Blog Archives
Arkfall
Arkfall wastes no time throwing you headfirst into its mix of cosmic mystery, high-stakes diplomacy, and reality-bending sci-fi. The story follows Adam Freeman, who once stopped an ancient interstellar war with the help of the Ark of the First Gods, a sentient, impossibly old artifact tied to the very structure of time. His act of mercy has thrown the universe off its rails, drawing the wrath of the Xirelion, beings who see themselves as keepers of the timeline. They demand Adam reignite the war to “restore” balance, but other alien factions, along with the Ark itself, reveal deeper truths. What follows is a tense journey across shifting timelines, shattered futures, and uneasy alliances, where Adam must decide not just between war and peace, but which version of reality deserves to survive.
I was hooked from the first page. Pollack writes with cinematic energy, and I could practically hear the hum of the Ark or feel the sting of Martian winds on my face. The book balances mystery and clarity well, never overexplaining the sci-fi concepts but giving just enough for my mind to latch onto. The Xirelion are eerie in the best way. They’re cold, logical, and yet strangely reverent toward the cosmic order they claim to defend. The interplay between Adam and Zyra carries a relatable grounding through all the mind-bending spectacle. Their dynamic feels lived-in, with just enough mistrust to keep the tension alive. I found myself genuinely caring about the characters’ choices, which is a feat in a plot this tangled.
Sometimes the pacing sprints when I wanted it to breathe, especially after major reveals, when I needed a moment to sit with the implications. And while the multiple alien factions add richness, they can also muddy the waters, with names and motives occasionally blending together. Still, the constant shifting between perspectives, settings, and possible timelines gives the book a restless pulse that kept me turning pages. The technology collapse subplot was particularly chilling. It felt uncomfortably plausible in a way that kept me thinking about it.
If you like your science fiction with ancient mysteries, alien politics, and a protagonist who wrestles with impossible moral choices, Arkfall is for you. It’s ideal for readers who enjoy the cerebral puzzle-making of Peter F. Hamilton’s novels, the mythic undertones of Stargate, or the tense moral dilemmas of Mass Effect. It’s not a light read, you’ll need to keep track of names, timelines, and hidden motives, but it rewards that attention with moments that feel truly epic. For me, it was a ride worth taking, and one I’d step onto again.
Pages: 308
The Rabbi’s Knight
The Rabbi’s Knight is a historical thriller set in 1290 at the waning edge of the Crusades. The story follows Jonathan St. Clair, a Knight Templar, who seeks the help of Rabbi Samuel, a renowned Jewish mystic, to decipher a mysterious scroll with cryptic Hebrew inscriptions. Their quest, tangled in political betrayal, religious fanaticism, and secret brotherhoods, unfolds across the Holy Land and brings together characters from vastly different worlds. The plot blends action and philosophy, weaving Kabbalistic lore, Christian mysticism, and Islamic reverence for shared prophets into a fast-paced journey marked by danger and spiritual awakening.
The writing pulled me in from the start. The prose is direct and vivid without trying to show off. It balances historical detail with forward-moving suspense, which kept me up longer than I care to admit. Some of the dialogue occasionally becomes formal, but that’s rare. Cooper’s ability to blend historical fact with myth and to put complex theological ideas into plain speech impressed me. And it wasn’t just dry knowledge, it mattered to the characters, which made it matter to me.
What I loved most, though, was the humanity of it all. I didn’t expect a novel set in the Middle Ages to feel so timely, but it did. A few scenes lean into exposition-heavy dialogue. The book wrestles with how people of different faiths, each with their own stories and wounds, might still come together to chase truth and protect what’s sacred. The friendship between St. Clair and Rabbi Samuel felt genuine, built not on fantasy but on shared vulnerability and grit. The villains, especially the fanatics like Rabbi Petit, are frightening not because they’re caricatures, but because their righteousness feels so real. It reminded me how easily good intentions can rot into cruelty when people forget to listen.
The Rabbi’s Knight is more than just an exciting story about knights and ancient codes. It’s a moving meditation on trust, faith, and the fragile possibility of peace in a broken world. I’d recommend this book to anyone who loves historical fiction with heart, especially readers curious about interfaith dialogue, spiritual traditions, or stories that dare to imagine bridges where others see walls. If you’re tired of the same old sword-and-sandals fare and want something with both soul and suspense, this one’s worth your time.
Pages: 487 | ASIN : B0FLF6XRQ2
Devourer from Beyond
The Devourer from Beyond is a high-octane fusion of supernatural horror, police procedural, and cosmic dread that launches readers straight into the heart of a conspiracy involving ancient evils, cult fanatics, and federal agents caught in a nightmare beyond comprehension. The story begins with a routine flight unraveling into chaos when a monstrous figure unleashes carnage midair, forcing federal air marshals into a fight for survival. From there, the narrative spirals outward to include secret government divisions, a doomsday cult led by a charismatic reverend, and a dark tome recovered from a buried temple in Antarctica that may usher in the end of the world. Told through a series of deeply personal and action-packed perspectives, the book charges forward with little reprieve, culminating in a showdown that blends Lovecraftian horror with gritty realism.
What impressed me most about RK Jack’s writing is how grounded and human the characters feel despite the wildness of the plot. The air marshals, Thomas and James, carry the weight of duty and broken personal lives with them, and their weariness comes through in the smallest moments like sipping burnt coffee, trading tired jokes, and hoping for just one easy day. These little details made the action hit harder when things went sideways. I found myself genuinely caring about them, which is rare in a genre that often sacrifices character for spectacle. The writing itself is clean, direct, and cinematic. Jack has a knack for pacing. He wastes no time, and each chapter ends with that “just one more” pull that kept me flipping pages deep into the night.
Parts of the book made me feel genuinely unsettled in the best way. The cult segments, involving an eerily calm reverend and his silver-tinged disciple, Margret, were creepy and weirdly intimate. The way Jack slowly drips in the supernatural elements made my skin crawl. It’s not just gore or jump-scare horror; it’s this slow-building, stomach-tightening dread. Some of the scenes involving the tome and the summoned creatures had me whispering “nope” under my breath. It reminded me of The Thing meets True Detective with a healthy dose of The X-Files. A few times, I had to pause to sit with the imagery because Jack doesn’t shy away from making it visceral. The only minor note I had was the slight overload of names and acronyms early on, but once I got into the rhythm, the story pulled me in completely.
By the end, I was equal parts thrilled, rattled, and strangely moved. This book isn’t just a horror-thriller, it’s a story about people trying to hang on to sanity and purpose while staring into the abyss. I’d recommend The Devourer from Beyond to anyone who loves smart horror, especially readers who appreciate action mixed with emotional stakes and eerie, cosmic weirdness. If you like your monsters unknowable and your heroes flawed but fierce, you’ll devour this one like I did.
Pages: 302 | ASIN : B0DTP7C561
Blood on the Mountain
Blood on the Mountain, by Kristian Daniels, is a deeply personal coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of family conflict, small-town traditions, and the slow unraveling of childhood innocence. The story follows Noah as he navigates a tangle of faith, family expectations, and the painful realities of growing up different. Through his eyes, we see the sting of bullying, the quiet terror of not fitting in, and the tentative steps toward self-discovery both in terms of identity and sexuality. The novel blends these intimate struggles with generational drama, love stories, and moments of hope, creating a portrait of adolescence that feels as raw as it does real.
The writing pulls you right into the emotional center of each scene. The author captures the ache of wanting to belong and the fear of being yourself, especially in a world that can be both judgmental and unkind. The depictions of bullying are tough to read but impossible to ignore. They’re sharp and often mirror the subtle cruelties that linger after the school bell rings. Against this backdrop, Noah’s quiet journey toward accepting his sexuality unfolds in small, tender moments that contrast beautifully with the hostility around him.
The ideas here resonate on multiple levels. This isn’t just a story about teenage hardship. I think it’s about the courage to live authentically in the face of fear. The book speaks to the LGBTQ experience without turning it into a cliché or a token subplot. Instead, it weaves identity and sexuality into the fabric of Noah’s growth. It also asks hard questions about family loyalty, faith, and the cost of speaking your truth in environments that demand silence. While I enjoyed the novel, I believe that some of the antagonists felt a bit too black-and-white, but the emotional honesty in Noah’s perspective more than balances that out.
I’d recommend Blood on the Mountain to readers who value heartfelt and character-driven stories. Especially those interested in LGBTQ narratives, anti-bullying themes, and the messy, beautiful process of self-discovery. It’s a moving, sometimes difficult, but ultimately hopeful read.
Pages: 393 | ASIN : B0FLVW2J1J
The Nameless Dead
The Nameless Dead, by Leta Serafim, follows Greek police chief Yiannis Patronas as he investigates the murder of a child and uncovers a tangle of prejudice, corruption, and personal vendettas in a small village. The plot moves between the procedural grind of the investigation and the tense undercurrents of rural life, where long-held grudges and deep suspicion run through every interaction. As Patronas digs deeper, the case grows darker, revealing the complicated human motivations behind violence and the cost of seeking truth in a place where silence often feels safer.
Serafim writes with a sharpness, letting tension seep in without shouting it at you. I liked how she allowed the setting to act almost like another character, with its own moods and shadows. The pacing wasn’t always even, but that slow burn worked for me. It gave time for the moral weight of the case to settle in. What I liked most was the way the story dealt with bias, not in a grand, preachy way, but in the small, sideways glances and unspoken assumptions that shape the investigation.
Still, there were moments when the dialogue felt a bit stiff, almost like it was holding back. I sometimes wanted the characters to spill over more, to show the rawness behind their guarded expressions. The plot itself is clever, though, and Serafim manages to weave in enough misdirection to keep me second-guessing my hunches. There’s a certain melancholy in the writing, a recognition that not every mystery can be tied up neatly, and that honesty often comes at a price.
I’d recommend The Nameless Dead to readers who like their crime fiction steady and thoughtful, with more emphasis on atmosphere and moral complexity than flashy twists. If you enjoy stories where the setting feels alive and the characters live in shades of gray, then you’ll enjoy this book.
Pages: 224 | ASIN : B0DF51DJ22
Ellie Ment and the Material Matter
Ellie Ment and the Material Matter, by Bertie Stephens, is a quirky and fast-paced middle-grade adventure that blends science, humor, and environmental themes with a heavy dose of curiosity and chaos. It follows the story of Ellie, an 11-year-old self-proclaimed scientist living in the endlessly rainy town of Hapsie. After witnessing her brand-new school go up in strange purple flames, Ellie is drawn into a mystery that includes jam jar experiments, mysterious adults, glowing embers, suspicious teachers, a secret science club, and a new girl who seems just a little too perfect. Armed with a fierce love of science and a head full of questions, Ellie digs deeper into what’s really going on, and ends up discovering more about the world (and herself) than she bargained for.
The writing is seriously fun. Bertie Stephens has a wild energy in his prose that feels like Roald Dahl with a scientific twist. There’s a real rhythm to the way he plays with narration, slipping in clever asides and running gags that make you grin without feeling overdone. The world-building in Hapsie is rich in detail, from a pothole nicknamed “Stego-hole” to an art teacher who inexplicably wipes down students’ faces with talcum powder. It’s packed with oddball characters and moments that are both funny and surprisingly touching. I loved how the book never talks down to the reader; it trusts kids to understand big ideas, and that trust feels earned. The science woven into the story isn’t just accurate, it’s exciting. Ellie’s obsession with the periodic table, her experiments with rainwater, and her balloon hypothesis all made me want to pull out a notebook and start investigating things myself.
Ellie is a joy. She is relatable, sharp, stubborn, and delightfully flawed, but Kami, her main “rival,” didn’t feel quite as developed early on. I found myself wanting to understand her a bit more beneath the confident, polished surface. Some of that depth does come through later. I loved the fast pace and witty writing. While a few moments felt a little rushed or slightly tangled, there were still plot twists that surprised me in the best way. This is a story that’s bursting with creativity, warmth, and just the right amount of scientific mayhem.
Ellie Ment and the Material Matter is one of those rare stories that feels smart and silly in equal measure. It’s great for curious kids who love science, adventure, or just getting into a little trouble in the name of learning. Teachers and parents will appreciate its environmental message and the way it champions creative thinking without preaching. It reminded me how important it is to question the world around us and to never accept “that’s just the way it is” as an answer. If I had this book when I was eleven, I would’ve read it twice.
Pages: 284 | ASIN : B0F6T1ZMFX
The UFO Gambit
The UFO Gambit, by T.E. MacArthur, opens with a chilling prologue set in 1977, when a determined twelve-year-old, Rita, sets out to document mysterious lights near a rural airstrip only to encounter something far stranger and more dangerous than she imagined. Decades later, the story shifts to Tessa Wells-Lancing and Jack de Sombras, partners in a private security and investigative agency that specializes in unusual cases. When a neighbor shows up with a bizarre complaint followed by news of two bodies on her land, one of them possibly extraterrestrial, the pair is drawn into a case that blends small-town drama, murder mystery, paranormal investigation, and flashes of government conspiracy. What follows is a lively mix of eerie encounters, sharp banter, suspicious reporters, reluctant law enforcement, and a deepening tangle of secrets that may be stranger than either of them is ready to admit.
I had a blast reading this story. The dialogue pops. Sometimes it’s sarcastic, sometimes warm, and the chemistry between Tessa and Jack makes the book feel alive. The humor comes in quick, dry bursts, cutting through the tension in a way that feels authentic. The pacing moves at a comfortable clip, mixing moments of investigation with vivid character beats. The small-town setting, with its mix of quirky locals and tense undercurrents, adds a rich backdrop. What I especially enjoyed was how the author balances the mystery of the aliens with grounded details, whether it’s the cold damp of a Northern California morning or the awkward silence of a too-long stare from a deadpan coroner.
On the ideas side, the book toys with belief and skepticism in an interesting way. Tessa is open to the supernatural but keeps her feet on the ground, while Jack wears his disbelief like armor, though cracks appear when the evidence pushes too far. The paranormal isn’t just a gimmick here. It’s part of how characters test each other’s trust and boundaries. There’s also a sly thread about privacy, paranoia, and how information gets twisted in the hands of the wrong people, something that feels pointed without being preachy. A few scenes lean into banter when I was itching for more direct answers, but that’s also part of the book’s charm: you get pulled into the rhythm of these characters’ lives rather than just chasing the plot.
The UFO Gambit is a smart, funny, and surprisingly layered mix of mystery, paranormal thriller, and relationship drama. It’s perfect for readers who like their strange tales grounded in believable characters, with a side of dry humor and a touch of danger. If you enjoy shows like The X-Files but wish Mulder and Scully argued more like an old married couple, this is your jam. It’s not just about whether aliens are real; it’s about what you believe, who you trust, and how far you’ll go when the truth lands right in your lap.
Pages: 220
Messenger of the Reaper
After reading Messenger of the Reaper by Jimmy and Angelyn Straley, I can say it’s one heck of a ride. The story follows a hitman, James Crum, who isn’t just your average contract killer. He’s a smooth-talking, knife-wielding professional who struck a deal with Death himself. He delivers more than just murder. He delivers souls to the Reaper. The book opens with a murder so visceral you can almost hear the bones snap. From there, it unfolds into a gritty, violent, often darkly humorous account of life as a hired killer, one with a troubled past and a growing list of enemies. As James gets tangled deeper into politics, betrayal, and morality, we’re pulled along with him across state lines, across memories, and closer to a reaper who is slowly starting to take an interest in the man who’s fed him for decades.
Now, about the writing. It’s raw, sometimes rough around the edges, and unapologetically blunt. That’s not a knock. It’s actually kind of refreshing. There’s no flowery language or polished, over-edited prose here. It feels like a conversation with a grizzled old man at a bar who’s seen more than his fair share and isn’t afraid to say exactly what’s on his mind. There were a few moments where the grammar or punctuation might’ve tripped up a more literary-minded reader, but I found the voice consistent and surprisingly compelling. The emotional scenes, particularly those involving James’s ex-wife and kids, hit harder because of the contrast with all the blood and bullets. There’s something uniquely sad about a killer who regrets what he had to give up just to survive.
What stuck with me the most were the moments of introspection. Like when James stares into the mirror and doesn’t quite recognize the man he sees, or when he wonders if he’s already dead and just doesn’t know it yet. Those moments lift the book above just another hitman story. It’s not just about violence or revenge. It’s about a man at the end of his rope, trying to find purpose in a life built on silence and shadows. The authors managed to make a character like James, who should by all rights be a villain, someone I found myself rooting for. Not because he’s good, but because he’s honest. And honestly, I kind of loved that.
If you like crime stories with a supernatural twist, or gritty thrillers that don’t sugarcoat anything, this book might be for you. Fans of noir, or even Quentin Tarantino-style storytelling, would probably have a blast. It’s not for the faint of heart. There’s blood, swearing, and moral ambiguity by the truckload. But if you’re okay with that, and you want something with both edge and emotion, Messenger of the Reaper is worth your time. It’s fast-paced, grimy, and strangely thoughtful.
Pages: 191 | ASIN : B09LTJCFVM
LITERARY TITAN 