I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A traumatized author reluctantly travels to a special clinic to seek help, only to be confronted by an emerging story and dark secrets in author Gaelan Donovan Wort’s “A Study on Falling.”
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The Synopsis
Have you ever been lost in a maze?
Have you ever kept walking, sure that the exit was near, only to realise that you’ve been going around in circles?
Ever been trapped?
I have.
Once, I was someone. A bestselling author whose prose charmed the world. I was in love, I was married, and my muse was my partner through it all. Then came the accident. I lost a part of myself – became a man unravelling, a husband undone. A novelist without words.
See, the mind can be a maze. Mine became a labyrinth.
I was banished to a hospital for the gifted, where my paranoia wasn’t cured; it only grew, fed by the doctors and my fellow inmates surrounding me.
My name is Henry Levi. I’m a writer. This isn’t a memoir, it’s a record of my time spent in the depths of the labyrinth, fumbling in the dark for the golden thread that would lead me to salvation.
A story, a warning, a legend … call it what you like.
I call it my Study on Falling.
The Review
This was such a compelling and unique psychological thriller. It reminded me a lot of Alan Wake without the overt supernatural themes. Instead, it was a masterclass in the psychology of a writer, an artist, a creative who has been through trauma and cannot return to the space that their creativity once sprang from. The fact that the author brought to life a unique story surrounding an author of the recently reviewed The Shambling Lords, itself a fictional story written by a fictional author, and how that dark fantasy played out in the confines of this story was so unique and imaginative that readers were instantly enthralled.
The powerful imagery in the author’s writing style and the way the fictional story Henry Levi wrote bled into his waking life were so chilling and haunting, especially in his confrontation with Viviane later in the story. The honest emotional struggle Henry goes through in this narrative is so reflective of the impact trauma can have on a person, and how easily or narrowly the path towards pessimism and anger can be to traverse, but the fight to find new inspiration and hope again is achievable, but sometimes only by acknowledging the pain of loss and finding a new beginning.
The Verdict
Artful, thrilling, and entertaining, author Gaelan Donovan Wort’s “A Study on Falling” is a must-read psychological thriller. The twists and turns in the narrative, the deeply personal relationships and interactions Henry has with others in the clinic, and the realism with which the author tackles these themes will keep readers invested all the way to the book’s impactful final chapter. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Gaelan Donovan Wort penned his first novel, The Nature of Predation, at the age of seventeen, driven by a restless passion for storytelling that has since deepened into a lifelong craft. Since that early beginning, he has followed the shadows that gather between myth and memory, reverie and ruin – threads that continue to weave throughout his stories. His fiction drifts between genres – gothic horror, mythic tragedy, psychological thriller, speculative drama, and satirical science fiction – but is always drawn to the liminal, the haunted, and the human. Whether eerie or elegiac, his stories linger where the rational frays – and the unknowable begins.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A couple’s gender reveal party turns deadly in author Heather Gudenkauf’s “The Perfect Hosts.”
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The Synopsis
A couple’s gender reveal party turns deadly and everyone is a suspect in this gripping thriller from the New York Times bestselling author of The Overnight Guest.
Is it a boy or a girl? They would die to know…
Madeline and Wes Drake have invited two hundred of their closest friends and family to their sprawling horse ranch for the most anticipated event of the year: a “pistols and pearls” gender reveal party so sensational it is sure to make headlines. But the party descends into chaos when the celebratory explosive misfires, leaving one woman dead and a trail of secrets.
As the aftershocks of the bloody party ripple across the small town, Agent Jamie Saldano is brought on the scene to investigate. Battling his own demons from the past, Saldano unearths a web of deceit spun around the Drakes. The appearance of some unexpected houseguests only deepens the mystery. And as tensions mount, it becomes clear that the explosion wasn’t just an unlucky accident. But who was the target, and why? As the shadow of a killer looms, the happy parents-to-be must unravel the truth before it’s too late.
The Review
What a compelling and dynamic read. The author did a marvelous job of layering this story with mystery and intrigue, first by shocking the reader with hidden secrets and explosive and deadly events that set off a chain of events that will rock the cast of characters to their core. The tension that mounts from the beginning is palpable, and the harrowing way the mystery unfolds leaves a lasting impression on the reader thanks to the strong use of imagery in the author’s writing style.
The heart of this narrative is in the dynamic characters the author brings to life on the page and the charged themes that bring this story to life. The story delves into themes of domestic violence and twisted family dynasties, and the corrupting power that wealth can bring to life in a person. The way this impacted the characters in shocking ways, from the surprising revelations behind Agent Jamie Saldano’s backstory and connection to the setting to the emotional struggles of the protagonist, Madeline, and the multiple POVs that the story captures, greatly enhanced the novel’s narrative flow.
The Verdict
Harrowing, thrilling, and compelling, author Heather Gudenkauf’s “The Perfect Hosts” is a must-read domestic thriller. The shocking twists and turns in the narrative, the haunting realities the story explores in wealthy and elite society, and the far too often overlooked world of domestic abuse and the evil that usually lurks where we least expect it made this story enthralling to engage in. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Heather Gudenkauf is the critically acclaimed author of several novels, including the New York Times bestsellers The Weight of Silence, The Overnight Guest and Everyone Is Watching. She lives in Iowa with her husband and children.
“Madeline,” comes Wes’s voice, tinny and faraway-sounding. “Are you okay?”
She is lying flat on her back, the air still hazy with smoke. Is she? Is she okay? The ringing in her ears is fading, and she can hear again. In the distance she can hear sirens. Help is coming. Madeline does a mental scan of her body. Nothing seems broken, but her head is pounding. She touches her hairline, expecting her fingers to come back with blood, but instead they find an egg- sized lump. She tries to remember exactly what happened. Wes pulled the trigger, and the truck exploded. An explosion, that’s what it was. Something had gone wrong with the reveal. The baby. Oh God, is the baby okay? She presses her palms against her belly.
“Madeline, Madeline,” comes Wes’s voice again, this time more insistent. His frantic face comes into view.
“Shhh,” Madeline orders. “Please be quiet.” She needs to lie completely still, has to concentrate so she can feel the baby move. She. The baby is a girl, Madeline thinks, remembering the wisps of pink smoke she saw among the fiery black cloud. Her little girl will kick her in the bladder, one of her favorite moves, any second now. There is nothing. No cartwheels or wiggles. Nothing.
Wes kneels beside her and slips his hand into hers. “Help is coming. Stay put. Don’t move.”
Madeline nods as hot tears roll down her cheeks. “What happened?”
“It must have been the truck,” Wes says. “It must have triggered a bigger explosion.”
“But how?” Madeline asks. “You said it was safe . . . Is anyone hurt?”
“It was. It was supposed to be.” He shakes his head, be- wildered. “I don’t know what happened.”
Madeline struggles into a sitting position and looks around. Charred lumber litters the lawn. The canopy over the dining tables has collapsed and is covered in dancing flames that a handful of guests and waitstaff are trying to smother with what- ever is handy: cowboy hats, table linens, an old horse blanket. Other guests are gathered in small, tight clusters, holding on to one another. Some sit in the grass crying, others stand slack- faced, as if in shock. Through the smoke a rodeo clown appears, his brightly colored clothing now blackened with soot and his makeup running down his sweaty face. The clown is helping the photographer, who is bleeding from the head. But it is the old storage barn that Madeline finds herself fixated on. Huge f lames shoot from the hayloft window and the roof. Someone pulls a hose from one of the horse barns, and suddenly buckets and containers of all sizes appear. Others, including Johanna’s husband, Dalton, are running toward the burning barn and tossing water onto the structure. They know that one wayward spark could ignite the house or, worse, the barns filled with her beloved horses.
“Can you walk?” Wes asks. “We have to get you away from here.”
Madeline nods, and Wes helps her to her feet. She is barefoot. The blast had lifted her in the air and knocked her flip-flops clear off her feet. Madeline, leaning against Wes, winces with each step, the rough ground pricking at the soles of her feet. He leads her to the meadow, a safe distance from the burning barn, but still close enough for her to see what’s happening. Some of Madeline’s earlier numbness is beginning to wear away, and the enormity of what has happened begins to descend.
“Go,” Madeline says, knowing they need as many hands as possible.
Wes shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I’m not leaving you.” “I’m fine,” she says, but is she? She fell hard, and still the baby hasn’t moved.
Madeline scans the crowd. “Where’s Johanna?” she asks. “Have you seen her?”
“I haven’t,” Wes says. “But I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. Have you seen Dix?”
“No,” Madeline says. The last she saw Dix was just before he handed the microphone to Wes. “Go,” Madeline repeats. “Really, I’m fine. I just have to get my bearings,” she assures him when he turns his gaze to her doubtfully. “Go help, find your brother. And check on the horses.”
“You wait here,” Wes says. “Don’t move from this spot, and I’ll come back and find you.” He squeezes her hand and kisses her cheek before darting away and disappearing into a cloud of black smoke.
Madeline continues to eye the property for any sign of Johanna’s long dark braid, her suede skirt. In the distance the wail of sirens grows closer. Help is coming. The meadow to the left of the house was being used as a makeshift parking lot for the guests’ vehicles. One wayward spark from the fire landing on the stubbled field could set off a chain reaction where upward of a hundred cars and trucks, tanks filled with gasoline and diesel, sit idly.
The air is filled with inky smoke blotting out the face of the mountain and the setting sun. A fire truck pulls through the side yard, crushing Madeline’s lavender and Russian sage, its massive tires carving deep ruts in the soil. Madeline barely notices—it’s what she sees as a group of guests part to let the truck through that causes her breath to lodge in her throat. A woman lies on the ground, her arm thrown over her face, while someone presses a blood-soaked cloth to her abdomen. One by one, Madeline registers the carnage. Someone is doing CPR on Gary Wilson, the president of the bank that holds their mortgage. One of her equestrian students is wandering aimlessly through the smoke, tears running down her face. A fifteen-hundred- pound bull has escaped the rodeo paddock and is trotting toward the mountains. She sees Mellie, the young waitress, running and screaming, fire dancing up the front of her legs. A partygoer tackles her, smothering the flames with his body.
This is bad. So very bad. Madeline fights the urge to vomit. She wants to help. But how? Water, Madeline thinks. She can pass out bottles of water, try and keep the guests calm and reassure them that help is here, that everything is going to be okay. On unsteady feet she moves toward the party barn, where she knows there is plenty of bottled water, but someone grabs her arm. Mia. “Have you seen Sully?” she asks tearfully, her arm hanging at an odd angle. “I can’t find him.”
Madeline shakes her head. “I’ll help look for him,” she promises. “You’re hurt. Sit down.”
Mia shakes her head. “I need Sully,” she says thickly and stumbles away. There are too many injured and not enough emergency personnel.
The fire truck has come to an abrupt stop. Two firefighters are urging those guests who jumped in to try to put out the fire to move away from the blaze. With machinelike efficiency, they unroll the hoses.
Madeline is mesmerized by the flames that roll across the roof of the barn, the dense cloud of smoke, the roar of lumber being eaten by the flames. She moves closer, unnoticed by the firefighters, her face growing pink from the heat. Madeline vaguely becomes aware of more sirens and shouts of “Over here” and “Please help!” More help has arrived. The spray of water hisses and snarls as it strikes flames and wood. The barn turns into a living thing then, twisting and groaning until it collapses in on itself, turning to a big heap of charred lumber with sooty farm equipment peeking out here and there.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A young woman must solve the murder of the bookie she took an odd job with as the mob, the police and a killer seek her out in author Steven Max Russo’s “The Debt Collector”.
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The Synopsis
Abigail Barnes is young, pretty and petite, but her looks and size can be deceiving. She’s a tough as nails drifter who makes her living collecting outstanding debts for low-end bookies and loan sharks, Abigail arrives in Hackensack, NJ, from Baltimore, MD, and gets a job collecting for a small-time bookie, who winds up dead.
With a large Wall Street firm moving into town bringing jobs, prestige, and money, the press is soon up in arms about the killing. So the cops to put the squeeze on Ronnie “Slacks” Falcone, a mobster who heads organized crime in the Jersey City area, to help find the killer.
Soon Abigail finds herself being sought by a gang of hoodlums, the mob, and the police. She knows she can’t run and she won’t turn herself in because she has a past that could send her to jail. She has little choice but to try and find out who killed the bookie – without getting killed in the process.
The Review
This was a thrilling and compelling narrative. The author immediately establishes the protagonist as a strong, pull-no-punches woman who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. The way the tables turn, and she must solve this murder, speaks to the strength of the character and the grit of her determination. Her budding friendship with Hector, which begins in the midst of his robbing a gas station and evolves into so much more, showcases the humor and wit that the author infused into the dialogue.
The fast pace of the narrative speaks to crime thriller meets noir storytelling. Gabby’s fearlessness in facing the challenges of this murder case and her becoming hunted by so many different factions involved in this case, both criminals and law enforcement, add to the tense atmosphere and richly developed setting of this story.
The Verdict
Action-packed, thrilling, and entertaining author Steven Max Russo’s “The Debt Collector” is a must-read crime thriller. The adrenaline of the fast-moving parts of this investigation and the steely determination that the protagonist shows in the face of danger at every turn add to the mystery and suspense, with twists and turns that will keep the reader invested in this narrative. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today.
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Steven Max Russo has spent most of his professional career as an advertising copywriter and agency owner. He got interested in writing fiction after one of his short stories was accepted by an online literary journal in 2013. Then he caught the bug and began writing seriously. The publication of his first novel, THIEVES, has garnered praise from renowned crime and thriller authors from around the globe. With a gritty writing style and unique voice, he is quickly winning a legion of new fans. Steve is proud to call New Jersey his home.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
An older couple witnesses a horrific incident, and goes down a rabbit hole that will shock everyone in author Jeff Senior’s “The Itch That Couldn’t Be Scratched”.
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The Synopsis
Ed and Jess are happy in retirement – that is, until their lives are forever changed when they witness a woman take her own life. Why did she do it? The police aren’t investigating and no one seems to care. But Ed and Jess do, and they’re determined to uncover the truth behind her tragic act.
Their investigation soon reveals a pandora’s box that includes war crimes, criminal conspiracies, police corruption and a pervasive need for justice left unfulfilled. Can this ordinary elderly couple succeed where officials refuse to tread? The deeper Ed digs, the more strain it puts on his marriage as Jess grows fearful of the dangers involved.
Yet despite tensions at home and sinister forces working against them, Ed persists, compelled by his conscience to see this through to the end. His good intentions pave an unpredictable path filled with chance encounters, family complications, and life-threatening risks.
Will Ed unravel the mystery in time or will his obsession bring disaster upon himself and those close to him? One thing’s for sure: he has no plans to stop until justice is served.
The Review
This was such a gripping and engaging mystery read. The harrowing experiences and heart-pounding thrills that this couple experiences are jaw-dropping, and the relatability of the protagonists instantly draws the reader in. The shocking inciting incident frames the whole tone of the narrative, and the perfect use of imagery in the author’s writing allows the reader to feel entrenched in this story.
The stand-out moments in this story were the rich character arcs and the powerful themes. The bond and love between Ed and Jess instantly draw the reader further into the book, while the antagonist that develops will have readers eager to see justice brought to light. Yet the theme of obsession versus justice plays perfectly in this book. The atmosphere that is developed speaks to the true crime fans and podcasters of the world, all of whom feel a need to see justice done while still getting in over their heads.
The Verdict
Heartbreaking, thrilling, and entertaining, author Jeff Senior’s “The Itch That Couldn’t Be Scratched” is a must-read mystery novel. The shocking twists and turns that the story gets, the unique characters that populate this world, and the haunting ending will stay with readers long after the book ends. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
I was born and still live in West Yorkshire, England, with my wife of over 52 years. We have two children and two grandchildren.
I spent most of my working life as a freelance writer, initially as a Technical Author in the IT industry and later writing magazine articles and website content. I’ve long had an ambition to write a novel but the need to pay off the mortgage and support my family meant I needed a more reliable source of income.
Now I’m past retirement age, I’ve at last been able to achieve my ambition. The result is my first published novel, “The Itch That Couldn’t Be Scratched”.
It’s a tale of obsession, of one man’s quest to seek justice for a woman he never knew and the effect on his relationship with his wife and family. It also explores how decisions we make, usually with the best of intentions, can have unforeseen and unfortunate consequences.
I’m currently working on my next book, a sequel to the first one. Whether this ever gets published may depend on how the first one goes.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A local bar owner becomes the prime suspect in a murder investigation when the body of a former police officer is found inside her locked bar, and she must launch her own investigation to determine who the real killer is before they begin attacking those closest to her in author Wendy L. Koenig’s “On the Sly: A Sylvia Wilson Mystery”.
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The Synopsis
Sylvia Wilson, a bar owner in St. Louis, Missouri, arrives at work to discover the body of an ex-police officer in her locked bar. The police focus on her as their primary suspect, so she decides to launch her own investigation into the dead man and his accomplices. But when the killer sends her clear messages that she and her loved ones are on his radar, she knows it’s just a matter of time before someone ends up dead.
The Review
This was a tense and gripping thriller. The author did a wonderful job of layering the mystery as the protagonist peeled back each layer slowly and built the heavy atmosphere up for the reader to get lost in. The drama and adrenaline that the author was able to infuse into the narrative helped elevate the shocking turn of events as each clue in the case led to more confrontations for the protagonist, both with the police investigating her and the killer she was investigating in turn.
The core of this novel’s plot came from the rich character dynamics at play and the atmospheric settings that brought St. Louis to life on the page. The way each character played off each other, and the protagonist’s troubled past mirroring that of the killer in a lot of ways, kept the mystery alive and engaging on the page, and allowed the imagery of the author’s writing to keep the story feeling very cinematic in quality, almost as if it could be a drama series on HBO.
The Verdict
Captivating, thought-provoking, and entertaining, author Wendy L. Koenig’s “On the Sly” is a must-read mystery thriller you won’t want to miss. The twists and turns in the narrative, as well as the gripping character growth and heartfelt emotional weight of the protagonist’s past tying into the narrative, will have readers eager for more from this incredible author. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Wendy Koenig is a published author living in New Brunswick, Canada. Her first piece to be printed was a short children’s fiction, Jet’s Stormy Adventure, serialized in The Illinois Horse Network. She attended University of Iowa, honing her craft in their famed summer workshops and writing programs. Since that time, she has published and co-authored numerous books and has won several international awards.
I moved to the front again, checking shadows before dodging into them. Reaching the door, I leaned into it, listening. Silent as a ball of cotton. The key slid smoothly into the lock and turned. I eased open the door. Watched and listened for any movement or noise. Nothing. I slipped my arm in and turned on my lights. The alarm was already off.
Mayhem erupted from my backyard as my dogs snarled and threw themselves at the sliding glass door with angsted fervor. I hadn’t let them out there. Maybe Aaron had stopped by. But the dogs were clearly upset, and they wouldn’t be if it had been my brother who’d visited.
Even if there was a noise, I wouldn’t hear it over the violent ruckus. I sidled into the room. Nothing but my blue furniture and beige carpet. Through the glass door, I saw Ruffles was foaming and standing stock still. When he moved, it was with the stiff-legged, high-toed, movements of a mechanical being. His upper lip was curled completely over his nose and the resulting sound came through the glass like an outboard motor. I’d never seen him so livid, and I honestly wondered how he could breathe like that.
Satan was throwing herself at the door again and again, as if she were a small missile that would weaken and eventually punch through the glass. I could picture the trauma her body experienced every time she made contact. If I didn’t do something fast, she would be covered in bruises, maybe even broken bones.
Something had upset them so much that even my presence didn’t calm them. Moving quickly through my home, I cleared all the rooms; no one was hidden anywhere. Then, I put the safety back on the gun, set it down, and went to focus on my poor dogs. I pulled out the rod I kept in the track. That’s when I noticed the dark brown handprint on the sliding door.
Unless I missed my guess, that was dried blood.
I pulled my cellphone and dialed Eccheli. It took him a long time to answer, and he didn’t sound too happy, but his sleep-cracked voice got animated the moment I explained what had happened.
He said, “Don’t touch anything. We’ll be right there.”
“My dogs might be injured. I need to go out there and check them.” Satan had calmed a little, but she still paced the window in agitation. Ruffles was standing stock still, growling.
He hesitated. “Do you have kitchen gloves?”
“I have painter’s gloves.” Actually, I didn’t. But I did have some of the gloves the police left behind at the bar. Close enough.
“Perfect. Go out to them, don’t let them in. We’ll get there right away.” He disconnected.
I probably was working my way back up Johnson’s ‘person of interest’ list with this middle of the night phone call. Nothing to be done about it.
When he’d said they’d get there right away, he wasn’t kidding. I’d managed to find my gloves, put them on, and had only been outside a few minutes. I was sitting in the soaked grass, trying to calm a frantic Satan so I could inspect her for injuries when my cellphone vibrated against my thigh.
Eccheli asked, “We good to come in?”
“Yeah, we’re out back.”
The minute the front door opened, Satan became all claws and teeth and twisted out of my arms. She threw herself at the glass door, ballistic missile at work again. As for Ruffles, I was used to his snarls, but the intensity of the one he gave at that moment scared me.
I watched Eccheli and Johnson as they entered my house. Saw how he noticed my Colt Python on the counter, pointed it out to Johnson, and how she nodded and pocketed it. I certainly hoped she was going to give that back; it had cost me a pretty penny.
As the two detectives cleared the house, again, flashing lights of an arriving squad car ricocheted off the back fence of the yard. I would probably be as popular in my neighborhood as a scorpion. At least there was no siren.
Mr. and Mrs. Detective returned to the front room. Eccheli leaned close to the glass, studying the handprint. Johnson stared out the glass at me and pointed at the door handle. When I shook my head, she pulled out her phone and called me. “How are the dogs?”
I shouted over the violence of growls and barks. “Ruffles has no injuries, but I can’t get Satan to hold still to check her!”
“Want me to call animal control to tranq her?”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to do that to my dogs, but I didn’t foresee Satan letting me check her any time soon and that bloody handprint scared me. I nodded to the woman staring out at me, feeling somehow like a traitor.
