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The Eleventh Messiah
The Eleventh Messiah is a post-apocalyptic speculative novel with strong religious thriller elements, following journalist Sarah B. Wells as she travels through a ruined America to find Elijah, a man some call the eleventh Messiah and others call a fraud. What begins as an investigation into one possible false prophet becomes something more personal and unsettling. Sarah knows Elijah from before the war, and through him, she is pulled into a world of broken cities, desperate believers, armed followers, rival preachers, and people searching for meaning in the wreckage. The book asks a big question in a battered setting: when the world has fallen apart, do people need truth, faith, comfort, or simply someone who will look them in the eye and see them?
Sarah is sharp, profane, funny, wounded, and observant in a way that makes the ruined world feel lived in rather than staged. She notices the smell of smoke, the absurdity of people charging money to see a broken TV screen, the old habits that survive even after civilization has cracked. I liked that the book doesn’t make her reverent too quickly. She comes in with skepticism, which gives the story its pulse. Elijah might be holy. He might be damaged. He might be something science has not learned how to name. Sarah keeps circling that uncertainty, and because she does, I trusted the novel more than I would have if it simply demanded belief from me.
The author makes a bold choice by blending blunt, street-level narration with heavy spiritual and philosophical questions. The novel is interested in God, consciousness, miracles, war, language, propaganda, trauma, and the strange hunger people have for someone to tell them what their suffering means. Caleb, as Elijah’s opposite, gives the book a strong dramatic engine. He understands performance, certainty, and fear. Elijah, by contrast, resists language even as everyone around him tries to turn him into a symbol. I found that tension compelling. At times, the book’s ideas are direct, but the stronger moments are the quieter ones, when a touch, a look, or a small act of mercy says more than a sermon could.
I would recommend The Eleventh Messiah to readers who enjoy post-apocalyptic fiction that is more interested in belief and human nature than in survival mechanics alone. It’ll appeal to people who like speculative novels with a philosophical edge, religious thrillers that question faith instead of simply affirming it, and character-driven stories about what people cling to after catastrophe. It’s messy, searching, angry, hopeful, and at its best, deeply human.
Pages: 172 | ASIN : B0H43KCBM9
Wistman’s Wood – A Tale of the Moors and Beyond
Wistman’s Wood is a mystical, idea-driven novel that begins with one man’s walk into an ancient Dartmoor oak wood and grows into a story about human consciousness, planetary responsibility, and the possibility of change. Michael Trelawny’s quiet ramble through Wistman’s Wood turns strange when he encounters a mysterious woman whose presence unsettles him and pulls him toward something far larger than local legend. The book has the feel of a spiritual quest wrapped in folklore, with the moor itself acting less like a setting and more like a living intelligence.
The strongest part of the novel is its atmosphere. The early chapters move slowly in a good way, letting the reader settle into the landscape: the granite, the twisted oaks, the stream, the old pub, the sense that Dartmoor is watching. The line “Entering the woods was almost like saying hello to an old friend” captures the book’s relationship with place beautifully. Wistman’s Wood feels ancient, protective, and not entirely knowable, which makes Michael’s growing obsession with the woman of the wood feel natural rather than forced.
As the story expands, it becomes much more than a ghostly encounter on the moors. Clair’s arrival gives Michael someone to question, challenge, and believe alongside, and their connection grounds the more cosmic elements of the plot. Through Enchantment, the novel introduces the grey mist, an ancient constraint woven into human consciousness, and the story moves into an ambitious blend of myth, environmental concern, artificial intelligence, sacred sites, and spiritual awakening. It’s a big swing, and the book clearly wants readers to think about empathy, long-term responsibility, and what humanity might become if it could get out of its own way.
What’s interesting is that the novel doesn’t treat transformation as instant perfection. Even after the solstice ritual, the world still has conflict, doubt, media noise, and people trying to understand what happened. That choice gives the final third of the book a more reflective feel. Michael’s realization that “The correction has been made. The rest is up to us” sums up the heart of the story. The mystical event matters, but the real focus is what people do afterward, in their ordinary choices and relationships.
Wistman’s Wood is a contemplative novel for readers who enjoy folklore, metaphysical fiction, and stories that ask large questions through a personal journey. It starts with mossy stones and strange laughter in an ancient wood, then opens into a vision of humanity standing at a turning point. Its voice is earnest, its concerns are deeply human, and its best moments come when the mystery of the moor and the hope for inner change meet in the same scene.
Pages: 152 | ASIN : B0GT25WNRX
How the Winterlilies Grow
How the Winterlilies Grow follows Aradella, a young woman desperate to save her mother from the deadly Aurora Veins, as she is pulled from her ordinary life of candles and marketplace worries into a kingdom-shaking quest for the legendary winterlily. What begins as a search for a healing flower widens into a journey through dwarven bargains, goblin negotiations, sea voyages, hidden gardens, spiritual testing, and open rebellion against King Draven’s cruel rule.
I was most drawn to the way the book treats courage as something trembling rather than polished. Aradella is not a fearless heroine carved from marble; she is anxious, stubborn, tender, and often overwhelmed. That makes her growth feel earned. Her search for the winterlily becomes more than a plot device. It becomes a crucible where grief, faith, control, and surrender all meet. The story’s Christian elements are direct and unmistakable, but they work best when woven into Aradella’s fear of losing her mother and her slow realization that she cannot carry the whole world by herself.
The novel also has an appealing classic fantasy feel. There are dwarves, goblins, sirens, magical weapons, winter-bound towns, royal decrees, secret histories, and a climactic ball that turns into something far more dangerous than ceremony. The story’s abundance makes the pacing feel crowded, and some scenes pause to explain feelings that the action already suggests. Still, I found the sincerity of the book hard to dismiss. Its best moments have a lantern-lit quality: warm, earnest, and bright against snow.
I think this book is best suited for readers who enjoy Christian fantasy, young adult fantasy, adventure, fairy-tale quests, and faith-based coming-of-age stories. Fans of C. S. Lewis’s moral clarity and Gail Carson Levine’s enchanted-kingdom sensibility may find familiar pleasures here, though this story leans more openly into devotional reflection. How the Winterlilies Grow is a snowy quest about healing, but its deeper bloom is trust. A tender fantasy where faith flowers in the coldest places.
Pages: 338 | ASIN : B0GX2Y96BD
Shockingly Similar to Young Children
Maybelline Has a Very. Bad. Day. follows a lovable baby goat through a tumble of farmyard mishaps, offering young readers a comforting reminder that even the worst days can end somewhere safe and soft. What inspired you to tell a story about a bad day through the eyes of a young goat?
I’ve had goats for about twelve years, and every spring comes the fun of kidding season. The baby goats are shockingly similar to young children! They must find out about the world; lots of times the hard way! My grandchildren and I started making up one-liners about an adorable little goat named Maybelline, who was in big trouble all of the time, it seemed! I decided to put together the one-liners, arrange them into themes, and voilá, Maybelline Has A Very. Bad. Day. was created.
Maybelline’s troubles are made up of many small disappointments rather than one big problem. Why was that emotional rhythm important to the story?
Most of us, children and adults, have a day now and then when things just don’t go right: Dog ate a sock and had to go the vet, you got a flat tire driving to work, your kid bumped another kid playing soccer and they both have bloody noses, you spilled your coffee all over your shirt, a package was delivered late and all chewed up… By themselves, they are not anything huge, but a day with multiple little things going wrong does usually bring us down. For young children, it’s the same idea of that slow build all day. Maybelline represents a young child, with her day full of mishaps. And like Maybelline, we just want to get into bed at the end of the day and start fresh the next morning.
What do you hope children take away from Maybelline’s mama’s comforting message at the end?
Maybelline learns how to overcome obstacles, be resilient, and count on friends and family to help her. I want young children to see themselves in Maybelline and feel that they can get through a bad day, and to that end, Maybelline’s mama’s message states that explicitly. I hope that the Maybelline’s Antics series are relevant stories that engage children and encourage follow-up discussions, just like they did with my own grandchildren.
Are any of the animals or farm moments in the book inspired by real experiences on a farm?
Absolutely! The original Maybelline was quite a character, and my current Maybelline, who the book character actually looks like, is a huge attention hog! In general, goat kids are adorable…and funny, naughty, capricious, loving, and silly. I have been through almost every iteration of personality of baby goats on my farm over the years and have many more tales to tell.
Author Links: GoodReads | X | Facebook | Website
From the moment she wakes up missing her sick friend Ellie, one mishap follows another. Whether it’s getting bonked by grumpy Aunt Ivy, pricked by thorns, or tumbling in the mud, for poor Maybelline, nothing is going right for her. Will this rotten day ever end?
But snuggled safely with her mama that night, Maybelline discovers an important truth: bad days happen, but they don’t last forever.
Young children will understand exactly how Maybelline feels. In this social-emotional journey, Maybelline learns how to overcome obstacles, navigate big feelings, and count on friends and family to help her.
Perfect for ages 3-6.
Silver Lady: Travels Along the River Road
Silver Lady, by Susan E. Sage, is a literary work of magical realism with dystopian and protopian elements, following Cassie Navrone as she pilots a luxury houseboat downriver in the near future after the Great Collapse and the mysterious Vanishing. Art, people, places, and memory itself seem unstable, and Cassie’s journey with a small group of passengers becomes far more than a delivery job. It turns into a strange, searching voyage through grief, fear, beauty, connection, and the question of what is worth saving when the world no longer follows familiar rules.
What I appreciated most about the book is how personal it feels. Cassie’s voice has a warm, wandering quality, and I often felt as if I were sitting across from her while she tried to make sense of each odd bend in the river. The captain’s log format works well because it lets the story move between daily details and larger reflections without feeling stiff. A meal, a storm, a disappearing poem, a troubling town, a strange animal encounter, and a memory of love can all sit beside each other in the same current. That looseness may not appeal to readers who want a tight, plot-driven dystopian novel, but for me, it gave the book its emotional texture. It feels less like a race toward answers and more like drifting through a world where answers keep changing shape.
Sage makes some bold choices, especially in the way she blends social collapse with wonder. The book is candid about violence, isolation, illness, and cultural fear, but it does not sink into despair. That is where the protopian side of the story comes through. Cassie isn’t trying to save the world in some grand, heroic way. She’s simply refusing to look away. She notices people. She mourns what disappears. She keeps moving. I liked that the magical realism is not treated as a puzzle to be solved neatly. The sentience of the Silver Lady, the unstable towns, the vanishing art, and the river’s almost spiritual pull all ask the reader to accept mystery as part of the experience. The book is about living when the ground, or in this case, the water, refuses to stay still.
I would recommend Silver Lady to readers who enjoy reflective literary fiction, magical realism, and softer dystopian stories that care more about inner change than spectacle. It will especially appeal to those who like character-driven journeys, older protagonists, symbolic landscapes, and books that leave room for wonder. This is a thoughtful novel that stays engaging because its strange moments and underlying tension give the journey real weight.
Pages: 235 | ASIN : B0DH9CJGXM
Trying to Live by an Old Code
Seeker follows a weary seeker with a violent past who is pulled into a dangerous pursuit involving a kidnapped girl, raider factions, old grief, and a brutal king. How did the idea for Andrew “Ghost” Shelton first come to you?
The idea for Seeker and Ghost first came to me about ten years ago, when I started thinking about a hero who fought as hard to “keep the past alive” and recover what he saw as valuable (books, human history, etc) from the ruins. He was also a bit of a reaction to a lot of protagonists who are true “white hats” or deeply cynical and violent antiheroes. While there is a place for them in fiction, to be sure, I was drawn to the idea of someone who was less Lone Ranger or Punisher and more a man trying to salvage beauty and wisdom from a broken society. He thinks as much more than he shoots, and he listens more than he speaks. Ghost has seen enough of the world to understand its ugliness but he hasn’t surrendered his humanity to it. He constantly tries to weight out what is necessary against what is right. In many ways, he’s a man trying to live by an old code in a world that no longer rewards it.
Seeker combines elements of post-apocalyptic fiction and the classic Western. What inspired you to bring those two genres together?
I’ve long believed that the two genres inhabit a very similar space, as soon as you leave the urban environment. While many post-apocalyptic stories do focus on urban blight and collapse, I think that post-apocalyptic stories set outside those confines frequently drift more or less towards a frontier environment. As the modern societal institutions disappear, people gravitate towards smaller communities, local trade, stronger self-reliance, and deeper personal relationships. At its core, that’s the same environment that built the American West.
Having a very strong tie to Wyoming, I realized that if society were to collapse, much of the region around me would quickly and naturally resemble the frontier it once was. Post-apocalyptic fiction asks what happens after society falls, and Westerns usually ask how people build civilization in hard places. Combining the two just seemed a natural progression, because in some ways, they explore different sides to the same question.
How did you balance Ghost’s violent capabilities with his strong moral code?
Violence is a stark reality of an environment like the one in the world of Seeker. Hard people are asked to make hard choices, and sometimes, those choices end in bloodshed. However, I think that violence can’t be without consequence. Ghost is capable because of the world he lives in and the experiences he has suffered through, but I wanted to focus more on the cost of violence rather than the rush and excitement of it. Every time he pulls his weapon, there’s a reason. When he kills someone, there are consequences, even if he doesn’t get confronted with them right away.
His code doesn’t expect perfection. It’s just one man trying to do the right thing when there aren’t clear or easy answers. Sometimes he succeeds, sometimes he doesn’t – but he keeps trying. The struggle to try and remain upright in a broken world is a lot more interesting to me than a character who always knows the right way to go or the one who doesn’t care about the repercussions of his actions.
What is the next book you are working on, and when will it be available?
I am working on a sequel to Seeker tentatively called Seeker: Salvation.
The story continues Ghost’s journey as new threats emerge across the Rockies and the fragile communities of the region face dangers that could reshape the future of the West. Readers will see familiar characters return while learning more about the forces that shaped the world after the Red Death.
The manuscript is currently well underway, and I am targeting a 2027 release.
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Ghost is a Seeker, a solitary rider hired to recover lost knowledge from the ruins of the old world. When a young girl is kidnapped by raiders from Denver, his search carries him across Wyoming’s plains and mountains, where every mile tests what remains of a person when the world strips everything else away.
Seeker blends post-apocalyptic survival with the soul of a western, telling a story rooted in character and place, where the land itself shapes those who endure it.
Longer Than A New York Minute: A Samantha Wright Crime Series #3
Theresa Janson’s Longer Than a New York Minute is a crime novel wrapped tightly around a love story, a family story, and a story about healing after violence. Samantha Wright Little Bear is no longer living the FBI life that once defined her, but she hasn’t lost the instincts that made her a profiler. Now she’s a wife, mother, counselor, writer, and advocate on the reservation, trying to build the kind of life she and Will keep calling “simple and real.”
The mystery begins with the death of Tad Collins, a wealthy New Yorker who had become chosen family to Sam and Will. What’s first labeled a suicide doesn’t sit right with Sam, especially once she and Will look closer. Her grief sharpens rather than clouds her judgment, and the investigation gives the book its procedural backbone. When Sam says, “He was murdered Will,” the story shifts from sorrow into purpose.
What makes the book feel personal is how much of it lives in the everyday rhythms around the case. There are meals, babies, horses, family routines, anniversaries, and quiet conversations at the lodge pole. Janson gives Sam and Will’s marriage a lot of room on the page, and their intimacy is part of how they communicate, grieve, reconnect, and steady each other. The result is a novel where romance isn’t a subplot tucked beside the crime; it’s part of the engine.
The book also spends serious time with abuse, trauma, and the difficult work of helping people who may not be ready or able to leave danger behind. Sam’s counseling work with abused women gives the story moral weight, and it connects back to the dedication in a meaningful way. This isn’t just a murder investigation about one victim; it’s about how violence spreads through families and communities, and how people like Sam try to interrupt it one person at a time.
Longer Than a New York Minute is best read as a continuation of a deeply established emotional world. It’s intimate, protective, grief-struck, sensual, and family-centered, with the mystery acting as one strand in a larger portrait of survival and commitment. The book’s heart is Sam and Will’s chosen life together, and the crime plot matters because it threatens the people, peace, and hard-won sense of home they’ve built.
Pages: 200
So Many Complicated Emotions
Architect follows the Keane family and Akolo across haunted houses, ancient worlds, faith, grief, and time itself in a supernatural fantasy about legacy, healing, and the true meaning of home. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
The inspiration for Architect came from our own personal experiences of loss, grief and a bit of the supernatural. Starting in 2020 through 2023 we experienced an overwhelming amount of grief as we both lost our moms, over 12 people during Covid (which was already such hard times to live through), a nephew to a random gunshot from a neighboring apartment, and then we lost our home to a flood making it uninhabitable. We had to tear it down. We lost everything. Waking up daily to only face our grief was insurmountable at times. We tried a brain treatment called Cereset to help calm our brains from fight or flight mode, depression, and anxiety. During the sessions a story developed, and we sat down and voice memo’d our conversation back and forth for 3 1/2 hours. That ultimately became the entire story of our trilogy The Goodpasture Chronicles with Architect being the third and final book.
Akolo’s long journey gives immortality a heavy emotional cost. How did you approach writing a character who carries love, grief, and purpose across so much time?
Even though Akolo has immortality, we wanted him stay human. Humans are the only creation that can carry so many complicated emotions. It was important for us to make Akolo relatable even though he was immortal. Everyone experiences love, grief, and consequences, all while searching for purpose. Akolo is no different than us.
Faith and restoration are important themes in the book. What did you most want readers to take away from the spiritual elements of the story?
Earlier in Akolo’s life, he makes a choice that alters his future. It’s a choice with good intentions, but it affects his future generations negatively. We gave him the storyline of immortality to also give him a chance at redemption, and sometimes redemption comes at a great cost. The weight of his story is heavy at times, but ultimately it’s a story of forgiveness, healing, and restoration. We want readers to walk away with hope that they, too, can receive healing, redemption, and restoration, regardless of the choices they’ve made in their lives.
As the third book in The Goodpasture Chronicles. What was the most challenging part of bringing these characters and mysteries to this stage of the series?
The most challenging part of closing the series was making sure that each character had their moment of resolution. The lives of the five main characters intertwine and affect one another. As a result, it was a bit of a puzzle to resolve each mini-storyline within the larger plot. But that’s also true of real life. Our lives intersect and intertwine with those of so many other people. We should be mindful of both our own storylines and those of others, as well as the lasting impact we have on humanity.
Author Links: GoodReads | X | Facebook | Website
In the final installment of the Goodpasture Chronicles, R.J. Halbert’s Architect explores legacy, consequence, and the courage required to confront the designs that shape us. Enthusiasts of award winning Caretaker and Servant will discover even more emotional depth. spiritual tension. and a sweeping historical scope delivering a powerful and deeply personal finale.
The morning after Zach’s astonishing return, the Keane family grapples with how to process the supernatural events of the previous days. Time feels fractured. Memories don’t align. The house that once concealed its secrets now seems to pulse with a restless purpose. Still wary of the forces that have already torn her family apart, Ariel must find an inner strength to confront truths long hidden in the fog. Beyond their world, Akolo’s ancient story moves toward its own turning point-one shaped by devotion, loss, and a power that has never truly been laid to rest. As past and present begin to converge, the Keanes realize their lives are not simply being influenced by history … they are entangled within it. And Marshall-the quiet figure, always standing at the edge of their understandings-may hold the key to a design far older, and far more personal, than any of them ever imagined.
As truths rise and long-buried consequences demand resolution, the Keanes must play their part in a design stretched across history.
