Blagica Jankuloska

A Story That Stays with You

I finished The Nightingale on July 25th for a readathon, and I had to sit with it for a few days afterward — that's how deeply it moved me. I don’t usually gravitate toward historical fiction; it tends to break me. And yes, this book did exactly that. But it was beautiful, powerful, and absolutely worth the emotional toll.

This was my first Kristin Hannah novel, and now I get the hype. Her writing is immersive, raw, and emotionally charged. I’ve got two more of her books on my TBR, and after giving this one a solid 4 stars, I’m ready to check out more — tissues in hand.

The story opens in 1995 with an elderly woman in Oregon who stumbles upon a WWII-era identity card in her attic, marked with the name Juliette Gervaise. The mystery unfolds as we flash back to wartime France, where we meet the Rosignol sisters: Vivianne, the older sister, trying to survive with her young daughter in a home occupied by Nazi soldiers while her husband is away at war; and Isabelle, the fierce, impulsive younger sister who joins the Resistance in Paris, risking everything.

What follows is a devastating and unforgettable look at how women fought, resisted, and endured during the Nazi occupation. Mothers, daughters, wives, and sisters all caught in the storm — all finding their own ways to fight back.

This book is lyrical, intense, and heart-wrenching. I loved every second, even when it broke me. If you're looking for a story that sticks with you long after you turn the last page, The Nightingale delivers. Just don’t forget the tissues.

The Book I Almost Forgot—and Couldn’t Put Down

I love July readathons. Not just because I power through a good stack of books—last year I knocked out 10 books in 10 days—but because they push me. I’m forced to dig deep into my shelves, hunt for titles that match a theme, and finally read the books I’ve been putting off or completely forgotten about.

Dark Matter was one of those forgotten ones. I’d added it to my list ages ago after falling in love with the show adaptation, but somehow it got buried. I’m glad this readathon brought it back into view. This book completely pulled me in. I’m not a hardcore sci-fi reader, but I do love a good thriller—and this one was both.

From the first few chapters, Dark Matter messes with your head in the best way. It’s a mind-bending story about alternate realities and the lengths someone will go to in order to get back to the life—and the family—they love. It’s gripping, emotional, and full of "what if?" moments that make you pause and reflect on your own path. What if you could live out every possible version of your life? What would you give up to reclaim the one that matters most?

Some of my coworkers warned me I wouldn’t get it—but they were wrong. This book is totally accessible, even if sci-fi isn’t your usual genre. I’d call it a solid 3.5 stars—maybe higher just for how much it made me think. It’s suspenseful, smart, emotional, and surprisingly human.

I listened to the audiobook, narrated by Jon Lindstrom, and he nails it. The voice work added depth to the story and kept me hooked. And Blake Crouch? He’s brilliant. I didn’t realize he also wrote the Wayward Pines series until afterward, but it makes sense. He knows how to build tension and deliver twists that hit hard.

Best advice? Go into Dark Matter blind and let it take you for a ride. Whether you're a sci-fi fan or just want something original that’ll keep you thinking long after it ends, this one’s worth your time.

I read this for a July readathon. Keke Palmer is a force—genuine, magnetic, and unapologetically herself. I was already aware of the drama involving her and her (now ex) partner over that Usher concert in Vegas, but after reading this, my takeaway is simple: he’s an idiot.

I don’t have a lot to say about the book itself. If you’re already a fan of Keke—if you’ve caught her interviews or listened to her podcast—it feels like a natural continuation of that vibe. It’s candid, full of her signature charm, and unmistakably her. I’d especially recommend the audiobook—hearing it in her own voice makes the experience feel even more personal.

As for the content, it doesn’t offer much that’s new. Like others have said, it sits somewhere between memoir and self-help. Once I stopped expecting a deep, revealing look at her life and instead saw it as a collection of stories shaped into advice, I appreciated it more. Still, I found myself wishing it went deeper—I wanted more of her, not just the lessons.

It’s tricky rating someone’s life, so I wouldn’t go under three stars. But I definitely walked away wanting more.

Perfect Horror Read

Lately, I’ve been stuck in a cycle: pick up a book, try to enjoy it, finish it disappointed, and hand out yet another 2.5 or 3-star rating. I miss the thrill of loving a book. Diavola broke that streak. This is a solid 5-star read for me.

It's dark. It's toxic. It’s everything I want in a slow-burning, skin-crawling horror story. Thorne delivers unnerving, gothic horror with a subtle, creeping dread that lingers. The tension builds through eerie details and a haunting atmosphere, not cheap jump scares. If you love that sense of something being deeply wrong just beneath the surface — this is for you.

This isn’t a breakneck, action-packed horror story — and that’s part of its power. Much of the book lingers in the quiet moments of the Pace family’s vacation: sightseeing, small talk, simmering tension just below the surface. But that’s where the dread creeps in. The horror doesn’t crash in out of nowhere — it seeps through the cracks of their already fragile dynamic. Their emotional disconnect, selfishness, and unspoken grievances don’t just make them vulnerable — they practically roll out the welcome mat for whatever darkness is lurking. The supernatural doesn’t break them. It just feeds on what’s already rotting.

And then there’s the tower room. The locals warn the Pace family: don’t open the door. Ever. It’s locked, hidden behind a tapestry. But the key is there. Waiting. Whispering. And of course, the family’s toxic dynamics make it impossible to resist.

There’s some mild body horror, blood, rotting food — enough to unsettle, but not overwhelm. I’d call this a good entry-level horror for thriller readers wanting to dip into something spooky for Summerween. And despite the disturbing cover, the content is more eerie than extreme.

The entire story is narrated by Anna, whose dry sarcasm and dark humor cut through the horror in all the best ways. Her chapter titles alone are perfect. She’s not always likeable, but she is real — and her struggles, both supernatural and personal, make her easy to relate to. No one in this book is loveable Diavola gave me exactly what I’ve been missing: a horror story with bite, brains, and atmosphere. Jennifer Marie Thorne is now firmly on my radar.

I stared at a blank Word doc for twenty minutes trying to figure out how to review this book. That pretty much sums up the experience: I don’t have much to say because the book didn’t give me much to work with.

I picked this up on vacation, based on glowing reviews from a bunch of bookish YouTubers I follow. I finally finished it today, and all I can say is: I wish I liked it more. I really do. But it just wasn’t for me.

The premise is intriguing—set in a near-future UK, where a government-controlled time portal allows for the extraction of “ex-pats” from various historical periods. Our unnamed protagonist is assigned as a “bridge” (read: babysitter) to one of these time travelers, Graham, a man pulled from an 1847 Arctic expedition. He’s now trying to navigate modern-day London. Cue the predictable fish-out-of-water moments: confusion over bikes, music, city life.

For most of the book’s ten long chapters, not much happens. We sit in this quiet day-to-day adjustment phase, and then—out of nowhere—the final quarter morphs into a spy thriller. It’s jarring, underdeveloped, and over just as quickly as it starts.

There’s so much potential here, but none of it is realized. The time travel element is barely explained. The themes—colonialism, gender, history—are gestured at, then abandoned. The romance subplot pops up mid-way, includes one oddly spicy scene, and then fizzles. The book tries to do too much, and ends up doing very little well.

The prose was another sticking point. The writing is metaphor-heavy—painfully so. Some lines just don’t make sense if you stop to think about them. (“I was a doll, with no more inner intelligence than a bottle of water.” What?) The similes come in fast and weird (“My knees were jumping like a pair of boxed frogs”) and the overall style felt clunky, like it was constantly reaching for poetic but landing somewhere awkward.

Ultimately, I think this needed a sharper editorial hand and a clearer sense of purpose. It could’ve been a thoughtful sci-fi with historical depth. Or a grounded character study. Or even a quirky romance. But trying to do all three in under 300 pages didn’t work for me.

I’m just glad I didn’t save this for my summer readathon—it would’ve been a slog. Two stars because I did enjoy a bit of the ending once things finally started moving, but getting there was rough.

A decent follow-up, but not the dark, gripping thriller I’m chasing.

I’m working through a book a day for the rest of July to salvage my 100-book reading goal, so I listened to Freak during my shift at work and finished it on the drive home. This continues the story from Creep, and shifts the spotlight to Abby—Ethan’s girlfriend from book one. And honestly, I wasn’t a fan.

In Creep, I assumed Ethan was the mastermind. Turns out, Abby was pulling the strings all along. That could’ve been compelling, but the way she relied on her so-called feminine wiles to manipulate everyone around her just annoyed me. Her jailhouse scheming felt more performative than dangerous, and I couldn’t buy into her as a real threat.

The pacing is solid and the plot keeps moving, but like Creep, Freak left me wanting more. I’m on the hunt for a truly kick-ass, creepy thriller—something with real psychological teeth, Dexter-level darkness, and a romance that adds tension instead of checking a box.

This was fine for a workday listen, but I’m still waiting for that book that makes me uncomfortable in all the right ways.

Can’t Help but Sing

I’ve had the luxury of being off work for the past ten days. Today was my first day back, which meant grabbing my phone and picking a book to keep me company during my five-hour shift. Creep by Jennifer Hillier was today’s pick. Tomorrow, I’ll be diving into book two, Freak.

While working, I tend to stick with thrillers—they keep me focused and engaged. Creep was another solid 3-star read. I’m still hunting for that elusive 5-star thriller this summer, but I’m not giving up yet.

The story follows Dr. Sheila Tao, a psychology professor engaged to a former football star—and secretly entangled with her charming, obsessive teaching assistant, Ethan. When Sheila ends the affair to commit to her fiancé, Ethan doesn’t take it well. At all. If he can’t have her, no one will. What unfolds is twisted, creepy, and uncomfortably believable.

For a debut, Hillier delivers. The writing is tight, the pacing steady, and the plot feels like it’s made for the screen. Characters are flawed but relatable, and the tension builds just right. There’s minimal gore or explicit content, which I appreciated—the suspense stands on its own.

As someone with a psych degree, I couldn’t help but notice the delicious irony: the two most damaged characters are both in the psychology field. Not surprising. Those who can’t do, teach—and apparently, those who can’t heal, treat. That little twist added an extra chill, especially knowing how easily someone with the right knowledge can get into your head.

All in all, Creep made for a compelling workday read. I’m on board for Hillier’s next—Freak is up tomorrow

Interesting Concept

Ecstasy is the kind of book that wants to be more than a story — it wants to be an experience. It's artsy, experimental, and unapologetically weird. Sometimes that works. Sometimes it doesn't. For me, it landed somewhere in the middle.

The novel centers on Lena, a once-wild woman now living in forced domestic stillness after the death of her older, wealthy husband. Her son is pushy and condescending, her past is elusive, and her present feels like a trap. Alongside Lena's narrative, we drift between abstract sections from a narrator called "Before" and a cryptic figure named Luz, who seems to be less a person and more a myth in motion. It’s all told in short, staccato chapters that often read more like poetry fragments or dream sequences than traditional prose.

I am a sucker for a book set in Greece, and a Greek retelling is usually a winner for me. That mythological pull was definitely part of what drew me in — I liked the nod to The Bacchae, especially the image of Dionysus reimagined as a rave DJ. It’s clever, and the hedonistic chaos at the heart of Euripides’ play is a strong match for Pochoda’s vibe. But I’ll admit: the execution didn’t fully click. The novel leans so hard into mood and mystique that it sometimes loses grip on clarity, momentum, or emotional payoff.

The book is short and that compactness could’ve been its strength. But instead of building to a satisfying crescendo, the ending just... stops. It doesn’t feel resolved so much as abandoned. Maybe that's intentional — myth doesn't always need tidy endings — but in this case, it left me cold. I wanted something more from Lena’s arc. More reckoning. More change. Or even just more consequence just more.

Bottom line: Ecstasy is a bold swing. It’s stylish, strange, and occasionally striking. But it also feels uneven and emotionally distant. If you’re in the mood for something quick and surreal, it might scratch that itch. Just don’t expect a cathartic finale or a clear message. It's more of a mood than a story — and whether that works for you depends on how much you're willing to let go and just float.

Perfect Vacation Read

I finished this book a few days ago and I’m still smiling. Emily Arden Wells delivered a feel-good, foodie romcom with just enough soul to keep it grounded and just enough sparkle to make it binge-worthy. If Eat Pray Love had a snarky little sister who traded pasta in Italy for Michelin stars in Manhattan—this would be her story. And yes, it would make an excellent TV movie (preferably with a killer soundtrack and slow-mo food montages).

Cassie Brooks seems to have it all: power attorney job, luxe Manhattan apartment, golden-boy boyfriend (maybe-fiancé?) James… so why does she always feel like she’s sprinting and never breathing? Just when the cracks start to show, tragedy strikes—James dies in a car accident. And everything Cassie thought she knew crumbles.

Then comes the twist: turns out James was living a secret double life as @NewYorkSecretDiner, an anonymous food reviewer who knew where to find the city’s most magical meals. In her grief (and possibly a food-induced haze), Cassie takes over the account. What starts as a desperate attempt to feel closer to him quickly spirals into a chaotic, three-week culinary tour she’s wildly unprepared for. Gorgeous meals, new friendships, and an identity crisis all served with a side of public exposure threat? Yes please.

This book was a blast—and now I want to devour more food-and-travel books. It made me feel like I was eating my way through every stop on Cassie’s journey, from cozy city bistros to scenic countryside gems, all without leaving my couch.

The meal descriptions hit the sweet spot—lush but not over-the-top—and I loved how creative each dish felt. You could almost taste them.

A couple of bumps though: Cassie’s friendship with Ruby was a bit confusing. Ruby starts out as a casual work buddy, but suddenly she’s the confidante and ride-or-die bestie. I wanted their bond to be more established early on, especially since Ruby is one of the more charming side characters. And the ending? Great build-up, great arc… and then bam, everything wraps up a little too neatly in four quick chapters. I wanted just a bit more breathing room after all the delicious tension.

Still, I had a great time. I already bought a copy for my best friend because I know she’ll love the vibe. Easy, breezy, heartwarming, and full of food—I’ll definitely be picking up more from this author.

Dark Potential

The first thing that caught my eye with this book was its cover. It gave me Criminal Minds vibes, and as the new season is almost done, I needed something to fill that gap for me—and this was a great way to spend a few hours.

This was my first read by Steve Cornwell, and while it didn’t blow the doors off, the premise is wickedly smart: a serial killer who never touches the crime scenes, never spills a drop of blood himself. Instead, he stalks the internet, finding the broken, the desperate, the disposable—and turns them into weapons. It’s manipulation at its coldest. The true crime influences (Bundy, especially) give it a chilling realism that lingers long after the chapter ends.

The beginning was slow, almost deceptively so, like the calm before something awful. But once the story hit its stride, it moved with a nasty kind of momentum. You don’t even realize how deep you’re in until it’s too late. For a 7-hour audiobook, it felt closer to five.

Ethan and Abbey’s relationship was a rare flicker of humanity in the dark—messy, honest, and necessary. Without them, the story might have felt too detached, too clinical.

Still, as much as I admired the setup, I kept waiting for it to get uglier. More vicious. It scratched the surface of dread but never went deep enough to make me squirm. I read a lot of dark thrillers, so maybe my threshold’s high—but I wanted scenes that made me feel complicit, scenes I’d want to look away from. It hovered just below that line.

Gareth Richards, the narrator, has a clean, controlled delivery, and he handles the material well. But this kind of story begs for something colder, sharper—maybe a dual narration or a voice that can twist, charm, and then snap. There were moments that needed more bite, more fear, more breathless tension.

The ending came quick—too quick. It felt like hitting a wall in the dark. I’m hoping this isn’t a standalone, because there’s definitely more to mine here. More darkness. More blood.

3.5 stars. But with potential to go darker—and better.

A Gripping Beach Read with a Wobbly Landing

This was my first book by Liv Constantine—the sister duo behind the name—and what a ride. I read it while on vacation, and it was the perfect beach companion: twisty, fast-paced, and totally addictive. I knocked it out in just a few hours and didn’t want to stop.

The story centers on Annabelle, who seems to have it all—two daughters, a thriving social media marketing career, and a charming doctor husband. But there’s trouble under the surface: she’s plagued by disturbing dreams that begin to play out in real life. And no, not in a “winning Powerball” kind of way. Her husband, of course, brushes them off as stress-induced. Convenient.

Told from multiple perspectives—mainly Annabelle’s past and present, plus chapters from her teenage daughter Scarlett—the book does a great job building tension. The dual timeline adds depth, and I found the flashbacks especially compelling. Scarlett made some head-scratching decisions, but she’s a teenager, so fair enough.

The first three-quarters? Could not put it down. But the ending lost me a bit. It veered into Lifetime movie territory, which wasn’t quite what I expected. And while the dream premonition angle was a strong hook, it sort of faded out with only a brief nod to Annabelle’s grandmother. Not a major loose end—just something I wish they’d explored more.

Still, it was a fun, solid read. I’d give it a 3.5 and would absolutely recommend it if you’re in the mood for something twisty and entertaining. This was a great intro to Liv Constantine, and I’m definitely curious to see what the sisters write next.

Thrilling Thriller

There’s something deeply satisfying about sinking into a book and not resurfacing until the final page. Our Last Wild Days by Anna Bailey was exactly that kind of experience—a gripping, atmospheric read I devoured in a single sitting. It’s rare to find a novel that pulls you in so completely and finishes strong, all in the span of a few hours. But this one nailed it.

If you're into Southern gothic thrillers, consider this your next must-read. Bailey’s writing is vivid and textured, especially her portrayal of the Louisiana bayou. The setting doesn’t just serve the story; it is the story. The thick heat, the tangled wetlands, the ever-present sense that something is lurking just out of view—it all feels eerily real.

Bailey masterfully blends suspense with a slow-burning mystery. At the heart of it is the discovery of a young woman’s body, written off as suicide. But our protagonist suspects otherwise and digs deep into the secrets of the Labasque family and the insular, decaying town they seem to control. What follows is a layered narrative about poverty, grief, family dysfunction, buried violence, and the lies small towns tell to protect their own.

The characters are messy, flawed, and emotionally raw—exactly the kind that stick with you. The way Bailey writes them, you can’t help but care, even when they make terrible choices. It’s the kind of story that makes you feel like you’ve been somewhere—muggy air, secrets heavy in the silence, danger in the shadows.

I give it a solid 3.5 stars, and I’m already looking forward to whatever Anna Bailey writes next. Any author who can get me to finish a book in one go gets an automatic thumbs-up from me. This one’s dark, sharp, and absolutely worth the read. Add it to your TBR—you won’t regret it.

The last couple of days have been a blur of books and page flips, and yeah, I’ve been on a bit of a three-star streak lately. But hey—three stars isn’t a bad thing in my book. Not everything has to blow the doors off to be worth reading.

Shaw Connolly Lives to Tell by Gillian French sits firmly in that three-star zone for me: solid, engaging, but not a knockout. It’s got strong bones, a good premise, and some great atmosphere—but I just wanted a little more punch.

Shaw Connolly is a fingerprint analyst in a quiet Maine town, pulled into a string of arsons while still haunted by the disappearance of her sister Thea sixteen years ago. The loss has carved a hole in her life, and her relentless pursuit of answers is starting to take a toll on her relationships. Then she gets a call—from a man named Anders Jansen, who claims he knows what happened to Thea. He confesses, taunts, stalks, but never quite gives her the truth. Shaw has to decide just how far she’s willing to go to drag that truth into the light.

It’s a slow burn, no doubt. The mystery is solid, the setting—icy, rural Maine in winter—is moody and immersive, and Shaw has potential as a character. But the dialogue didn’t always land for me, and the pacing dragged in places. I never fully clicked in—but I didn’t regret the read either. And I have to say, the ending worked. It stuck the landing.

Would I read more from Gillian French? Definitely. Honestly, if this turned into a series, I think these characters have enough depth to grow into something bigger. The forensic angle alone has serious potential.

So yes, another three stars. But not in a “meh” way—in a “this had something, and I’m glad I gave it a shot” way.

I actually finished this a few weeks ago, but life happened and I never got around to putting my thoughts together. In the meantime, Brynne Weaver has fully moved into my brain. We’re basically friends now—at least in my imagination. Let me have that.

I loved the first two books in this series—like, deeply loved them. I’ve already bought extra copies to give to people because they were just that good. I was completely hooked, emotionally invested, and obsessed in the best way.

This third installment? Still really good—but it didn’t hit me quite as hard. I wasn’t as consumed by the story as I was with the first two, but I still thoroughly enjoyed it.

Rose and Fionn were a total highlight. Their connection had this sweet, domestic feel from the very beginning that I found so charming. Rose was hilarious and unexpectedly soft—this trained killer who still gets queasy at the sight of blood. It made her so lovable. And Fionn? A brooding, sexy doctor who crochets and watches reality dating shows, yet carries this darker side he’s afraid to confront? I was all in.

Their romance gave me feelings. Fionn driving 13 hours just to make sure Rose was okay—without expecting anything in return? That wrecked me. The tattoo of her heartbeat? The letters? I was melting. It was tender and vulnerable in all the right ways.

And the spice? That bonus chapter? The duet narration—with the Irish accent? No further explanation needed.

This one gets a solid 4 stars from me. I’m still all in on this universe, and I sincerely hope Brynne Weaver has more of these stories in her. Whether it’s a continuation or something brand new in the same style, I’ll be first in line.

Charming and Cute

I have a hard time getting into the super cute, fluffy rom-coms. Not because they’re poorly written—plenty are great—but because I’m a self-confessed book snob. Takes a theatrical snarky bow.

Tell Me How You Really Feel by Betty Cayouette was my first book by this author, and I’m giving it a solid 3.5 stars. It’s smart, spicy, and built around a concept that really works: Maeve and Finn co-host a hit podcast where no topic is off-limits. I mean nothing is sacred—everything from how to maintain a healthy relationship to how to make your partner climax is on the table. It’s bold, funny, and surprisingly insightful.

The twist? Maeve and Finn can’t stand each other.

They’re locked into a contract, so quitting isn’t an option. The only choice? Fake it for the mic. Off-air, the tension simmers. On-air, they have to sell the chemistry. But as the lines blur, the question becomes: is there something real under all that snark and banter?

The podcast format added a fresh layer to the story—it gave the characters a space to be raw, awkward, funny, and vulnerable. And I have to say, it made for some genuinely entertaining moments. I laughed out loud more than once.

Normally, the miscommunication trope makes me roll my eyes, and yes, there were moments here where I wanted to shake both Maeve and Finn (especially Finn—his choices were... questionable). But somehow, it worked. Their flaws made them feel human. The tension wasn’t overdone, and the emotional payoff hit just right.

What really stood out, though, were the side characters. They weren’t just background noise—they added humor, heart, and a grounding presence that made the story feel more complete. Whether it was Maeve’s brutally honest best friend or Finn’s surprisingly thoughtful circle, they brought a lot to the table, and I genuinely enjoyed every scene they were in.

The ending pulled everything together in a satisfying way. I’m not usually the type to get weepy over a romance, but this one got me. A few happy tears may have been shed. I loved how it wrapped up without going over-the-top or too cheesy.

Overall, a fun, sharp, emotionally grounded read with just the right amount of heat and heart. I’m definitely interested to see what Betty Cayouette comes out with next.

Creepy, Clever, and Completely Addictive

This makes book number three for me, and at this point, Alex North might as well have his own shelf in my house. Ever since I stumbled into his gritty, tension-packed world, I’ve been hooked—and loud about it. I’ve recommended his books to half my reading circle. Now that The Whisper Man is getting a movie adaptation? I’m already budgeting for popcorn.

In The Man Made of Smoke, North dials the eerie all the way up. From the moment the killer whispers, “Nobody sees and nobody cares,” the story grabs you by the spine. I had chills. North has this slow-drip style that makes every detail land. When Daniel sees a young boy in the bathroom, terrified of the man he’s with, I felt like I was standing right next to him. And later, as he searches for his father’s remains, North pulls you through every memory, every ghost of the past.

This is a slow burn, but on purpose. The creeping pace is what turns the dial on the horror. It’s not jump scares—it’s the kind of dread that lingers, like footsteps behind you when you know you're alone. And while the pacing worked for me, North always tosses in a curveball that leaves me scratching my head. In this case, it was the final twist involving the young boy. No spoilers, but I finished the book and still don’t fully get it. Maybe that’s intentional. Or maybe it just flew over my head. Either way, I was along for the ride.

Solid four stars. I really do hope there are more dark, eerie reads like this in my future—because I loved having an excuse to curl up, get spooked, and sink into a story that refuses to let go.

Justice, Snark, and a Fantastic Backstory — Erika Foster Delivers Again

This series is one I look forward to every year. I have rated everything a five star but I have meant every five stars I have given and this is no exception. Actually, if I am being honest I loved this so much more then the other because I feel like it made the story so much more well rounded. I always wondered about Erika and Mark’s backstory and this book is perfection. I finished this in one day in two long sittings. I am sitting here smiling just thinking about how good this was. Now lets get to what the story is about.

In book 9 of this amazing series we finally get the details of what happened on that day 10 years ago. Ow, when Erika’s husband Mark and her team were killed in a police raid in Manchester. That day changed her life and the way she sees the world. Now on an investigation into a murder, she comes face to face with the man responsible, only he claims to be someone else. Then she is told that the man who killed Mark is dead.

Now if you know Erika at all you know that she is not going to take this. She knows it was him and she wants justice for her husband. Even being put on stress leave isn’t going to stop her. And her loyal team and partner are there to help her.

This book was so good!! i just love Erika and her way of doing what is right, even when she is told otherwise. She is smart, determined and snarky and I love it. I cannot recommend this series more for those who love a good gritty police procedural.

If you haven’t read anything by Robert Bryndza I suggest starting with book one of this series then moving on to the West Elm series and the one rom-com book I have read by Rob is also good. So go read something and fall in love like I did.

A Balm for the Soul

I had an absolute blast listening to this audiobook. From the very first minute to the very last, it had me smiling, laughing, and feeling totally wrapped up in the story. I was only halfway through when I started recommending it to everyone I knew—at least five people on the spot. That’s how good it is.

Katherine Center writes like a balm for bad days. Her books are warm, witty, and full of heart, and The Love Haters is no exception. What really made this one stand out was how it centered self-worth and body image without turning it into a lecture. Katie’s struggle to love herself felt raw and real, and the book never rushed her healing. Everyone moves at their own pace, and the story honors that beautifully. It’s honest, empowering, and deeply relatable.

Katie and Hutch are pure joy together. Their chemistry is electric, their banter is gold, and the romance builds at just the right pace. Add in Aunt Rue, the fierce and funny auntie we all wish we had, and you’ve got a cast that’s hard not to fall for.

Yes, some plot points go big near the end—but honestly? I was all in. This is fiction, after all, and it was so much fun. The humor sneaks up on you in the best way, and the story kept surprising me in ways I didn’t expect.

I even loved the author’s note at the end. Just a perfect finish to a story that’s as feel-good as it is thoughtful. If you're looking for a story that makes you laugh, root for love, and rethink how you see yourself, give this one a listen. It might surprise you too—in the best possible way.

Such Promise

I’ve been sitting with my thoughts for over an hour after finishing this book, and I’m still not sure how to feel. To say I wanted to love it is an understatement. This was one of my most anticipated reads of 2025. With its stunning cover and compelling premise, I was expecting a five-star experience. Sadly, it landed closer to a three.

For those who did love it, I’m honestly a little envious.

Now, here’s what worked for me. The book unfolds in alternating timelines—historical chapters woven between the present day. It’s a love story stretched across centuries, where Evelyn and Arden are destined to find each other again and again, only to die together before turning eighteen each time. In the modern timeline, Evelyn is racing against time to stay alive long enough to save her sister, who needs a bone marrow transplant to survive cancer.

The historical chapters were the most intriguing part for me. They added texture and context to the characters' bond, and I appreciated the ambition behind the structure. But the execution didn’t quite land. The constant back-and-forth felt choppy, and it disrupted the pacing just enough to keep me from getting fully immersed.

More than that, I struggled to feel the connection between Evelyn and Arden. I wanted to fall into an epic, time-crossed romance—but I never quite believed in their chemistry. The love story felt more told than felt, and I never reached that emotional payoff I was hoping for.

There’s a twist near the end that genuinely surprised me, and I appreciated that. I just wish the resolution had been given more space. The ending felt rushed, and with a few more pages, it could’ve hit harder.

In the end, the book had strong ideas and emotional stakes, but the execution fell short of the promise. I don’t regret reading it, but I do wish I had connected with it more deeply.

Such Promise

I’ve been sitting with my thoughts for over an hour after finishing this book, and I’m still not sure how to feel. To say I wanted to love it is an understatement. This was one of my most anticipated reads of 2025. With its stunning cover and compelling premise, I was expecting a five-star experience. Sadly, it landed closer to a three.

For those who did love it, I’m honestly a little envious.

Now, here’s what worked for me. The book unfolds in alternating timelines—historical chapters woven between the present day. It’s a love story stretched across centuries, where Evelyn and Arden are destined to find each other again and again, only to die together before turning eighteen each time. In the modern timeline, Evelyn is racing against time to stay alive long enough to save her sister, who needs a bone marrow transplant to survive cancer.

The historical chapters were the most intriguing part for me. They added texture and context to the characters' bond, and I appreciated the ambition behind the structure. But the execution didn’t quite land. The constant back-and-forth felt choppy, and it disrupted the pacing just enough to keep me from getting fully immersed.

More than that, I struggled to feel the connection between Evelyn and Arden. I wanted to fall into an epic, time-crossed romance—but I never quite believed in their chemistry. The love story felt more told than felt, and I never reached that emotional payoff I was hoping for.

There’s a twist near the end that genuinely surprised me, and I appreciated that. I just wish the resolution had been given more space. The ending felt rushed, and with a few more pages, it could’ve hit harder.

In the end, the book had strong ideas and emotional stakes, but the execution fell short of the promise. I don’t regret reading it, but I do wish I had connected with it more deeply.