Choosing your next book to read can be a daunting task, especially with so many options available. Here are a few things to consider when making your decision.
First, think about what type of genre you are in the mood for. Do you want a lighthearted romance or a gripping thriller? Are you in the mood for science fiction or historical fiction? Narrowing down your choices to a specific genre can help you find a book that suits your interests and mood.
Second, consider the length of the book and the time you have available to read it. If you only have a few days to read, you may want to choose a shorter book. On the other hand, if you have plenty of time and are looking for a more immersive experience, you may want to choose a longer book.
Finally, look at reviews and recommendations from trusted sources, such as friends, family, or book blogs. Reading reviews can give you an idea of whether a book is well-written and engaging, while recommendations from people you trust can help you discover books you may not have considered before. Keep in mind that everyone has different tastes, so what works for one person may not work for you.
By considering these factors, you can choose a book that will captivate you and provide an enjoyable reading experience.
Below, we’ve collected some of Next Chapter’s best novels and short story collections over a variety of genres, all available from major book retailers. If you like any of the books below, please take a moment to leave the author a review :) Don’t agree with our choices? Please leave a comment and let us know which book is your favorites!
Books featured on this page
A Game For Assassins (The Redaction Chronicles Book 1) by James Quinn
Bronze Magic (The Sorcerer's Oath Book 1) by Jennifer Ealey
Unflinching (Unflinching Book 1) by Stuart G. Yates
The Ark by Christopher Coates
Book excerpt
James Cowan was, by far, the most knowledgeable person when it came to the inner workings of the sleep program. Fourteen years before, he signed on to assist Dr. Henry Sullivan, who was the world's leading expert in the concept of long-term sleep programs at the time.
Over the years, they'd had many successes and only minimal failures. Eventually, their experiments led to a need to progress from animal experiments to placing humans in a sleep state for long durations. The original idea had been to use this technology for lengthy space exploration. As the project progressed, other suggestions for the technology were discovered, including possibly putting a person to sleep until a cure for a specific disease they were afflicted with could be found.
The subject of the first human experiment had been a graduate student named Randy Rominski. He and eight other students answered an ad, offering them one thousand dollars to take part in an unusual sleep experiment. After physical and psychological examinations were complete, Randy was selected, and the test began.
This first human experiment involved a simple sleep capsule and a crude version of the sleep-inducing formula (SIF) which was continuously infused into the sleeper's body through IV lines. A unique mix of gasses was administered by face mask, while the subject remained asleep. The breathing gas, in conjunction with the SIF formula, created what was known as the Sleep Effect. During this experiment, continual monitoring and adjustments to the dosage of SIF were required. A physician or specially trained nurse needed to be on duty twenty-four hours a day, prepared to make the necessary adjustments. That first human experiment lasted two weeks and was considered by most to be a success, even though it took almost twelve hours for the young volunteer to regain consciousness.
A Game For Assassins (The Redaction Chronicles Book 1) by James Quinn
Book excerpt
Was he able to handle the murder of seven people, seven people who made up a Russian intelligence network?
Oh, he was more than capable. In his time he had caused – either directly or indirectly – the deaths of more than a dozen people, for just as some people are born to be academics, surgeons or musicians of the highest order, so the Catalan was a natural in the art of murder. He had, after all, spent half his life engaged in the dangerous world of espionage, criminality and professional terrorism.
Juan Raul Marquez –aka the Catalan; the man from Luxembourg; the Killer – had been born forty-five years earlier in the Catalonian region of Northern Spain. His affluent family background had been a melting pot of Catalan extremism, and while the political firebrand of his youth had long since left him, what had remained was the wisdom and experience of the born survivor. The life blood of intrigue coursed through his veins, and like all natural survivors who have walked through the constantly shifting sands of the secret world, he played the game superbly.
As a young man he had travelled extensively around Europe, affiliating himself with all manner of revolutionary and counter-revolutionary groups. He was like many of his generation, outwardly wealthy, cultured but still struggling with his fortunate place in the world. He had so much, while many had so little.
Spine Chillers by Mark L’Estrange
Book excerpt
Conrad Vorst slammed the door of his cottage shut with such force it caused the wood to shudder within its frame.
His poor young wife Inga sat up with a start. As was her habit, she had fallen asleep by the fire waiting for her husband to return from his meeting. Whenever Conrad and the Brotherhood met, she knew that there was a good chance he would not return home until way past dinner time.
Conrad was a Town Elder, and much respected throughout the community by those of a certain persuasion. At sixty-five he still had a straight back and an air of authority which garnered him, if not respect, then at least fear from those whose paths he crossed.
His position gave him immense power which, if truth be known, he secretly relished, although he would be the first to deny it if ever anyone had the temerity to ask him.
For above all else, Conrad considered himself to be a pious individual. Staunchly religious to the point of fervour, and able to quote the bible far better than even their parish priest.
Conrad’s first wife had died in mysterious circumstances while he was away on business for the state. It was alleged that he returned home to find her lifeless body lying prostrate at the bottom of the stairs.
The Minister's Wife by John Anthony Miller
Book excerpt
Abigail and Solomon St. Clair had arrived at the rectory midafternoon. A modest two-story brick building with green windows and shutters, it sat on the corner of a narrow lane dominated by the Anglican Church, where Solomon would serve as pastor. The wagons that carried their personal belongings—clothes, books, linens, and collectables—had been quickly offloaded, books placed on shelves, fresh linens put on the beds, clothes stored in wardrobes and dressers. Much of the furniture remained in the rectory regardless of the pastor, property of the church. What little the St. Clairs had brought only served to compliment what was already there.
A cozy study next to the kitchen contained a desk, two leather chairs, and a tiny table. Solomon sat and rubbed his chin, intensely focused. Upcoming sermons were far from his mind. He had a delicate problem to solve.
Abigail eyed him closely, a chessboard on the table between them. With an intellect that surpassed her husband’s, regardless of his brilliance, she usually beat him in chess, as well as many other pursuits. She now had him trapped, as she normally did, and he desperately sought to save his queen. Sometimes a bit cocky, it seemed he thought he had a solution. But he didn’t.
She hid a smile. “Take your time,” she said. “Not that it will help you.”
He chuckled. “I refuse to let you win three games in a row.”
Bronze Magic (The Sorcerer's Oath Book 1) by Jennifer Ealey
Book excerpt
As soon as he had re-oriented himself in the quiet of the tailor’s shop, Tarkyn crossed to the door and turned the handle. The handle turned, but the door did not give when he pulled or pushed it.
“Blast. It’s locked, of course. And no doubt the tailor has the key on his person.” Tarkyn threw his hands up, “Now what?”
After a few moments of frustration, it occurred to him that there might be another exit. Sure enough, a sturdy wooden door, bolted on the inside, led into a back alley. Tarkyn cautiously drew back the bolt, opened the door and peered out into the darkness. This established little more than the fact that no one was standing beside the door waiting to pounce on him. Taking his chances he slipped out into the alleyway, pulled the door behind him and waited for his eyes to adjust. The alley was in deep shadow; the buildings too high to admit the moonlight and no streetlamp nearby to cast away the darkness. He stood with his back to the door, listening. Off to his left, he could faintly hear the noise of the crowd gathered at the remains of the Great Hall. With his hand trailing against the alley wall for guidance, he headed to his right.
He crept along until the alley intersected a small road. Here he took a left and then a right hand turn into another alley that led him all the time further from the sounds of the crowds and away from the centre of the city. This was, in fact, the sum total of his plan at this stage; to reach the edge of the city and from there, to get well away from houses and people. Without having thought it through, Tarkyn had a vague idea that the further from Tormadell he went, the less likely people would be to recognise him or to have heard what had happened tonight.
Where The Wind Blows by Simone Beaudelaire
Book excerpt
Brooke took a bite of her sandwich, searching YouTube for recordings of Kenneth singing. She found a student recital and clicked on it, relaxing to the sound of his gorgeous voice.
Inside her desk, her cell phone began to chime.
Brooke sighed, paused the music and went digging for it, catching it just after the ringing stopped. Glancing at the screen, she realized it was her sister, so she quickly pressed the button to return the call. Autumn answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Sis,” Brooke said. “Sorry about the delay. My phone was in my desk.”
“I figured,” her sister replied, and Brooke could practically see her tossing her long mane of thick blond hair over her shoulder. “That’s why I didn’t go anywhere. I know your schedule pretty well by now.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” Brooke agreed. “So, what’s up, Sis?”
“Nothing much with me. Work. Spending time with Dad and River, dating a bit here and there but nothing serious. However, I had a feeling I needed to call you because something important had changed, so mainly I called to ask what’s up with you?”
“Huh.” Brooke took another bite of her sandwich, savoring the flavor of ham, cheddar and tomatoes. Psychic sister strikes again. Nothing has changed though. She swallowed. “I went to the opera last night.”
“On a date?” Autumn asked hopefully.
“With my students,” Brooke replied. “They really enjoyed it, or so they said. I know I did. I’m lucky to live in a city where so much incredible music is happening.”
“There’s music in Texas too,” Autumn pointed out, sounding deflated. You know you can do something other than work once in a while, right?”
Unflinching (Unflinching Book 1) by Stuart G. Yates
Book excerpt
He didn’t stop riding until he reached a mountain range, a narrow trail taking him high up into its interior, discovering a cave where he camped, fed his horse and stretched himself out to sleep.
The sun dropped low behind the horizon. Across the vast sky a single eagle swooped, its plaintive call a mirror to the stark loneliness of the mountains. Anything that lived here scratched out a sorry existence. The arid land was hard, unrelenting, the lack of rain a killer. He'd seen it on the ride, prairie dogs and coyotes, even birds sometimes, lying in tangled heaps, bodies twisted and blackened, baked hard by the heat.
He'd filled two canteens with water back at the town, and barely half of one still held liquid inside. If he didn't find another town, farm or homestead soon to replenish his dwindling supplies, he'd be just another dried up corpse out on the prairie. He feared most for his horse. If she succumbed, his chances of survival would be virtually nil.
Damn this land and damn this assignment. It would have been better to travel across to San Francisco, make his base there, get properly supplied, drum up some help. Out here, alone, he was vulnerable to any number of would-be attackers, human and animal. He checked his pockets. He had five cartridges left for his new carbine. Five. If a posse of twelve came after him, how many could he feasibly pick off before they surrounded and dangled his neck from the nearest tree?
Given such a scenario, he mused, casting an eye across the plain, there wasn't a single tree in sight. A bullet in the brain might serve equally as well, before they propped his body up against a cliff face with a sign around his neck, 'Horse thief and killer'. Great end to an otherwise mediocre career. He sighed, stretched his arms high above his head and decided from now on he would travel through the night, when it was cooler. He looked at his horse. She too, would fare better in the coolness of the night. And if he came across a homestead, then he'd camp and wait until morning, for he did not wish to spook any people he might meet. If he came across anything. In this vast, blighted land, he may just as easily find nothing at all. He sighed, pulled his blanket tight around his throat and tried to sleep.
There we have it: some of the best books from Next Chapter in 03/2023. We hope you enjoy the stories - and if you do, please leave a comment below, or a review in Goodreads or your favorite store. We’d love to hear from you!
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