Diamonds and Roses, Vipers and Toads

Diamonds and Roses, Vipers and Toads is a vivid and imaginative novel that feels like stepping into a darker, more layered version of a classic fairy tale. Inspired by the story traditions of Charles Perrault, the book blends folklore, historical atmosphere, and emotional drama into a narrative that quickly pulls readers into the difficult life of its heroine, Gwendolyn Honeydale.

The story opens with the funeral of Gwen’s father, and the scene immediately establishes the tension within her family. Gwen is grieving deeply, but her mother and older sister Fanny, show little compassion. Instead, they are focused on status, appearances, and what advantages might come from the father’s death. This early chapter is striking because it introduces the emotional cruelty Gwen faces at home while also hinting at the larger themes the novel explores—kindness versus vanity, sincerity versus ambition.

As a female reader, I found myself rooting for Gwen almost instantly. She is thoughtful, empathetic, and observant, particularly when interacting with animals or people who are treated poorly by others. One moment that stood out to me was her kindness toward the poor widow Rumblestoke and her daughter, whom Gwen helps by offering clothing and compassion when others would ignore them. These moments reveal Gwen’s quiet strength and highlight the contrast between her gentle nature and the harshness of the people around her.

Carlton’s writing style is rich with detail, which works beautifully for a story set in a medieval-style world of farms, markets, and noble households. The market scenes in particular are wonderfully described. When Gwen encounters the glassmakers selling brilliantly colored drinking glasses, the moment feels magical without actually being magical. The craftsmanship, the colors, and the atmosphere of the busy marketplace create a sense of discovery that adds warmth and beauty to the story.

The book carries a slightly darker tone than many traditional fairy tales, which I personally enjoyed. There is a sense that kindness in this world comes at a cost, and that Gwen will have to endure real hardship before her story unfolds. That tension kept me interested and curious about where the narrative would ultimately lead.

Diamonds and Roses, Vipers and Toads is an engaging and beautifully written novel that should appeal to readers who enjoy fairy-tale retellings with a bit more depth and emotional realism. Fans of historical fantasy, folklore-inspired stories, and character-driven narratives will likely find this book especially rewarding. It’s the kind of story that reminds us why fairy tales have endured for centuries; they reveal truths about human nature in ways that are both entertaining and meaningful.


Diamonds and Roses, Vipers and Toads

Clark T. Carlton’s Diamonds and Roses, Vipers and Toads is a richly imagined retelling that blends fairy-tale sensibilities with sharp emotional realism. From its arresting opening at a father’s burial to its lush depictions of glassmaking, class ambition, and sisterly rivalry, the novel establishes a world both enchanted and uncomfortably human.

The story centers on Gwendolyn Honeydale, a grieving young woman whose kindness and emotional sincerity stand in stark contrast to her calculating mother and venomous sister, Fanny. The novel opens with a scene of raw hostility at their father’s graveside, an unforgettable introduction that immediately grounds the narrative in themes of inheritance, power, and moral fracture. Gwen’s compassion for animals, for the impoverished Widow Rumblestoke, and even for the fragile bees whose honey she harvests, reveals her as a heroine shaped not by naïveté but by empathy. Carlton carefully builds her inner life, allowing readers to feel the humiliation she suffers and the small sparks of hope she clings to.

The arrival of Paolo, the glassmaker’s nephew, introduces a thread of romantic and artistic possibility. The glassware itself becomes symbolic: delicate yet luminous, transparent yet strong. The scenes inside the forge are especially vivid, filled with heat, color, and transformation. Carlton’s prose shines in these passages, lingering on sensory detail without becoming indulgent. The glassmaking process mirrors Gwen’s own journey, subjected to pressure, reshaped by flame, yet capable of emerging as something rare and beautiful.

What impressed me most was the novel’s tonal balance. While rooted in the structure of a classic fairy tale complete with cruelty, social hierarchy, and hints of the supernatural, it refuses to flatten its characters into simple archetypes. Mother is ambitious and sharp-tongued, but her desperation is grounded in social reality. Fanny is monstrous in moments, yet her vanity is painfully human. Even secondary characters, such as the Rumblestokes or the nobility observing the glassblowing, feel textured rather than decorative.

The novel explores class mobility, female agency, grief, and the cost of ambition. Gwen’s moral compass is repeatedly tested: by her mother’s schemes to marry into land and title, by her sister’s cruelty, and by society's rigid expectations. There are fairy-tale echoes of diamonds, roses, vipers, and toads, but the emotional stakes feel immediate rather than whimsical.

Readers who enjoy layered fairy-tale retellings in the vein of historical fantasy will find much to savor here. Fans of authors who blend folklore with social commentary will appreciate Carlton’s willingness to dwell in both beauty and bitterness. Those who love slow-burn romantic tension, artisan craft details, and morally complex family dynamics will be particularly drawn in. It would also appeal to readers who value strong yet gentle heroines—young women whose power lies not in swordplay but in steadfast compassion.

Overall, Diamonds and Roses, Vipers and Toads is an immersive and emotionally resonant tale. It reminds us that cruelty may be loud and glittering, but quiet kindness, like glass shaped by fire, can endure and shine.


Diamonds and Roses, Vipers and Toads

Clark T. Carlton’s Diamonds and Roses, Vipers and Toads is an ambitious and imaginative reworking of classic fairy-tale traditions, blending dark folklore, social satire, and character-driven storytelling into a surprisingly layered novel. From the opening chapter, the book establishes a tone that feels both whimsical and cruel, much like the old European tales it draws inspiration from. The story begins with a strikingly bitter family scene during a father’s burial, where young Gwendolyn Honeydale is immediately positioned as the moral center of a hostile household dominated by her vain sister Fanny and their calculating mother.

What stood out to me most as a reader is how Carlton embraces the stark emotional contrasts common to traditional fairy tales while still developing nuanced characters. Gwendolyn, introduced during her father’s funeral, is clearly the sympathetic heroine—kind, compassionate, and repeatedly mistreated by those around her. Her sister Fanny, by contrast, is manipulative and cruel, even stealing the coin placed in their father’s mouth for burial rites. It’s a scene that perfectly establishes the moral divide between the two sisters while also signaling that the story will not shy away from darker or more grotesque elements of folklore.

Carlton’s prose style is another highlight. He writes with a theatrical flair that often feels intentionally old-world, which suits the fairy-tale setting very well. The dialogue is sharp, frequently humorous, and sometimes biting in its sarcasm. Characters like the priest Father Brimsby or the conniving Honeydale family add layers of personality to scenes that could otherwise feel purely archetypal. Even minor exchanges feel lively because the author clearly enjoys language and character voice.

The worldbuilding also deserves praise. The novel takes place in a vaguely medieval setting filled with market towns, farms, nobles, clergy, and traveling merchants. Carlton populates this world with vivid sensory details, from the bustle of a town market to the delicate craft of glassmaking. One particularly memorable sequence involves Gwen visiting a market stall run by foreign glassmakers whose beautiful, colored goblets and mirrors seem almost magical in contrast to her harsh rural life. Moments like this give the story a sense of wonder and discovery that balances the darker aspects of the narrative.

Another element I appreciated is the thematic depth beneath the fairy-tale framework. The book repeatedly explores ideas of kindness versus cruelty, class and ambition, and the ways power can corrupt people. Gwen’s kindness toward animals and the poor stands in stark contrast to her family’s social climbing and callousness. In many ways, Carlton uses these characters to examine how morality plays out in a rigid social hierarchy where wealth and status often trump decency.

If I had one criticism, it’s that the pacing occasionally feels uneven early on. The novel spends a fair amount of time establishing characters and situations before the larger plot fully emerges. However, readers who enjoy richly detailed storytelling and character development will likely see this as a strength rather than a drawback.

Diamonds and Roses, Vipers and Toads is a compelling blend of fairy-tale inspiration and literary storytelling. It will appeal particularly to readers who enjoy dark folklore retellings, historical fantasy, and morally driven narratives. Carlton demonstrates a clear love for classic storytelling traditions while giving them enough complexity and personality to feel fresh. For readers willing to immerse themselves in its richly imagined world, this is a rewarding and memorable novel.


Diamonds and Roses, Vipers and Toads

When I first picked up Diamonds and Roses, Vipers and Toads, I wasn’t sure a fairy-tale continuation was going to be my thing. But this book surprised me in the best way. It’s based on Perrault’s Diamonds and Toads, but instead of just replaying the old moral story about the sweet sister who drops jewels and the nasty one who spits reptiles, it digs into what happens after all that. And that’s where things get interesting.

The story follows Gwendolyn Honeydale, a farm girl stuck in a house where grief and ambition collide. Her father has just died, and the opening funeral scene is tense, awkward, and kind of brutal. Her mother is already scheming about land and status. Her sister Fanny is laser-focused on marrying into wealth. Gwen, meanwhile, is the one doing the work—milking cows, tending bees, caring for animals nobody else values. It’s not glamorous, but it makes her feel real. She’s not “perfect fairy-tale good.” She gets angry. She feels trapped. She pushes back.

One of the coolest parts of the book is the glassmaking. Gwen meets Paolo, a glassblower, and the scenes in the forge are vivid and intense. Molten glass, roaring fire, shaping something fragile into something beautiful; it’s easy to see the metaphor, but it doesn’t feel forced. Those scenes gave the story momentum and a different energy from the farm politics and family drama.

There’s also a darker edge running through everything. The woods feel dangerous. There are rumors of witches. There’s constant tension about class and survival. It’s not a cozy fairy tale—it’s more like what you’d get if a traditional fable grew up and had to deal with real-world consequences.

If you like books like The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden, where folklore meets gritty survival, you’d probably vibe with this. Fans of Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik would appreciate the morally complicated characters and the way social class matters just as much as magic. And if you’re into the slightly gothic fairy-tale atmosphere of something like The Hazel Wood by Melissa Albert, there’s definitely overlap here too.

This isn’t an action-heavy fantasy with sword fights every chapter. It’s slower, more character-driven. But if you enjoy layered family dynamics, slow-burn tension, and fantasy that feels grounded instead of flashy, this book delivers.

All in all, Diamonds and Roses, Vipers and Toads feels like a fairy tale that graduated into adulthood. It keeps the bones of the original story but adds weight, consequence, and complexity. I went in expecting something decorative. I came out thinking about ambition, kindness, and what “happily ever after” really costs.


My Mother Is a Dragonfly: A Memoir

In My Mother Is a Dragonfly, Amy Scott Rooker offers a memoir that is both deeply unsettling and profoundly redemptive. From its opening pages, Rooker makes clear that this is not simply a story about grief, but about survival and about what it means to live in the long shadow of childhood trauma and still dare to hope for healing. As she writes in the prologue, this is “the story of how my mother became a dragonfly—and how her death saved my life.” That promise guides the reader through a journey that is as raw as it is luminous.

Rooker recounts her early years in suburban New Jersey and later Connecticut, painting a portrait of a family that, from the outside, appeared polished and successful. Her father was ambitious and achievement-driven; her mother mercurial, sometimes imaginative and loving, but often emotionally absent. Beneath the veneer of affluence and expectation, however, fissures were forming. Rooker describes a childhood marked by volatility, sibling cruelty, and eventually sexual abuse at the hands of her brother, the abuse compounded by her mother’s shocking and devastating response. These scenes are written with restraint, which paradoxically makes them more powerful. The horror is not sensationalized; it is presented as lived experience, remembered with clarity and courage.

What distinguishes this memoir is not only its honesty but its reflective depth. Rooker does not remain fixed in victimhood. Instead, she examines how trauma shaped her adolescence—her perfectionism, her hunger for achievement, her experimentation with alcohol, her divided sense of self. High school becomes a battleground of image and identity, where she oscillates between the “good girl” persona and the hardened survivor beneath it. Her prose is emotionally intelligent, often lyrical, and threaded with self-awareness. Even in her darkest recollections, there is an undercurrent of compassion for her younger self. The memoir’s spiritual dimension emerges most clearly after her mother’s death, when a dragonfly appears in a moment of rupture and grief. This image becomes a symbol of transformation, guiding Rooker toward psychedelic-assisted healing, self-inquiry, and ultimately forgiveness. Readers open to discussions of mystical experience and alternative healing modalities will find this portion especially compelling. Those more skeptical may still appreciate the emotional truth beneath it: the longing to reclaim one’s life from inherited silence and shame.

Rooker writes with the steady voice of a woman who has done difficult interior work. She does not excuse harmful behavior, but she does attempt to understand it by exploring generational patterns, unspoken family contracts, and the possibility that pain can become a portal rather than a prison. The tone is reflective rather than accusatory, and that restraint gives the book its quiet strength.

My Mother Is a Dragonfly will resonate most with readers who appreciate memoirs of resilience and spiritual transformation. Fans of trauma-recovery narratives, mother–daughter explorations, and stories of post-traumatic growth will find much to sit with here. It would appeal to readers of reflective nonfiction who value emotional depth over tidy resolution. Book clubs interested in discussing family dynamics, generational wounds, and the meaning of forgiveness will find rich material for conversation.

This is not an easy book, but it is a brave one. And in its bravery, it offers something tender: the reminder that healing may not be about fixing what was broken, but about remembering who we were before the breaking began.


The Meaning of Fear

Laura Hulthen Thomas’s The Meaning of Fear is a haunting and intricately layered novel that lingers long after the final page. From its opening scenes, where a young Lea crouches in a driveway, crushing ants while a man from her past reenters her life, the book announces itself as unflinching in its examination of trauma, power, and the distortions of memory.

As a reader and reviewer, I was struck not only by the emotional weight of the story, but by the intelligence and restraint with which Thomas handles such volatile material.

Thomas’s writing style is precise, lyrical, and psychologically astute. She has a remarkable ability to move between past and present without losing clarity, allowing memory to function almost as another character in the novel. The prose is richly textured but never indulgent. Scenes unfold with cinematic detail, such as the gravel driveway, the Mauser rifle above the mantel, and the wildflowers surrounding the beehives, yet the descriptions always serve the emotional stakes. Thomas trusts her readers to sit with ambiguity. She does not sensationalize abuse or fear; instead, she dissects them with the careful eye of a behavioral researcher, mirroring Lea’s own professional lens.

The plot operates on multiple levels: part psychological drama, part mystery, and part meditation on generational trauma. We follow Lea into adulthood as she navigates her marriage, her career, and her unresolved past, while Paul’s narrative offers a parallel exploration of inherited violence and moral reckoning. The suspense builds gradually rather than relying on shock. I appreciated how the novel refuses easy binaries of victim and villain. Characters are shaped by their histories in ways that are both unsettling and deeply human. Thomas invites us to ask whether fear conditions us toward revenge, forgiveness, or something murkier in between.

The characterization is, without question, the novel’s greatest strength. Lea is complicated, brilliant, and painfully real. Her childhood coping mechanisms, control, observation, and emotional compartmentalization, evolve into adult patterns that both empower and isolate her. I am always attentive to how authors portray vulnerability and resilience, and while the novel’s central characters are not framed through racial identity, the emotional truths of surviving harm and navigating systems of power resonate broadly. Lea’s interiority is rendered with such empathy that her contradictions feel earned rather than contrived.

Paul’s chapters add depth and contrast. His upbringing on a struggling farm, his fraught relationship with his father, and his sensitivity toward animals complicate our understanding of masculinity and inheritance. Thomas resists caricature. Even when characters behave destructively, she reveals the formative moments that shaped them. That generosity of vision elevates the novel beyond a simple thriller.

The Meaning of Fear is a bold exploration of how trauma reverberates through time and across relationships. It is both unsettling and compassionate, tense yet thoughtful. Readers who appreciate literary suspense will find this novel deeply rewarding. Thomas has crafted a work that challenges us to confront fear not as a fleeting emotion, but as a force that can define, distort, and, if faced honestly, perhaps transform us.


Overture to Murder

Erica Miner’s Overture to Murder is an absorbing and intelligent addition to the Julia Kogan Opera Mystery series, combining the rarefied world of grand opera with the satisfying architecture of a classic whodunit. As a longtime lover of mysteries, I found this novel very rewarding.

Set against the formidable backdrop of Wagner’s Ring cycle at the San Francisco Opera, the novel opens with an atmosphere of tension and grandeur that immediately establishes both scale and stakes. The prologue, reaching back to 1922, lends the story a sense of legacy and continuity, while the present-day chapters immerse us in the complicated machinery of mounting Das Rheingold. Miner’s familiarity with the operatic world is evident from the first pages; the rehearsal dynamics, the politics between stage director and management, and the physical layout of the opera house feel authentic and meticulously observed.

Julia Kogan, the protagonist, is a particularly appealing heroine. Now serving as interim concertmaster after a suspicious hit-and-run injures her predecessor, Julia must navigate not only the technical demands of Wagner’s monumental score but also the fragile egos and rivalries that inevitably simmer behind the curtain. Julia’s relationship with her partner Larry and their precocious daughter Rebecca adds warmth and dimension to the narrative. The scenes of Julia teaching Rebecca violin, complete with the child’s imaginative interpretations of the strings, provide a tender counterpoint to the darker events unfolding at the opera house.

One of the most compelling aspects of the novel is Miner’s portrayal of backstage tensions. The abrasive stage director Yves Chauvet is drawn with sharp precision: ambitious, temperamental, and dismissive of others’ expertise. His public berating of Julia during rehearsal is both shocking and believable, and it sets the emotional groundwork for the tragedy that follows. When a fire alarm disrupts opening night and Chauvet is discovered dead in his dressing room, the transition from artistic drama to criminal investigation feels organic rather than contrived.

I especially enjoyed the way Miner layers professional hierarchies into the mystery. The general director, the orchestra manager, the house head, and the union dynamics; each plays a role in shaping both motive and opportunity. For readers like myself who relish procedural detail, these elements enrich the story rather than slow it down. The author’s background as a violinist shines through in the descriptions of rehearsal pressures, bow strokes, and the unique responsibility borne by a concertmaster. Those passages lend the book a gravitas that elevates it beyond a standard cozy.

In all, Overture to Murder is a polished and engaging mystery that will delight opera aficionados and general readers alike. It offers intellectual intrigue, vivid characterization, and a richly textured setting that lingers long after the final page.


Miriam in the Shadows

As someone who enjoys historical fiction a great deal, I found Miriam in the Shadows to be a confident, absorbing entry in John Winn Miller’s Peggy C Saga. This third volume deepens both the emotional and historical stakes of the series, delivering a novel that is as intellectually engaging as it is narratively propulsive.

Miller’s writing style is one of the book’s greatest strengths. His prose is crisp and precise without feeling sterile, richly detailed without slipping into excess. The opening parachute drop over Nazi-occupied France immediately establishes a visceral sense of danger, and throughout the novel Miller maintains a careful rhythm that alternates between action, training, and political maneuvering. His background as a journalist is evident in the clarity of his descriptions and the confidence with which he integrates historical figures, locations, and military procedures into the narrative. The result is a novel that feels thoroughly researched but never weighed down by its scholarship.

The plot centers on Miriam Maduro, a Jewish resistance operative whose linguistic skills, battlefield experience, and emotional resilience make her uniquely suited for a mission that could directly affect the success of D-Day. What distinguishes this story from many WWII spy novels is its emphasis on preparation and consequence. Training scenes, whether in covert surveillance, hand-to-hand combat, or cultural observation, are treated with seriousness and narrative purpose. Each lesson pays dividends later, reinforcing the realism of the story and heightening the tension when Miriam must rely on those skills in the field.

Characterization is another area where the novel excels. Miriam is portrayed as capable and formidable, yet deeply human. Her trauma, her maternal instincts, and her complicated relationship with authority add emotional layers that prevent her from becoming a one-dimensional action hero. Supporting characters, including SOE officers and resistance figures, are drawn with nuance and individuality, often reflecting the moral ambiguities and institutional frictions of wartime intelligence work. Miller does not shy away from portraying bureaucratic failures, internal rivalries, or the personal costs of secrecy, which lends the novel a mature, reflective tone.

Readers who enjoy historically grounded espionage fiction will find much to appreciate here. Fans of authors like Alan Furst, Ben Macintyre, or Kate Quinn, particularly those who value realism over melodrama, are likely to be drawn to this book. It will also appeal to readers interested in lesser-known aspects of World War II, such as the role of women in covert operations and the complex machinery behind Allied intelligence efforts.

Miriam in the Shadows is a smart, gripping novel that respects both its subject matter and its audience. It rewards attentive readers with depth, authenticity, and a protagonist whose courage feels earned rather than embellished.


A SECOND CHANCE

A Second Chance by Asher Frend is the kind of novel that unfolds quietly at first, then steadily deepens until the emotional weight becomes impossible to ignore. Told primarily through the eyes of Mikaila, a high-school sophomore navigating family instability, faith, and loyalty, the story blends coming-of-age realism with spiritual reflection.

One of the strongest aspects of the book is how grounded the early chapters feel. Scenes on the school bus, in gym class, and at track practice establish Mikaila as a thoughtful, disciplined teenager who is trying to hold her world together. Her friendship with Chara is immediately compelling. She's protective, sarcastic, and fiercely loyal. Their banter feels authentic, and moments like Chara defending Mikaila on the bus or teasing her in the hospital later on give the story warmth and familiarity. These lighter moments are important because they make what follows feel all the more devastating.

The turning point comes with Chara’s car accident, a scene that reverberates throughout the novel. From Mikaila’s haunting dreamlike vision to Chara’s confused awakening in the hospital, this section stands out for its emotional clarity rather than shock value. The theme of second chances, both literal and spiritual, takes shape here, as Mikaila believes she has been given a divine task to save her best friend. Whether readers interpret these moments through a lens of faith, trauma, or metaphor, they are undeniably powerful and central to the story.

Another theme that runs consistently through the book is the burden of responsibility placed on young people too early. Mikaila shoulders far more than a teenager should: caring for her sister, navigating her mother’s untreated mental illness, and quietly absorbing fear without complaint. The scene in which her mother threatens Kait with a knife is especially difficult to read, but it is handled with restraint and seriousness. It reinforces the book’s commitment to portraying trauma honestly, without sensationalism.

Later chapters expand the emotional scope by introducing perspectives like Asa’s, which highlight longing, insecurity, and the subtle ways manipulation can take root. These shifts in viewpoint deepen the narrative and reinforce the novel’s underlying caution about vulnerability and trust.

Overall, A Second Chance is a reflective, emotionally layered novel that explores faith, forgiveness, friendship, and survival. It is not a light read, but it is a meaningful one. Readers who appreciate character-driven stories, thoughtful examinations of belief, and realistic portrayals of adolescence shaped by hardship will find this book both challenging and rewarding.


Resume of a Restless Soul

"When Dave Becker walks away from the titles, paychecks, and expectations of corporate life, he’s forced to confront a deeper question: who is he without them? Resume of a Restless Soul is a candid, often humorous memoir shaped by extraordinary careers, global adventures, and life-altering medical crises that bring everything into sharp focus. With warmth and unflinching honesty, Becker explores anxiety, reinvention, and the quiet struggle of redefining worth beyond a job title. This is a story for anyone who’s ever felt out of place, pivoted midlife, or wondered what truly remains when the work is done." —Kathryn Dare, Chicago Book Review


Cat on a Hot Tin Woof

Chet is brave, loyal, sharp-eared, and has a great sense of smell. On the other hand, he’s impulsive, possesses a short attention span, and has been known to bite. Chet’s a dog, after all, and is the narrator of the latest delightful Chet and Bernie Mystery series. (If you’re new to the series, you’ll be thrilled to discover more than a dozen others that await you.) This time around, to Chet’s dismay, they’re off in search of a missing cat who is key to a young woman’s social media fame. Add in a huge pig and some financial chicanery to complicate the plot. And then there’s Bernie’s mechanic, Nixon, who wants to sell Hollywood on a movie deal involving the reluctant pair, and you have all the makings of a perfectly delightful read. Chet is a keen observer of human behavior, even when he doesn’t fully understand their motivations (boy, are their noses limited!), and his wry, humorous comments often made this reviewer chuckle out loud. With more suspense than a cozy mystery and far more humor than darker fare, Chet and Bernie are sure to please their many fans once again.


A Murder in Hollywood

It’s the 1970s, and publicist Harvey Jason is on set in Arizona, filming the next blockbuster, when the film’s writer is found dead in his hotel bathroom. The head honchos at the studio have called in Harlow Perkins, the insurance investigator, to, well, investigate. Harvey’s job is to follow Perkins around and make sure this film stays on track. They may be in Arizona, but this Murder in Hollywood could either make or break this film.

I absolutely love Michael Crichton’s stories. The way he wrote the characters is perfect. Perkins reminded me of Hercule Poirot, with Harvey as his Captain Hastings. I love how Crichton would include real-life facts, so after reading his stories, you come away a little bit smarter about whatever the subject is. I learned a lot about how movies are made from the side of the producers, directors, cameramen, etc. Besides all of these things, Crichton was just generally great at writing mysteries and thrillers. This story is no different. You think you have it all figured out, but then a twist at the end. I highly recommend this book to any Crichton fans out there.


Villain

Energetic, witty, and wildly inventive, Villain delivers a thrilling sequel that fans of bold speculative fiction will devour. The Auditor—once a henchperson now confronting an even bigger challenge—commands the narrative with sharp intellect and biting humor. Set against a backdrop of chaotic superhero politics, this story mixes satirical worldbuilding with real emotional stakes, exploring agency, morality, and identity in ways that resonate. Fast-paced and deeply engaging, Walschots’ novel turns every page into a clever surprise, making it a standout pick for spring reading.


Cold War on Five Continents

E. Howard Hunt saw that the government of Guatemala was ripe for change. Their leader, Jacobo Arbenz, had caused a stir with his land reforms, and there was concern that he was sympathetic to the Communist cause. As “Man on the Spot” in Guatemala, CIA agent Hunt helped engineer the overthrow of Arbenz in 1954 with Operation PBSUCCESS. The face of combat had changed at the dawn of the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union. The period from 1945 to 1991 witnessed indirect battles via proxy wars fought in Africa, Asia, and Latin America. The CIA became an instrument of covert action, engineering coups and assassinations to combat Communist influence, whether real or perceived. Men such as Hunt, Edward Lansdale, Lucien Conein, and others played pivotal roles in directing the operations meant to disrupt or destroy unfriendly governments. Ultimately, the results were mixed.

Alfred W. McCoy has covered covert geopolitical dealings for over 50 years, and "Cold War on Five Continents" is a masterpiece. McCoy’s research is extensive and highlights the pivotal events of the Cold War and the recent resumption of hostilities between the global superpowers. McCoy contributes another noteworthy volume to his outstanding bibliography.


MFKZ Vol. 3

MFKZ Vol. 3 cranks the chaos and intensity to thrilling new heights, delivering a bold, adrenaline-fueled chapter in this cult-favorite series. Set against riots, repression, and the looming threat of global collapse, the story blends raw emotion with explosive action. Vinz’s unexpected evolution and Angelino’s struggle with anxiety add depth and urgency, grounding the apocalyptic stakes in very human fear and resilience. The artwork is kinetic and fearless, bursting with style, attitude, and dark humor. Unapologetically wild yet surprisingly thoughtful, MFKZ Vol. 3 proves the series’s power to balance social commentary, character growth, and unforgettable visual storytelling.


The Halls of the Dead

Dark, decadent, and fiercely romantic, The Halls of the Dead by S. M. Hallow reads like a candlelit séance where love refuses to stay buried. Irene’s devotion to Agnes is haunting in every sense—aching, obsessive, and beautifully tragic. The gothic atmosphere is rich enough to taste, with necromancy woven into every emotional beat. What lingers most is the complexity of love after loss: what it means to hold on, and what it costs. This isn’t a light summer fling—it’s a stormy, shadow-soaked romance that dares to ask if love can survive even death itself.


Celebrate We Gullah Geechee

The Gullah Geechee Cultural Heritage Corridor stretches along the coasts of North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida—a region shaped by the history, traditions, and creativity of descendants of enslaved Africans. For many Black Americans who call this area home, Gullah Geechee culture is a source of great pride, reflected in its distinctive architecture, lush landscapes, foodways, language, and powerful stories of community and resilience. The Gullah Creole language continues to be spoken by residents.

In Celebrate We Gullah Geechee, poet Yvette R. Murray introduces young readers to the beauty and richness of this living culture. Five children serve as guides to the magic of the Gullah Geechee life, bringing readers along the tree-lined streets, verdant gardens, Atlantic coast beaches, and family picnics.

Paired with Tonya Engel’s vibrant illustrations, Murray’s lyrical text honors a people whose roots reach back to West and Central Africa and whose traditions continue to thrive through hope, family, and connection. The book offers informative essays from the collaborators sharing their love for the region.

From majestic oak trees and Grandma’s peaceful garden to the joyful meals that bring loved ones together, this picture book offers readers of all ages a warm and welcoming celebration of the Gullah Geechee corridor.


A Thing Called Truth

A Thing Called Truth is a vibrant, heartfelt graphic novel that blends romantic comedy, road-trip chaos, and emotional discovery with irresistible charm. Iolanda Zanfardino and Elisa Romboli create a dynamic pairing in Magdalene and Dorian, whose opposites-attract energy fuels both sharp humor and genuine tenderness. As the duo races across Europe, the story balances big ideas about purpose and identity with quieter, intimate moments that let the characters breathe and grow. The artwork is expressive and lively, perfectly capturing the story’s warmth and momentum. Thoughtful, funny, and deeply affirming, A Thing Called Truth celebrates love, choice, and the beauty of embracing the unknown.


Kill Dick

Dark, daring, and razor-sharp, Kill Dick is a gripping literary thriller that plunges readers into the seductive chaos of Los Angeles. When a string of murders targeting addicts begins to surface, privileged dropout Susie Vogelman finds herself tangled in a web of corruption connected to her own family. Goebel crafts a stylish, satirical narrative that blends suspense with biting social commentary, creating a mystery that feels both thrilling and thought-provoking. With vivid prose and an atmosphere thick with tension, the novel delivers a bold and unforgettable reading experience that keeps you turning pages long into the night.


The Ashfire King

“Neither here nor there, but not so long ago,” the Midnight Merchant, Loulie, and Prince Mazen flee to the land of the jinn to escape Mazen’s murderous brother, Omar. What they come to discover is that the jinn cities are sinking further into the Sandsea. A civil war is forming as the jinn attempt to save their land, with Loulie and Mazen caught in the middle. The Ashfire King and his six companions were the ones to sink the jinn realm in the first place to save it from humans, but it might be humans who have to bring it back to the surface to save the jinn.

I waited four years for this book to come out, and I sincerely hope I don’t have to wait another four for the last book in this incredible series. Abdullah weaves her tales like a master storyteller, always leaving you wanting more. You can’t help but be transported to this magical realm, making you feel like you are a part of the story. I highly recommend this book to anyone, but especially fans of Katherine Arden or One Thousand and One Nights.


The Sweater

Holly, a raccoon, goes hiking at the end of fall and finds a little bird stumbling, clearly in distress. When Holly says hello, the little bird flees to the shelter of an abandoned woodpecker’s nest, but Holly understands that life can be hard. Holly gathers donations from other animals in the community, who remember what it was like to be new.

After checking on the little bird again, Holly knits the donations into a sweater and gifts it to the little bird as the cold winter arrives. Holly then helps shore up the old nest. During the harsh winter when the animals must stay in their homes, the little bird grows stronger and wants to thank those who helped him. One day, he gives them his beautiful song, which brings the whole community together.

Larissa Theule has written a beautiful story about the power of empathy and community to make the world a better place. Teagan White’s cozy woodland illustrations perfectly complement the text. We can only hope that all little listeners grow up to create such a beautiful sense of community in their own lives.


We Meet Apart

Martha Conway’s We Meet Apart blends historical fact with speculative twists in a World War II–era tale of two sisters stranded in separate realities. When ocean travel halts in 1940, Gaby and Sabine find themselves in intertwining yet divergent versions of Ireland — one where the nation remains neutral and one where it’s invaded. The sisters’ only link lies in a remote manor where time and worlds overlap. Conway explores love, fate, and the thin veil between parallel lives as identity and belonging take center stage.


A Sprinkle of Sweet Serendipity

Rachel Linden’s magical contemporary romance is pure comfort in book form. Set in a charming coastal town, this heartwarming tale follows a chocolatier whose family tradition grants her a shimmering vision of her destiny. As she navigates new opportunities, old friendships, and maybe even love, the story unfolds like a rich dessert—sweet, satisfying, and brimming with warmth. With uplifting themes of second chances and finding joy in the unexpected, it’s the perfect book to sip with a hot cup of tea while rain patters outside.


Merry-Go-Round Broke Down

This ambitious novel spans continents and decades, using interconnected parables to explore the human impact of globalization. Set around an international hotel takeover and informed by the authors’ deep global insights, Merry‑Go‑Round Broke Down follows a cast of characters from diverse backgrounds whose lives become entwined by ambition, cultural clash, and historical forces. Though unconventional for the traditional historical fiction label, this narrative offers a wide‑angle view of 20th‑ and 21st‑century history’s economic and cultural dynamics.


Princess Minna: The Best Princess (Volume 5)

Princess Minna lives in Castle Tall-Towers with her parents, the King and Queen. Princess Minna has a magic mirror that she will periodically ask to hear who is the best princess around. One day, she does this and is surprised to hear it give an unexpected answer - Princess Sky-Blue, visiting her kingdom from a neighboring land. Princess Minna gets jealous and sets out to trick Princess Sky-Blue to prove that she can't actually be the best princess, and that the mirror must have made a mistake. The more Princess Minna works at this trickery, the more it backslides, making Minna have to take a good look at herself in the mirror and determine if the magic mirror could be correct after all.

The thing I love about Princess Minna stories is that there is always a relatable problem, particularly so for younger readers, and she ends up solving the problem with princessly grace, even if she has to learn some lessons along the way. The story is entertaining and keeps your attention throughout the book. The illustrations are always full-page and colorful, and there is never a lack of something to look at on each page.


The Railroad Kitten

The Railroad Kitten by Holly Webb, in the Pet Rescue Adventures series, follows humans/friends/classmates Scarlett and Abbie as they meet and fall in love with Whiskers, a tortoiseshell kitten who roams around the train station as they are boarding their train for school. Whiskers brings much joy and fun for the short time the girls see and play with her, but they know that she has owners not far away. One day, when Whiskers isn't at the train station, they don't have a reason to, but they get worried; they find out she was in an accident, and it might be up to them to find a way to treat her. The girls must work together, rely on others, and do everything they can for their new friend before it might be too late.

 I love every Holly Webb book I read, especially the ones featuring cats, and this one is no different. I love picturing myself as the main (human) character (even though I have cats of my own) because she writes them so relatable and understandable that I always get invested and hope for the best. This story has (mild) suspense, an overload of feline cuteness, and a happy ending that will please any reader, particularly animal lovers.


The Redline Heist

The Redline Heist by Michael Mersault is a techno-thriller space opera featuring cars from a bygone era and an abandoned alien asteroid base that holds many secrets. Think Death Race 2000 meets Forbidden Planet. And while you're conjuring images from the '50s and '70s, picture one of those grand space adventure novels of the '70s and '80s, complete with a retro feel. Now add muscle cars, a fast-talking con man with a fixation for old Earth nostalgia, a beautiful war criminal who's as tough as she is attractive, and a mega-rich schemer looking to one-up his older brother, and you have The Redline Heist.

The Redline Heist is billed as a fast-paced thriller, and while this novel has the potential, most of its time is spent setting up for high-octane action. But when it finally gets there, we get an outer space demolition derby. The dialogue can feel a bit clunky at times, yet the characters are straightforward and easily relatable. All in all, The Redline Heist has that irresistible dime-store sci-fi charm of a classic from the 1970s or '80s. Even the cover art evokes the same emotions as those beloved classics.


The Art and Craft of Japanese Cooking

The Art and Craft of Japanese Cooking by Nancy Singleton Hachisu is an exquisite cookbook for anyone who would like to learn more about Japanese cooking methods and recipes. The book introduces readers to the different regions in Japan and several well-known chefs. The book starts with teaching the five essential elements of Japanese Cuisine—sa (sugar), shi (salt), su (vinegar), se (soy sauce), and so (miso). It describes their uses and how to buy them. Next, a few special ingredients are described, such as dried fish and aromatics. From there, we have chapters with beautiful photographs of Japan that depict the Japanese culture and way of life. From farming to holiday traditions to food layouts, this book explains it all.

My favorite part of the book, of course, is the mouthwatering recipes. From crab miso to pan-seared olive beef with caponata, each recipe is made with care and full of the wonderful flavors Japan is known for. I would recommend this book to anyone who loves Japanese culture and cooking.


Avatar: The Last Airbender: The Awakening of Roku (Chronicles of the Avatar Book 6) (Volume 6)

It’s been long, hard work, but Roku has finally mastered airbending, meaning it’s time for him to leave the air temples behind to go North. He hopes to find a waterbending teacher in the capital and continue his journey to becoming the Avatar the world needs him to be. On his way, Roku finds out not all is well in the North, far from it; a sickness is spreading through the animals, turning them into vicious beasts, and the Northern leaders are attempting to expand trade, possibly at the expense of the small tribes that wander the frost-covered lands. It’s up to Roku to find out what’s going on before it's too late.

If you haven’t read the first book about Roku, this one won’t make much sense; many things are referenced from the first, and many relationships are expanded on. The characters are interesting and bring the world to life with their motives and emotions. The villain is hidden in plain sight, or is she? The clues are there, but they had me guessing from the beginning, and rely on trust issues built in the first to really make me question who the villain is. The plot was interesting, with high, unpredictable stakes. Multiple stories are happening, but they are all intertwined.


Junie

In Junie, Erin Crosby Eckstine delivers a powerful coming‑of‑age story set on a Southern plantation as the Civil War approaches. Sixteen‑year‑old Junie, enslaved since birth, grapples with loss, the supernatural, and her own yearning for liberation after her sister’s death. When Junie inadvertently awakens her sister’s ghost, she embarks on a journey that tests her courage, resilience, and heart. Blending historical realities with lyrical storytelling, this novel explores themes of agency, community, and the search for freedom in turbulent times.


Big Digs

For thousands of years, people have been building great structures, such as the Egyptian pyramids and the Golden Gate Bridge, but there are equally great structures that are mostly out of sight. Some underground structures are every bit as grand and difficult to build as any on earth. This book looks at 20 incredible underground structures around the world and explains what is known about their use and methods of construction. Some of those shown are expected, such as the Chunnel Tunnel and the Big Dig in Boston, but some are not commonly known, such as the Drammen Spiral and the Temple of the Feathered Serpent. All are fascinating. Each has its own spread with several paragraphs explaining why the structure was built, some of the methods used, and, in some instances, the discovery of it. Beautiful, detailed illustrations show the structures in cutaway views to give readers a real sense of the size and difficulty of building such a thing. The writing is conversational and appropriate for young readers. A glossary at the end will help middle-grade readers with some of the unfamiliar terms. This is a real winner.


The Cellar Below the Cellar

The Cellar Below the Cellar by Ivy Grimes is a delightfully strange, darkly playful tale that blends folk horror with a coming-of-age journey. Set in an off-grid world lit by eerie, endless auroras, the story follows Jane as she uncovers the unsettling rhythms of her grandmother’s isolated community. Grimes leans into the uncanny, filling the narrative with off-kilter characters, creeping tension, and a sense that something ancient waits just out of sight. Beneath the surreal atmosphere lies a powerful exploration of identity, female empowerment, and belonging. It’s weird in the best way—haunting, imaginative, and impossible to look away from.


Monster Hunter Nemesis

MHN is sure to be a hit for video gamers. All the chief characters have capability ratings and recovery times, and are known to the reader from previous games.

As most of the groups, protagonists, collateral victims, and so on are already known, I’m in no danger of being a spoiler here. So, to entice readers, Frank is at core a contract-limited demon, essentially immortal, capable of assimilating parts as needed and found (or literally ripped off). He is murderously emotionless – or is he?

Putting this prodigy under sufficient stress to generate real conflict shows us one aspect of  Correia’s writerly genius.

Earl and his Werelady inamorata are present and alternately kicking asses and having their own booted about.

Interpersonal bonds, attractions, and shared histories are well revealed.

Combat action starts on the first page and never stops, is engaging and immersive. This is a sleep thief of a book.

The aforementioned characters and others arrive on stage with newly acquired capabilities and internal questions that have been delivered via earlier Monster Hunter episodes. Some have longstanding attributes unveiled during the action or its rare pauses.

Reunitings and losses make for a rollercoaster of a read, and make MHN yet another full value offering by prolific Larry Correia.


Now You Know Your ABCs

Now You Know Your ABCs is a wonderful spin on your average, everyday alphabet book. The book starts out like any other alphabet book—with an alphabet. Then, the letter B is for ball. A few pages in, and a wolf appears. Children will giggle when the wolf pops up and say, "he's not supposed to be there!" What ensues after this is an adventure that feels a bit like Little Red Riding Hood. Readers end up in France and find an old wooden door that is locked. The reader must find a way home, but it seems like the wolf is lurking everywhere. Readers encounter a magic carpet that magically brings them home. This book is so cute and fun that children of all ages will get a kick out of finding the wolf. The illustrations use vivid colors and cartoony expressions. This book will quickly become a favorite!


How Western Christianity Got It Wrong

In How Western Christianity Got It Wrong, Randy Woodley examines how Christianity has been exploited by oppressive regimes throughout history to advance colonial aspirations, justify racial hierarchies, and legitimize land dispossession. Woodley dismantles flaws in how modern Christians understand the gospel by addressing commonly misunderstood concepts, such as biblical authorship and doctrines of war. He guides readers through the development of Western theology, historicizing how present-day beliefs about sin and salvation evolved. Woodley argues that "Platonic dualism" created dogma that justified societal inequalities and environmental degradation.

Drawing from his decades-long ministry in Native American Christian churches, Woodley reclaims Christianity's Indigenous roots. He draws parallels between the teachings of Christ and Indigenous knowledge to illuminate a spiritual movement originally anchored in right relationship, hospitality, generosity, and kindness toward others. In contrast to the materialism and compartmentalization pervasive in Western Christian belief systems, Indigenous worldviews integrate the seen and unseen worlds, emphasizing holistic care for spirit, soul, and body.

As both scholar and teacher, Woodley writes in a straightforward, approachable style that engages readers from diverse backgrounds. His work powerfully connects Western value systems and Christianity's co-option by empire to contemporary rhetoric about immigrants, poverty, racism, and patriarchy. This book offers essential reading for anyone seeking to realign their faith with the radical hospitality and justice at the heart of the gospel.


The Biggest Lie

Fascism is one of the more interesting modern political theories, developed largely as a counter to communism, to come about in the aftermath of the Revolutions of the 1700 and 1800s in Europe and America. With the rise of more modern Neo-Fascist parties, there has been an effort to study the rise of fascism and discover its more primitive beginnings before it became more fully developed in the 20th Century. This book makes the argument that the ideas of fascist thinking largely arise in the Deep South, especially after the Civil War and Reconstruction, and went from that point in time to spread across the country influencing large corporations and individual people and their thinking.

Personally, I do not find the argument entirely convincing myself. While there are elements of fascist thought in the immediate years after the Civil War, especially with the rise of the Ku Klux Klan, that does not mean that led to the beginning of fascist thinking and development. The author tries to argue that fascism, because of its rise in the Deep South, is largely an American process, again something that I do not agree with.


Sharknado Warning (Max Beast #1)

Max and his parents are on a vacation together, scuba diving after learning of a recently sunken yacht, which is interesting news to them, but more interesting to some looters they find sneaking around the crash site. While his parents check things out and Max stays on the boat, he experiences some excitement of his own when a Great White shark starts ramming into his boat, nearly sinking it! Max's vacation changes him in unexpected ways when he turns into a Great White shark. But now he needs to figure out how to change back and how to use this power to his advantage!

Sharnado Warning is the first book in the Max Beast series, and I'm excited to read more about him and possibly other animals he might figure out how to become! The story offers excitement and thrills while incorporating other water life for enjoyment and knowledge. Readers around the age of eight to twelve will get the most enjoyment and understanding from this and future stories in the Max Beast series. Readers who love sharks and other ocean animals, shipwrecks, and magic will love this story!


The Honesty Crisis

We are drowning in information, yet starving for honesty.  The crisis is no longer coming – it’s already here.  This book examines honesty as a foundational virtue and traces how it is quietly eroding in our hyper-connected world.  Each chapter delves into one key aspect of honesty, framed by a handful of probing questions that guide the discussion.

The opening chapter explores what honesty truly means, revealing that it extends far beyond simply “not lying.”  These foundational insights shape the rest of the book.  The following seven chapters examine the many ways honesty is compromised today – from lying and deepfakes to infidelity, AI-enabled cheating, fake news, celebrity culture, and even the pulpit.  The final chapter asks whether honesty is still worth defending, and what we stand to lose if it isn’t.

The discussions are thoughtfully structured and linger in the mind long after the final page.  The framing questions keep each chapter focused while still sparking broader reflection.  The most compelling sections are the first and last: the former for its nuanced breakdown of honesty’s many dimensions, and the latter for its passionate argument that honesty remains worth protecting.  Strongly recommended for anyone seeking a serious, in-depth exploration of one of society’s most urgent – yet often overlooked – crises.


Kin: Oprah's Book Club: A Novel

Tayari Jones has a superpower when it comes to writing novels about complex relationships. This is apparent in her earlier work, like Silver Sparrow and An American Marriage--the latter of which was long-listed for the National Book Award in 2018, but in Kin that power is heightened by the brilliant and troubled lives of Annie and Niecy.

The two girls call themselves "cradle friends," but truly feel more like sisters. Each was born into difficult circumstances. While Niecy's mother was murdered by her father, who then killed himself, Annie's mother abandoned her. Their upbringing, raised by kin who did their best, is a mirror of one another. Niecy has support and makes her way from Honeysuckle, Louisiana, to Spelman College, where the fullness of life is on display for the first time. She is no longer the precious orphaned daughter, but someone who works hard, gets ahead, and falls in with Civil Rights activists while finding love for the first time. In parallel chapters, Annie runs away from home before graduation day, hopeful that she can find her way to her missing mother and a life of belonging she's never felt.

Told in alternating chapters and locations, we see these girls become women who, despite distance and time and wildly divergent lives, remain committed to one another in the way only chosen family can be. Simply, Kin is a masterpiece. Lovers of Toni Morrison and Zora Neale Hurston will especially love this book.


The Ghost Women

On Waverly Island, there is an exclusive art academy called St. Luke’s Institute of the Arts. Students don’t apply; they get recruited. The academy has a sordid history as a place where witch trials and executions were held. On the grounds is a special tree, where it’s said The Ghost Women live; all the souls of those burned at the stake over the centuries. It’s from this tree that one of the students is found, dead and posed like a tarot card. Detective Lola Germany will have to dig deep to discover what’s really going on at St. Luke’s.

Interestingly, I thought this book would be more supernatural, but it turned out to be more of a police procedural with some witchy elements. While there are supernatural parts to the story, most of it is focused on solving the murders. If you enjoy stories that feature strong women who may or may not have supernatural gifts, whether you agree with their choices or not, then this is a book for you. There are dark topics and gruesome imagery, though, so be forewarned.


Landscape In Lavender

In Landscape in Lavender, Brooks Kolb maps a life shaped by movement—across cities, relationships, and eras of queer history. His memoir carries the weight of the AIDS crisis alongside the tentative freedoms of the sexual revolution, creating a narrative that feels both intimate and historically grounded. Kolb writes with reflective clarity about love, loss, and the search for belonging, never shying away from complexity. What emerges is a portrait of resilience that feels earned rather than idealized. This is a story about building a life piece by piece, even when the blueprint keeps changing.


The Illustrated Dictionary of Japanese Food by Richard Hosking is far more than a culinary reference: it is a cultural immersion. Hosking, who has lived in Japan for over 25 years, approaches his subject with deep reverence, exploring not merely what Japanese people eat, but the philosophy, tradition, and aesthetics woven into every meal.

The foreword, contributed by food writer and longtime collaborator Debra Samuels of "The Boston Globe" — herself a former resident of Japan — sets an inviting tone, offering thoughtful reflection on Hosking's distinctive methodology and his ability to bridge cultures through food.

As a home cook and student of diverse cultures, what drew me to this book is its embrace of the cultural context surrounding food. Beyond the Japanese-to-English definitions one would expect from a dictionary, Hosking dedicates the appendices to sharing critical components of Japanese cuisine. Readers discover how miso and sake are made, as well as the Japanese concept of "eating with your eyes" – a guiding principle of a people’s culinary tradition. Seasonal colors, ceremonial plating, and communal ritual are inseparable from the meal itself.

This book is a great addition for any home cook or cultural traveler’s library. The glossy, full-color volume is a visual delight, its careful design a fitting tribute to a cuisine celebrated for its beauty as much as its umami.


The Worried Book

What if you are worried? First, what is worried? You could read this book to find out what worried means and what to do if you are worried. This book is worried about being read. This is a silly book. Why would a book worry about being read. Doesn't he want to be? He thinks no one will like him. It seems that you could think about all the bad things that could go wrong, or you could think about how things could go right. People might like to read his book. The pictures are cute and very green. Probably because he is so worried. I think this is a good book for readers who want to learn more about not being worried. There are more books in this series that I would like to read.


The Winter Verdict

Fans of legal thrillers will welcome this tale set at a winter ski resort, with no grubby city streets in this novel. Tom Berte, a former Department of Justice lawyer, has moved to a rural town, Castle Ridge, to escape the pressures of his past. Castle Ridge has so far proved to be a good choice. There’s an elegant ski resort and just enough work to make a small-town lawyer comfortable in semi-retirement.

There’s a mysterious corporation called Phoenix Holdings Group (PHG) that wants to build something unknown on a parcel of land next to a large reservoir that flows into the New York City water supply. The plot thickens when Tom is attacked one morning while skiing at the resort.  Days later, a mysterious and grossly fatal “accident” occurs at the resort.
Tom is the attorney for the resort owner. He finds himself in a deepening and very challenging legal mess involving PHG and Castle Ridge Ski Resort. There ensues an ongoing mind game that gradually becomes a major threat to Tom, his family, and the resort.

This Tom Berte novel is a traditional legal thriller that speeds to the finish.


Amundsen's Boat

Sean Freeman’s Amundsen’s Boat is a richly layered crime novel that blends historical intrigue with a classic police procedural, resulting in a story that feels both cerebral and atmospheric. From the opening pages, it’s clear that Freeman has done his homework, weaving real-world history, particularly the legacy of Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen, into a fictional narrative that unfolds with steady confidence.

The novel begins with a compelling prologue recounting Amundsen’s historic voyage through the Northwest Passage aboard the Gjøa, grounding the reader in a sense of exploration and national pride. This historical thread becomes more than mere backdrop; it sets the stage for the central mystery when a young woman’s body is discovered aboard the same vessel decades later, newly returned to Oslo.

At the heart of the story is Constable Inspector Per Steindal, a former competitive skier turned homicide detective. Steindal is an engaging protagonist who is intelligent, observant, and just inexperienced enough to make his growth throughout the novel satisfying to follow. His dynamic with the seasoned and somewhat cynical Detective Inspector Lars Christian provides both tension and occasional humor. Christian’s gruff mentorship balances Steindal’s ambition, creating a partnership that feels authentic rather than formulaic.

The investigation itself is methodical and grounded in detail. Freeman doesn’t rush the process; instead, he allows the mystery to unfold through careful observation, forensic insight, and dialogue. The discovery of the victim immediately raises questions not only about the crime but also about how the body ended up aboard a historic ship transported across continents. The subsequent shift to San Francisco broadens the scope of the narrative, introducing Inspector Lu Chan of the SFPD, whose perspective adds both cultural contrast and narrative depth.

What stands out most is Freeman’s attention to setting. Oslo is rendered with a cold, precise clarity, while San Francisco feels vibrant and chaotic by comparison. The juxtaposition of these locations enhances the story’s tension, reinforcing the idea that this is not a straightforward case confined to one jurisdiction.

This book will appeal to readers who enjoy intelligent crime fiction with a strong sense of place. Fans of authors like Henning Mankell or Jo Nesbø will find much to appreciate here. It’s also well-suited for readers who enjoy mysteries rooted in history, as well as those who prefer character-driven narratives over purely plot-driven ones.

Amundsen’s Boat is a rewarding read that readers will find quietly compelling. It’s the kind of novel that respects its reader, offering not just a mystery to solve, but a world to inhabit.


Osprey Gold

Thomas Lion’s Osprey Gold wastes little time establishing that its world runs on attraction, threat, and buried motive. The novel opens with a homecoming, but not a peaceful one. Before long, intimacy is already brushing up against suspicion, and what should feel like private space begins to feel occupied by other forces. The author understands that tension rises faster when romance and danger enter the frame together, and he uses that well.

What Thomas Lion does well in the opening chapters is keep every scene slightly off balance. A lookout post, a vineyard, a roadside stop, a private conversation, none of them gets to remain simple for long. The novel keeps introducing friction into moments that would otherwise read as scenic or romantic, and that friction gives the story its shape. Instead of treating suspense as a delayed reveal, Lion lets it leak into the atmosphere early, so the reader feels the pressure before the full pattern comes into view.

That gives Osprey Gold one of its better qualities: momentum rooted in emotional pressure. Lion is less interested in slow psychological shading than in collision, between lovers, families, interests, and competing versions of belonging. Readers who want a cool, understated thriller may find the book too eager to turn up the heat. But readers who enjoy stories where suspicion, chemistry, and territorial conflict are all moving at once will probably understand the appeal quickly.

The novel also benefits from its use of physical detail. Vineyards, mountain roads, wildlife, surveillance, and damaged property keep the suspense from floating into abstraction. Even when the story leans broad, it remains tied to tangible disruptions. That matters. The author wants the reader to feel that danger is not arriving from nowhere. It is already embedded in the routines, structures, and relationships surrounding the characters.

There are times when Osprey Gold pushes hard enough that subtlety falls away. Some readers will enjoy that full-throated dramatic instinct more than others. Still, there is something refreshing about a novel that knows exactly how much tension it wants and does not pretend otherwise. Thomas Lion commits to strong feelings, visible stakes, and a steady accumulation of menace.

What lingers is less the mystery of any single threat than the book’s sense that no one arrives on this mountain cleanly. Everyone brings desire, history, and unfinished business with them. That gives Osprey Gold its pulse. It is a story driven not by calm discovery, but by pressure, attraction, and the knowledge that the wrong place can make every relationship more volatile.

Available in paperback ($20) and eBook ($9.99).


Osprey Gold

Thomas Lion’s Osprey Gold opens with a setting strong enough to hold attention before the larger conflict fully comes into view. Osprey Mountain arrives in shadow, river sound, vineyard rows, and the sense that something is not sitting right beneath the surface. The author handles the opening with patience. He lets the tension gather through distance, silence, and interruption rather than forcing it too quickly into explanation.

That restraint helps. The return to family land should carry the comfort of familiarity, yet the novel keeps disturbing that possibility. Small signs, movement at the edge of vision, damage that does not feel accidental, private moments that never stay fully private, begin to shift the mood early. Thomas Lion is good at making scenes feel slightly unsettled, even when they are not openly dangerous yet. That gives the book a steadier kind of suspense than a louder opening might have managed.

What works best here is the accumulation of sensory detail. Bird calls, fermenting grapes, dusk light, mountain air, rough roads, and the physical spread of the vineyard all give the story texture without slowing it down. Lion uses those details not just to decorate the world, but to keep the reader alert to changes in tone. The novel understands that suspense often begins when ordinary surroundings stop feeling fully dependable.

There is a melodramatic current running through Osprey Gold, and readers will likely know early whether that suits them. The author leans into romance, menace, family tension, and larger hidden motives without much hesitation. For some readers, that openness will be part of the appeal. For others, the shifts between intimacy, suspicion, and overt threat may feel broad. Still, the novel benefits from commitment. Thomas Lion knows the temperature he wants and does not spend much time apologizing for it.

What the opening promises, more than mystery alone, is volatility. Osprey Gold is most persuasive when it lets that instability creep in through setting, gesture, and interruption rather than explanation. Even before the full shape of the conflict is visible, the novel makes clear that this mountain is a place where private hopes are likely to meet public pressure. That gives the book tension, personality, and a strong sense of forward pull.

Available in paperback ($20) and eBook ($9.99).


Osprey Gold

Osprey Gold opens with patience and control. Before the novel explains its larger conflicts, it builds tension through arrival alone: a mountain road at dusk, a vineyard waiting in the dark, and a couple stepping into a place that feels less welcoming than it should. Author Thomas Lion lets the unease gather by degrees, and that gives the opening a firm grip.

The novel does not treat Thomas Lyon’s return as a simple reunion. From the moment he arrives, the mountain feels occupied by other intentions. Open gates, damaged netting, and movement at the edge of sight turn what should have been a private return into something exposed and uneasy. Lion is smart not to force those signals into instant explanation. He lets them accumulate, and that patience gives the suspense room to work.

The author keeps attention on roads, slopes, distance, sound, and the way human movement looks when set against a larger landscape. That gives the suspense a different texture. The threat does not arrive only through confrontation. It builds through exposure, through the feeling that the characters are visible long before they understand who is watching or why. That quiet pressure gives the novel some of its best moments.

The book also has an appetite for larger dramatic strokes. Attraction, suspicion, territorial conflict, and looming threat all appear early, and Lion is more interested in pressure than subtlety. That approach will work better for some readers than others. Readers who like charged encounters and visible danger will likely settle into the novel’s rhythm quickly. Others may find parts of its emotional register broad. Even so, the story benefits from the author’s willingness to commit. The novel knows the intensity it wants.

What gives Osprey Gold its edge is the way instability keeps surfacing through ordinary things. A vineyard path, a bird call, a campsite, a stretch of road, none of these is threatening on its own, but Lion uses each one to deepen the sense that this place is no longer safe in the way Thomas hoped it might be. That is where the novel feels most assured. It understands that suspense sharpens when familiar spaces start to shift.

For all its dramatic impulses, Osprey Gold succeeds because it keeps the reader alert to distance, interruption, and exposure. Thomas Lion understands that being watched can be as destabilizing as being attacked, and that insight gives the opening its tension. The result is a novel that finds suspense not just in what happens, but in the feeling that something has already begun.

Available in paperback ($20) and eBook ($9.99).


Osprey Gold

Osprey Gold opens on a mountain that feels unsettled before the plot says why. A road at dusk, a vineyard on the slope, a lookout tower above the valley, and a couple arriving with more optimism than caution. Author Thomas Lion uses all of it to build tension early. The novel does not rush its larger explanations, and that gives the opening a steady pull.

What sets this opening apart is the way Lion layers unease into motion. The story keeps shifting from intimacy to uncertainty, from flirtation to watchfulness, from private reunion to the suspicion that someone else already controls the space. That movement gives the book energy. Instead of leaning on one large shock, Lion lets small disturbances build until the atmosphere starts carrying part of the story.

The book’s strongest quality is the way place and conflict stay tied together. The vineyard, the roads, the mountain, and the surrounding wilderness do not just hold the action. They shape it. Questions of ownership, return, memory, and control feel grounded because the land itself seems to carry them. That gives the story a stronger center than a more generic thriller setup would.

Lion also writes with a taste for heightened feeling. Attraction, suspicion, family tension, and threat all arrive early, and the book clearly prefers momentum to restraint. Readers who like charged encounters and visible danger will likely see that as part of the appeal. Others may find the emotional register broad at times. Still, the novel gains something from that willingness to push. It knows the pressure it wants.

What works best in Osprey Gold is the way ordinary things begin to feel unstable. A path through the vines, a bird call, a tent, a roadside stop, these are familiar details, but Lion turns them into sources of unease. That is where the novel feels most persuasive. It understands that suspense grows stronger when the world does not stop looking beautiful, only safe.

For all its dramatic instincts, Osprey Gold holds attention because it gives its setting real consequence. The mountain is not a decorative feature. It is where memory, danger, and desire keep colliding. That gives the novel enough tension and identity to leave a clear impression.

Available in paperback ($20) and eBook ($9.99).


Osprey Gold

Osprey Gold opens with confidence. Before the novel explains its deeper conflicts, it establishes tension through distance, silence, and terrain. A mountain road at dusk, a vineyard on the slope, a lookout tower over the valley, and a couple arriving with more hope than caution, all of it lands fast. Author Thomas Lion does not rush the threat, but he lets it gather early.

The novel follows Thomas Lyon as he returns to family land with Kathryn, his New Zealand partner, expecting something like a homecoming and reinvention. Instead, the land feels unsettled from the start. Gates hang open. Netting is torn. Strange movement and signs of surveillance shift the mood from romantic escape to something less secure. Lion uses these small disturbances well. He lets the reader feel that the trouble did not begin with Thomas and Kathryn’s arrival, and that it will not stay small for long.

One of the book’s better instincts is its refusal to separate human conflict from physical place. The mountain, vineyard, river, and road are not there just to dress the story. They shape how people move, what they fear, and what they think they own. That gives the novel a stronger emotional frame. Questions of inheritance, control, secrecy, and return feel anchored in something solid.

Lion also writes with a taste for heightened feeling. Attraction, suspicion, family pressure, and danger all arrive early, and the book is more interested in momentum than restraint. For some readers, that will be part of the pleasure. The novel does not apologize for wanting strong reactions. It likes loaded entrances, charged exchanges, and villains who feel dangerous in ways that are not subtle. At times, that can push the story toward excess, especially when several dramatic threads flare at once. Still, the book’s conviction keeps it moving.

What works best in Osprey Gold is the way the author lets instability creep in through ordinary things: a road, a bird call, a campsite, a vineyard path. The novel understands that suspense sharpens when familiar spaces stop behaving as expected. That gives the opening its grip. Lion may favor dramatic strokes, but he also knows how to build a low unease beneath them. That balance gives Osprey Gold enough tension and personality to hold interest as its larger mysteries come into view.

Available in paperback ($20) and eBook ($9.99).


Short Essays for Inquiring Minds

Short Essays for Inquiring Minds is a thoughtfully curated collection that does exactly what its title promises—it invites curiosity, rewards attention, and leaves the reader a little more informed with each passing page. Written in a clear, accessible voice, this book presents a series of concise essays that explore scientific discoveries, historical moments, and intriguing phenomena without ever feeling dense or academic. As an educated reader, I found it both intellectually satisfying and refreshingly readable.

What stands out immediately is the author’s writing style. There’s a deliberate economy to the prose. Each essay is compact, yet never rushed. Complex ideas are distilled into digestible narratives, often anchored by a compelling anecdote or historical vignette. For instance, the discussion of early virology research, sparked by a mysterious disease affecting tobacco plants, unfolds almost like a miniature detective story. The author balances factual clarity with narrative tension, making even highly technical subjects feel approachable. It’s the kind of writing that respects the reader’s intelligence without overwhelming them.

Each essay functions as a standalone piece, which makes it ideal for reading in short bursts. At the same time, there’s a thematic cohesion centered on inquiry and discovery. Whether the subject is a scientific breakthrough, an overlooked historical detail, or an unusual natural occurrence, the essays collectively reinforce a sense of wonder about how much there is to learn about the world.

While this is not a character-driven work in the traditional sense, the historical figures who appear throughout the essays are rendered with enough detail to feel vivid. Scientists like Louis Pasteur or Dmitri Ivanovsky are not just names attached to discoveries; they are portrayed as curious, persistent individuals grappling with uncertainty. These glimpses into their thought processes and challenges add a human dimension that keeps the material engaging.

I particularly appreciated the balance between breadth and depth. The essays are wide-ranging, touching on topics across science and history, yet each one goes deep enough to leave a lasting impression. The author avoids the trap of superficiality, instead offering just enough context and explanation to satisfy a reader who wants to understand, not just skim.

Readers who enjoy popular science works by authors like Bill Bryson or Mary Roach will find a similar blend of insight and readability here. It’s also well-suited for lifelong learners—people who enjoy discovering new facts, revisiting historical milestones, or simply expanding their general knowledge. Students and educators could use it as a supplemental resource, while casual readers will appreciate its approachable tone and flexible format.

Short Essays for Inquiring Minds succeeds because it understands its purpose: to spark curiosity and make learning enjoyable. It’s a book that doesn’t demand a large time commitment but offers substantial intellectual returns, making it a worthwhile addition to any thoughtful reader’s shelf.


Short Essays for Inquiring Minds

There’s something quietly satisfying about a book that doesn’t try too hard to impress you, and Short Essays for Inquiring Minds fits that description perfectly. Instead of leaning on grand claims or overly technical language, it invites the reader in with a simple promise: here are interesting ideas, clearly explained, worth your time. And for the most part, it delivers on that promise with consistency and charm.

The tone of the writing is one of the book’s strongest assets. It feels conversational without becoming casual to the point of losing credibility. The author writes as someone who clearly knows the material but is more interested in sharing it than showing off. That distinction matters. In essays discussing topics like the unexpected origins of everyday technologies or the strange behaviors observed in the natural world, the explanations are straightforward but never simplistic. There’s a quiet confidence in how information is presented. There are no unnecessary flourishes, just well-chosen details and a steady narrative voice.

What I found particularly engaging was the variety of subject matter. One essay might explore an unusual scientific experiment that initially failed but later changed the course of research, while another might look at a lesser-known historical event that reveals how accidental many “great” discoveries truly are. These aren’t the kinds of stories that dominate textbooks, which makes them all the more compelling. The author seems drawn to moments where curiosity led somewhere unexpected, and that thread ties the collection together effectively.

The structure of the book makes it easy to dip in and out, but it also rewards sustained reading. After a few essays, you begin to notice a rhythm—an introduction that hooks your attention, a gradual unpacking of the idea, and a conclusion that leaves you with something to think about. It’s a formula, certainly, but it’s executed well enough that it never feels repetitive.

This book would resonate most with readers who enjoy learning in small, manageable doses. It’s ideal for people who like to pick up a book and come away feeling a bit smarter without having to wade through dense chapters. Fans of bite-sized nonfiction, trivia enthusiasts, and anyone with a general curiosity about how things work will find plenty to appreciate here.

Ultimately, Short Essays for Inquiring Minds succeeds because it respects the reader’s time while still offering substance. It doesn’t overwhelm, and it doesn’t underdeliver. Instead, it occupies a comfortable middle ground. This book is engaging, informative, and easy to return to again and again.


The Actor's Book of Scenes

The Actor’s Book of Scenes: 50 Original Comedy and Drama Scenes for Working Actors by Mike Kimmel is a practical, engaging collection that succeeds both as a training tool and an enjoyable read. Written with a clear understanding of the actor’s day-to-day challenges, the book offers a versatile range of short scenes that feel immediately usable in auditions, workshops, or rehearsal settings. From the outset, it’s evident that Kimmel writes with performers in mind, prioritizing clarity, rhythm, and emotional accessibility.

What stands out most about Kimmel’s writing style is its naturalism. The dialogue flows in a way that mimics real conversation. It's quick, occasionally fragmented, and often layered with subtext. Scenes like “The Waiting Room” and “Real Estate Shark” showcase his ability to blend humor with underlying tension, giving actors something meaningful to play beneath the surface. There’s a subtle intelligence to the writing; it never feels overly theatrical or forced. Instead, Kimmel leans into what he describes as “heightened reality,” allowing scenes to feel authentic while still dramatically engaging.

With a mix of shorter and longer scenes, the book caters to both film/TV actors and those focused on stage work. This flexibility reflects a real-world understanding of the industry, where actors must adapt quickly to different formats and demands. The variety of scenarios, from light comedic exchanges to more introspective or philosophical moments, ensures that actors can explore a wide emotional range without needing additional material.

What I liked about this book was that each scene operates as a snapshot, whether it be a moment of conflict, humor, or revelation. Kimmel excels at dropping the reader directly into the middle of an interaction, trusting the actor to fill in the backstory. This approach is particularly effective for audition work, where immediacy is key. Scenes like “I Met Someone” and “Ghosting vs. Dealing” highlight relatable, contemporary situations that feel current and accessible, making them especially useful for modern performers.

Characterization is another area where the book shines. While the scenes are concise, the characters feel distinct and playable. Kimmel gives just enough information through dialogue to suggest personality, status, and motivation without over-explaining. This leaves room for interpretation, which is a crucial element for actors who want to bring their own choices into a performance. Whether it’s the fast-talking opportunist in “Bidding War” or the introspective thinker in “An Existential Crisis,” each role offers a clear point of view.

This book will appeal most strongly to actors, both aspiring and experienced, who are looking for fresh, contemporary material. It’s also a valuable resource for acting teachers, drama students, and workshop leaders in need of versatile scenes that can be revisited and reinterpreted. Beyond that, readers with an interest in dialogue writing or screenwriting may find it useful as a study in crafting concise, effective exchanges.

Kimmel delivers a smart, highly usable collection that understands its audience. It’s not just a book of scenes; it’s a toolkit for developing skill, confidence, and range.


The Actor's Book of Scenes

The Actor’s Book of Scenes: 50 Original Comedy and Drama Scenes for Working Actors by Mike Kimmel is one of those rare collections that feels genuinely useful while still being an enjoyable read. Coming at it from the perspective of someone who appreciates both the craft of acting and the writing behind it, I found it to be a well-rounded, thoughtfully put-together resource that doesn’t feel overly academic or dry.

The book provides a wide range of short scenes actors can use for practice, auditions, or class work. What makes it stand out, though, is how natural everything feels. Kimmel clearly understands how actors actually work. The scenes aren’t weighed down with long-winded explanations or overly polished dialogue. Instead, they move quickly and feel like real conversations. A scene like “The Waiting Room,” for example, starts off almost philosophical and then pivots into something unexpectedly grounded and funny, which makes it both engaging and very playable.

The writing style is probably the book’s biggest strength. It’s clean, direct, and easy to perform. You can tell these lines are meant to be spoken, not just read. There’s a rhythm to the dialogue that gives actors a lot to work with in terms of pacing and intention. Nothing feels overly scripted in a stiff way. The dialogue leaves room for interpretation, which is exactly what actors need.

The book moves easily between comedy and drama, and often blends the two in the same scene. It feels true to real life, and to the kinds of roles actors are often asked to play today. Some scenes lean more into humor, like “I Met Someone,” which captures that awkward, slightly uncomfortable kind of comedy. Others, like “Impartial Third Party Observer,” have a quieter, more reflective tone. That mix keeps the collection from feeling repetitive and gives actors a chance to stretch in different directions.

Overall, this book is a strong pick for acting students, working actors, and instructors looking for fresh material. It’s especially helpful for anyone tired of recycling the same overused scenes. Even writers could get something out of it, particularly in how to write dialogue that feels natural without being dull.

In the end, The Actor’s Book of Scenes does what a book like this should do: it gives actors material they can actually use, while still being interesting enough to read on its own.


Odds Are It’s Marketing

Odds Are It’s Marketing by Shanise Ling is a refreshingly grounded and practical guide that cuts through the noise of modern marketing advice and delivers something far more valuable: clarity. From the outset, Ling positions marketing not as a collection of trendy tactics, but as a discipline rooted in human connection, adaptability, and purpose.

What stands out most is the author’s writing style. Ling strikes an effective balance between conversational and authoritative, making complex ideas accessible without oversimplifying them. Her tone feels lived-in rather than theoretical, which lends credibility to every chapter. She writes as someone who has spent years navigating real campaigns, not just studying them. Anecdotes from her early experiences transitioning into digital marketing or working with industries that initially resisted change add texture and authenticity. These moments not only illustrate key concepts but also make the book feel personal, almost mentorship-like in its delivery.

The central framework of the book, the O.D.D.S. Method (Observe, Distill, Differentiate, Scale), provides a clear and structured approach to building marketing strategies. Rather than overwhelming the reader with jargon, Ling breaks down each stage into digestible insights and practical applications. The strength of this framework lies in its flexibility, which is equally relevant whether you’re managing a small startup or a large-scale brand. The emphasis on observation and understanding human behavior before attempting to sell is particularly compelling and serves as a strong foundation for everything that follows.

The book unfolds in a logical and satisfying way. Each section builds on the previous one, guiding the reader from understanding audiences to crafting meaningful strategies and ultimately scaling them. It doesn’t read like a textbook; instead, it feels like a series of interconnected lessons drawn from experience. The inclusion of real-world examples, such as campaigns that succeeded through storytelling or subtle shifts in customer understanding, helps anchor the concepts in reality. These examples prevent the book from becoming abstract and instead reinforce its practicality.

Ling repeatedly emphasizes that successful marketing is less about pushing products and more about understanding motivations, emotions, and identity. This idea is reinforced through discussions of storytelling, customer psychology, and brand authenticity. It’s a message that resonates, particularly in today’s saturated digital landscape where attention is fleeting, and trust is hard-earned.

This book would appeal to a wide audience. Aspiring marketers and students will appreciate its clear framework and practical exercises, which bridge the gap between theory and application. Entrepreneurs and small business owners will find value in its emphasis on adaptability and resourcefulness, especially those building brands with limited budgets. Even seasoned professionals may benefit from Ling’s perspective, as it offers a useful reset, reminding them of the foundational principles that often get lost amid trends and tools.

Odds Are It’s Marketing is a thoughtful, well-structured, and genuinely useful read. It avoids the pitfalls of overly technical or overly simplistic marketing books by focusing instead on what truly matters: understanding people and communicating with purpose.


THE CHEMISTRY TRAP: Why Your Instincts Keep Leading You to the Wrong Partners. And How to Finally Choose Differently

A. Tayebnama’s The Chemistry Trap: Why Your Instincts Keep Leading You to the Wrong Partners offers readers a clear-eyed and often sobering look at the way many of us approach relationships. Rather than reinforcing the usual idea that instant attraction is something to trust, the book gently but firmly questions it. From the very beginning, Tayebnama makes it clear that what feels right in the moment isn’t always what’s right in the long run.

The author makes a compelling case that the rush of early attraction can actually be misleading. Instead of pointing us toward a healthy partnership, it may be highlighting familiar emotional patterns we haven’t fully worked through. This idea is explored from multiple angles, giving readers time to really sit with it rather than just nod along and move on.

One section focuses on how intensity is often mistaken for connection. Tayebnama explains how attachment styles can shape who we’re drawn to, especially the common push-and-pull between anxious and avoidant personalities. It’s the kind of insight that can feel a little too accurate at times. Rather than presenting this in a clinical way, the author keeps it grounded in real-life scenarios, which makes it easier to see yourself in the patterns being described.

Another memorable part of the book centers on projection, the idea that we often see what we want to see in another person. The chapter “The Ghost in Every Relationship” does a particularly good job of showing how easy it is to build an image of someone that doesn’t quite match reality. The example of mistaking emotional distance for strength stood out to me, as it captures how subtle these misunderstandings can be.

I also appreciated the way the book reframes what a healthy connection might feel like. Instead of fireworks and constant excitement, Tayebnama introduces the idea of “warmth," a steady, grounded feeling that can grow over time. The chapter on giving a relationship space to develop, even without an immediate spark, felt especially relevant. It challenges a lot of the assumptions people bring into dating, particularly in a culture that values instant chemistry.

Throughout the book, the author weaves in references from philosophy, psychology, and history, but keeps the tone approachable. The reflection questions at the end of each chapter are a nice touch, encouraging readers to pause and consider their own experiences rather than just absorbing the material passively.

The Chemistry Trap will resonate most with readers who are open to looking at their own habits and patterns with a bit of honesty. It’s not a book that promises easy answers, but it does offer a different way of thinking about attraction and choice. This is a book that doesn’t try to dazzle. It aims to clarify. And in doing so, it leaves a lasting impression.


The Missing Au Pair

"Secrets hide in the shadows of Paris—and some are deadly. When an au pair vanishes without a trace, the truth buried beneath the city’s beauty begins to surface. Dark, gripping, and impossible to put down, The Missing Au Pair delivers twist after twist. Perfect for thriller readers who love suspense that keeps them guessing until the final page." —Leah Tran, Los Angeles Book Review


The Missing Au Pair

"A haunting mystery set in the shadowed streets of Paris, The Missing Au Pair delivers relentless tension and unforgettable twists. With a determined heroine, chilling secrets, and a city that hides danger behind its beauty, this thriller keeps readers turning pages late into the night. Carrie Rubin masterfully blends psychological suspense with a gripping investigation. If you love dark, intelligent thrillers that refuse to let go, this one belongs on your shelf." —Kathryn Dare, Manhattan Book Review


You Matter, Luma

"A luminous forest, a brave little bunny, and a whisper of doubt come together in a story that sparkles with heart. With breathtaking illustrations and lyrical, comforting prose, this enchanting picture book celebrates the quiet magic inside every child. A timeless, feel-good treasure for families, classrooms, and anyone ready to believe you matter exactly as you are." —Samantha Olsen, San Diego Book Review


When She Was Ours

When She Was Ours by Anna Nordberg is one of those quietly emotional novels that sneaks up on you. I didn’t expect to feel so invested so quickly, but within the first few chapters, I was completely pulled into Astra’s world, a place shaped by love, loss, and the complicated weight of family expectations.

The story follows Astra, a college student navigating life in the aftermath of her mother’s illness and death. The novel moves between timelines, weaving together memories of her mother with present-day moments that reveal how deeply that relationship shaped Astra’s identity. There’s also a lingering mystery surrounding a pivotal event at a wedding that adds a subtle tension throughout the narrative, giving the book an undercurrent of suspense without ever overpowering the emotional heart of the story.

What I loved most was how real the characters felt. Astra, in particular, is such a beautifully drawn protagonist. She’s strong but also unsure, capable yet quietly overwhelmed by the expectations placed on her, both by others and herself. Her relationship with her mother is the emotional anchor of the book, and it’s portrayed with so much nuance. It’s not overly sentimental, which I appreciated. Instead, it captures that complicated mix of admiration, pressure, and love that often exists between mothers and daughters.

The writing style is elegant but still very readable. Nordberg has a way of describing moments with small gestures and fleeting thoughts that makes everything feel intimate and meaningful. I found myself highlighting lines because they captured emotions so perfectly. At times, the pacing is a bit slow, especially in the early middle sections, but for me, it worked because it allowed the emotional depth to really sink in.

I’d recommend this book to readers who enjoy emotionally rich stories about family dynamics, grief, and personal growth. If you like authors who focus on relationships and layered characters rather than plot-heavy twists, this will absolutely resonate with you.

Overall, When She Was Ours is a thoughtful, quietly powerful novel that lingers long after the final page. It’s the kind of book that makes you reflect on your own relationships, and maybe even see them a little differently.