Discover Mindtwistbooks: Thrillers That Haunt the Mind
Every story holds a secret. Every page turns into something you weren’t ready to find.
Here, reality is fragile, memory is a weapon, and every tale leaves a scar.
Turn the page—if you’re ready to question everything you thought you knew.
MindTwist Books presents psychological thrillers designed to captivate, disturb, and challenge your perception of reality. Each story is a descent into the fragile architecture of the human mind—where memory can’t be trusted, guilt has a voice, and truth hides in plain sight. These aren’t tales meant to comfort. They’re crafted to unnerve you slowly, to make you glance twice at the ordinary and wonder what you’ve overlooked.
Every novel from MindTwist Books is meticulously constructed to unravel hidden fears, twist memory against you, and blur the line between sanity and illusion. The horror isn’t in monsters or shadows—it’s in the quiet realisation that the mind can be the darkest place of all.
These are not just books. They are experiences that linger, haunting the quiet spaces of your thoughts long after the final page. So read carefully. Because once you step inside a MindTwist story, the mind doesn’t always close the door behind you.
Meet the Mind
Step into the fractured worlds created by Manuel S. Romero,
where memory, fear, and identity blur into chilling reality.
Manuel S. Romero writes stories that don’t just disturb—they haunt. His psychological thrillers, available through Mindtwistbooks, aren’t about jump scares or predictable twists. They’re about the slow, steady unravelling of the mind—about identity, memory, guilt—those quiet things that echo long after the last page. The true horror, he believes, doesn’t wear a mask. It looks like us. Talks like us. It is us.
His work explores the darker corners of the human experience—where childhood isn’t innocent, where trauma lingers like smoke, and where truth is rarely the whole story. In novels like 705 and Julia, Romero pulls readers into fragile realities where time fractures, memory lies, and nothing is quite what it seems.
His upcoming novel, The Walk, descends into the depths of human control and compliance—where survival means obeying the rhythm of an experiment you can’t see. After The Walk, Romero returns to the shadows with Madison—a story where grief turns to obsession, and the house that remembers everything refuses to let the living go. You don’t read his books to escape. You read them to remember the things you tried to forget.
He draws inspiration from broken places—abandoned motels, lost towns, flickering lights in rooms that should be empty. From quiet moments where something almost happens. Every story is an invitation to lose yourself—and maybe find a truth you didn’t want to see. His characters don’t just confront monsters. They become them. If you like your thrillers sharp, unsettling, and impossible to shake, you’ve just found your next obsession.
Welcome to the darker side of the mind.
Working Project
You don’t remember moving in. The house remembers you. Coming soon.
MADISON
The new psychological horror from Manuel S. Romero—a story of dementia, inheritance, and a house that remembers more than the people who live in it.
There is a reason no one talks about Grandma Rose’s last months in Millbrook. The whispers. The walls. The way she stared at corners and spoke to people who weren’t there. They wrote it off as dementia, as dying brain and broken memory.
Seventeen-year-old Madison Cross doesn’t have that excuse.
When her family moves into Rose’s crumbling house to outrun debt and start over, Madison tells herself it’s just a building: pipes, paint, a damp basement that smells like old earth and bleach. But some rooms feel already occupied. Some objects don’t stay where she leaves them. And some nights, she wakes up in the hallway holding things she doesn’t remember touching.
Photographs lose faces. Journals lose pages. Her father forgets conversations he swears never happened. Her mother clings to polite optimism like it’s a life raft in black water.
The house isn’t haunted by ghosts. It’s haunted by versions.
Each object on Rose’s shelves is a container—of memory, of guilt, of someone else’s life. Touch the wrong one, and something intimate drains out of you and settles into the house instead. What looks like hereditary madness is just the residue of all the people it has already taken.
Madison isn’t losing her mind.
She’s being rewritten.
Millbrook isn’t a dying town.
It’s an archive.
And the house at the end of the street isn’t where her family came to heal.
It’s where they came to be filed, labelled, and slowly forgotten.
