Blog Archives
An Unsuitable Job
An Unsuitable Job drops readers straight into Josie MacFarland’s world and wastes no time showing the grit behind the glamour. The story follows Josie as she returns to the Harvey Company to serve as their first woman detective. A dead salesman, a scandal brewing in the Castañeda Hotel, and a tangle of secrets push her into danger and discovery. The pages move fast. The scenes glow with the heat of New Mexico. The world of Harvey Girls, rail travelers, cowboys, and local families feels alive and loud. The book reads like a window into 1930. The mystery unfolds piece by piece as Josie digs through gossip, grudges, and old wounds.
The style hit a sweet spot. Simple. Direct. No fluff. I liked how the dialogue carried the weight of the story. It felt crisp and quick. The emotions ran close to the surface. Josie’s tall presence, sharp eyes, and constant tug between courage and doubt made her easy to root for. I found myself grinning when she pushed back against people who underestimated her. I felt a pinch of sympathy when old mistakes nipped at her heels. The author paints these moments with an ease that makes the scenes sink in deep. The setting did a lot of lifting, too. The dusty roads. The clatter of the dining room. The smell of rain on sage.
Some moments caught me off guard. The tension between Josie and the sheriff had this spark that made me sit up straighter. The small flickers of jealousy or nerves or pride made the characters feel relatable. I also liked the way the story let the gossip swirl. Secrets traveled in whispers. People watched over their shoulders. The book didn’t shout its themes. It let them simmer. Women are boxed in by rules. Power running quietly through a small town. What people hide to keep the peace. The mystery itself moved with a steady beat. No rush. No drag. Just enough clues to keep me leaning forward.
This was a satisfying read. The story wrapped up in a way that felt clean but still left room for more. I could picture Josie walking off in her trench coat, not done with danger yet. I would recommend An Unsuitable Job to readers who like cozy mysteries with a little grit. Anyone who enjoys historical settings. Anyone who likes strong women who push back when they are told to stay quiet. It is a book for people who want quick pacing paired with warm character work. I enjoyed it, and I think many others will too.
Pages: 280 | ASIN : B0FQYRCBNH
Part of the Solution: A Mystery
Part of the Solution follows Jennifer Morgan, a New York professor who returns to Boston for a conference and suddenly collides with her past. A chance meeting pulls her back into the late seventies, when she lived in a tiny Massachusetts town full of hippies, activists, dreamers, and drifters. The book moves between the present and that earlier world, and the story slowly circles a death that shattered the odd little community she once called home. The narrative blends memory, mystery, romance, and political reflection in a way that feels alive and warm and a little bittersweet.
Reading it felt like stepping into a room that smells like coffee and incense and old books. The writing has a cozy quality. It rambles in a good way, like someone talking while cooking dinner, and I found myself leaning in. I had moments of real affection for the characters. They fight. They love. They hold grudges that make no sense and cling to ideals that make no sense either. The dialogue has a lively spark that kept surprising me. Sometimes it hopped around. Sometimes it took its time. I liked that. And even when the tone shifted into darker territory, the heart of the book kept beating steady.
The ideas underneath the story resonated with me more than I expected. Michelson captures the messy idealism of the counterculture era with charm and also with a sharp pinch. I kept nodding because the book understands something about how people try to build a better world and then stumble right over their good intentions. The spiritual seekers. The radicals. The shy intellectuals who think too much and then think even more. I felt the book’s tenderness toward them, and I felt its frustration too. The tension between hope and disillusionment had real weight. It made me sit back and think about my own younger self and the beliefs I thought would never bend.
I would recommend Part of the Solution to readers who enjoy character-driven mysteries, stories about found communities, and novels steeped in the moods of the sixties and seventies. If you like fiction that mixes warmth with tension and lets people be flawed in recognizable ways, you’ll enjoy this book.
Pages: 298 | ASIN : B0FL4MH5WY
SWALLOWING THE MUSKELLUNGE
Swallowing the Muskellunge drops you into a brutal and uncanny world where Black families in the late 1700s try to carve out a life in a landscape full of danger, superstition, and raw human fear. The story follows London Oxford, his son Abner, and the Wright family as they navigate violence, prejudice, mysterious deaths, and something darker hiding in the woods and rivers. The book mixes historical fiction with unsettling folklore, and the result is a journey that twists between real-world cruelty and eerie, mythic threats.
The writing hits with a quiet confidence, yet it never lets you rest. Scenes that start with simple family troubles drift into something tense, then something dreadful, then something almost magical. I found myself leaning in and frowning at the page, not because the prose was hard, but because the emotions were sharp. O’Brien has a way of slipping horror into places that should feel safe. Kitchens, barns, small paths, quiet rivers. The fear creeps in slowly. I kept thinking, I know these people, and I don’t want anything to happen to them, yet trouble keeps finding them. Some moments even made my stomach turn, especially when the book turns toward the threats against Abner or the strange shadow creatures near the river. It all felt personal.
What struck me hardest, though, was the mixture of cruelty and tenderness. I felt anger at the unfairness thrown at London and his family, and I felt warmth in the smaller human moments that kept them standing. A father reaching for his son after a violent scare. A mother snapping at the world because she is scared of losing everything. Those scenes felt raw. The conversations are messy and real. People stumble through their choices, and you see their flaws, yet you can’t help rooting for them. O’Brien’s ideas about freedom, belonging, and survival sit right under the surface. They poke at you in quiet ways. I loved that.
This is a gripping story that digs into both the mythic and the human. I would recommend Swallowing the Muskellunge to readers who enjoy historical fiction with grit, folktale shadows, and characters who feel painfully real. Anyone who likes stories that blend lived struggle with something uncanny will find a lot to chew on here.
Pages: 371 | ASIN: B0G1J3C3HQ
Believable Dark Fantasy
The Siren’s Daughter follows a young, spirited girl, drawn irresistibly to the sea, who finds a mysterious conch shell that lures her away from her family. What inspired you to retell this story in this manner?
I was working on another project, making cultural heritage cards. When researching CHamoru legends, I found that the Marianas had their own sea siren lore. Because of my Latino heritage, I know that “sirena” is Spanish for “siren.” While “Sirena” is a beautiful name, I started wondering if maybe the legend wasn’t actually about a girl named Sirena, but was a warning based on what happened to a girl claimed by a siren. A Spanish word for a warning instantly placed the story in Spanish colonial times, and I imagined that it was a priest who wrote the warning and did not care to keep the girl’s name. The details of the rest of the story just fell into place as I imagined it more. I really liked the whole premise of a siren claiming the girl as her own, and the details being lost to time because of colonial control. I liked it more and more as I kept developing the story.
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
The legend of Sirena is a Guam legend, but I wanted to make it more of a general CHamoru legend by integrating it with siren lore in the other Mariana Islands.
As with my other works, I want to share CHamoru heritage with readers everywhere. In The Siren’s Daughter, I saw an opportunity to share with audiences another part of CHamoru history – Spanish colonization. I wanted to mention the wars against the Spanish. I also wanted to mention the loss of spiritual and traditional knowledge because the Spanish killed off traditional healers.
What were some goals you set for yourself as a writer in this book?
My main goal was to create a believable dark fantasy that shares CHamoru heritage with readers. I wanted to give a glimpse of life under Spanish rule. But to be honest, I really liked the story that I had imagined, and I was excited to write it.
What story are you currently in the middle of writing?
I am currently working on Books 2 and 3 of what I am calling The Yo’Åmte Trilogy. The Makana’s Legacy is Book 1. I like the outlines that I have, and I wish I had the time to devote to these stories. These next two books will actually bring up topics that even many CHamorus might not have thought about. Because these stories delve deeper into the role of Yo’Åmte (traditional healers) in CHamoru society, I will be consulting with an expert on the topic of Yo’Åmte to help me stay accurate and respectful in my portrayal of Yo’Åmte.
Author Links: GoodReads | Facebook | Instagram | Website | Amazon
After the wars, Hagåtña fell hushed. Tasi – restless and bright – slipped to the reef where a siren waited with a black opal conch. At home, her mother’s patience frayed; her grandmother warned that spirits were listening. One bitter outburst became a curse, and the sea answered.
Sailors spoke of a girl in the foam. Priests spread a warning about la sirena – the siren. The word traveled farther than the truth – until it swallowed the girl’s name.
The Siren’s Daughter is a haunting CHamoru retelling set just after the Spanish-Chamorro wars: a tale of mothers and daughters, desire and duty, and what the ocean keeps while history erases.
Includes a traditional telling of the Sirena legend and an Author’s Note.
VALOR: A Magical Historical Romance (The Evensong Enchantments Book 2)
Valor continues the story of Ena, a young woman of Druidic blood who is swept into a dangerous world of prophecy, ancient magic, and political turmoil. The book follows her as she flees her old life, confronts both human threat and supernatural horror, and discovers the depth of her own power. We watch her wrestle with grief, her lineage, her unborn child, and the complicated web of loyalty and love surrounding her. The story gathers tightly around themes of sacrifice, rebirth, and the heavy cost of destiny, pulling together threads of family, faith, and the lingering shadow of Philip’s death.
I found myself unexpectedly swept up in the book’s emotional weight. The writing carries a kind of earnest intensity. Scenes of violence or magic arrive suddenly, hitting hard, and then soften into quiet reflections or tender moments. I felt especially moved by the contrast between Ena’s fragility and the raw force emerging within her. Author Helyn Dunn’s descriptions often lean mystical or dreamlike, and while that sometimes made me pause to catch my bearings, it also filled the story with a sense of secrecy and wonder. I kept feeling a tug in my chest during scenes where Ena faces danger she is not ready for, and again when she discovers just how much strength she truly has.
I also found myself reacting strongly to the characters orbiting Ena. The monks who help her after she fears losing her unborn child offer a warmth and gentleness I didn’t expect. Their presence creates an almost sacred pause in the narrative, and I felt grateful for it alongside her. Later, the emotional shift in her relationship with Bernard surprised me with its sincerity and ache. Their connection is written with a kind of quiet yearning that feels grounded and mature, especially in scenes where Bernard drops his usual stoicism and speaks from a wounded but hopeful heart . The book leans into love, romantic, familial, spiritual, in all the ways it can save or break a person.
By the time I reached the final chapters, I felt a sense of completion and forward motion. The story opens a door toward a larger quest, and I closed the book with the impression that Ena has stepped into a fuller version of herself. There is a feeling of promise, shaped not just by magic but by courage and heartbreak and the people who have stood by her, even after losing Philip. I would recommend Valor to readers who enjoy emotional fantasy, rich inner journeys, and stories rooted in mythic symbolism. Anyone drawn to mystical historical fiction or tales of spiritual transformation will likely find this book deeply rewarding.
Pages: 471 | ASIN: B0F7S8SZXC
The Small Hours
The Small Hours follows Michael Virtue, a psychologist whose life starts to unravel after the death of his closest friend and the slow collapse of his marriage. While he tries to keep himself afloat, he becomes drawn back into the long unresolved mystery of his uncle Robert, who vanished during the Spanish Civil War. The story moves between letters from the 1930s, Michael’s midlife turmoil in the late 1980s, and the old scars still lingering in Andalusian towns. The more he digs, the more he learns that war does not end when the guns go quiet. It stays in the people who survived it and in the families who never got answers.
The writing feels calm on the surface, but underneath it hums with grief and regret. I kept noticing how the author lets moments stretch out. A small gesture becomes heavy, and a stray memory turns sharp. It feels real. Michael is not a tidy hero. He stumbles. He doubts himself. He drinks too much. He tries to fix things he does not know how to fix. I found myself both frustrated with him and rooting for him. The letters from Robert were my favorite part. They carry this sweet mix of hope, fear, and youthful bravado. They made me ache because I already knew what Michael didn’t. The tone of the book is warm. It held me in a quiet sadness that felt honest rather than forced.
There were places where the story surprised me. Some characters walk in with very jagged edges. Delia, especially, knocked me off balance. She is blunt and unpredictable and sometimes a little wild, and she shakes Michael awake even when he doesn’t want to be awake. The Spanish sections were the most vivid. The villages feel sun-bleached and haunted. Every old stone seems to carry a memory. I could almost smell the dust and the sea air fighting each other. The pacing sometimes meanders, but I didn’t mind. It felt like wandering through someone’s emotional attic, bumping into things they forgot they had stored away. The author lets sorrow echo, and for me, that made the book feel relatable.
By the time I reached the end, I felt like I had sat with a friend who finally said something they had needed to say for twenty years. This book would be perfect for readers who like stories about family secrets, grief that does not behave, and the strange ways the past keeps tugging at the present. It is also a good fit for anyone who likes slow-burning emotional journeys and stories that blend personal history with real historical wounds.
Pages: 463 | ASIN : B0FH7CLCDH
The Grubby Feather Gang
The Grubby Feather Gang follows George, a boy caught in the middle of a village torn up by war and judgment. He deals with bullying, fear, and the shame that others try to pin on his family because his father refuses to fight. As he meets Emma and Stan, the three of them slip into this oddly sweet little friendship that grows out of chaos. They stumble into adventures, trouble, and eventually form the Grubby Feather Gang, a tiny group held together by loyalty and a grubby feather that somehow becomes a symbol of hope instead of cowardice.
Reading it felt like sitting beside these kids as their lives spun between fear and laughter. I found myself rooting for George right away. His thoughts felt real in this quiet, aching way. Sometimes I wanted to shake him, other times I just wanted to hug the kid. The writing surprised me. It has this softness running through all the messy bits. Even the sad scenes didn’t feel heavy for long because there was always some little spark of warmth or humor waiting around the corner. And Emma cracked me up constantly. She felt like the friend who shows up loud and strange and instantly makes everything better.
What I liked most were the ideas behind the story. It’s a book about courage that doesn’t sound preachy. It tackles judgment and fear and the pressure to fit in. But it does it through the eyes of children who are trying to make sense of a world that doesn’t make sense at all. Some moments hit harder than I expected. Other scenes felt gentle and simple in a way that made me smile without thinking about it. I liked that the book didn’t pretend everything gets fixed, only that sticking together makes the hard stuff feel less impossible.
I’d recommend The Grubby Feather Gang to kids who enjoy stories with heart and a bit of grit, and to adults who like children’s books that don’t talk down to anyone. It’s great for readers who want friendship, trouble, and a little hope woven into history.
Pages: 113 | ASIN : B01FARFVUG
The Dreaming at the Drowned Town
The Dreaming at the Drowned Town is a wild ride of a story told through the diary of Enrique Castaño, a Filipino translator in 1924 who is haunted by some truly horrific nightmares. He gets hired to guide his American journalist boss, Mr. Thomas, and his new wife, Lita, to a mysterious island that just popped up from the bottom of the sea. They assemble a small, tense group to go with them, and things go wrong. People start dying, reality blurs, and Enrique’s awful dreams seem to be bleeding into the real world, leaving him and the reader trying to figure out what’s real and what’s just in his head.
The writing just floors you. The choice to use Enrique’s diary was a great decision. Readers are stuck right inside this guy’s head, and it is not a nice place to be. I felt his paranoia. The Brothers K absolutely nail the atmosphere. It’s sticky. It’s hot. You can smell the sulfur from the island and the rot from Enrique’s dreams. The way his nightmares just bleed into the story, you start to question everything. I found myself re-reading parts, thinking, “Wait, did that actually happen, or did he just dream it?” It’s a total head-trip. I loved feeling so completely unmoored.
It’s not just a simple ghost story. It’s a deep dive into the messy, complicated world of the American-occupied Philippines. You have the old revolutionary boatman. You have the American boss who thinks he’s bringing enlightenment. You have the corrupt local constable. All these people are just trapped on this island, and their real-world drama gets swallowed by this huge, ancient, creepy-crawly horror. The betrayals just keep stacking up. I thought I knew what was happening, then the story just pulls the rug out. Then it pulls another rug out. Lita’s character, in particular, is just a masterpiece of twists. I honestly didn’t know who to root for by the end. It really makes you think.
I was completely hooked. My heart was pounding. I felt genuinely unsettled when I put it down. This is not some light, breezy read. This is a book that demands your full attention, and it will haunt you for a while after you finish. It’s a puzzle. It’s a nightmare. It’s brilliant. If you like your horror smart, historical, and deeply weird, you have to pick this up.
Pages: 167 | ASIN: B0FP1RDK46
LITERARY TITAN 