New York City Detective Tristan Andretti crosses swords with deadly enemies in the hardest puzzle of his career.
With a beautiful fiancée and a promising, lucrative career in law enforcement, Detective Tristin Andretti was living the American dream. But like all dreams, it will come to end sooner or later. Only in his case, it ended in a nightmare when the unexpected happened, and he lost it all when a horrifying act of violence compels him to leave the force with an ashy, bitter taste in his mouth.
With his life crashing down around him, Tristin finds himself distracted both by his new client, Lucia Trenta—a spoiled, up-and-coming pop star with a skewed, narcissistic view of the world—and a dangerous situation that puts her life in danger.
Bradley Campbell is a tattooed sci-fi enthusiast, hopeless romantic, fiction author, and self-proclaimed geek who is on a lifelong mission to inspire his readers through the infinite power of suspenseful, paranormal, dramatic, and oftentimes love-infused storytelling. In addition to being a multifaceted word weaver with a lifetime passion for creative expression, he has had the opportunity to work as a motorcycle mechanic, lawyer assistant, certified HVAC technician, and fitness model, to name a few. He even crafts his own music and roleplay writes. When he doesn’t have a pen in hand or isn’t binge-watching his favorite TV shows (i.e. Luther and Misfits) on his trusty iPad, you will probably find Bradley spending some quality time with his two awesome children who inspire him every single day. Connect with Bradley Campbell on instagram @420Alreadyperfect
New York City Detective Tristan Andretti is engaged and in a career that puts him in the crossfire of a dangerous man with rainbow hair. After that encounter, his world changes and maybe not for the better. We have a time jump that introduces us to a pop star dealing with issues related to an accident and her fame. crosses swords with deadly enemies in the hardest puzzle of his career. The first 7 chapters were engaging and pulled me into the story. However, the story lost me a bit after chapter 8. I could not connect with the new characters or the situation. I think I was waiting for the suspense and danger to show itself. I am assuming that will come about in the second installment. From a technical standpoint, the story was structured and well-written with no errors. The characters were developed and the plot or setup was clear. If the Author brings the suspense and danger referenced in the synopsis or description, I think book 2 will be very entertaining.
Binge Reviewing Greatest Short Fiction: Standalone and Anthologies
Bradley Campbell’s Antisocial is one of those tales that reads like someone pressing pause on the cultural noise around us and saying, “Okay, let’s actually think for a second.” It’s smart, it’s bold, and it has that rare quality of being analytical without feeling like homework.
Campbell dives into the modern landscape of offense, outrage, identity, and conflict with a tone that’s almost disarmingly calm, like he’s determined to map the terrain rather than judge it.
The magic of the story is how clear-headed it is. Campbell and Manning’s “conflict theories” can sound intimidating in summary — dignity cultures, honour cultures, victimhood cultures — but in the story itself, they feel surprisingly accessible. You don’t get that heavy academic fog that kills the vibe. Instead, you get this clean, steady illumination of how social norms shift, how people learn to signal harm, and how the very language of moral injury evolves across generations.
Reading it feels like your brain is doing stretches. You start recognizing patterns in everyday interactions — social media spats, campus debates, moral posturing — and suddenly the whole landscape seems less chaotic. Not less emotional, not less urgent, but more decodable. And that’s the strength: Campbell gives you lenses, not prescriptions.
There’s also something quietly empathetic in how he handles modern sensitivities. He never mocks the emotional intensity of online culture or dismisses the lived reality behind moral claims. Instead, he tries to understand why these shifts are happening now, and what emotional incentives drive them. The tone is observational, not accusatory, which makes the book feel far more trustworthy.
What stands out personally is how contemporary the story feels without being reactionary. Campbell doesn’t rant about “kids these days.” He doesn’t glorify the past. He just… observes, with a kind of anthropological patience. And in a moment where every opinion online arrives pre-loaded with urgency and alarm, that restraint feels almost radical.
You walk away with a sharper sense of how moral frameworks shape behaviour, how public narratives create new forms of status, and how the vocabulary of harm can become a cultural negotiation space. Even if you disagree with parts of the argument, it leaves you thinking in a way that feels elongated and refreshed. It’s a book that makes you more aware, not more anxious.