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Passages – A Voyage from War to Peace
Passages follows the life of Miko Papagiannis from his childhood in Greece to his adult years as a physician in the United States. The story opens with a vivid scene on the Aegean where young Miko watches a decommissioned naval ship being destroyed during a training exercise. The grim beauty of the sinking sparks questions about memory, violence, and the unseen weight carried by those shaped by war. From there, the novel moves through Miko’s family history, his father’s struggles as a fisherman, his grandfather’s unspoken wartime scars, and finally Miko’s own encounters with veterans in his medical training. By the time he meets AJ, a troubled veteran who enters his care, the threads of war’s lingering shadow across generations begin to weave into something larger.
This book pulled me in fast. The writing is plainspoken yet emotional in a way that sneaks up on you. Scenes rise and fall with a natural rhythm, and sometimes the simplest moments hit the hardest. Watching the ship sink through a child’s eyes made me feel a pinch in my chest. Later, hearing AJ wrestle with shame and loneliness felt even heavier because the earlier chapters had already planted the idea that war wounds rarely stay in the past. The prose can be earnest, but it never drifts into preachy territory. It just sits with the characters while they struggle to make sense of their own stories, and I found myself rooting for them almost without noticing.
My favorite parts were the conversations that seem small on the surface but crack open whole emotional worlds underneath. Miko talking with his mother about his grandfather lingered with me. It felt honest, almost raw, like things families say only after years of holding back. The book also surprised me with how gently it handled the mentoring relationship between Miko and AJ. Those scenes could have turned clinical or stiff, yet instead they felt human and a little messy in the best way. I liked how the story let silence do some of the work. People don’t always confess their pain neatly, and the author understands that. I wished the pacing between chapters jumped less sharply, but the emotional payoff made the jolts worth it.
Passages felt like a novel written for people who have lived close to hardship, or who have watched someone they love carry invisible weight. It also feels right for readers who enjoy stories about healing that don’t look dramatic but instead unfold in quiet rooms, awkward talks, and brave little choices. If you like reflective fiction rooted in real human experience, this book would be a meaningful read.
Pages: 234 | ASIN : B0FBS569TS
The Moments Between Choices
The Moments Between Choices tells the story of Omar Rashid, a man who drifts through life on autopilot until a sudden accident tears open the hidden cost of his choices. The book jumps between the present and his past. It shows the small moments where he hurt the people who loved him. It also shows the glimpses of kindness that hinted at the man he could have been. The final pages follow his quiet reckoning as his life slips out of his hands and into something stranger. The whole thing feels like watching a life replay in fast flashes that hit harder each time.
The language is simple, almost disarmingly so, and then a scene hits like a falling brick. Moments that seem harmless at first crack open into something sad. I kept thinking about the gap between intention and impact. The author doesn’t scream the message. He lets it sit there. The scenes with Omar ignoring his daughter or brushing off his wife felt too real. I felt annoyed with him at first. Then I felt uneasy. Then I felt guilty for how easy it is to slip into the same habits. The emotional rhythm jumps between warmth, frustration, and dread, and the shifts kept me on edge in a good way.
I also liked how the book handles memory. The childhood chapters were surprisingly vivid. The prank with the glue made me laugh. The pepper incident made me wince. The moment with the old janitor honestly touched me. These scenes felt like tiny snapshots that carried more weight than I expected. The book moves fast. I wanted more breathing room in a few spots, but the pace gave the story a kind of heartbeat. I never felt bored. I just sometimes felt shaken. And maybe that was the point. The structure carries this idea that life is stitched together through small choices. And those choices keep echoing, whether we like it or not.
By the time I reached the final chapter, I felt a mix of anger, pity, and something like hope. The ending left me quiet for a minute. It didn’t try to fix everything. It offered clarity. And I appreciated that. It made the story feel honest rather than preachy.
I’d recommend The Moments Between Choices to readers who enjoy emotional stories that keep you thinking about them. People who like character-driven arcs. People who reflect on their own habits and relationships. Anyone who wants a book that nudges them to sit and think about the tiny decisions they make every day. It’s not a light read, but it’s a meaningful one.
Pages: 116
The Fertile Crescent
Chadwick Wall’s The Fertile Crescent is a novel soaked in sweat, spice, and heartache. It follows Laurent Ladnier, a talented but haunted New Orleans chef struggling to balance art, ambition, and the weight of family obligation. Set in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, the book unfolds like a slow-cooked gumbo, layered, fragrant, and filled with unexpected heat. Through the kitchens and jazz bars of the Crescent City, Wall captures a man torn between loyalty and longing, between survival and the pursuit of greatness. The story is as much about the cuisine and culture as it is about identity, grief, and the ghosts that walk alongside us when we try to reinvent ourselves.
I found Wall’s writing raw and deeply felt. He paints New Orleans with love and precision, every block pulsing with music, memory, and danger. The prose hums, sometimes lush, sometimes stripped down to the bone, like a good blues riff. There’s real honesty in how Laurent’s life unravels, and the tension between his passion and exhaustion hit me hard. I could almost smell the roux burning and the whiskey sweating in his glass. At times, the pacing lingers long in description, but even then, I didn’t mind. The city feels alive, and Wall knows how to make every sensory detail work like a note in a long, mournful song.
This is an emotionally resonant novel. I felt the ache of Laurent’s ambition, that painful mix of pride and regret that comes with being both gifted and trapped. Wall doesn’t glamorize the creative life; he shows it for what it is, messy, lonely, full of stubborn hope. The dialogue between Laurent and his grandmother nearly broke me. It’s rare to find a story about food that also speaks so sharply about family wounds and self-forgiveness.
I’d recommend The Fertile Crescent to anyone who loves stories about people chasing art even when it costs them everything. Chefs, artists, dreamers, and anyone who’s ever felt stuck in the place they call home will find something true here. It’s a story that simmers slowly, but by the end, it fills you up completely.
Pages: 310 | ASIN : B0FJWJP1X8
This Time
This Time is a story that weaves together love, loss, and redemption in the small town of Tartan Springs, West Virginia. At its heart, it follows Ty Harrell, a Marine pilot, and Siena “Seeney” Tyson, a woman rebuilding her life after a messy divorce and betrayal. The story opens with their ten-year high school reunion, where old sparks rekindle and dormant feelings stir. Around them, the novel paints a vivid picture of small-town America, filled with complex relationships, community politics, and quiet battles for dignity and forgiveness. Beneath the romance lies a thread of corruption, environmental tension, and moral choice, giving the book more depth than a typical love story.
Coe’s writing is full of detail, almost cinematic, and that made it easy to slip into the world he built. I could smell the rain in the hills, hear the small-town chatter, and feel the awkward warmth between Ty and Siena as they stumbled through old emotions. Sometimes the dialogue felt a little too polished, but the emotional truth beneath it rang clear. I liked that the characters were flawed, real people who made mistakes and carried scars. Siena, especially, stood out, resilient, sharp, and unwilling to let the past define her. Ty’s decency and quiet loyalty balanced her strength perfectly.
What really got to me, though, was how the story handled forgiveness. It wasn’t wrapped in a neat bow. The pain from betrayal lingered, and love didn’t erase it. Coe didn’t shy away from showing the ugliness of pride, or the way people cling to control when their lives are falling apart. Yet, somehow, through the grit and sorrow, the book stayed hopeful. The scenes about military service, small-town politics, and even environmental issues added layers that gave it substance without slowing the pace too much.
I’d recommend This Time to readers who enjoy heartfelt fiction with real emotional weight. It’s perfect for anyone who loves stories about second chances, especially those set against the backdrop of small-town life where everyone knows your secrets. It’s not just a romance, it’s about rebuilding, forgiving, and learning when to fight and when to let go. This book pulled me in, and when I turned the last page, I just sat there for a minute, thinking about how some things are worth risking again.
Pages: 348 | ASIN : B0FST7LVL2
Childhood’s Hour: The Lost Desert
The Lost Desert unfolds like a fever dream. It tells the story of a man named Loste who escapes from a strange mist called the Fray and wanders into a dazzling desert of blue glass. He meets Nadhez, a wild, furred man who travels with a fierce, intelligent creature named Chihiti. The story drifts between hallucination and revelation, full of alien landscapes, glowing moons, and fragments of scripture that hint at a shattered world. Every page glimmers with dense imagery, where survival feels like both punishment and rebirth. It’s a story about memory, loneliness, and the fragile border between madness and faith.
I’ll be honest, this book messed with my head in a good way. Glass writes with the kind of poetic precision that makes you reread sentences just to taste them again. The prose is thick and alive, like breathing through incense smoke. At times I felt lost, much like Loste himself, drifting through scenes that seemed too vivid to be real. Yet, that confusion felt intentional. It put me right inside the character’s fractured mind. The dialogue between Loste and Nadhez was raw and strange but full of quiet heart. There’s something relatable in the way they stumble toward trust, both suspicious and starved for connection. And the imagery, my god, the imagery lingers. Every creature, every shimmer of sand feels carved from light and sorrow.
But this book isn’t easy. It asks patience. It doesn’t care if you understand everything. There were moments where I felt overwhelmed by the world-building, where the sacred words and mythic passages blurred into noise. Still, I never wanted to stop. The rhythm of the writing hooked me. It’s haunting and weirdly beautiful, like a dream you can’t shake off even when you wake. I felt equal parts awe and unease, that quiet tension between wonder and dread. It reminded me how fragile sanity can be when beauty becomes too much to bear.
I’d recommend The Lost Desert to readers who crave atmosphere more than clarity. If you like stories that make you feel rather than explain, that drown you in imagery and leave you gasping for air, this one’s for you. It’s not a comfort read. It’s a plunge into the surreal, but it rewards anyone willing to surrender to it. Lovers of dark fantasy, strange worlds, and lyrical writing will find something unforgettable here.
Pages: 550
The Admiral’s Gamble
The Admiral’s Gamble unfolds like a cinematic naval epic mixed with the intrigue of a sci-fi thriller. It follows Admiral James Harrington, a decorated officer at the end of his long career, who stumbles upon a mysterious device capable of altering time. The story begins at his retirement party and spirals into a tense, emotional journey through duty, destiny, and moral conflict. What starts as a quiet reflection on legacy turns into a race against fate, as Harrington must decide whether to sacrifice everything he knows to prevent a future catastrophe.
Reading this book felt like stepping into an old-school war movie that suddenly turns futuristic. The writing is vivid and grounded in military realism, yet it slides seamlessly into moments of eerie wonder. Author Nick Malara writes with a strong sense of rhythm; his scenes move with a cinematic flow that keeps the tension alive even in the quiet moments. A few pages linger long on scenery when the story’s emotional punch could have carried itself. But the heart of the book, the internal struggle of a man torn between heroism and self-preservation, shines bright and feels honest.
I found myself really drawn to Harrington as a character. He’s gruff, tired, and haunted by the weight of command. The dialogue feels old-school and clipped, full of restraint, like the man himself. Yet beneath that hardened shell is a depth of conscience that makes him compelling. The time-travel element, though wild, serves more as a mirror for his soul than a trick of plot. It forces him, and the reader, to ask: what’s the cost of doing the right thing when it erases the life you’ve built? There were moments that hit hard, moments that made me pause and think about sacrifice, legacy, and the strange way duty can both define and destroy a person.
I’d recommend The Admiral’s Gamble to readers who like military fiction with a twist of science fiction, or stories about aging heroes facing their past. It’s ideal for people who enjoy introspection mixed with high-stakes action. The story’s emotional weight and moral questions make it worth the ride. If you like tales that mix grit, heart, and a touch of the unknown, this one’s a good bet.
Pages: 178 | ASIN : B0FH77C97Z
Born on Monday
Born on Monday tells the story of Billy Stevens and Jessica Michaud, two people tethered by shared history and unfinished feelings in the small town of Augusta, Maine. It’s a story about trauma, redemption, and how the past has a way of catching up even when we think we’ve buried it. The novel opens with a reunion that feels innocent at first, a meeting in a bar between ex-lovers, but it quickly widens into something much darker. Their lives, already scarred by heartbreak and regret, begin to tangle again through loss, addiction, and violence. Becker’s writing threads together memory and immediacy with quiet dread, pulling the reader through a story that feels both intimate and cinematic.
I couldn’t help but feel pulled under by Becker’s prose. It’s sharp but unpretentious. The way he writes about small towns feels dead-on, that claustrophobic mix of nostalgia and rot. His characters are flawed, all cracked open in ways that feel real, not performative. Billy’s grief feels worn and honest, and Jessica’s shame and self-doubt are haunting. I liked how Becker avoids grand speeches or easy answers. Every conversation carries an undercurrent, like everyone is speaking through layers of history. The pacing is deliberate, but it gives space for emotion to breathe. I found myself pausing often, not because the plot slowed, but because I needed to sit with the weight of what had just happened.
There’s something raw about the ideas Becker plays with, survival, masculinity, and cycles of trauma. Some scenes hit harder than I expected. The quiet domestic pain, the strange kindness between people who are barely holding on, the way memories echo through time. Becker writes people who keep trying, even when they shouldn’t. The story feels true in a way that most “redemption arcs” don’t.
By the end, I wasn’t sure if I felt heartbroken or hopeful. Maybe both. Born on Monday isn’t for readers who want neat resolutions or tidy morals. It’s for those who don’t mind sitting in the mess, who understand that healing isn’t about closure, it’s about survival. I’d recommend it to anyone who likes character-driven fiction that deals with real scars, not storybook wounds. Fans of small-town dramas like Sharp Objects or Winter’s Bone will find something familiar here, but Becker’s voice is his own.
Pages: 352 | ASIN : B0FSSN8XXZ
The Illusion of Freedom
Day Drinkers follows a woman on a Caribbean island desperate to escape her dead-end job who takes a risk captaining a small sailing vessel for a corrupt music artist, sending her into a life-or-death situation. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
The inspiration for Day Drinkers came from the decade I spent living and working in the Caribbean as a travel writer, performer, and liveaboard sailor. I was fascinated by how easily escape and suffering coexist in so-called paradise. The novel is a meditation on the consequences of rejecting society’s rules in pursuit of the illusion of freedom, and on how we choose to either make sense of our past or run from it.
Was there anything from your own life that you put into the characters in your novel?
Absolutely. My books always emerge from lived experience. My debut, Zone Trip, was inspired by the fifteen years I spent with a secret artist society in San Francisco. For Day Drinkers, I drew from a decade of sailing, performing, and working as a travel writer in the Caribbean. I want my stories to feel authentic, so I live them. Most of the characters in Day Drinkers are composites of people I met in the islands, viewed through the lens of absurdism and satire.
Some events in the book were chillingly similar to real-life events. Did you take any inspiration from real life when developing this book?
Yes. Easter Cay, the island at the center of Day Drinkers, was loosely inspired by exclusive enclaves owned by billionaires and celebrities, most notably the infamous Little Saint James, formerly owned by Jeffrey Epstein. As a traveling circus artist, I was hired to perform at private parties for powerful people. This book reflects what happens when wealth and secrecy collide with poverty and desperation—something I witnessed firsthand. While Day Drinkers is a work of fiction, it asks very real questions about complicity, exploitation, and how paradise can become a prison for those who serve it.
What is the next book that you’re working on, and when can your fans expect it out?
My next literary thriller is titled Bufo. It explores the use of spirit medicine and its strange aftermath. In this story, DMT entities begin to manifest as characters. Commercially, it’s in the same vein as Nine Perfect Strangers—but more positive and surreal. From a literary perspective, a major influence is William Burroughs’s Queer, with its raw, unsettling exploration of altered consciousness and outsider desire. Bufo is expected in 2027.
Author Links: Goodreads | X (Twitter) | Facebook | Website | YouTube | Medium | Instagram | Spotify | Amazon
🏝️ Invited to a party on a forbidden pleasure island
🍹 Swept into the corrupt world of a country music legend
☠️ Flees to Cuba, hunted by drug and human traffickers
🥥 Inspired by the dark reality of Jeffrey Epstein’s world
🌊 Day Drinkers: Where the American Dream washes ashore
From her office window on St. Columba, Gemma gazes out at the mysterious pleasure island just beyond the reef. Owned by country music legend Cowboi Rivers, the exclusive retreat lures the world’s wealthy and powerful with promises of secrecy and illicit pleasures. Meanwhile, the locals keep their distance, wary of the wild parties and whispered rumors of drugs and disappearing girls.
Desperate to escape her dead-end job, Gemma seizes a risky opportunity to captain the sailing vessel Mariposa for Cowboi’s shadowy empire. She finds herself swept into a world of corrupt elites. When a cocaine pickup in the Dominican Republic spirals into a deadly double-cross, Gemma and her crew enlist the aid of a Vodou priestess, a hard-drinking mariner, and a rumba-loving boat boy to escape. With her enemies closing in, Gemma sails toward Cuba, facing a storm that threatens to sweep her away.
Day Drinkers is a tantalizing medley of Saint X and Don’t Stop the Carnival, seasoned with a dash of The Rum Diary. Drawing from her ten years as a liveaboard sailor and Caribbean travel writer, Kitty Turner, an American Absurdism revivalist, delivers a gripping tale of identity and redemption through her unique talent for rollicking storytelling and deep philosophical inquiry.
LITERARY TITAN 