Tuesday, March 31, 2026
Monday, March 30, 2026
The Fourth Princess
Author: Janie Chang
Published: February 10, 2026 by William Morrow
Format: Kindle, 336 Pages
Genre: Gothic
Blurb: Shanghai, 1911. Lisan Liu is elated when she is hired as secretary to wealthy American Caroline Stanton, the new mistress of Lennox Manor on the outskirts of Shanghai’s International Settlement. However, the Manor has a dark past due to a previous owner’s suicide, and soon Lisan’s childhood nightmares resurface with more intensity and meld with haunted visions of a woman in red. Adding to her unease is the young gardener, Yao, who both entices and disturbs her.
Newly married Caroline looks forward to life in China with her husband, Thomas, away from the shadows of another earlier tragedy. But an unwelcome guest, Andrew Grey, attends her party and claims to know secrets she can’t afford to have exposed. At the same party, the notorious princess Masako Kyo approaches Lisan with questions about the young woman’s family that the orphaned Lisan can’t answer.
As Caroline struggles with Grey’s extortion and Thomas’s mysterious illness, Lisan’s future is upended when she learns the truth about her past, and why her identity has been hidden all these years. All the while, strange incidents accelerate, driving Lisan to doubt her sanity as Lennox Manor seems unwilling to release her until she fulfills demands from beyond the grave.
My Opinion: You know that rare feeling when a book pulls you in from the very first page and you realize that you’re in the hands of a storyteller who knows exactly what they’re doing? This novel gave me that feeling immediately. Even though I first encountered Janie Chang through The Phoenix Crown, co-written with Kate Quinn, it is this book that made me understand why her name carries weight. And since co writing can blur who’s doing what behind the scenes, I’m happily counting this as my true introduction to her work.
Set in 1911 Shanghai, just on the cusp of World War I, the novel wraps you in a world thick with tradition, superstition, whispered curses, and the kind of history that surrounds you. At its heart are two women—each guarding her own secrets—living in a decaying mansion where the past refuses to stay buried. Chang blends historical fiction with magical realism so seamlessly that the boundaries blur; the house feels alive, the shadows feel watchful, and the truth reveals itself in slow, deliberate layers.
The gothic elements are all here: the crumbling manor, the sense of dread, the family mysteries, the creeping inevitability of revelation. But there’s more than atmosphere. Chang builds tension with such care that even when you think you’ve figured out all of the aspects, she still manages to drop surprises that land with a gasp. Some twists you might anticipate; others you absolutely will not. That unpredictability is part of the thrill.
A few readers have labeled this as horror; it’s not. To me, it reads as deeply immersive gothic fiction—the kind that makes you whisper, “just one more chapter,” until suddenly you’ve abandoned your weekend plans because you have to know what happens next. It’s absorbing, elegant, and quietly relentless.
I think I’ve found a new to me author to be on the lookout for.
Newly married Caroline looks forward to life in China with her husband, Thomas, away from the shadows of another earlier tragedy. But an unwelcome guest, Andrew Grey, attends her party and claims to know secrets she can’t afford to have exposed. At the same party, the notorious princess Masako Kyo approaches Lisan with questions about the young woman’s family that the orphaned Lisan can’t answer.
As Caroline struggles with Grey’s extortion and Thomas’s mysterious illness, Lisan’s future is upended when she learns the truth about her past, and why her identity has been hidden all these years. All the while, strange incidents accelerate, driving Lisan to doubt her sanity as Lennox Manor seems unwilling to release her until she fulfills demands from beyond the grave.
My Opinion: You know that rare feeling when a book pulls you in from the very first page and you realize that you’re in the hands of a storyteller who knows exactly what they’re doing? This novel gave me that feeling immediately. Even though I first encountered Janie Chang through The Phoenix Crown, co-written with Kate Quinn, it is this book that made me understand why her name carries weight. And since co writing can blur who’s doing what behind the scenes, I’m happily counting this as my true introduction to her work.
Set in 1911 Shanghai, just on the cusp of World War I, the novel wraps you in a world thick with tradition, superstition, whispered curses, and the kind of history that surrounds you. At its heart are two women—each guarding her own secrets—living in a decaying mansion where the past refuses to stay buried. Chang blends historical fiction with magical realism so seamlessly that the boundaries blur; the house feels alive, the shadows feel watchful, and the truth reveals itself in slow, deliberate layers.
The gothic elements are all here: the crumbling manor, the sense of dread, the family mysteries, the creeping inevitability of revelation. But there’s more than atmosphere. Chang builds tension with such care that even when you think you’ve figured out all of the aspects, she still manages to drop surprises that land with a gasp. Some twists you might anticipate; others you absolutely will not. That unpredictability is part of the thrill.
A few readers have labeled this as horror; it’s not. To me, it reads as deeply immersive gothic fiction—the kind that makes you whisper, “just one more chapter,” until suddenly you’ve abandoned your weekend plans because you have to know what happens next. It’s absorbing, elegant, and quietly relentless.
I think I’ve found a new to me author to be on the lookout for.
Thursday, March 26, 2026
Chaos Man
Author: Andrew Mayne
Published: March 24, 2026, by Thomas & Mercer
Format: Kindle, 330 Pages
Genre: Thriller
Series: The Specialists #3
Blurb: A train derails in Idaho, nearly causing a nuclear disaster. An inferno at a battery facility in Florida disrupts the electrical grid for days. A potentially devastating failure is discovered at Virginia’s Mud River Dam. To computational biologist Theo Cray, these aren’t mere infrastructure accidents. They are virtually undetectable acts of sabotage.
Theo sees a mathematical pattern to the madness that few others can comprehend—except for his rogue FBI agent Jessica Blackwood, private security specialist Brad Trasker, and Florida underwater investigator Sloan McPherson. If Theo’s intuition and calculations are correct, the disasters are just a warm-up. The worst is yet to come—a catastrophe that could trigger the deaths of millions across the country.
Now Theo and his team are on the hunt for a mysterious saboteur whose only motive is to spread panic and chaos. And with every tick of the clock, his unthinkable endgame is getting closer to becoming a terrifying reality. (GoodReads)
My Opinion: I don’t know what happened with this book, but this novel never found its footing for me. I usually look forward to Mayne’s work; his series (well, most of them) have a rhythm and energy that make them easy to sink into. This one, though, hits differently, and not in a good way.
The science drones on without the usual payoff. Theo’s dry humor, normally the thing that keeps the gears turning, is barely present. Even Jessica and Trasker, who can usually carry a scene, aren’t enough to hold this story together. I kept putting the book down, giving it a side eye, picking it back up, and wondering why I was working so hard to stay engaged.
There’s a heavy emphasis on AI, which is understandable, given Mayne’s real world immersion in the field, but the execution feels more filler than compelling. The investigation itself has interesting bones, but the pieces fall into place too conveniently, and the characters read more like cardboard cutouts than the sharp, distinct personalities I’ve come to expect from this universe.
And then, after all that slow, relentless buildup… it’s suddenly over. No real crescendo, no satisfying snap. Just a thud of an ending that left me blinking at the page.
This installment simply didn’t live up to what I’ve learned to expect from Andrew Mayne. It’s not a DNF, but it’s far from the inventive, tightly wound storytelling that made me a fan in the first place.
Theo sees a mathematical pattern to the madness that few others can comprehend—except for his rogue FBI agent Jessica Blackwood, private security specialist Brad Trasker, and Florida underwater investigator Sloan McPherson. If Theo’s intuition and calculations are correct, the disasters are just a warm-up. The worst is yet to come—a catastrophe that could trigger the deaths of millions across the country.
Now Theo and his team are on the hunt for a mysterious saboteur whose only motive is to spread panic and chaos. And with every tick of the clock, his unthinkable endgame is getting closer to becoming a terrifying reality. (GoodReads)
My Opinion: I don’t know what happened with this book, but this novel never found its footing for me. I usually look forward to Mayne’s work; his series (well, most of them) have a rhythm and energy that make them easy to sink into. This one, though, hits differently, and not in a good way.
The science drones on without the usual payoff. Theo’s dry humor, normally the thing that keeps the gears turning, is barely present. Even Jessica and Trasker, who can usually carry a scene, aren’t enough to hold this story together. I kept putting the book down, giving it a side eye, picking it back up, and wondering why I was working so hard to stay engaged.
There’s a heavy emphasis on AI, which is understandable, given Mayne’s real world immersion in the field, but the execution feels more filler than compelling. The investigation itself has interesting bones, but the pieces fall into place too conveniently, and the characters read more like cardboard cutouts than the sharp, distinct personalities I’ve come to expect from this universe.
And then, after all that slow, relentless buildup… it’s suddenly over. No real crescendo, no satisfying snap. Just a thud of an ending that left me blinking at the page.
This installment simply didn’t live up to what I’ve learned to expect from Andrew Mayne. It’s not a DNF, but it’s far from the inventive, tightly wound storytelling that made me a fan in the first place.
Monday, March 23, 2026
The Forgotten Book Club
Author: Kate Storey
Published: December 2, 2025 by Avon
Format: Kindle, 320 pages
Genre: Women's Fiction
Blurb: For three decades, Grace supported her husband Frank’s passion for books, even though her own love for literature paled in comparison. Since his passing, the shelves echo longingly, and Grace's heartache has only grown.
When Grace’s grandson suggests joining Frank’s old book club, she hesitates. How could meeting with a bunch of strangers possibly fill the void he left behind? Despite her doubts – and desperate to feel close to Frank again – Grace decides to attend.
Yet, upon arrival, Grace is puzzled to find this isn’t your typical book club here, you settle in for an hour of silent reading. Disappointed by the sparse attendance and confused by the lack of chatter she flees. But when equally lonely member, Annie, convinces her to stay, Grace is determined to ensure that neither Frank – nor his beloved book club – are forgotten.
And as she breathes new life into the group, she might just find this is where she truly belongs. Because this next chapter of life could just be the beginning of her story.
My Opinion: I’ll admit it: the cover is what caught my eye first. The colors, the softness, the whole inviting feel of it. I picked it up expecting something light and sweet, and while those elements are there, The Forgotten Book Club turned out to be one of those books that finds you at just the right moment.
There’s a tenderness running through this story, even though it begins with loss. Grace steps into a book club that doesn’t operate the way she expects, and her discomfort makes perfect sense. When you’ve spent too much time in your own quiet, even a small shift can feel overwhelming. But the group has its own charm, and the steady stream of book references—many of which I’ve read myself—made me feel like I was sitting in the room with them. There’s even a movie mention that brought back a memory I hadn’t revisited in years.
What surprised me most were the deeper layers tucked inside what looks, at first glance, like a cozy premise. I thought I was settling in for a simple story about people gathering to talk about books. Instead, I found a cast of characters who each carry their own history, their own grief, their own small hopes. They’re like nesting dolls, each with something hidden inside, and Grace has more to unpack than she realizes. It’s not that she was oblivious; it’s that she’d grown used to a version of “normal” that kept her isolated without her noticing. It takes a group of unexpected friends—and an old journal—to show her that loneliness doesn’t have to be permanent.
The emotional range here is lovely. One chapter had me laughing, and a few pages later I felt that quiet sting of recognition. By the end, I genuinely missed spending time with these characters. Kate Storey balances warmth and honesty in a way that feels effortless. If this is any indication of what she has in store, I’m hoping this is the start of a new favorite author for me.
When Grace’s grandson suggests joining Frank’s old book club, she hesitates. How could meeting with a bunch of strangers possibly fill the void he left behind? Despite her doubts – and desperate to feel close to Frank again – Grace decides to attend.
Yet, upon arrival, Grace is puzzled to find this isn’t your typical book club here, you settle in for an hour of silent reading. Disappointed by the sparse attendance and confused by the lack of chatter she flees. But when equally lonely member, Annie, convinces her to stay, Grace is determined to ensure that neither Frank – nor his beloved book club – are forgotten.
And as she breathes new life into the group, she might just find this is where she truly belongs. Because this next chapter of life could just be the beginning of her story.
My Opinion: I’ll admit it: the cover is what caught my eye first. The colors, the softness, the whole inviting feel of it. I picked it up expecting something light and sweet, and while those elements are there, The Forgotten Book Club turned out to be one of those books that finds you at just the right moment.
There’s a tenderness running through this story, even though it begins with loss. Grace steps into a book club that doesn’t operate the way she expects, and her discomfort makes perfect sense. When you’ve spent too much time in your own quiet, even a small shift can feel overwhelming. But the group has its own charm, and the steady stream of book references—many of which I’ve read myself—made me feel like I was sitting in the room with them. There’s even a movie mention that brought back a memory I hadn’t revisited in years.
What surprised me most were the deeper layers tucked inside what looks, at first glance, like a cozy premise. I thought I was settling in for a simple story about people gathering to talk about books. Instead, I found a cast of characters who each carry their own history, their own grief, their own small hopes. They’re like nesting dolls, each with something hidden inside, and Grace has more to unpack than she realizes. It’s not that she was oblivious; it’s that she’d grown used to a version of “normal” that kept her isolated without her noticing. It takes a group of unexpected friends—and an old journal—to show her that loneliness doesn’t have to be permanent.
The emotional range here is lovely. One chapter had me laughing, and a few pages later I felt that quiet sting of recognition. By the end, I genuinely missed spending time with these characters. Kate Storey balances warmth and honesty in a way that feels effortless. If this is any indication of what she has in store, I’m hoping this is the start of a new favorite author for me.
Thursday, March 19, 2026
The Astral Library
Author: Kate Quinn
Published: February 17, 2026 by William Morrow
Format: Kindle, 304 Pages
Genre: Fantasy
Blurb: Kate Quinn unveils a sweeping, genre-bending adventure set in a library beyond imagination. A boundless, otherworldly archive containing every book ever written, every story yet to come, and a discreet refuge for those who need to slip out of sight. When an overlooked researcher stumbles into this impossible realm, she uncovers a secret powerful enough to unsettle both the library’s fragile equilibrium and the world outside its doors. As competing interests close in, she must navigate scholars with hidden loyalties, seekers in need of sanctuary, and the library’s own enigmatic guardians to protect a force far greater than any single story. Richly imagined and irresistibly propulsive, The Astral Library showcases Quinn at her most inventive, blending historical resonance with bold speculative intrigue.
My Opinion: Every once in a while, a book grabs me from the first pages and refuses to let go. This novel did exactly that.
Alix—with an i, not an e—is having the worst day of her life, which is saying something for someone who’s been in foster care since she was eight. In the span of a morning, she loses her job, her housing, and even access to her own bank account. With nowhere else to go, she heads to the one place that has always felt safe: the Boston Public Library. The familiar hush, the scent of old paper, the quiet order of the stacks—this is her sanctuary. And it’s here, in the middle of her unraveling, that the Astral Library chooses her.
What looks like a storage closet turns out to be a doorway to something extraordinary. Alix steps through and finds herself in a realm that holds every book ever written, and every book yet to be written, as long as it’s in the public domain (copyrights matter, even in magical libraries). The doorway doesn’t open for just anyone; it opens for the chosen. And once Alix crosses that threshold, she—and the reader—are transported.
What struck me most is how different this book feels from other “magical library” stories. Many novels in this genre lean on a torrent of book references or character cameos to create a sense of literary nostalgia. Quinn does something more intimate. There’s a warmth here, a tingly sense of belonging, as if the library itself is glad you’ve arrived. The familiar echoes of classic stories aren’t just clever nods; they’re emotional anchors. When Alix steps into the Astral Library, you feel that same pull of recognition, that same desire to linger.
And then the last third of the book hits, and it’s a wild, exhilarating ride. Twists, reveals, emotional punches, and I loved every minute of it. Quinn herself has called this novel “a love letter to book lovers,” and I couldn’t agree more. It feels like she wrote it for readers who have lived entire lives inside stories.
Most people know Kate Quinn for her historical fiction, but this foray into fantasy is something special. She brings her signature depth and character insight into a world brimming with magic, possibility, and heart. I adored what she created here and the feeling it left me with. This is one of those books that lingers long after you close it.
My Opinion: Every once in a while, a book grabs me from the first pages and refuses to let go. This novel did exactly that.
Alix—with an i, not an e—is having the worst day of her life, which is saying something for someone who’s been in foster care since she was eight. In the span of a morning, she loses her job, her housing, and even access to her own bank account. With nowhere else to go, she heads to the one place that has always felt safe: the Boston Public Library. The familiar hush, the scent of old paper, the quiet order of the stacks—this is her sanctuary. And it’s here, in the middle of her unraveling, that the Astral Library chooses her.
What looks like a storage closet turns out to be a doorway to something extraordinary. Alix steps through and finds herself in a realm that holds every book ever written, and every book yet to be written, as long as it’s in the public domain (copyrights matter, even in magical libraries). The doorway doesn’t open for just anyone; it opens for the chosen. And once Alix crosses that threshold, she—and the reader—are transported.
What struck me most is how different this book feels from other “magical library” stories. Many novels in this genre lean on a torrent of book references or character cameos to create a sense of literary nostalgia. Quinn does something more intimate. There’s a warmth here, a tingly sense of belonging, as if the library itself is glad you’ve arrived. The familiar echoes of classic stories aren’t just clever nods; they’re emotional anchors. When Alix steps into the Astral Library, you feel that same pull of recognition, that same desire to linger.
And then the last third of the book hits, and it’s a wild, exhilarating ride. Twists, reveals, emotional punches, and I loved every minute of it. Quinn herself has called this novel “a love letter to book lovers,” and I couldn’t agree more. It feels like she wrote it for readers who have lived entire lives inside stories.
Most people know Kate Quinn for her historical fiction, but this foray into fantasy is something special. She brings her signature depth and character insight into a world brimming with magic, possibility, and heart. I adored what she created here and the feeling it left me with. This is one of those books that lingers long after you close it.
Monday, March 16, 2026
First Sign of Danger
Author: Kelley Armstrong
Published: February 17, 2026, by Minotaur Books
Format: Kindle, 352 Pages
Genre: Mystery
Series: Haven's Rock #4
Blurb: Detective Casey Duncan and her husband, Sheriff Eric Dalton, are entering a new chapter of life as parents to their six-month-old baby. Their family is hidden away in the sanctuary town of Haven's Rock where they can live safe and private lives. But when they encounter hikers too close to the borders of Haven's Rock, they realize they're in danger of being exposed.
When they find one of the hikers dead the next day, they realize that their paranoia was justified, but they're no closer to finding out who these people were and what they were doing in the vicinity of Haven's Rock. Only by tracing the hikers' movements, as well as examining the recent behavior of their closest neighbors, the workers of a secretive mining camp, will they be able to figure out where the threat is coming from and shut it down. Otherwise, the lives of everyone in Haven's Rock--and their safe, secure new existence--are at risk.
My Opinion: I love this series. It’s one of those “just one more chapter” situations that inevitably turns into an hour disappearing while you’re happily lost in the Yukon with Casey, Dalton, and whatever fresh trouble has found its way to Haven’s Rock.
Armstrong knows how to build a twisty plot. The characters spend a fair amount of time speculating and second guessing themselves, which means you’re never quite sure where the story is headed—mostly because they aren’t either. It keeps the tension humming in the background, even during the quieter moments.
Now that baby Rory has arrived, Casey and Dalton are juggling teething woes and childcare logistics right alongside dead bodies and suspicious strangers. The contrast is oddly enjoyable. One minute they’re soothing a fussy infant, the next they’re tracking footprints through the snow and trying to figure out who’s lying, who’s stalking whom, and why the body count keeps rising.
And yes, I’ll admit it: I get a ridiculous dopamine hit when I guess a plot twist correctly. Armstrong makes you work for it, but when you land on the right theory, it feels earned.
Things escalate quickly once Lilith barrels her way toward Haven’s Rock, and the arrival of a second woman—possibly dangerous, definitely disruptive—throws the entire town into chaos. For a place that wants to stay invisible, they’re having a very loud week.
Armstrong’s action scenes remain top tier. There were moments when I realized I’d been holding my breath, waiting to see how a confrontation would shake out. But did I ever put the book down or look away? Not a chance. When this series goes full throttle, I’m strapped in for the ride.
The only downside is knowing we’re nearing the end. It appears that there will be just one more book, scheduled for early next year. I’m already bracing myself.
When they find one of the hikers dead the next day, they realize that their paranoia was justified, but they're no closer to finding out who these people were and what they were doing in the vicinity of Haven's Rock. Only by tracing the hikers' movements, as well as examining the recent behavior of their closest neighbors, the workers of a secretive mining camp, will they be able to figure out where the threat is coming from and shut it down. Otherwise, the lives of everyone in Haven's Rock--and their safe, secure new existence--are at risk.
My Opinion: I love this series. It’s one of those “just one more chapter” situations that inevitably turns into an hour disappearing while you’re happily lost in the Yukon with Casey, Dalton, and whatever fresh trouble has found its way to Haven’s Rock.
Armstrong knows how to build a twisty plot. The characters spend a fair amount of time speculating and second guessing themselves, which means you’re never quite sure where the story is headed—mostly because they aren’t either. It keeps the tension humming in the background, even during the quieter moments.
Now that baby Rory has arrived, Casey and Dalton are juggling teething woes and childcare logistics right alongside dead bodies and suspicious strangers. The contrast is oddly enjoyable. One minute they’re soothing a fussy infant, the next they’re tracking footprints through the snow and trying to figure out who’s lying, who’s stalking whom, and why the body count keeps rising.
And yes, I’ll admit it: I get a ridiculous dopamine hit when I guess a plot twist correctly. Armstrong makes you work for it, but when you land on the right theory, it feels earned.
Things escalate quickly once Lilith barrels her way toward Haven’s Rock, and the arrival of a second woman—possibly dangerous, definitely disruptive—throws the entire town into chaos. For a place that wants to stay invisible, they’re having a very loud week.
Armstrong’s action scenes remain top tier. There were moments when I realized I’d been holding my breath, waiting to see how a confrontation would shake out. But did I ever put the book down or look away? Not a chance. When this series goes full throttle, I’m strapped in for the ride.
The only downside is knowing we’re nearing the end. It appears that there will be just one more book, scheduled for early next year. I’m already bracing myself.
Thursday, March 12, 2026
The Marigold Cottages Murder Collective
Author: Jo Nichols
Published: August 19, 2025 by Minotaur Books
Format: Hardcover, 342Pages
Genre: Amateur Sleuth
Series: Marigold Cottages Murders #1
Blurb: Mrs. B, the landlady of The Marigold Cottages is a stubborn idealist who only rents to people she cares about: Sophie, an anxious young playwright with a dark past; Hamilton, an agoraphobe who likes to overshare; Ocean, a queer sculptor raising two kids alone; the perfectionist Lily-Ann; and Nicholas, a finance bro who’s hiding secrets.
The tenants live contentedly in their doll-house bungalows in Santa Barbara, just minutes from the beach, until their peace is shattered when Anthony, a quiet, hulking, but potentially violent ex-con moves in. Three weeks later, a dead body is discovered on the streets of the peaceful neighborhood. Anthony is arrested, and the tenants heave sighs of relief. Until Mrs. B, convinced that he's innocent, marches down to the police station and confesses to the crime herself. The tenants band together and form “The Marigold Cottages Murder Collective” to save their beloved landlady. As clues are unearthed and secrets are revealed, the community of misfits only grows more tight-knit...until a second body is found.
My Opinion: You know that feeling when you open a book and immediately realize you’re going to need a mental seating chart? That was me with this novel. It took longer than expected to keep everyone straight, but once the cast settled in my mind, the story moved with an easy, weekend-ready rhythm. It’s a fast read, it flows well, and even when the ending made me scrunch my brows and tilt my head, I still enjoyed the ride.
The real charm comes from the residents of the Marigold Cottages—“idiosyncratic,” as the author lovingly calls them. They’re the kind of neighbors you’d want nearby for the gossip, the baked goods, and the fierce loyalty… while also keeping just enough distance to avoid becoming the next topic of conversation. Mrs. B, the owner of the cottages and official matriarch, sets the tone: everyone knows everyone’s business, but everyone also looks out for one another. It’s messy, heartfelt, and oddly comforting.
One of the book’s standout features is its structure. Paragraphs blend with text messages and even stage-play-style dialogue, and instead of feeling gimmicky, the shifts add energy. The format never distracts from the plot; if anything, it mirrors the chaotic, overlapping lives of this little community.
When one of their own is threatened with murder charges, the group rallies—loudly, imperfectly, and with plenty of secrets bubbling up at the worst possible moments. Those secrets complicate everything, but they also reveal the strengths and vulnerabilities that make this rag tag crew worth rooting for.
And then there’s the whale moment. A small scene, but it hits with surprising emotional weight—sadness, hope, longing, resignation all braided together. It’s the kind of quiet beat that lingers.
By the time the mystery reaches its conclusion, the whos and whys get twisty enough that I had to slow down, reread a few sections, and mentally sketch out how the pieces fit. It’s not confusing in a frustrating way—more like a puzzle that requires a second look.
This appears to be the first in a new series, and I’m genuinely looking forward to returning to this eccentric Santa Barbara enclave. They’re misfits, sure, but they’re living their best lives, and I’m happy to follow along.
The tenants live contentedly in their doll-house bungalows in Santa Barbara, just minutes from the beach, until their peace is shattered when Anthony, a quiet, hulking, but potentially violent ex-con moves in. Three weeks later, a dead body is discovered on the streets of the peaceful neighborhood. Anthony is arrested, and the tenants heave sighs of relief. Until Mrs. B, convinced that he's innocent, marches down to the police station and confesses to the crime herself. The tenants band together and form “The Marigold Cottages Murder Collective” to save their beloved landlady. As clues are unearthed and secrets are revealed, the community of misfits only grows more tight-knit...until a second body is found.
My Opinion: You know that feeling when you open a book and immediately realize you’re going to need a mental seating chart? That was me with this novel. It took longer than expected to keep everyone straight, but once the cast settled in my mind, the story moved with an easy, weekend-ready rhythm. It’s a fast read, it flows well, and even when the ending made me scrunch my brows and tilt my head, I still enjoyed the ride.
The real charm comes from the residents of the Marigold Cottages—“idiosyncratic,” as the author lovingly calls them. They’re the kind of neighbors you’d want nearby for the gossip, the baked goods, and the fierce loyalty… while also keeping just enough distance to avoid becoming the next topic of conversation. Mrs. B, the owner of the cottages and official matriarch, sets the tone: everyone knows everyone’s business, but everyone also looks out for one another. It’s messy, heartfelt, and oddly comforting.
One of the book’s standout features is its structure. Paragraphs blend with text messages and even stage-play-style dialogue, and instead of feeling gimmicky, the shifts add energy. The format never distracts from the plot; if anything, it mirrors the chaotic, overlapping lives of this little community.
When one of their own is threatened with murder charges, the group rallies—loudly, imperfectly, and with plenty of secrets bubbling up at the worst possible moments. Those secrets complicate everything, but they also reveal the strengths and vulnerabilities that make this rag tag crew worth rooting for.
And then there’s the whale moment. A small scene, but it hits with surprising emotional weight—sadness, hope, longing, resignation all braided together. It’s the kind of quiet beat that lingers.
By the time the mystery reaches its conclusion, the whos and whys get twisty enough that I had to slow down, reread a few sections, and mentally sketch out how the pieces fit. It’s not confusing in a frustrating way—more like a puzzle that requires a second look.
This appears to be the first in a new series, and I’m genuinely looking forward to returning to this eccentric Santa Barbara enclave. They’re misfits, sure, but they’re living their best lives, and I’m happy to follow along.
Monday, March 9, 2026
A Marriage at Sea
Author: Sophie Elmhirst
Published: July 8, 2025 by Riverhead Books
Format: 256 pages, Hardcover
Genre: Nonfiction
Blurb: Maurice and Maralyn make an odd couple. He’s a loner, awkward and obsessive; she’s charismatic and ambitious. But they share a horror of wasting their lives. And they dream – as we all dream – of running away from it all. What if they quit their jobs, sold their house, bought a boat, and sailed away?
Most of us begin and end with the daydream. But Maurice began to study nautical navigation. Maralyn made detailed lists of provisions. And in June 1972, they set sail. For nearly a year all went well, until deep in the Pacific, a breaching whale knocked a hole in their boat and it sank beneath the waves.
What ensues is a jaw-dropping fight to survive in the wild ocean, with little hope of rescue. Alone together for months in a tiny rubber raft, starving and exhausted, Maurice and Maralyn have to find not only ways to stay alive but ways to get along, as their inner demons emerge and their marriage is put to the greatest of tests. Although they could run away from the world, they can’t run away from themselves.
Taut, propulsive, and dazzling, A Marriage at Sea pairs an adrenaline-fueled high seas adventure with a gutting love story that asks why we love difficult people, and who we become under the most extreme conditions imaginable.
My Opinion: A few chapters into this novel, I knew I could never have crossed an ocean, let alone a street, with Maurice. He isn’t brilliant; he just believes he is. Socially awkward, self absorbed, and convinced of his own superiority, he’s the last person you’d want beside you in a crisis. Maralyn, meanwhile, is his opposite—easygoing, hopeful, and somehow willing to follow him into a life at sea despite fearing water and never learning to swim.
Elmhirst tells you early on what happened to them, so the anticipation comes from watching how they survive 118 days adrift. Before that ordeal, we see them in the 1960s building a life, a boat, and a dream together. It might have stayed idealistic if Maurice hadn’t insisted on sailing without a radio transmitter because he wanted a “pure” escape from the world. Trust me, I talked back to the book more than once.
When disaster hits, Maralyn becomes the reason they stay alive. She fights the elements, wrestles sea turtles for food, and pushes against Maurice’s bleak worldview. He sees survival as a never-ending list of disappointments; she refuses to let go of hope. Their dynamic is as edgy as the storms around them.
Maurice has moments of reflection, but some of his journal entries made me want to throw an oar at him—especially when he admits he felt no desire for his wife during their darkest hours, even as she kept them afloat. It’s hard to root for a man who can be that cold.
And yet, in the epilogue, Elmhirst manages to stir a flicker of sympathy for him. For a moment, I felt the weight of his loneliness without Maralyn. But sympathy doesn’t change the truth: he wasn’t a good partner, and he wouldn’t be remembered at all if not for a whale and a patient wife.
Elmhirst’s creative nonfiction style is engaging, weaving the Baileys’ journals into a vivid narrative. But for me, the heart of the book is Maralyn—steady, hopeful, and far stronger than the narcissistic man she followed to sea.
Most of us begin and end with the daydream. But Maurice began to study nautical navigation. Maralyn made detailed lists of provisions. And in June 1972, they set sail. For nearly a year all went well, until deep in the Pacific, a breaching whale knocked a hole in their boat and it sank beneath the waves.
What ensues is a jaw-dropping fight to survive in the wild ocean, with little hope of rescue. Alone together for months in a tiny rubber raft, starving and exhausted, Maurice and Maralyn have to find not only ways to stay alive but ways to get along, as their inner demons emerge and their marriage is put to the greatest of tests. Although they could run away from the world, they can’t run away from themselves.
Taut, propulsive, and dazzling, A Marriage at Sea pairs an adrenaline-fueled high seas adventure with a gutting love story that asks why we love difficult people, and who we become under the most extreme conditions imaginable.
My Opinion: A few chapters into this novel, I knew I could never have crossed an ocean, let alone a street, with Maurice. He isn’t brilliant; he just believes he is. Socially awkward, self absorbed, and convinced of his own superiority, he’s the last person you’d want beside you in a crisis. Maralyn, meanwhile, is his opposite—easygoing, hopeful, and somehow willing to follow him into a life at sea despite fearing water and never learning to swim.
Elmhirst tells you early on what happened to them, so the anticipation comes from watching how they survive 118 days adrift. Before that ordeal, we see them in the 1960s building a life, a boat, and a dream together. It might have stayed idealistic if Maurice hadn’t insisted on sailing without a radio transmitter because he wanted a “pure” escape from the world. Trust me, I talked back to the book more than once.
When disaster hits, Maralyn becomes the reason they stay alive. She fights the elements, wrestles sea turtles for food, and pushes against Maurice’s bleak worldview. He sees survival as a never-ending list of disappointments; she refuses to let go of hope. Their dynamic is as edgy as the storms around them.
Maurice has moments of reflection, but some of his journal entries made me want to throw an oar at him—especially when he admits he felt no desire for his wife during their darkest hours, even as she kept them afloat. It’s hard to root for a man who can be that cold.
And yet, in the epilogue, Elmhirst manages to stir a flicker of sympathy for him. For a moment, I felt the weight of his loneliness without Maralyn. But sympathy doesn’t change the truth: he wasn’t a good partner, and he wouldn’t be remembered at all if not for a whale and a patient wife.
Elmhirst’s creative nonfiction style is engaging, weaving the Baileys’ journals into a vivid narrative. But for me, the heart of the book is Maralyn—steady, hopeful, and far stronger than the narcissistic man she followed to sea.
Friday, March 6, 2026
A Ghastly Catastrophe
Author: Deanna Raybourn
Published: March 3, 2026 by Berkley
Format: Kindle, 336 Pages
Genre: Historical Mystery
Series: Veronica Speedwell #10
Blurb: When the corpse of an entitled young man is found entirely drained of blood in a carriage next to Highgate Cemetery, Veronica’s interest is piqued. And then a second victim is found, his death made to look like a suicide, and Veronica and her intrepid beau, Stoker, know the hunt is on. The two men share one link: they were both members of a society so secretive that only a singular mention of it can be found anywhere.
Thirsty for more clues, Veronica and Stoker hear that a young Roma boy may know more about their first victim, but the only way to the boy is through an old acquaintance of Stoker’s, Lady Julia Brisbane. Lady Julia and her dashing husband, Nicholas, occasionally track down murderers and are only too happy to help. But as it becomes clear the secret society is a dangerous sect looking to entice immortality seekers, Veronica and Stoker find themselves ensnared by a decidedly more sinister couple.
The professed leader of the society claims to be a creature of the night; his partner practices witchcraft and they both fancy themselves emissaries of the otherworldly. Just as Veronica and Stoker get closer to learning the true purpose of the society and unraveling this macabre mystery, another body turns up, and they quickly discover they’ve gone from being the hunters to the hunted.
My Opinion: Another entry in one of my favorite series, this novel delivers the charm, humor, and character chemistry I keep coming back for—just not without testing my patience along the way.
The book is packed with idioms, archaic vocabulary, and British slang, which was enough to make me grateful for having a dictionary at the ready while reading on my Kindle. Once you either accept or ignore the linguistic flourishes, the story underneath is genuinely good. The banter is sharp, the humor lands, and the characters remain as magnetic as ever. It’s a quick read in that familiar Raybourn way: even when the pacing wobbles, the world doesn’t want to let you go.
One of the real pleasures here is seeing Veronica feel like herself again. In the last couple of books, she drifted toward a softer, almost fawning version of her usual self—something that dulled the spark that makes her so compelling. This time, she’s back to her sharp, incisive, wonderfully “Veronica ish” self, and it’s a relief.
But the novel isn’t without its frustrations. The reliance on obscure vocabulary slows down the reading, and the story itself becomes bogged down in overly descriptive scenes and unnecessary detours. The main plot keeps slipping out of focus, and for a series that usually balances momentum with atmosphere so well, that imbalance stands out. I’ve read every book in this series, and I can’t remember another that left me quite this irritated.
Even so, the characters, the bickering, and the humor still shine. I just hope that next time Raybourn sets aside the thesaurus and leans into what she does best: telling an engaging, tightly paced story with the characters readers adore.
Thirsty for more clues, Veronica and Stoker hear that a young Roma boy may know more about their first victim, but the only way to the boy is through an old acquaintance of Stoker’s, Lady Julia Brisbane. Lady Julia and her dashing husband, Nicholas, occasionally track down murderers and are only too happy to help. But as it becomes clear the secret society is a dangerous sect looking to entice immortality seekers, Veronica and Stoker find themselves ensnared by a decidedly more sinister couple.
The professed leader of the society claims to be a creature of the night; his partner practices witchcraft and they both fancy themselves emissaries of the otherworldly. Just as Veronica and Stoker get closer to learning the true purpose of the society and unraveling this macabre mystery, another body turns up, and they quickly discover they’ve gone from being the hunters to the hunted.
My Opinion: Another entry in one of my favorite series, this novel delivers the charm, humor, and character chemistry I keep coming back for—just not without testing my patience along the way.
The book is packed with idioms, archaic vocabulary, and British slang, which was enough to make me grateful for having a dictionary at the ready while reading on my Kindle. Once you either accept or ignore the linguistic flourishes, the story underneath is genuinely good. The banter is sharp, the humor lands, and the characters remain as magnetic as ever. It’s a quick read in that familiar Raybourn way: even when the pacing wobbles, the world doesn’t want to let you go.
One of the real pleasures here is seeing Veronica feel like herself again. In the last couple of books, she drifted toward a softer, almost fawning version of her usual self—something that dulled the spark that makes her so compelling. This time, she’s back to her sharp, incisive, wonderfully “Veronica ish” self, and it’s a relief.
But the novel isn’t without its frustrations. The reliance on obscure vocabulary slows down the reading, and the story itself becomes bogged down in overly descriptive scenes and unnecessary detours. The main plot keeps slipping out of focus, and for a series that usually balances momentum with atmosphere so well, that imbalance stands out. I’ve read every book in this series, and I can’t remember another that left me quite this irritated.
Even so, the characters, the bickering, and the humor still shine. I just hope that next time Raybourn sets aside the thesaurus and leans into what she does best: telling an engaging, tightly paced story with the characters readers adore.
Monday, March 2, 2026
Girl Dinner
Author: Olivie Blake
Published: October 21, 2025 by Tor Books
Format: Kindle, 368 Pages
Genre: Horror
Blurb:Every member of The House, the most exclusive sorority on campus, and all its alumni, are beautiful, high-achieving, and universally respected.
After a freshman year she would rather forget, sophomore Nina Kaur knows being one of the chosen few accepted into The House is the first step in her path to the brightest possible future. Once she's taken into their fold, the House will surely ease her fears of failure and protect her from those who see a young woman on her own as easy prey.
Meanwhile, adjunct professor Dr. Sloane Hartley is struggling to return to work after accepting a demotion to support her partner's new position at the cutthroat University. After 18 months at home with her newborn daughter, Sloane's clothes don’t fit right, her girl-dad husband isn’t as present as he thinks he is, and even the few hours a day she's apart from her child fill her psyche with paralyzing ennui. When invited to be The House’s academic liaison, Sloane enviously drinks in the way the alumnae seem to have it all, achieving a level of collective perfection that Sloane so desperately craves.
As Nina and Sloane each get drawn deeper into the arcane rituals of the sisterhood, they learn that living well comes with bloody costs. And when they are finally invited to the table, they will have to decide just how much they can stomach in the name of solidarity and power.
My Opinion: Blake is one of those authors you either fall for or quietly back away from. There’s rarely a middle ground. My first encounter with her work was Gifted & Talented, which I ended up enjoying far more than I expected, so when Girl Dinner crossed my path, I figured I was ready for whatever she had in store.
Turns out, I wasn’t.
This novel is… a lot. It opens at a crawl, the kind of slow where you start wondering why you’re here and whether the payoff will be worth it. Then, somewhere around the halfway mark, the floor drops out, and you realize you’re in a very different book than the one you thought you were reading. I was genuinely glad I stuck around for the shift.
Part of the whiplash was my own doing. I didn’t check the genre or read a single review beforehand. I went in expecting women’s fiction with a slight academic edge. And to be fair, the early chapters lean into that familiar “who am I, who do I want to be” introspection. But by the time I reached the middle, I had to admit I’d completely misread the assignment.
There’s one scene, in particular, that made an involuntary, very loud “WTF” fly out of my mouth. Thank goodness I wasn’t in public. I sat there blinking at the page, wondering how we got from point A to whatever fresh chaos point B was supposed to be.
Only after the fact did I go back and see that this book is categorized as horror. Horror is not usually my genre of choice, mostly because so few books commit to the label. This one does. Enough that I set it across the room and gave it a suspicious look for a couple of days before picking it back up.
What Blake is doing here is layered: feminist theory, social commentary, satire (maybe), power dynamics, academic politics, hedonism, the whole messy tangle of how women are shaped and consumed by the systems around them. At a certain point, I stopped trying to decide whether it was satire and just let the book be what it was. I hadn’t planned on dropping everything to finish it, but that’s exactly what happened.
What begins as a slow simmer turns into something far stranger and more compelling. Blake’s writing is polarizing, but in the two books I’ve read so far, she hasn’t let me down. And that final twist? I’m not sure I needed it, but I was absolutely delighted it was there. Apparently, I did need that last jolt, because I’m still sitting here muttering, “Olivie Blake, what did you do to me?”
After a freshman year she would rather forget, sophomore Nina Kaur knows being one of the chosen few accepted into The House is the first step in her path to the brightest possible future. Once she's taken into their fold, the House will surely ease her fears of failure and protect her from those who see a young woman on her own as easy prey.
Meanwhile, adjunct professor Dr. Sloane Hartley is struggling to return to work after accepting a demotion to support her partner's new position at the cutthroat University. After 18 months at home with her newborn daughter, Sloane's clothes don’t fit right, her girl-dad husband isn’t as present as he thinks he is, and even the few hours a day she's apart from her child fill her psyche with paralyzing ennui. When invited to be The House’s academic liaison, Sloane enviously drinks in the way the alumnae seem to have it all, achieving a level of collective perfection that Sloane so desperately craves.
As Nina and Sloane each get drawn deeper into the arcane rituals of the sisterhood, they learn that living well comes with bloody costs. And when they are finally invited to the table, they will have to decide just how much they can stomach in the name of solidarity and power.
My Opinion: Blake is one of those authors you either fall for or quietly back away from. There’s rarely a middle ground. My first encounter with her work was Gifted & Talented, which I ended up enjoying far more than I expected, so when Girl Dinner crossed my path, I figured I was ready for whatever she had in store.
Turns out, I wasn’t.
This novel is… a lot. It opens at a crawl, the kind of slow where you start wondering why you’re here and whether the payoff will be worth it. Then, somewhere around the halfway mark, the floor drops out, and you realize you’re in a very different book than the one you thought you were reading. I was genuinely glad I stuck around for the shift.
Part of the whiplash was my own doing. I didn’t check the genre or read a single review beforehand. I went in expecting women’s fiction with a slight academic edge. And to be fair, the early chapters lean into that familiar “who am I, who do I want to be” introspection. But by the time I reached the middle, I had to admit I’d completely misread the assignment.
There’s one scene, in particular, that made an involuntary, very loud “WTF” fly out of my mouth. Thank goodness I wasn’t in public. I sat there blinking at the page, wondering how we got from point A to whatever fresh chaos point B was supposed to be.
Only after the fact did I go back and see that this book is categorized as horror. Horror is not usually my genre of choice, mostly because so few books commit to the label. This one does. Enough that I set it across the room and gave it a suspicious look for a couple of days before picking it back up.
What Blake is doing here is layered: feminist theory, social commentary, satire (maybe), power dynamics, academic politics, hedonism, the whole messy tangle of how women are shaped and consumed by the systems around them. At a certain point, I stopped trying to decide whether it was satire and just let the book be what it was. I hadn’t planned on dropping everything to finish it, but that’s exactly what happened.
What begins as a slow simmer turns into something far stranger and more compelling. Blake’s writing is polarizing, but in the two books I’ve read so far, she hasn’t let me down. And that final twist? I’m not sure I needed it, but I was absolutely delighted it was there. Apparently, I did need that last jolt, because I’m still sitting here muttering, “Olivie Blake, what did you do to me?”
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