Devi Nair

The Cursed Writer is a cozy mystery with a strong Hound of Baskerville vibe, perfect for Sherlock Holmes fans. Holly Hepburn brings classic detective energy to Harriet ‘Harry’ White, a sharp and determined protagonist, who handles a gripping investigation with the finesse of Sherlock Holmes.

Set in 1930s London, the novel beautifully evokes the era’s atmosphere, while offering an empowering outlook on women’s roles through Harry’s confident and resourceful character. The plot maintains a steady pace with clever deductions and well-crafted suspense. As the second book in the Baker Street Mystery series, The Cursed Writer builds on the first installment and sets the stage for a promising third.

A special highlight of the audiobook is Sophie Roberts’ narration. Her authentic old English accent vividly brings to life the setting from London’s bustling streets to the long-forgotten villages and outskirts. Her voice enriches the immersive experience of this classic detective tale.

Overall, this book is a rewarding read (and listen, if you are an audiobook lover like me) for cozy mystery lovers who enjoy clever plots, engaging characters, and atmospheric storytelling. Holly Hepburn is an amazing talent in the genre, and with narrators like Sophie Roberts bringing her work to life, the series promises to captivate fans for years to come.

I started this one a little skeptical—after all, the Goodreads chatter had some readers absolutely roasting it. But to my surprise, I found myself still turning the pages at 2 a.m., utterly hooked, hunched over the pages, half horrified and half gleeful at just how spectacularly messy this family drama gets. There’s a wicked kind of satisfaction in watching a group of people who totally deserve each other fall apart piece by piece (or in this case, body by body). The cover’s chilling rhyme “On the first day of Christmas, my in-laws gave to me, a body in the snow and a motive or three” sets the tone for a wickedly funny, murderous ride. Bache’s humor transforms 12 grim murders into something bizarrely cozy, like laughing through a horror movie. The dysfunctional extended family is a chaotic masterpiece, their venom making every demise a twisted thrill.

At the heart of the mayhem sits Olivia, Miles, Martha, and Callum—a family unit I rooted for from the very first chapter. They’re flawed, quirky, and not above eye-rolling at one another, but their devotion absolutely shines through. You’ll root for them as they navigate a holiday gone homicidally wrong. I was obsessed with guessing the killer, my theories bouncing all over the place, but I did not see that ending coming! The murderer’s reveal is a jaw-dropping masterstroke, blindsiding me in the best way.

What really makes this book sing, though, is Natasha Bache’s narrative style. She manages to take the most dysfunctional family dynamics and weave them with perfectly timed humor. Yes, the story is jet-black dark (we’re talking 12 murders!), but it somehow feels cozy because her wit drops in exactly when it’s needed. Mark October 9, 2025, for a Christmas thriller that’s equal parts hilarious and shocking—add it to your TBR!

Another beautiful entry into the mesmerizing realm of dreams, this book expands on the mythology of the store and its quirky departments, while weaving in deeply human themes. With Sandy Joosun Lee’s seamless translation from Korean to English, Lee Mi-Ye crafts a world so vivid you’ll start questioning your own dreams—seriously, are they this organized?

Penny’s journey as a dream designer is both heartwarming and thought-provoking, blending workplace chaos with delicate nods to mental health. What struck me most is how subtly Lee Mi-Ye threads in everyday mental health struggles—loneliness, self-doubt, burnout—and offers moments of quiet resolution. It never feels heavy-handed; just enough to nudge the reader to reflect on their own connections and perhaps notice what their loved ones might be silently carrying. The way the story tiptoes around heavier themes, like anxiety or grief, without preaching, is pure magic. You’re chuckling at the absurdity of a dream order one minute, then quietly reflecting on a poignant line the next.

The imaginative “workplace drama” side of the story also shines—after all, this is a department store, even if it sells dreams. Watching the staff puzzle through unusual orders, inefficiencies, and crises that can only exist in a dream economy was both clever and unexpectedly relatable. Sometimes the whimsical solutions feel like little parables in themselves. Shannon Tyo’s narration is a game-changer for the audiobook. Her voice breathes distinct personalities into each character, making the dream store’s quirky staff feel like old friends. The pacing is dreamy (pun intended), so much so that it feels almost like listening to a cast performance rather than a solo narration. She gives the whimsical and the heartfelt equal weight, which is exactly what this story demands.

That moment when a character’s dream design clicked into place? I was grinning like I’d crafted it myself. This book is a gentle reminder to check in on those we love and think outside the box.

Death on the Island has an intriguing premise, a murder among diplomats on a remote Icelandic island, with the ambassador’s wife drawn into the investigation.

There are strengths here. The setting is beautifully atmospheric, and Eliza Reid clearly knows and loves Iceland. The potential for a layered mystery is definitely present.

However, the story’s structure didn’t work for me. The timeline jumps back and forth repeatedly: before the first murder, after it, then before the next, and so on. While this nonlinear format can build suspense, in this case, it felt disorienting and stopped the momentum rather than enhancing it.

Character development was another area that left me wanting. With so many POVs, the voices often blurred together, making it hard to really connect. The ambassador’s wife, who seemed like a central figure at first, gradually faded into the background as the focus shifted around.

In a talk I recently attended, Eliza Reid mentioned this book is part of a planned series, with more installments expected. However, I didn’t get a strong sense of where the story or characters might go next, or a clear hook that made me eager for a follow-up.

I really wanted to like this more. The concept is compelling and the ingredients for a solid mystery are there, but they just didn’t quite come together for me.

I went into this one expecting something along the lines of Murder in Tinseltown or A Most Puzzling Murder—a clever, cozy-style puzzle mystery. Instead, I stumbled into a very different beast: meta-detective fiction, a term new to me and clearly not my style.

This book is like a funhouse mirror, reflecting endless layers of “who’s solving what?” The plot zigzagged wildly—new players, shifting motives, rules that seemed to rewrite themselves. I wanted to sink into a juicy whodunit, but I felt like I was chasing my own tail, lost in a narrative that kept outsmarting itself. The story kept twisting and changing directions so many times that I found it difficult to follow or stay engaged. Rather than enjoying the puzzle, I felt increasingly lost and disconnected.

I hung on for a while, hoping for a breadcrumb trail to follow, but the constant curveballs left me exhausted. By the midpoint, I was torn: keep wrestling with a story that felt like a mental obstacle course or jump ship for something that didn’t demand a PhD in detective-ception. I chose to DNF, a rare move for me, but I needed a mystery that didn’t feel like it was gaslighting me. Meta-detective fiction might be a thrill for some, but it’s not my scene.

In a world where books are being banned in the name of “protecting young minds,” Kirsten Miller delivers a hilarious and biting response with heart, humor, and unforgettable characters.

Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books took me by surprise in the best way. I went in expecting a thoughtful take on censorship, but I didn’t expect to laugh so much along the way. Miller has managed to craft a story that’s genuinely funny while tackling deeply serious issues like racism, abuse of power, and the erasure of essential histories.

The cast is brilliantly done. The self-important village fool, hate-spewing gossips, a retired judge with a spine of steel, a corrupt politician hiding a criminal past, and a group of teens fighting for a more inclusive and compassionate community. The next generation stole my heart, aware of differing sexualities, ideologies, and perspectives, but united in wanting a better world.

Yes, the audiobook ran long at over 11 hours, and some scenes felt unnecessarily drawn out. But the core message? Spot on. Books like The Diary of Anne Frank and Beloved being banned is not protection. It’s denial. And the story calls that out with humor and heart.

I came for the promise of holiday coziness: Christmas lights on palm trees, ghostly shenanigans, and Maureen and Finn navigating the holiday rush with a side of supernatural chaos. What surprised me was how seamlessly the murder mystery wove its way through the festivities. Perry’s small-town Haven is endearing—a little sun-drenched, a little spooky, and full of oddball characters (alive and otherwise) who make every page pop. The parade of lovable ghosts feels like a warm hug, even when things get dicey. C.S.E. Cooney adds another layer of magic to the narration by bringing Maureen and the folks to life.

The pacing kept me hooked, moving between Maureen’s attempts to save her inn and the unraveling threads of both a new and an old murder. The setting is dripping with cozy, Gulf Coast charm, and by the end, I wanted to book a holiday at Haven House—even if it is haunted. The rapport between Maureen and her ghostly companions (plus her ever-faithful Finn) brings big heart, and while the whodunit isn’t the trickiest, the journey is the real treat. You’ll laugh at the ghosts sabotaging dinner, cheer for Maureen’s tenacity, and maybe even tear up at moments of unexpected connection.

I am absolutely in love with the way Rosanne Limoncelli brought some of my favorite mystery writers to life—especially Dame Agatha Christie (gosh, I would die to meet her! Also, that's the only now that I can meet her). This one hits that catnip blend of historical homage and brisk whodunit, and it nails the assignment: the four queens feel distinct without lapsing into caricature, and their sleuthing styles complement Wyles’s cool, procedural precision. Agatha Christie’s sharp wit dances alongside Dorothy L. Sayers’ intellect, while Ngaio Marsh and Margery Allingham shine with their own flair. DCI Lilian Wyles, a real-life Scotland Yard trailblazer, steals scenes with her fierce brilliance, grounding the fiction in awe-inspiring history.

The setup is deliciously golden-age: country estate, morning-after murder, a suspect pool steeped in status and scandal—and the narrative balances clue-laying with character work so the reveals feel earned rather than engineered. The Heathcote family’s depth kept me glued, their dynamics weaving seamlessly into a plot that hums with World War II’s undercurrents, Hitler’s propaganda subtly twisting London’s “Barons” in ways that gave me chills. The way Limoncelli wove propaganda’s insidious reach into this cozy mystery? Absolute brilliance.

Elizabeth Knowelden’s narration is a triumph, each voice distinct and dripping with personality, elevating every twist. She gave each character the personality and presence they deserved, making the listening experience even more magical. I saw a Goodreads review mention that the story felt slow, but I couldn’t disagree more. For me, the pacing was perfect—steady, engaging, and richly layered from start to finish.

If you think you know where this series is headed, think again. Accomplice to the Villain cranks things up several notches without missing a beat. The pacing is absolutely relentless, pulling you deeper into the chaos from the very first chapter. This book barely lets you breathe between plot twists, magical mishaps, and surprisingly emotional moments. I slipped into Accomplice to the Villain via audiobook, and holy smokes, Em Eldridge’s narration is a spellbinding treat! Her voice brings Evie’s sass and Trystan’s brooding charm to life, making every heart-racing moment pop.

Trystan and Evie’s chemistry crackles like a summer storm, their banter and tender glances (well, vocal glances) leaving me giddy. Their relationship evolves and develops in this book, from a slow burning fire to a full fledged raging inferno. But that’s not even the highlight here. What really blew me away was the way the story builds. The first two books laid the groundwork, but this one layers twist upon twist until you’re on the edge of your seat, every quirky side character, frog crown, and prophecy gone haywire build up to an ending that is, quite literally, killer. I was furiously flipping (well, listening) to chapters, gasping at the turns, and laughing out loud, all in one sitting.

That ending, though? It’s a dagger to the heart: shocking, raw, and so perfectly devastating I’m still reeling. No spoilers, but it’s the kind of closer that demands a group chat to process. Maehrer’s blend of humor, heart, and high-octane drama is pure gold, and Eldridge’s narration elevates it to obsession level. This is the series’ best yet, and I’m already counting days until book four. Add this to your TBR, you need this chaos in your life!

There are cozy mysteries, and then there are COZY MYSTERIES. For me, they’re like palate cleansers after more intense reads, and Carol J. Perry always hits the spot. Be My Ghost starts off light, but before you know it, there’s a body, and then the guessing game begins. By 20%, I had narrowed down my suspects to two: one straightforward option fitting an easy mystery, and one possible plot twist that, while fitting, I hoped wouldn’t be the choice. She went with the cozy choice, and it was exactly right. The flow was so comforting that I immediately put my “serious” TBR on hold to continue this series (only four books out so far!).

As for narration, C.S.E. Cooney’s performance is a true highlight. Her soothing, warm voice and perfect pacing make Maureen’s (and Finn’s) journey feel authentic and comforting, whether listened to at normal or faster speed. She knows exactly when to pause or elevate her voice, making the audiobook experience a joy.

Maureen, the protagonist, along with her Golden retriever Finn, feels like the perfect cozy mystery duo. This book is a perfect mix of heart, humor, and mystery, exactly what a cozy should be.

Featured in the "Debut Darlings" category for the Goodreads Summer Challenge, Maggie Su's Blob: A Love Story introduces a bold and creative concept that blends sci-fi and fantasy. As a debut novel, it showcases an ambitious vision, but I found the plot challenging to follow. The intricate narrative and the imaginative stretch required to dive into its fantastical world didn’t quite click for me, as someone less familiar with the sci-fi fantasy genre. Fans of complex, genre-driven stories may find this debut captivating, but it wasn’t my cup of tea. Perfect for avid sci-fi fantasy readers exploring new authors, but it may not suit everyone.

As I chose this as a part of challenge, and ended up not following the book because it wasn't my genre, I choose not to rate the book. It's neither the book's nor the author's writing that caused me to turn away from the book. The genre wasn't right for me. That's all, folks!

This book got off to a strong start. I really enjoyed Mona’s unique magical abilities and how close she was with her aunt and family. The initial atmosphere in the bakery, even with a murder mystery kicking things off, was engaging and set high expectations. However, as the story progressed, I found some of the characters’ reactions puzzling and a bit unrealistic, especially the way Mona’s family seemed unconcerned about her whereabouts during dangerous times.

Details like Mona traveling hours alone took me out of the narrative, making it hard to stay invested. Also, Mona’s characterization fluctuated between childlike and mature in a way that didn’t always feel intentional, impacting how believable she felt as a main character. While there was potential and moments of charm, I struggled to stay connected to the story.

Mr. Lemoncello's Library Olympics, the second book in Chris Grabenstein’s Mr. Lemoncello's Library series, is a thrilling and heartwarming continuation that blends intellectual challenges with vibrant characters and meaningful themes. As a fan of the series, I found this installment to be an absolute joy, packed with clever puzzles and a celebration of teamwork and perseverance.

The puzzles in Library Olympics are a highlight, offering a delightful mix of brainteasers that are accessible yet engaging for readers of all ages. As an adult, I loved diving into these challenges, which are seamlessly woven into the narrative, making you feel like a participant in the whimsical competition. They strike a perfect balance of fun and intellect, encouraging creative thinking without being overly complex.

Grabenstein excels at portraying the dynamics of pre-teen life with authenticity and care. The story follows Kyle Keeley and his friends—Sierra Russell, Akimi Hughes, Miguel Fernandez, and others—as they compete in the Library Olympics, a nationwide contest orchestrated by the eccentric Mr. Lemoncello. The friendships shine through, with moments of camaraderie and support that highlight the value of working together, even amidst fierce competition. The subtle undercurrents of rivalry and bullying are handled with nuance, showing how kids navigate these challenges with growing maturity.

A standout aspect is the way Grabenstein emphasizes the joy of learning and reading over mere victory. The book celebrates libraries as places of wonder and discovery, a message that resonates deeply. Kyle’s leadership and his family’s supportive, fun-loving dynamic add warmth, reinforcing that the journey and connections made along the way matter more than the outcome.

Mr. Lemoncello's Library Olympics is a captivating blend of adventure, puzzles, and heart. It’s a fantastic read for anyone who loves stories that challenge the mind and uplift the spirit, making it a worthy sequel in this beloved series.

I dove into Killers of a Certain Age with stars in my eyes. Women in their 60s as elite assassins? Yes, please! The premise promised a fresh spin on the thriller genre, blending experience with undercover grit.

But a few chapters in, my hype hit a wall. Instead of the seasoned, cohesive team I expected, Billy, Mary Alice, Helen, and Natalie came off like typical old people trying to relive their "cool" days boasting "I could've done that better" without actually doing it. Their constant bickering, and really silly mistakes (while undercover, mind you!) felt like a teenage clique, not a squad with decades of shared covert ops experience. Why the need to one-up each other like they're auditioning for a superhero flick? The insecurity in their 60s felt jarring like, haven't you proven yourselves after 40 years? The plot had sparks: a betrayal-fueled retirement cruise, dodging the Museum's hit squad, and some clever twists. But the action often took a backseat to their peacocking, which dulled the suspense.

Raybourn's writing had wit, and the ladies' backstories hint at depth, but the focus on their "who's the coolest" contest left me craving more substance. There's a second book in the series, Kills Well with Others, but I wouldn't dare take on that challenge.

There are certain series that feel like coming home, and for me, the Bookstore Café Mystery series is exactly that. Reading them is like curling up with a warm blanket, a favorite drink, and good company. Chicken soup for a cozy mystery soul! In Death by Iced Coffee, Krissy laces up for a marathon and ends up with a body. The marathon setting added a fresh twist, with Krissy’s reluctant jog through Pine Hills’ sweaty streets painting her as the endearing everywoman we adore.

The mystery itself was a solid brew, twisty enough to keep me guessing. Johan’s involvement added stakes, pulling Krissy deeper into the sleuthing game for Rita’s sake. The pacing stumbled slightly during the marathon scenes (I wanted more murder, less sneakers!) but the cozy vibes and tight-knit community carried me through.

I listened to the audiobook, and a special cheer for Melissa Moran, the narrator! She truly brings Krissy’s world to life, slipping between tones and voices with a pro’s flair, making it obvious who’s talking without ever muddling the conversation. Best of all, she manages to keep Krissy’s adorable personality intact, capturing the signature blend of curiosity and charm that makes this series such a treat. It’s like she invites you right into Pine Hills for coffee and gossip.

Erickson’s knack for blending heart and humor with murder makes this series a go-to, and I’m already craving the next installment to see where Krissy and Paul’s slow-burn romance heads.

Chris Grabenstein’s Mr. Lemoncello’s Great Library Race continues to prove why this series is such a joyful read for both kids and adults. Narrated with energy and charm by Jesse Bernstein, this third installment not only entertains but also delivers some wonderfully thoughtful lessons along the way.

What stood out most to me in this book isn’t just the fun puzzles or rapid-fire challenges, but the way individuality and inclusivity shine. Each child brings their quirks to the table, and instead of being dismissed, those quirks are celebrated. Sierra, who often gets wonderfully “sidetracked” by reading, never faces judgment for her quieter participation. Instead, her passions are respected, a subtle but heartwarming message for young readers about making space for different strengths.

Pair this with Kyle’s personal growth, acknowledging mistakes, learning to prioritize teamwork, and you’ve got a book that’s as wholesome as it is entertaining. His growth underscores another strong theme in the book: the importance of teamwork, shared knowledge, and respecting each person’s unique strengths, skills that matter not just in games and races, but in life itself.

This installment also tackles an especially timely topic: fake news. The story cleverly shows that not everything found online is accurate, and it emphasizes the importance of research, fact-checking, and questioning sources before believing or spreading information. It’s an invaluable lesson, delivered in a way that feels natural and fun rather than preachy.

Overall, Mr. Lemoncello’s Great Library Race is both entertaining and meaningful. With its celebration of individuality, clever puzzles, and thoughtful themes, it’s a standout entry in an already fantastic series.

Let’s be real: this book and I had a rocky start. When I first started reading Finlay, the “how did my life get like this?” vibe felt more exhausting than endearing, and I almost quit. But on my second shot, this time via audiobook, Angela Dawe’s narration roped me in. She gives Finlay just the right dose of frantic charm, making the chaos feel fun instead of frustrating. Suddenly, every wild twist and near-miss felt like watching a sitcom – bingeable, improbably, and surprisingly addictive.

The plot? Total rollercoaster. Cosimano keeps you flipping between laughter and facepalms, with Finlay surfing through disaster after disaster on a wave of sheer luck. I started keeping mental tally on impossibly convenient escapes, then gave up, because that’s half the joke. It’s part mommy-drama, part caper, and Dawe nails the vibe, dialing up the madcap energy without ever losing the thread. Did I believe half of what happened? Not a chance. Was I entertained? Almost.

That cliffhanger ending? Annoying but effective. I’m equal parts frustrated by the “how is she not in jail?” energy and weirdly tempted to pick up the sequel, if only to see what mess Finlay blunders into next.

The Cartographers by Peng Shepherd had me hooked from the first sentence! This fantasy-thriller weaves mystery and magical realism into a pulse-pounding tale. Nell’s investigation into her father’s death and a mysterious map is a wild ride of twists that left me gasping, “Wait, THAT’S who they are?” The idea of maps as portals to hidden worlds is brilliant, and the quote “I hope the maps are good where you are” captures their haunting magic. Shepherd’s storytelling is electric, with relentless pacing that kept me glued, unable to think of anything else as suspense piled on suspense.

But after finishing, my excitement dimmed. Without spoilers, some characters’ decisions, especially family-related ones, felt hard to believe. I was all in for the magical map concept, but certain emotional choices didn’t land. If I can buy into a secret world concept, why did those personal motivations feel off? It’s a book that sticks with you, forcing you to ponder its choices long after. Despite this, the sheer creativity and thrilling plot make it unforgettable. It’s a love letter to maps and mysteries, even if the emotional aftertaste is bittersweet. For fans of imaginative, twisty stories, it’s a must-read adventure.

Cancer has always felt like a shadow in my life, something my loved ones have battled, and something I’ve witnessed from the edges. Picking up this book felt like stepping directly into that shadow. What Does it Feel Like is not an easy book to read, and I mean that in the best way possible. Written during her own battle with glioblastoma, it feels like Kinsella poured every ounce of her soul into Eve’s story. This novel is raw, heartbreaking, and intimate, even as she laces it with her trademark optimism and humor. She writes with such raw honesty that it doesn’t feel like fiction at all; instead, you’re sitting at her side, feeling each fear, each fragile hope, each shaky laugh. There’s no distance.

The novella is short, but every page reverberates with emotional weight. It feels to me like this is all Sophie could write on this topic without breaking down herself, like a carefully held breath she dared to share with us. I found myself unable to finish, not because it was lacking, but because it was too good. The writing was so vivid and personal that I felt like I was sitting in the room with her: when she cried, when she tried to reconcile with her diagnosis, and when she reached for humor in the darkest places so her readers wouldn’t have to feel the full weight of her pain.

The brevity, at just under 150 pages, feels deliberate—like Kinsella could only say so much before the weight of it broke her. Her humor is a lifeline, but you can sense the tears behind it, making every page feel like a gift and a wound. It’s not just a story; it’s a glimpse into her courage, and that intimacy overwhelmed me. I DNF’ed this book not because it wasn’t compelling, but because it was too compelling. The grief, the uncertainty, even the smallest details, felt so close to home that it became difficult to keep reading. For families touched by cancer, this book is an unflinching mirror to heartbreak and hope.

I picked up Secret Lives hoping for a cozy mystery with a strong, memorable lead, and Ethel Crestwater did not disappoint. She’s a 75-year-old retired FBI agent with no-nonsense attitude and a backbone of steel. From her razor-sharp comebacks to the way she wades through government secrets and suspicious boarders, Ethel is the life of every page. She never tries to soften herself for anyone, and that stubborn, dry wit totally won me over. The scenes with her are powered by this quirky, irresistible energy that made me wish I could pull up a seat in her living room.

But here’s the thing: while Ethel’s storyline is punchy and memorable, the actual mystery never quite pulled me in. The plot, full of political layers and Capitol Hill secrets, was interesting enough, but there was something hazy about the emotional punch. Maybe it was the pacing or the way things wrapped up, but I finished the book feeling content but not entirely eager for round two. Sometimes a story and a reader just don’t click, and that’s okay.

On the audiobook side, Patrick Lawlor’s narration is a total highlight. I honestly didn’t realize a man was voicing Ethel until after the fact. He slips into her no-nonsense tone and sly humor with complete ease. Lawlor gives Ethel the right blend of warmth and steel, adding another layer of enjoyment.

Mr. Lemoncello's All-Star Breakout Game, the fourth book in Chris Grabenstein’s Mr. Lemoncello's Library series, is a delightful blend of puzzles, friendship, and heartfelt moments that make it a standout read. As an adult reader, I found myself thoroughly engrossed in this book aimed at younger audiences, and it’s easy to see why it resonates with so many.

One of the book’s greatest strengths is its engaging puzzles. Though designed for kids, they are cleverly crafted and satisfying to solve, offering just the right balance of challenge and fun. These brainteasers add an interactive layer to the story, making it feel like you’re part of the adventure alongside the characters.

Grabenstein’s portrayal of pre-teen life is another highlight. He captures the essence of school dynamics—friendships, subtle bullying, and competitive spirit—with remarkable maturity and sensitivity. The friendships between Kyle Keeley, Sierra Russell, Akimi Hughes, Haley Dailey, Miguel Fernandez, and even Andrew Peckelman (despite initial rivalries) are heartwarming and authentic. The evolution of their relationships, particularly as they navigate team rivalries, showcases the power of empathy and collaboration.

The book also sheds light on Charles Chiltington, the resident bully, in a nuanced way. By exploring his motivations—driven by a demanding father who equates worth with winning—Grabenstein encourages readers to see beyond surface behaviors and understand the complexities of others’ actions. This adds a layer of depth that elevates the story beyond a simple adventure.

Kyle’s family stands out as a refreshing contrast to the high-stakes competition. Their emphasis on fun and letting kids be kids grounds the narrative in warmth and relatability, reminding readers that joy and connection matter more than victory.

Overall, Mr. Lemoncello's All-Star Breakout Game is a vibrant, puzzle-packed story that celebrates friendship, empathy, and the joy of being yourself. It’s a must-read for fans of the series and anyone who loves a good mix of brain teasers and heartfelt storytelling.

I went into this book expecting a clever, intricate puzzle-driven mystery, and at first, it delivered on that front. The opening hooked me with its promise of riddles, codes, and intellectual twists. But as the story progressed, it started shifting directions—first into spirituality, then the supernatural, then a dive into quantum physics—and by the time I reached the end, I felt more confused than intrigued.

The pacing was uneven, and somewhere around the midpoint, I found myself speed reading, just trying to keep up with the increasingly tangled narrative. Despite that, I still felt bored and disconnected from both the story and its characters. The abrupt ending only added to my sense of dissatisfaction.

This is a book that tries to do many things—mystery, science, spirituality, metaphysics—but in my experience, it ended up doing none of them particularly well. I can see how it might appeal to readers who enjoy layered, genre-blending narratives, but it definitely wasn’t for me.

A different narrator brings fresh energy. Kirby Heyborne steps in with his own style, and while it’s distinct from past performances, it fits the bill for the zany, puzzle-filled world of Mr. Lemoncello. This installment introduces two fantastic new characters: Simon, with his exceptional ability to notice what others miss, making him the perfect candidate for solving wild puzzles; and Soraiya, a loyal friend and brilliant, logical partner. They fit seamlessly into Kyle Keeley’s world, even though Kyle, Akimi, and the usual gang only pop in briefly. The core values remain front and center: honesty, friendship, and integrity always take precedence over winning.

What sets this book apart from earlier entries is its emotional depth. Amid the wordplay and logic puzzles, there’s a raw moment when Simon learns the truth about his parents’ deaths. The contrast between his grandfather’s blame-filled version and Mr. Lemoncello’s heartfelt explanation is quietly powerful. Simon’s ability to absorb the truth without bitterness and see the bigger picture becomes a touching study in perspective and forgiveness.

Simon’s emotional maturity is remarkable for someone his age, accepting loss, understanding the truth, and refusing to place blame for an accident. This shift reflects how the series has evolved: from lighthearted, game-loving pre-teens to teens navigating complex, heartfelt themes.

The shift away from Kyle and Akimi feels bold, letting Simon and Soraiya carry the torch with values of integrity and friendship. This isn’t just a game anymore; it’s a story about growing up, and I’m here for it. A fresh twist on the Lemoncello universe, with new voices, new puzzles, and a deeper emotional core, makes The Titanium Ticket a worthy addition to the series.

I rarely DNF audiobooks, but unfortunately this one was a struggle for me and I stopped at about 20%.

The audiobook is narrated by the author, and while I admire the effort, I found the narration difficult to get through. The delivery was nasal and monotone, which made it more grating than calming. I typically listen to audiobooks before bed because they help me unwind, but this one had the opposite effect—I even tried it during the day, and still found it hard to enjoy. A professional narrator might have made a real difference here.

As for the story, it didn’t manage to grab my attention either. Charlotte is meant to be a lifelong detective figure, but beyond being observant, she lacked the intuition and spark I expect in a detective-style character. The pacing felt slow, and I struggled to connect with either the plot or the characters.

I also felt the LGBTQ+ representation came across as forced rather than organically woven into the narrative. Representation works best when it flows naturally, and here it felt more like an add-on than an integral part of the story.

Overall, I couldn’t push past the 20% mark. While this book may work better for other listeners—especially those who are already fans of the author’s style—it wasn’t for me.

I picked up All Spooked Up hoping for a zany cozy mystery with a ghostly twist, but it felt more like slogging through a corporate memo. A policeman named Hannibal Watson should’ve been a playful nod, but instead it pulled me out every time I read it. That moment set the tone for much of my reading experience: clever ideas that never really found their footing. The murder body drops fairly early—about 10% in—but instead of diving into the mystery, the story stalls.

The bulk of the narrative is spent on the main character’s disbelief about her father’s ghost. She knows she’s seeing him… but also insists she can’t be seeing him… and then a therapist even advises her to “just accept it.” Meanwhile, she frequently comments on how wonderful her husband is, especially how supportive he was in quitting his job so they could run her late father’s struggling paint shop. Logically, I couldn’t help but wonder why both of them would abandon steady jobs to take on a barely-thriving business.

What surprised me was just how little sleuthing actually went on. Her father, once a sharp police detective, doesn’t contribute much beyond shrugs and cheap shots at his son-in-law. Laura, meanwhile, spends her energy sparring sarcastically with Hannibal Watson, flattening him into the butt of jokes rather than a functioning detective. Honestly, I didn’t understand what Watson had done to deserve being the butt of so many remarks, other than stand around looking frustrated.

The mystery’s resolution comes out of nowhere, with clues and connections conjured like a bad magic trick. It’s a slow crawl to a rushed, nonsensical end. The premise has undeniable charm: a haunted paint store, family legacy, and paranormal cozy energy. But the execution felt scattered, weighed down by skepticism circles and side-commentary rather than a satisfying mystery core. I finished this ARC out of obligation, but I’m not itching for the sequel.