The best psychological thriller books from Next Chapter [March 2023]
Psychological thriller books are a subgenre of suspenseful novels that focus on the inner workings of the human mind. These stories often feature unreliable narrators, intricate plot twists, and a deep exploration of the characters' psychological motivations. The aim of psychological thrillers is to keep the readers on the edge of their seats, making them question their assumptions and keeping them guessing until the very end.
This genre is known for suspenseful plots, complex characters, and exploration of the human psyche. Whether you're a fan of mysteries or just love a good page-turner, psychological thrillers are sure to keep you on the edge of your seat.
On this page, we’ve collected some of the best psychological thriller books from Next Chapter authors, all available from major online bookstores including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Rakuten Kobo and Google Books.
We hope you enjoy the stories on this page - and if you do, please don’t forget to leave the author a review! Don’t agree with our choices? Please leave a comment below and let us know which psychological thriller is your favorite :)
Books featured on this page
Professor Law by Jonathan D. Rosen & Amin Nasser
Exit Strategy by F.B. Robinson
Book excerpt
Roderick Malone was on a roll. Though his ego would never allow such an admission, he’d gotten lucky—like win-the-lottery-two days-in-a-row-lucky. The Roman philosopher Seneca once said, “luck is where opportunity meets preparation,” but in Roderick’s world it was, “where greed meets haste—or ignorance—or arrogance—or simply where greed meets more greed.”
Roderick didn’t consider himself a con man, though in his early days he’d worked schemes simply to attain the basics: a hot meal, a place to sleep, or a suit of clothes. Those were his dark days, when his schemes were pedestrian, before he’d discovered the true depth of his talent. But even back then, he’d never been caught and along the way, he had refined his skills.
Now he viewed himself as simply an opportunist—a hybrid money manager, property developer, and talent agent rolled into one. Roderick Malone Investments. Those words, bold black in Broadway font, were stenciled onto the amber-colored, pebbled-grain glass on the top half of his office door. What the title failed to convey: the investments were one-hundred percent synthetic.
Professor Law by Jonathan D. Rosen & Amin Nasser
Book excerpt
Detective Carlos Garcia got out of the car and wiped the sweat off his brow. He was slightly overweight but handsome, with jet black hair and a charming smile. Carlos was a product and success story of Miami Dade County. His parents had moved to Miami from Cuba when Carlos was only ten. Carlos worked his way through college and went on to earn his master’s in forensic psychology. He joined the police force and moved up the ranks quickly. It was not without its challenges, given the state of the police department, which was known for corruption and misdeeds. But Carlos was known for his hard work and integrity. Unlike many of his colleagues, he kept his nose clean. He stayed away from unprincipled officers and focused on his own cases and problems. This was his tenth year working as a homicide detective.
Carlos adjusted his aviator sunglasses and looked up at the blue sky. The South Florida sun was not always conducive to wearing a black suit. Miami was always hot, and his girth made it difficult to be outside too long. He grunted as he made his way into the high-rise building on North Miami Beach.
Savage Brooklyn by Andy Rausch
Book excerpt
Joe woke up in the hospital with his right eye covered by bandages. There were no doctors in the room, no one sitting with him. He was alone and was hooked to I.V.s and a number of machines, one of which was giving him blood. He blinked his good eye, trying to figure out where he was and how he'd gotten here. And then he remembered the creature. That hideous, grotesque beast.
He looked around. What the fuck?
He screamed. “Hey! Hey! Is anybody here?”
There was no answer, and he started to panic. Now he realized his eye was covered, and he became even more anxious.
“What is this?!” he screamed. “Help! Someone!”
But there was no answer. He was still shaken from the attack, although he had no idea how long ago that had been. Looking at his surroundings, this was obviously a hospital room. How long had he been here? There was no way to know.
He screamed a couple more times, but there was no response. He tried to calm himself. If this was a hospital, there had to be a way to contact the nurses' station. He looked down by his side and saw a corded controller with a call button beside his arm. He pulled it up and pushed the button.
A Brother's Obsession by Christopher Coates
Book excerpt
Evan Brown fought to control his rage as he drove. His throat felt raw, and his hands hurt from pounding them on the steering wheel as he screamed in frustration. He’d been infuriated since heading back to his car in the parking lot at the hiking trail.
He’d spent months perfecting his plans until he was sure he had everything accounted for. This morning he’d been ready, and then it had all fallen apart.
Taking the two lives had calmed his urge but only to a degree. As with the animals he’d experimented on, sitting back and watching them gasping for their final breath was what he needed to feel at peace. Today should’ve been his chance with an actual human subject.
Part of him was furious the female jogger had chosen that moment to come down the trail. One minute more, and he would’ve been done. The other part of him suspected her arrival didn’t change the outcome much. His initial victim had barely been breathing before the woman arrived. His plan might have still been a failure.
Throughout the planning, he’d been concerned about using carfentanil because of how potent it was. But he needed his targets to go down quickly. He couldn’t afford even a slim chance that they might get away.
Aggravated Momentum by Didi Oviatt
Book excerpt
“I'm really sorry I have to leave like this.” Refusing to look into Vincent’s excited eyes, I give my apologies to the table.
“No problem, really.” He replies with a stomach-churning grin. “Can I call you sometime? I’d love to do this again if you’re up for it.”
I stumble over myself, “I...um...yeah.”
The date has been great so far. After calming myself, I quickly decide that his odd behavior might have been caused by lack of understanding. Against my better judgment, I take the pen he has ready for me. I scribble my number on a cheap napkin and slide it in his direction. Without another word, I turn away. I can feel his eyes piercing my backside like daggers. An uncomfortable chill slides down my spine. I can hear his low, sensual voice over my shoulder. It follows me as I walk away from the table.
“Good luck with your emergency,” he whispers.
Black Sparrow by A.J. Griffiths-Jones
Book excerpt
Smoothing out the white paper napkin, I slide it alongside my unopened newspaper so that the edges are almost touching. That’s how I like things; neat, tidy, aligned. It annoys me when the stewardess reappears and moves it back to its original place, putting a glass of orange juice on top. The bottom of the glass is wet and causes a yellowy circle to form on the napkin. I look up and my eyes connect with the air hostess just long enough for me to give a knowing look; not resentful, just reproachful.
I wait for her to move along to the row behind me, the rustle of her blue polyester suit irritatingly close. As I glance down, I see that she has shapely legs, but they appear a rather unnatural hue. I’ve often wondered why airlines insist upon their female members of staff wearing those diabolical ‘American Tan’ tights, a most unrealistic shade of flesh, as unflattering as a pensioner in a bikini. I can only take solace in the gratifying knowledge that this will be my last ‘business’ trip. Thankfully, the seats across from me remain unoccupied and I relax slightly. A trip is far more endurable if one is allowed to keep one’s affairs private from roving eyes.
“Is everything alright, sir?”
Damn and blast it, she’s turned back towards me.
I fake a smile and grit my teeth. “Yes, dear girl, perfectly satisfactory, thank you.”
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” she presses, leaning in to look at me. “Some nuts, perhaps?”
“I’m fine,” I grunt, folding my hands over my stomach. “Thank you for asking.”
Despite my irritation, etiquette has taught me to be polite and to avoid confrontation. In an ideal world, I would converse readily with anyone who might care to listen, but the sad fact of the matter is, I’m not entirely sure that I even like company any more.
Between Dreams and Nightmares by David P. Warren
Book excerpt
Amanda drove home to find Brian already there. He sat in the living room with his tie loosened, watching a baseball game and nursing a drink. “I thought you were going to be late,” she said, doing her best to sound surprised.
“My meeting canceled at the last minute.”
‘Meeting’ was an interesting euphemism for the opportunity to sleep with another woman; another woman she could even visualize naked. She tried not to show her anger. “Well, good. Did you eat?”
“No, not yet.”
“We’ve still got some of the chicken I cooked yesterday. I’ll make a salad for us. You can help by taking out the trash and then cutting the chicken.”
“Okay.”
Amanda was angry and she felt the need to provoke him to find out how far he would go to keep lying to her.
“So, what’s new?” she asked.
He picked up the trash and started to walk towards the back door. “Nothing,” he replied, summarily.
She found herself glaring at him. “Nothing new at work? Nothing new with anyone in your life? Nothing new in your business opportunities?”
He stopped and stared at her. “What’s all this about?”
She shook her head. “It’s called communication and you don’t do it.” She could hear the annoyance in her voice.
“Wow. A little angry, are we?” That one did it. She stared at him coldly but said nothing. “There’s something really bothering you,” he said.
“Is there something that you think you should tell me?” she asked, holding his eyes with hers.
“No, not that I can think of,” Brian replied, in surprised and innocent tones.
Woman in the Woods by Phillip Tomasso
Book excerpt
Jeremy opened his eyes. Darkness surrounded him. Everything had been a dream. All of it. He knew the smell. The air conditioner was on and antiseptic permeated the room.
St. Mary’s?
He sat up, put a hand to his head, but it didn’t stop the slow spin of the room. Dizzy, he stood up, reached out and touched a wall for balance.
It was wrong. He was wrong. This wasn’t St. Mary’s.
He bent toward the window. Lightning flashed.
In the glass reflection he saw his mother standing behind him. Blood covered half of her face. He turned to face her, his back against the window.
The room was pitch black. He couldn’t see the bed he’d just climbed out of, until a second bolt of lightning lit the world behind him. His mother stood nose to nose. Her mouth wide open. Maggots spilled out as her tongue protruded and she screamed . . .
. . . Jeremy sprang up in bed. Eyes wide.
He was covered in a cold sweat, his shirt sticking to his skin. Clapping a hand over his heart, he took in his surroundings.
The blue walls. His guitar case leaned against wall.
Breathing short, shallow breaths he picked up the glass of water. The ice had melted. A wet ring was on the cork of the coaster. His hand trembled. Taking only a tentative sip, Jeremy did his best to control the panic attack he felt coming on.
It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare.
The Cabin Sessions by Isobel Blackthorn
Book excerpt
There’s a lone loose thread in my pink quilted bedspread. I can’t help picking at it, worrying it free. As the stitching unravels I desist, and smoothing out the satin fabric, I sit up. Facing me is my own image, reflected in the winged mirror of my white-painted dressing table. I look to the row of dolls lined up on the high shelf above, legs dangling. The dolls of my childhood, staring straight ahead with their big doll eyes. In the centre is the odd one out, a rag doll, with woollen hair in bunches, a floppy doll leaning on the shoulder of the big mamma on its right.
Good or bad, omens come in peculiar ways. I wonder what the rag doll would think about that. This omen is surely good; my first day back and I’ve achieved a new personal best. All the better for I had not been expecting to manage so long after the labours of yesterday.
There’d been the packing, and then the moving and the goodbyes. I felt no sadness bidding farewell to the house share, tired as I was of petty nonsenses: whose dishes were still in the sink; who was hogging the bathroom, again. Always me. There’s only so much blaming and nagging a person can take and the women in question shall remain locked from my heart as though strangers.
It is true that I spend long periods in the bath, for where else am I to train! Holding one’s breath in the air of a room or outdoors isn’t the same. It’s a question of focus. The very act of submergence intensifies the experience, rendering it far more confronting. It’s my sport and today I achieved a spectacular result.
Breath holding may seem an unusual pastime, especially for a non free diver like me, but so is bungee jumping in my view, a pursuit my housemates raved about after a holiday overseas. Leaping off a bridge with a rubber band tied round your middle—where’s the challenge in that? You bounce around a few times and someone in a boat comes along and unties you.
The Assassin Awakens by Christopher Coates
Book excerpt
Tasha Salen drove her nearly new electric blue Audi Sports Coupe down the highway. Even though she was heading into an awkward situation, she was still riding the wave of excitement and euphoria, which started in the afternoon four days ago. Her husband and co-workers had all noticed the change. One friend said she seemed like she’d won the lottery the way her mood had changed.
She thought back to when this all began. Ten days ago, after the late pizza dinner with Bethany, she went home. Tasha had been stunned but not appalled by what Bethany had hinted at. She cared about the Braxtons and agreed that their situation needed to come to a close. She was bothered that Bethany was trying to use her earlier sacrifice to push Tasha into this plan. But Bethany was right. Tasha owed her and could never say no.
The following day, Tasha sent a single text message to Bethany. It read “OK.”
Two days later, Tasha walked to the street to get her mail, and there was a small, sealed manila envelope in her mailbox. There was no writing on it.
Taking it back in the house, she opened the envelope and found a shiny brass-colored key. It looked like it went to a deadbolt. The teeth were sharp to the touch, indicating that the key had recently been made. There was no note with it.
That evening she got a text from Bethany, “Had a good time at dinner. You’re right; we need to get together again. What’s your schedule this week? I was thinking lunch would work for me.”
Tasha replied, “I have Wednesday and Friday off. Lunch works for me.”
“Great, how about Friday at 1 pm?”
Agreeing, Tasha replied with a thumbs-up emoji.
Returning her focus to the present and her driving, Tasha took the exit, drove half a mile, and arrived at the Sandy Lake Funeral Home. Exiting the car, she headed inside. The crowd was large, and Tasha worked her way to the guest book, signed in, and then looked for the family. She saw Mrs. Braxton near the casket and went to her.
There you go: the best psychological thriller books from Next Chapter in 03/2023. If you enjoy one of the books above, please take a moment to leave a comment below, or a review in Goodreads or your favorite store. We’d love to hear from you :)
Praesent id libero id metus varius consectetur ac eget diam. Nulla felis nunc, consequat laoreet lacus id.