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Once Upon A Time In The Big Easy: Down On The Bayou
Wilson Jackson’s Once Upon a Time in the Big Easy is a gritty and relentless tale that drags you straight into the underbelly of New Orleans. It’s a story of corruption, redemption, and raw survival, soaked in the sweat and danger of backroom deals and human cruelty. The novel opens with a shocking abduction and never takes its foot off the gas. Between the dark world of human trafficking and the desperate quest for justice led by the world-weary Pone, Jackson weaves a sprawling drama that blends crime noir with southern gothic flavor. The writing is unapologetically direct. The dialogue feels lived in, sometimes crude, often brutal, always real.
Reading it pulled me in two directions at once. On one hand, I admired the grit, the pulse of the city that beats through every scene, the way Jackson makes New Orleans feel like a living, breathing monster of beauty and rot. On the other hand, it’s not a comfortable read. The violence against women, the twisted family secrets, the corruption, it all feels too real at times, like you’re eavesdropping on sin. I found myself grimacing and nodding at the same time. The language is rough, but it works. The story feels like it’s been told by someone who’s been there, who knows these streets, who’s smelled the whiskey and gunpowder. It’s got that old-school crime energy, but with a heart that still believes people can be saved, even in a swamp of evil.
I didn’t expect to feel as much as I did. There were moments when I had to stop and breathe. Jackson has this way of slipping a sliver of hope into the filth, of giving you a reason to care when all you want to do is look away. The characters, even the minor ones, stick with you. Pone especially, hard, cynical, but still clinging to some moral code, is the kind of flawed hero I like.
I’d recommend this book to readers who like their stories dark and unfiltered. It’s perfect for fans of hardboiled crime fiction and southern thrillers that dig deep into human messiness. Once Upon a Time in the Big Easy feels like James Lee Burke’s The Neon Rain collided with Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction, gritty crime, southern heat, and characters who bleed, curse, and pray in the same breath.
Pages: 316 | ASIN : B0DZQ7TDD1
Ghost Writer
Arjay Lewis’s Ghost Writer is a haunting, twisting tale that begins with a bitter divorce and spirals into the supernatural. The story follows Joe Riley, a washed-up novelist who inherits his late uncle’s cabin deep in the Poconos. What starts as a man’s desperate retreat to escape his failures turns into a psychological unraveling filled with eerie noises, mysterious pages that write themselves, and the blurred line between inspiration and possession. At its heart, it’s about creativity, grief, and the price one pays when the muse turns monstrous.
This book gripped me right away. Lewis writes with an easy rhythm that feels like an old friend telling you a story over a drink. The voice is sharp, cynical, and soaked in the kind of regret that only comes from living hard and losing often. Joe’s bitterness feels real. His loneliness cuts deep. There’s humor too, dark and dry, that makes the pain go down easier. What I liked most is how the writing itself mirrors Joe’s mental decline. Sentences start crisp and clear, then grow jagged and strange as his sanity unravels. It’s the sort of book that keeps you awake at night, not because you’re scared of ghosts, but because you recognize the ghosts inside yourself.
The supernatural element creeps in slowly. At first, I wasn’t sure if what Joe was seeing was real or just his hangover talking. That’s what makes it so effective. Lewis never rushes the reveal. Every scene in the cabin feels heavy with memory and regret, every creak in the floorboard feels like a heartbeat. The book plays with the idea that creation and madness might be neighbors. I loved that. It’s not flashy horror; it’s quiet, psychological, and deeply human.
I’d recommend Ghost Writer to anyone who loves stories that blend the eerie with the emotional. Fans of Stephen King’s Bag of Bones or Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House will feel right at home here. It’s for readers who enjoy slow burns, flawed characters, and the unsettling feeling that maybe the scariest thing in the room is your own mind.
Pages: 322 | ASIN : B0CWYCWPVS
Tremor in the Hills
Cristina Matta’s Tremor in the Hills is a gripping young adult mystery set in post-earthquake Peru. The story follows Tamara, a teenage girl struggling with trauma after surviving a devastating quake. When she returns to Manchay to visit her family, her best friend K’antu’s husband is found murdered, and K’antu vanishes. Torn between fear and guilt, Tamara sets out to find her friend and uncover the truth. What unfolds is part mystery, part emotional reckoning, and part cultural portrait, full of vivid landscapes, buried secrets, and human fragility.
The writing is intimate and immediate. I could feel the grit of the Peruvian desert, the tremor beneath the earth, and the weight of Tamara’s panic as if it were my own. Matta writes trauma the way it exists — not in neat scenes, but in waves, sudden and unstoppable. Her sentences don’t just tell a story; they echo the disjointed rhythm of someone haunted. I loved how she wove the cultural and historical context naturally into the dialogue and environment. It didn’t feel like a history lesson. It felt lived-in. Real. Still, sometimes the prose tripped over itself, moving too quickly when I wanted it to breathe. I found myself rereading passages not because I didn’t understand them, but because I didn’t want to miss a single heartbeat of emotion.
The characters felt raw, even when they frustrated me. Tamara’s self-absorption made sense, and K’antu’s silence spoke louder than most people’s screams. What stayed with me most, though, wasn’t the murder mystery. It was the quiet undercurrent of guilt, survivor’s guilt, social guilt, the guilt of privilege. Matta doesn’t lecture; she just shows what happens when the world falls apart unevenly and who gets to rebuild. The dialogue felt real and unpolished in the best way, and the tension between classes and families simmered beneath every conversation. There were moments where the pacing slowed or where I wished a secondary character had been fleshed out more, but those dips didn’t shake my connection to the story.
This isn’t just a story about murder or earthquakes. It’s about what happens afterward, when you’re left standing on uneven ground. Tremor in the Hills will stay with readers who crave emotion more than perfection. It’s ideal for anyone who loves coming-of-age stories with a dark edge, mystery readers who like their puzzles tangled with human pain, or anyone who’s ever tried to rebuild themselves after everything cracked open.
Pages: 282 | ASIN : B0FQ26XKFB
Falling on Southport
Falling on Southport tells the story of Abigail Lethican, a young woman from a prominent Chicago political family who falls for Jim Hardy, a charming yet manipulative athlete she meets in college. What begins as a picture-perfect romance quickly turns into a psychological descent through love, control, and deception. As Abigail becomes entangled in Jim’s world, author M. J. Slater pulls readers through the emotional wreckage that follows, layering suspense with the ache of self-doubt and the slow unmasking of lies. It’s part love story, part psychological thriller, and part study of how ambition and trauma can twist even the most romantic beginnings into tragedy.
I was hooked from the first chapter. The writing is tight and cinematic, with vivid scenes. Slater’s dialogue feels alive, the kind that crackles between people who think they know each other but really don’t. The pacing caught me off guard. It lulls you with sweetness before snapping like a whip. What hit hardest wasn’t the murder mystery, but the way Slater captures how smart people still fall for manipulation because they want to be seen. I felt angry, then sympathetic, then exhausted in the best way. There’s something painfully real about watching Abigail rationalize her own unhappiness. It reminded me of the small compromises people make in relationships that turn, inch by inch, into submission.
The story digs into the quiet violence of control, and that’s not easy to read. But it’s worth it. The characters aren’t neatly likable. They’re messy, relatable, and raw. I liked that Slater didn’t try to explain every emotion or tie up every question. The writing has a pulse. It’s not polished to death, and that makes it better. There’s beauty in the cracks. By the end, I felt both gutted and weirdly hopeful. The kind of hopeful that comes from realizing survival is its own kind of victory.
I’d recommend Falling on Southport to readers who love dark relationship dramas, who appreciate strong yet flawed female voices, and who can stomach emotional honesty without flinching. It’s not a breezy read, but it’s powerful, heartfelt, and painfully true.
Pages: 225 | ASIN : B0FMS6K2YC
Filaments
Filaments follows Thea, a professor drawn back to her small hometown in Minnesota after her mother’s strange behavior turns alarming. What begins as a reluctant homecoming spirals into a dark exploration of generational trauma, addiction, and the eerie pull of the bog that shaped her childhood. As Thea digs into the disappearances of two local men, she unearths a supernatural thread linking her family’s past to the town’s rot. It’s a haunting story about the way memory festers, how love curdles, and how the land itself can hold grudges.
The writing is sharp and intimate, full of slow-burn dread rather than cheap scares. KZK’s prose feels like wading into dark water, you never know how deep it goes. Thea’s voice hit me hard. She’s smart and cynical but full of raw edges that made her feel real. I loved how the story blurred science and folklore. The bog wasn’t just a setting, it was alive, patient, and almost tender in its cruelty. I’ll admit, the pacing slows in places, especially in the middle chapters where Thea’s memories crowd the page, but the atmosphere never lets go.
There’s also something very relatable here. The story isn’t really about missing people or haunted places, it’s about how women are shaped by the weight of other people’s expectations. Thea’s relationship with her mother broke me a little. There’s this aching honesty in how KZK writes about mental illness and survival, like the line between madness and resilience is thinner than anyone wants to admit. At times, the dialogue feels jagged, and that roughness worked for me. It gave the story an edge.
Filaments felt like a fever dream and a confession all at once. It’s part literary thriller, part horror fable, and all heartache. I’d recommend it to readers who like their stories weird and emotional, people who loved Sharp Objects or The Fisherman but wanted something quieter, more personal. It’s not for those who need clean endings or easy answers.
Pages: 215 | ASIN : B0FS4NDBH3
Mind The Blinds
Mind the Blinds follows Elyas, a seventeen-year-old boy living in Nigeria, who struggles with alexithymia and antisocial personality disorder while navigating a life marked by family violence, peer pressure, and dangerous encounters. What begins as a portrait of a boy hardened by neglect and abuse quickly turns into a tense psychological thriller. Elyas gets pulled deeper into violence, secrecy, and survival, while detectives and other students circle closer to the truth. The story balances the harsh realities of growing up in a fractured home with the moral and emotional weight of choices that can never be undone.
I found the writing bold and unflinching. It didn’t shy away from difficult moments, whether it was domestic abuse, corruption, or the chilling matter-of-factness with which Elyas recounts his killings. At times, I felt unsettled, almost claustrophobic, because the story is told in a way that makes you live inside his head. The raw honesty of his voice made me both want to recoil and lean in closer. It’s rare to see a book explore a young narrator with such a cold lens and still leave space for flashes of vulnerability, especially in his care for his younger brother.
Long descriptions of school life, conversations, and side characters slowed down the story as the tension was building. Still, those slower parts gave the book a certain rhythm, like a calm before the storm, and when the violence returned, it felt even more jarring. The contrast worked.
By the time I closed the book, I felt both rattled and impressed. It’s not a story that leaves you with peace of mind, but that’s the point. Mind the Blinds is best for readers who like dark psychological fiction, stories that question morality, and books that sit with you long after you’re done. If you’re willing to be disturbed, challenged, and even a little haunted, it’s well worth the read.
Pages: 264 | ASIN : B0DK6MVGG7
The Sins We Inherit
Carlo J. Emanuele’s The Sins We Inherit is a bruising, heartfelt story about family, legacy, and the ways the past refuses to stay buried. The novel follows Costantino “Cost” Caduto II as he returns to his family’s orbit after the death of his grandfather, Tiger, a man whose shadow looms over Milwaukee’s underworld and over Cost’s own conflicted heart. The book moves through wakes, eulogies, burials, backyard feasts, and street confrontations, blending the intimacy of family drama with the sharp edges of a crime saga. It’s about fathers and daughters, fathers and sons, and the ways love can be messy, protective, and even dangerous.
Right from the opening pages, where Cost stands at Tiger’s wake, worn down and haunted, I felt pulled into the smoke-filled rooms and tight-lipped exchanges that define this world. The writing is cinematic without being overstuffed; little details like the smell of cigar smoke or the scrape of pews in a church make the world feel alive. At times, though, the heaviness of description slows things down, especially in the funeral chapters, but I didn’t mind lingering there. It felt true to the weight of grief, and it set the stage for the power struggles that follow.
I also appreciated how Emanuele balances the personal with the criminal. Cost isn’t just an heir to a mafia empire, he’s a divorced father trying to stay close to his daughter, Maddy, even as she slips through his fingers. The moment when she addresses him as “Dad” at the wake, only to retreat into the crowd, struck me with particular force. That small interaction captured more distance and heartbreak than any shouting match could. Later, when Frank Vistoso tries to assert himself at the altar during Tiger’s funeral, it’s not just a clash of egos; it’s a reminder that Cost can never fully escape this world, no matter how much he wants to. I found myself rooting for him, even when I suspected he wouldn’t get the peace he craved.
What I didn’t expect was how much heart the book carries in its quieter moments. A favorite scene of mine was the repast after the funeral, with sausage sizzling on the grill and cousins arguing over poker. The food, the noise, the laughter, it all felt warm and familiar, and it reminded me that this story isn’t only about violence and legacy, but also about belonging. I could almost smell the garlic bread and hear Sinatra crackling on the speaker. It’s those scenes, where love and menace share the same table, that give the book its punch.
The Sins We Inherit left me thoughtful and stirred. It’s not just a mob tale, it’s a story about trying to be better for the people you love, even when the past won’t let you. I’d recommend this book to readers who enjoy crime dramas with a human center, especially fans of The Sopranos or Dennis Lehane. But I’d also recommend it to anyone who’s ever wrestled with family expectations, or who’s wondered how much of our lives are chosen versus inherited. It’s a dark, gripping read, but underneath the gunmetal, there’s a father’s love beating strong.
Pages: 258 | ASIN : B0FKN76L1K
Nothing Is Ever Black And White
A Game of Masquerade follows a time-traveling professor who goes back in time to London in 1888, where he ends up working with Scotland Yard to find a serial killer, all while avoiding any alterations to history. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
I have always had a huge interest in stories involving time travel. There’s something fascinating about someone experiencing history firsthand – being brought face to face with the people who are living it as present day. It’s quite a different scenario than simply picking up a book and reading about the past. Suddenly these people are real and no longer a footnote in history. But stepping into history means there is a risk of altering established events – if you change one thing then what happens to the future you expect to happen?
Another enduring fascination of mine is the mystery surrounding Jack the Ripper. Even if his identity had been discovered, the brutality of his crimes would still engender interest, but the fact that he was never caught, maintains the mystery which invites endless speculation and gives a writer the chance to think outside the box.
What intrigues you about this time period enough to write such a thrilling period piece?
The East End of London in the 19th century is a rich character all its own! The hardships – how people survived such a tenuous existence, the opportunists preying on the vulnerable, the attitudes of the time – there is so much detail that the story takes on a life of its own. Introducing Jack the Ripper into this already volatile setting is like striking a match in a powder keg igniting fear, intolerances and anger in an already-turbulent sphere. It is both a shocking and fascinating study.
What are some things that you find interesting about the human condition that you think make for great fiction?
I believe that, more often that not, nothing is ever black and white. In the case of my novel, Jack the Ripper has his reasons for killing which can never be condoned, yet these reasons have left damaging psychological scars. But it is his choices, made of his own free will, which creates the monster. It’s an interesting element to explore and makes for great storytelling.
Is this the first book in the series? If so, when is the next book coming out, and what can your fans expect in the next story?
The novel is a stand-alone piece however the protagonist, Professor Orlando Delbrotman’s story, has not finished and I have some ideas as to his fate! I have sketched out some thoughts and will take the Professor to another time in history long before the 19th century. It will take time to write, but it will be time well spent so please stay tuned!
Author Links: GoodReads | TikTok
But what if there is more to this mystery than meets the eye? What if the identity of the murderer is more than
human? A fugitive from another world who joins forces with Scotland Yard is soon to discover that past and future
events have created a monster, which ignites fear and outrage on the streets of the East End.
To stop the murderous rampage in 1888, Professor Orlando Delbrotman must solve one of the most brutal mysteries of the 19th century…without changing history…
LITERARY TITAN 