impactful and emotionally resonant. When she finds out about her supposed destiny and how her father lied to her for fifteen years, it’s devastating. And then she breaks out of the castle, climbs the wall, and everything flips. There’s this moment where she takes down Big Bad, the alpha wolf, and suddenly she’s “Red Riding Hood,” drenched in blood, leading a pack. That moment was striking, intense, and deeply affecting. It vividly conveyed her transformation, which felt palpable through the page.
While Finnegan’s writing occasionally leans toward directness in the dialogue, it’s balanced by a refreshingly original voice that brings a distinctive energy to the narrative. It’s dramatic and fast-paced, but it never takes itself too seriously, and I appreciated that. There’s a kind of campy magic in how she blends fairytale with modern sarcasm. When Snow throws a dagger near Dummy’s neck to shut everyone up, it’s brutal and hilarious. That blend of horror and humor works surprisingly well. The side characters are uniquely compelling, with Midnight the wolf standing out in particular. Her character arc is both surprising and dramatic, culminating in a plot twist that is as unexpected as it is effective.
The ideas in this book stick with you. Finnegan messes with traditional fantasy in a way that made me uncomfortable, but in a good way. There’s a recurring theme of rewriting your story instead of letting it be written for you. Snow literally goes from princess to fugitive to alpha to maybe something even darker. And that evolving identity is central to the whole thing. It’s not always clean or elegant, but it’s full of grit and soul.
Snow: Cursed is a fairytale for anyone who’s tired of black-and-white stories. It’s for readers who like a little bite with their magic. Readers are likely to find this story thoroughly engaging. It is intense, emotionally charged, and at times brutal, yet undeniably compelling. I found it difficult to put down.
Pages: 260 | ASIN : B0DS2SVPZS
All Sorrows Can Be Born
Loren Stephens’ All Sorrows Can Be Borne is a poignant historical novel that threads love, grief, and cultural displacement into a deeply personal story. At the heart of the book is Noriko, a Hiroshima survivor, who must make the unimaginable decision to send her young son across the ocean to be raised by relatives in America. The story unfolds as both a tribute and an excavation of memory, of war, loss, and survival, told with a haunting, lyrical voice.
The opening chapter is profoundly affecting. The scene at the airport, in which Noriko and her husband Ichiro part ways with their young son Hisashi, is rendered with quiet intensity. It is not overwrought or sentimental; instead, it is measured and heartbreakingly restrained. The emotional impact lies in the understated details, Hisashi’s carefully chosen outfit, the heart-shaped box containing his umbilical cord, Noriko’s silent anguish as she tries to maintain composure. Stephens allows the emotion to unfold subtly, never forcing it, and this delicate control makes the moment all the more powerful.
One of the novel’s most compelling achievements is how it interweaves personal tragedy with the broader scope of historical trauma. Noriko’s recollections of surviving the Hiroshima bombing are not presented merely as historical context; they form the emotional core of her character. The stark imagery of black rain falling from the sky, scorched bodies in the streets, and a city in ruins conveys a haunting sense of devastation. Yet amid this bleakness, there are glimmers of resilience. Her father’s remark that her scarred forehead might one day be seen as a mark of uniqueness offers a moment of unexpected tenderness and wisdom.
Equally striking is the novel’s psychological complexity, particularly in the relationship between Noriko and Ichiro. Ichiro is a difficult figure, physically ailing, emotionally withdrawn, often sharp and unkind, yet Stephens renders him with empathy. His fear, frustration, and shame are palpable. A particularly heartbreaking moment occurs when he tells their son, Hisashi, that they will follow him to America on the next flight, a deliberate untruth meant to ease the child’s separation. It is a quiet betrayal, but one born of desperation. Later, Noriko’s acknowledgment of her own complicity, when she admits, “neither of us deserved him,” is devastating in its candor. It captures the depth of her remorse and the inescapable weight of their decision.
I’d recommend All Sorrows Can Be Borne to anyone who loves character-driven stories with emotional weight. It’s especially powerful if you’re drawn to historical fiction that isn’t about battles, but about what happens after. This book is for people who want to feel something real and lasting, something that lingers. It is not an emotionally light read, but it is unquestionably worthwhile.
Pages: 449 | ASIN : B0DV2X44K8
While The Jury Waits
While The Jury Waits is a legal thriller with a pulsing heart and a flair for drama. It follows the story of Gio Rossi, a self-absorbed but magnetic defense attorney who gets tangled in the most personal case of his career, the murder trial of his lover, Nicoletta Bianchi. What starts as courtroom theatrics soon spirals into a deep web of secrets, manipulation, and unexpected twists that push Gio to the edge of both love and justice. Part courtroom drama, part psychological thriller, the story delves into the performance of law and the cost of wearing too many masks for too long.
What grabbed me right away was the voice of Gio Rossi. He’s unapologetically cocky, a peacock in a suit, strutting through the courtroom like it’s a runway. Chapter 1 sets the stage with cinematic flair, with his luxury car, his ego, the scent of his cologne filling up the office like he’s spraying his own myth into the air. It’s ridiculous, but it works. The writing here shines by leaning into Gio’s vanity without flinching. The books on his shelf? “Decorations.” The cases he handles? Mere “performances.” I was torn between wanting to punch him and cheer for him, which, to me, is the mark of a well-drawn character.
But it’s when his lover Nicky is arrested for murder that the tone shifts hard. Suddenly, the peacock becomes a hawk. Gio gets stripped down emotionally, and the writing reflects that. His overconfidence gives way to anxiety, even desperation. I appreciated this change because it gave depth to a character who could’ve stayed a caricature. Watching him unravel, especially in scenes where he second-guesses his own instincts or sits slumped in his office drinking whiskey, made him feel human. Messy, but human.
And then there’s the trial. The back-and-forth between Gio and the prosecution is absolutely electric. The courtroom scenes are paced fast and tight, with just enough flair to stay entertaining without losing the stakes. The moment when Gio brings in Agnes McAllister as a surprise witness is pure drama. I literally exhaled when she said, “I’ll testify, Mr. Rossi, but I have one condition.” I was leaning in. The gamble pays off, and the jury’s verdict feels earned. But even then, the book doesn’t let you relax. There’s a shadow of something darker still to come. The vibe shifts into an almost noir detective territory, complete with ominous symbols, late-night investigations, and masked stalkers.
Sometimes the writing leans a little heavy on the melodrama. People don’t just feel things, they feel them ferociously. There are a lot of poetic metaphors and long monologues that feel like stage lines more than thoughts. But I didn’t mind because it added to the theatrical energy that Gio thrives in. Readers seeking strict realism may find aspects of the narrative exaggerated, but those who approach it as a high-stakes legal drama infused with strong emotional depth will find it thoroughly compelling.
While The Jury Waits is for readers who love character-driven drama, courtroom mind games, and stories where love, ambition, and justice crash into each other like runaway trains. If you’re into shows like The Good Wife, Suits, or even How to Get Away with Murder, this is your book. It’s bold, messy, stylish, and absolutely impossible to put down.
Pages: 213 | ASIN : B0F4RRXKBN
Viper Island
Viper Island is a globe-spanning biotech thriller that follows former neurosurgeon-turned-covert-agent Molly Jones, now known as Amy Michaels, as she’s thrown into a high-stakes mission to protect a prominent philanthropist targeted by a shadowy assassin. The operation quickly unravels into a nightmarish hunt across Accra, Ghana, with deadly biological weapons, political intrigue, and military-level ambushes at every turn. From the glittering lights of a humanitarian gala to the gritty chaos of street markets and parking-lot shootouts, Moore delivers an adrenaline-packed story where the dangers are as invisible as they are deadly.
I had a blast reading this. Moore’s writing is fast and sharp, like a cinematic pulse running under every scene. The pacing is relentless, but it never feels exhausting. It just pulls you in deeper. The action scenes are slick and visceral, with an energy that made me grip the pages. There’s also real thought put into the science behind the threat. The DNA-targeting bioweapon isn’t just a sci-fi gimmick; it feels alarmingly plausible. But what really landed for me was Molly. She’s not some bulletproof superhero. She doubts. She hesitates. But she keeps moving, keeps protecting. That made her feel real, and someone I could root for.
The book walks a razor-thin line between thrilling and overwhelming. There were moments when the sheer amount of action and military chatter had me longing for a bit of quiet, just a second to breathe or reflect. And while the story is tight, I wanted more time with the team before chaos tore them apart. Still, those are small bumps in a ride that’s otherwise turbocharged. Moore isn’t just throwing grenades for the sake of noise—there’s real tension, clever plotting, and genuine emotion underneath all the shootouts and spy gear.
Viper Island is for readers who crave high-octane storytelling with just enough smarts to keep you thinking between heart-pounding moments. If you like James Rollins, Gregg Hurwitz, or early Vince Flynn, you’ll feel right at home here. It’s a wild, breathless run through the dark alleys of science, politics, and personal redemption. I’d recommend it to action lovers, thriller junkies, or anyone who wants to feel like they’re strapped to the side of a missile.
Pages: 400 | ASIN: B0FCLN3H8L
Whatever It Takes
Whatever It Takes is a gritty and fast-paced crime thriller that follows Fort Worth detective Kit Hanover as she’s recruited by the FBI to go undercover in a seedy Las Vegas nightclub to take down an organized crime ring involved in money laundering and murder. Posing as a cocktail server and as an exotic dancer, Kit is thrust into a world of danger, deception, and personal reckoning. As she navigates the murky underworld of the Pink Kitten club and balances the threat of a powerful crime boss, Kit must rely on her instincts, strength, and sheer will to survive and gather enough evidence to bring justice to the victims.
Alan Brenham writes with a sharp edge and a deep understanding of the law enforcement world. The dialogue pops with realism, sometimes brutal, sometimes darkly funny. The pacing is relentless, pulling me through each scene with a white-knuckled grip. Kit is not your standard heroine. She’s tough but wounded, confident but struggling with demons, and her complexity made me root for her even harder. Her backstory, especially her strained ties to her heritage and her late adoptive father, added a real sense of weight to her choices. What really got me was the emotional toll the assignment took on her, especially the moments she doubted herself but still pushed forward.
Some of the setup sections, like the training and prep, felt a tad drawn out, but they did add to the realism. The way Kit’s moral boundaries were constantly tested gave the story tension, and I found myself questioning what I’d do in her place. There’s a lot of emotional complexity packed in here—anger, fear, pride, loneliness—and Brenham doesn’t shy away from the sleazier, more uncomfortable parts of undercover work. The club scenes are drenched in smoke, sweat, and that sense of being watched, and you can almost feel Kit’s skin crawl as she tries to keep her cover intact. It’s not just about the mission—it’s about survival. And Kit never stops being human in the face of it all.
Whatever It Takes delivers more than just a suspenseful plot. It’s a raw, character-driven ride into the underbelly of crime, power, and sacrifice. I’d recommend this book to fans of strong female leads, undercover cop dramas, and noir-style storytelling. If you liked Donnie Brasco or The Departed, this one’s for you. Just be ready to ride the emotional roller coaster. Kit Hanover is a great character, and Brenham makes you feel every step of her journey.
Pages: 350 | ASIN : B0F8C2QFHB
A Tribute to my Mother
The Secretary follows a British woman working for M16 who goes undercover in the British embassy in Moscow, where she starts an affair with a journalist also undercover while searching for a possible traitor. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
Lois Vale is a fictionalised version of my late mother, Joy, and I wrote the novel as a tribute to her. My parents met in Moscow at the height of the Cold War, and my sister and I grew up with tales of their romance tailed by the KGB and how they would dig listening devices out of apartment walls. Her 1958 diary was a wonderful find; it was clear she had deliberately left it for us. In her 80s, she had finally admitted to me that she had worked for MI6, though I had long had my suspicions. The diary made sense of the stories she had shared and put them in context. She actually did have a German journalist boyfriend for a while in Moscow, and always spoke fondly of him. I based the structure of the novel broadly on events in the diary, from her initial train journey from Helsinki to Moscow on the night express, to her trips to Vienna and the Black Sea. Though the spy story in the novel is complete fiction, it is rooted in contemporaneous historical fact.
The characters in The Secretary are very complex. What is your process for creating such in-depth characters?
I tried to be as truthful as possible. I always had a lovely relationship with my mother and as I grew up we became close friends and confidantes. I knew, admired – wished I had – her qualities. Writing her character was a question of doing her justice. She was interesting to be with, always elegantly self-effacing and calm, with flashes of sharp humour, and conversations with her were memorable. I drew on years of remembered conversations to build the characters around her; though almost all of them are entirely imaginary, some spring from her observations of people she mixed with in Moscow and subsequently in embassies across the world, and others come from my own reading, fiction and non-fiction, about that era.
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
The unsung and underestimated role of women in intelligence in the 1950s is a crucial aspect of the novel. Also the question of loyalty and betrayal: how loyalty may not be reciprocated, and how there might even be a moral component of betrayal.
What is the next book that you are working on, and when can your fans expect it to be out?
I’m working on the third novel in the fun French cozy mystery series I write with my husband Rob under the name Serena Kent. Death in Provence and Death in Avignon came out in 2018 and 2019, so this next episode has been a long time coming, interrupted by my determination to bring The Secretary to fruition. After all the delays, I don’t dare promise imminent publication!
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A tense Cold War spy story told from the perspective of a bright, young, working-class woman recruited to MI6 at a time when men were in charge of making history and women were expendable.
LITERARY TITAN 