The Darkest Game by Alex Sigmore (Oak Creek #1)

Started reading. Cancelled plans. Finished stiff, tired, and slightly unhinged.

Dead, unidentified bodies dumped by a creek which is clearly not the original crime scene will cancel my plans and cost me sleep every single time. The Darkest Game didn’t ease into that chaos either. It kicked the door in, stole my free evening, and dared me to look away. I didn’t. One sitting later, I was stiff, tired, and very glad I’d ignored real life.

The tension in this book pays off immediately. There’s a constant urgency to the storytelling, like something is about to explode and you’re powerless to stop it. The pacing kept me glued, and just when I thought I had a handle on where things were going ... wrong again.

And then there’s Mona’s father.

I did not see that coming. Disturbing doesn’t even begin to cover it. The man needs a team of psychiatrists, possibly on rotation, because his level of psychological manipulation is next-level unhinged. The mind games here are brutal, the kind that leave you questioning everything and wondering how deep the damage really goes. And that explained a lot about Mona.

Charlotte is the character who’s going to stick with me. Losing the ability to do a job you love hit me. Her struggle added an emotional weight to the story that grounded all the madness and made the stakes feel personal, not just procedural.

Genre-wise, this one refuses to choose. It’s a thriller wrapped in psychological torture, and at times I genuinely didn’t know if I was coming or going. Especially after that reveal. Yeah. Mona’s father again.

Final verdict: Five out of five stars. Don’t start this at bedtime unless you’ve already slept all day. Thriller fans will absolutely eat this up.

One Dark Night by Alex Sigmore (Ivy Bishop #5)

Sleep is for people who aren’t trying to piece together a trauma-induced memory gap before the next body drops.

This was one of those cancel-your-plans, stay-up-too-late, “just one more chapter” books. One Dark Night had me completely hooked. I went in thinking I’d read a few chapters before bed and ended up bleary-eyed, muttering, “Just one more” until sunrise.

Ivy Bishop is dealing with trauma-induced memory gaps, never a good sign in a thriller, and she’s determined to fill them in. Naturally, the process involves danger, betrayal, and people who really should’ve minded their own business. (Yeah you, Nat.) Nat’s the kind of character who barrels ahead on half-truths and hunches, breaking laws like they’re speed limits on an empty highway. What she did was so egregious I started out thinking she was the villain. She’s a walking, talking example of what happens when you “assume.”

Jonathan, on the other hand, is the emotional anchor here and somehow manages to do it without turning the story into a Hallmark moment. He’s the quiet, loyal type who doesn’t realize he’s in love with Ivy, but you sure do. He moves mountains for her, saves her life, and keeps believing in her even when things get ugly. Ten out of ten; would trust him in an apocalypse.

When the story twisted back to Ivy’s mom being the origin of the whole nightmare, I had an honest-to-God “oh crap” moment. Pages turned themselves after that. By the end, justice was served, the bad guy was done for, and karma got the final word, which is my favorite kind of ending.

I later found out this is book five in the Ivy Bishop series, but it stands perfectly on its own. Now I’m planning to hunt down the rest because clearly Alex Sigmore knows how to write a thriller that doesn’t let go. If you’re a fan of Lee Child but wish his stories had a bit more psychological grit, this series will scratch that itch.

Five stars, no hesitation. Murder, mayhem, and just a touch of feeling, exactly the balance I like.

Where Angels Go by Debbie Macomber

If angels ran like customer service reps, this would be their training manual.

I gave Where Angels Go by Debbie Macomber 3 out of 5 stars because I followed my rating system like a responsible adult. I am not Christian, I don’t believe in angels, and I’m generally skeptical of any story that assumes divine intervention works like a very polite customer service department. So right out of the gate, this book and I were never going to be soulmates.

The story follows three Prayer Ambassadors who are assigned prayers to answer. Shirley handles Carter, whose Christmas wish is a dog (honestly, the most relatable prayer in the book). Mercy is assigned to Harry Alderwood, who is nearing the end of his life and praying that his wife of 65 years will be taken care of after he’s gone. Goodness focuses on Beth, who is afraid to love again after a truly disastrous first marriage, while her mother, Joyce, prays for Beth to find love again. Subtle, this book is not.

And of course, every prayer is answered, because this is a Debbie Macomber book and the angels do not miss deadlines. It’s sweet. It’s comforting. It’s very much a Hallmark movie in book form. For me, it also lived well beyond the realm of believability, but I can appreciate what it’s trying to do.

This is a warm, gentle, feel-good read that goes down fast and leaves no emotional bruising. It didn’t convert me, move me spiritually, or make me believe in angels, but it passed the time pleasantly enough. If you enjoy sentimental, faith-based stories with guaranteed happy outcomes, this one will probably be right up your alley.

A Cut Above by Janice Angelique

Not all salon gossip is about bad bangs and messy breakups. 

Some of it can get you killed.

A Cut Above by Janice Angelique starts with what sounds like a perfectly reasonable post-retirement plan: Marie Greenbrooks leaves the FBI and buys a hair salon with her daughter, Ellie. Marie wants peace, quiet, and absolutely no drama. Which is adorable, because this is a hair salon, and also because some of the employees are using it as a front for criminal activity. Oops.

The salon setting is one of the strongest parts of this book. Hair salons are made for gossip and cliques, and Angelique clearly understands that. The smoking group, the personality clashes, the employee turnover, it all felt very real. The first third of the book takes its time setting up the space and the people in it, and while it’s a slower start, I actually appreciated it. By the time things went sideways, these weren’t just “characters”. They were people I had opinions about. And those opinions changed more than once.

This isn’t a heart-pounding thriller, and it’s not trying to be. The pacing and tone lean much more toward cozy mystery, with a crime-fiction edge. The book doesn’t start out dark or sinister, even though it eventually deals with serious subject matter. There’s also a light romantic spark involving Ellie and an FBI agent, just enough to make me smile, not enough to push this into romance territory.

Content-wise, the story references human trafficking and drug abuse, which could be triggering for some readers. There is also some profanity, though it’s censored with asterisks. Personally, I didn’t think the profanity was necessary at all. A simple “the language was colorful” would have done the job without making me mentally fill in the blanks.

What really worked for me was the way the story unfolded. I enjoyed getting to know the characters, watching the salon dynamics play out, and trying to figure out who was involved while hoping the missing employee was still alive. Marie stepping back into investigator mode was especially satisfying, and I can absolutely see the potential for this to become a series. If Marie and Ellie keep the salon, I’d happily keep reading.

Final verdict: ★★★★☆ (4/5)

I didn’t cancel plans or stay up all night, but I was engaged the whole way through. My only real eye-rolls came courtesy of Roy hitting on Peter (sir, please stop), and I did notice a few punctuation hiccups, but that’s a me problem. Overall, this was a solid, enjoyable read that I’d confidently recommend to fans of cozy mysteries and lighter crime fiction. Thriller junkies and spicy romance readers should probably look elsewhere.

A special thank you to Ms. Angelique for providing this book for review consideration via NetGallery. All opinions are my own.

Blue Smoke by Nora Roberts

 Turns out when Nora Roberts dials down the spice and lights a fire, I’m all in.

I don’t usually reach for Nora Roberts. Too much spice and not enough plot, at least for me. Truth be told, I reached for it because the Rusty Book Club is having a January challenge: To read a book with a blue cover. I figure a title with the word blue in it has to have a blue cover. 

Blue Smoke surprised me, and I genuinely enjoyed it. Catarina Hale (Reena, if you’re family or friend) is a cop, a firefighter, and an arson investigator, and she’s tops at all three. Fire isn’t just part of her job; it’s practically a character in her life. Her family's pizzeria burned when she was a child, two former boyfriends died in fires, and danger seems to circle her whether she wants it to or not. Still, Reena doesn’t need rescuing. She’s competent, tough, and emotionally grounded, exactly the kind of strong female lead I’m always rooting for.

Then there’s Bowen Goodnight. Bo had a wild streak once, but the death of a friend forced him to grow up. Now he’s built a solid life and runs his own business. He’s not whiny, not needy, and not looking for someone to fix him. He is searching for “Dream Girl,” a woman he glimpsed for seconds at a party and never forgot. It takes a while, but when these two finally collide, it feels earned. (That part of the story created suspense on its own.)

As Reena investigates a series of fires, anonymous calls begin, and it becomes clear that someone is targeting her and the people she loves. That’s where the book really hooked me. I’ll admit I skimmed the sex scenes to get back to the mystery, careful not to skip too far and miss something important. The suspense and character work were what kept me turning pages.

Blue Smoke is a romantic suspense that actually leans into the suspense. If all of Nora Roberts books were like this, I'd read more of them! Strong characters, a solid mystery, and just enough romance (scannable if needed) to keep the story moving. Strip away the extra heat, and what’s left is a smart, suspenseful story that kept me reading for the right reasons.

Disappeared by Linda Castillo (Burkholder #12.5)

In a place built on order, desperation doesn’t follow the rules.

I really enjoy Linda Castillo’s novellas because they fill in the quiet (and not-so-quiet) spaces between the big crimes in Painters Mill. Disappeared does exactly that. It's short, sharp, and emotionally heavy without overstaying its welcome.

In this story, a toddler vanishes, and what unfolds is less about a whodunit and more about the impossible position his parents are in. The child is seriously ill. His father is an Englisher and his mother Amish. Her family is Old Order Amish, the strictest and least forgiving. Their relationship is forbidden and every decision they make comes with consequences that feel cruel and unavoidable.

Castillo is especially good here at showing how rigid rules can collide with love, fear, and desperation. It’s a quick read, but it adds meaningful depth to the world of Painters Mill without needing a full novel to do it.

The Women by Kristen Hannah

Vietnam was never forgotten. History just forgot 

The Women.

I had no idea The Women was going to make me cry like it did. I expected emotion, this is about Vietnam, after all, but I did not expect the kind of deep, bone-level grief that sneaks up on you and refuses to let go.

I have family who served in various wars, including Vietnam. My Steven is a veteran who fought in Grenada, an often forgotten conflict. He has scars, both physical and mental. My surviving uncle served in Vietnam and is still not healthy, mentally or physically. He won’t talk about it. He drinks until he’s black-out drunk. The Fourth of July has never been a happy day for him, even after all these years. So yes, I knew this book would hit close to home. I just didn’t know how relentlessly it would do so.

Frankie begins the story young, naïve, and idealistic, just like so many of the men and women who volunteered to serve. They wanted to make a difference. They wanted to do something meaningful. And none of them had any idea what they were walking into. Frankie is baptized by fire the moment she hits the ground, immediately thrown into a mass-casualty situation with no real preparation and no idea what to expect, having already been lied to by recruiters before she ever arrived. 

I knew women were there in Vietnam. Women were permitted (yes, permitted) to serve in non-combat roles. Nursing, though, looks an awful lot like combat when you’re surrounded by blood, trauma, and constant loss. Hannah pulls no punches in depicting what combat nurses saw, what they treated, and what they carried home with them long after the war ended.

Frankie’s homecoming hit me the hardest. Being spit on. Ridiculed. Screamed at. Isolated even by her own father. All because she was an idealistic young woman who followed orders and served her country. The most unsettling part is that none of this felt exaggerated. The entire book could have been non-fiction, because everything depicted actually happened. What’s even more disturbing is how few effective treatments existed for those young men and women when they came home. They self-medicated and spiraled. They were told to forget about it and move on. My uncle still lives that reality.

The book reinforced what I already know to be true: PTSD is real, and dismissing it doesn’t make it go away. Frankie endures trauma from every direction: Losing her brother, losing her idealism, losing love, witnessing unimaginable suffering, losing a pregnancy. And yet she survives. Not because she’s untouched, but because strength often shows up when people feel the most broken.

The friendships between the women were lifelines. They were the only ones who truly understood what the others had seen, and sometimes survival depends entirely on being believed. The emotional weight of this book is overwhelming at times but that’s the point. Women were there. And when they came home, they were ignored, erased, and told to get over it.

But trauma doesn’t work that way. You don’t “get over it.” You learn how to live with it so it hopefully doesn’t rule your life.

I would absolutely recommend The Women, but with a warning label. If you’re a trauma survivor, this book will hit triggers. Even if you’re not, have a box of Kleenex nearby. There is a hopeful ending, you just have to walk through the hurt to get there.

And honestly, that's about as true to life as it gets. 

Dire Bound by Sable Sorensen

Equal parts ‘what did I just read?’ and ‘fine, one more chapter'.

Dire Bound by Sable Sorensen is one of those books that makes you pause mid-chapter and think, I can’t believe this exists… and then immediately keep reading. Hands down, this is the strangest book I've ever read. It’s like Disney collided with Greek and Roman mythology, took a sharp turn into adult-only territory, and never looked back. We’ve got a rigid social hierarchy (Alphas, Betas, Gammas), a desperate, down-on-her-luck heroine, a prince who rides in looking heroic and turns out to be… complicated, and forest animals with magical powers just wandering around. All of this like it's totally normal.

I rolled my eyes more than once and freely skipped the steamy scenes, but I’ll admit the story worked. It had that irresistible train-wreck quality. I didn’t want to keep watching, but I absolutely couldn’t look away. Every time I thought, okay, this is too much, something else happened that dragged me further in.

By the end, it felt less like Disney and more like Alice in Wonderland. I fell down the rabbit hole and had to keep going just to see how strange it would get. Not a favorite, not something I’d usually pick up, not something I'd recommend, but undeniably compelling in a what on earth did I just read kind of way. And with that, January's Rusty Book Club pick is now in the books. No pun intended.

The Lion Women of Tehran by Marjan Kamali

Becoming a lion woman means risking everything. Staying quiet costs more than we admit.

Some books tell a story; others hold up a mirror and ask uncomfortable questions. The Lion Women of Tehran by Marjan Kamali does both, weaving real historical events into the lives of fictional women who feel anything but imagined. At its heart, this is a story about friendship, specifically Ellie and Homa, but it’s also about class, politics, womanhood, and the long shadow of the choices we make when we’re young.

The novel opens with Ellie in 1980s New York City, where she is keenly aware of appearances. The city feels like a place where you must look like you belong, and Ellie believes that means looking wealthy. That instinct doesn’t come out of nowhere. Her mother raised her to believe that appearances matter above almost everything else. In New York, that lesson sticks. Ellie doesn’t just want to fit in. She feels she must 'perform' belonging.

Kamali’s portrayal of Tehran during Ellie and Homa’s childhood resists romanticizing the city. Tehran is shown as a real place, with wealthy neighborhoods and poor ones, privilege and hardship existing side by side. Ellie grows up in affluence until her father’s death; Homa grows up with less material comfort. And yet Homa’s upbringing feels warmer, steadier, and more grounded. Ellie’s mother is perpetually dissatisfied: Complaining, posturing, and confiding her bitterness to her daughter far too early. Homa’s home, by contrast, feels lived-in and emotionally secure. The irony is hard to miss.

Ellie’s mother’s obsession with the evil eye is another way she explains the inexplicable. Humans have always invented systems (gods, myths, superstitions, etc.) to explain suffering. For Ellie’s mother, the evil eye becomes a convenient explanation for misfortune and, perhaps more importantly, a way to avoid responsibility. Bad things didn’t happen because of bad choices; they happened because someone wished them harm. That belief shapes Ellie in quieter but lasting ways, instilling in her an anxiety that good actions might somehow invite punishment.

Ellie spends much of her childhood idealizing her late father, placing him safely on a pedestal. Later, when her mother reveals his infidelity, that image cracks. Ellie is forced to reconcile the loving father she knew with a deeply flawed man. With that knowledge comes understanding. Her mother’s bitterness, her unhappiness, and even her willingness to marry her husband’s brother after his death begin to make sense. Divorce was not an option. Survival was. The revelation doesn’t absolve anyone, but it reframes everything.

As Ellie grows older, class consciousness tightens its grip. By the time she attends an upscale school in a wealthier neighborhood, she begins acting as though she belongs to that world and distancing herself from Homa. It’s painful to watch. Ellie is embarrassed by her oldest friend, and once again, her mother’s influence looms large. Respectability, status, and safety matter more than loyalty.

Politics, however, refuse to stay in the background. They are everywhere in this book, shaping choices, limiting futures, and determining who gets to speak and who must stay silent. In many ways, politics function as a character themselves. This is not just the story of two girls; it’s the story of Iranian women fighting, then and now, for autonomy, rights, and visibility. Homa engages with politics head-on. Ellie, cushioned by privilege, is more inclined not to rock the boat. And as the novel shows, fortune often favors those who already have it.

The idea of becoming “lion women” runs through the book like a quiet dare. To me, lion women are the ones who roar: The activists, the risk-takers, the women who refuse to shrink themselves to survive. Homa understands this instinctively. Ellie understands it intellectually, but struggles to live it. That tension feels painfully real because the truth is, women everywhere are still expected to be lion women. There is still a glass ceiling. It still needs to shatter. And stories like this remind us what it costs, personally and politically, when we choose silence over courage.

The Lion Women of Tehran is thoughtful, layered, and quietly powerful. It lingers not because of what it says loudly, but because of what it asks us to examine about ourselves.

The ManiScripts Book Club pick for the January meeting.

In Plain Sight by Linda Castillo (Burkholder #10.5)

 Trouble in Painters Mill doesn't always come with a dead body.

I just finished In Plain Sight, a novella by Linda Castillo, and once again I’m reminded why I really like these little in-between stories. It's been a while since I read one. They’re not about shocking murders or massive investigations; they’re about life in Painters Mill when Kate Burkholder isn’t chasing a killer.

This one centers on a small group of kids with a secret and a problem. They don’t like an Englisher dating an Amish boy, and things slide from disapproval into something more troubling. No body count and no sprawling plot, just quiet tension and the reminder that prejudice doesn’t need adulthood to take root.

It’s a solid little story. Not heavy, not flashy, but effective. These novellas do exactly what they’re meant to do: Fill in the gaps, deepen the world, and show that trouble in Painters Mill doesn’t always arrive with flashing lights and police tape.

Sometimes it just whispers.

The Hidden One by Linda Castillo (Burkholder #14)

The truth came in layers, and every one of them made things worse. 

I thought The Hidden One was solved not just once, but twice. First, I swore it was the former Amish man with the pickup truck and the attitude. That felt neat. Suspicious guy, questionable past, check the box, move on. Nope. Then I swore it was the bishop’s son, especially after he said he did what he had to do. That really felt like the answer. Confession-adjacent. Moral certainty. Case closed. Nope.

Linda Castillo led me down a gilded road, smiled politely while I admired the scenery, and then absolutely sank me at the end. It was beautiful.

The urgency never lets up. Kate Burkholder isn’t just investigating; she’s exposed. She has no jurisdiction, no backup from local law enforcement, and no safety net. Worse, she knows the accused personally, and intimately, from her Amish past. Every step forward feels dangerous, not just professionally but emotionally, and that tension lurks underneath every interview and revelation.

When it came out that the bishop had nearly beaten a man to death, I knew something was up. Where was Castillo going with this? Amish pacifism isn’t just background texture in this series. It’s foundational. Violence of that magnitude shouldn’t exist in that world, and Castillo uses that knowledge like a pressure point. I suspected the bishop wasn’t who he claimed to be, but I never once suspected who he really was. Not even close. Castillo’s misdirection is practically gleeful. She wants you to settle. She wants you to relax into certainty. And then she yanks the rug out with precision and takes your breath away.

My dominant feeling while reading this book was urgency. A constant sense that Kate needed to hurry up before she got hurt...or killed. I read this in one sitting, not because I planned to, but because stopping felt unsafe.

The Hidden One isn’t just about solving a crime. It’s about how well you think you understand people, the lies communities tell themselves to survive, and how dangerous certainty can be. Even when you’re convinced you’ve reached the truth. Especially then.

Bluebird, Bluebird by Attica Locke

If a book hasn't grabbed you in eleven months, it's not going to.

I started Bluebird, Bluebird by Attica Locke sometime in January. January. It is now December, which feels like enough time to fairly assess a book’s chances.

The premise of this book is solid. The setting should’ve pulled me in. But page after page, it just… didn’t. No spark. No urgency. No just one more chapter energy. Every time I picked it up, it felt like homework instead of escape reading, and life is too short for that. When I find myself cleaning the kitchen instead of picking up a book, it's time.

So I’m officially calling it. Not every DNF is dramatic. Some books aren’t bad, they’re just not for you. This one never grabbed me, never made me care enough to keep going, and after eleven months of trying, I’m done pretending it might suddenly click.

On to the next book.

Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination by Helen Fielding

An exercise in weaponized stupidity. 

I made it about halfway through Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination, which is saying something, because I will usually finish a book out of sheer spite. This one broke me.

The problem isn’t that the book is light or silly. I love light and silly when it’s done well. The problem is that Olivia herself is painfully empty-headed, and the story built around her is an exercise in willful idiocy. There’s a difference between a quirky protagonist and a character who drifts from one bad decision to the next without learning, growing, or facing a single consequence. Olivia is firmly the latter.

To be fair, there was one bright spot. Around pages 79–80, Olivia lists her “Rules of Living,” and for a brief moment I thought, Oh! Here we go. It was clever. Self-aware. Almost charming. And then the book immediately abandoned that energy and went right back to flailing around like a dying fish.

I couldn’t find a plot. Or a storyline. Or even a clear point. It’s just an airhead making bad decisions and somehow expecting the universe to clap for her efforts. Whoo hoo. Consequences apparently did not RSVP.

Worse, the book leans hard into casual misogyny played for laughs, with racism that shows up uninvited and refuses to leave. These moments aren’t sharp or satirical; they’re careless. Outdated stereotypes do most of the heavy lifting, and the humor consistently punches down while expecting the reader to be in on the joke.

In my humble opinion, this book is little more than an airhead making increasingly awful decisions in a world where consequences, plot, and self-awareness simply do not exist. This wasn’t charmingly silly. It was empty, careless, and weirdly proud of it.

Ready for the New Year

I started setting up my book journal for next year. So far, I have my rating system and genre pages all set. 

Fallen by Linda Castillo (Kate Burkholder #13)

 Linda Castillo proves once again that the calmest places can hide the darkest crimes.

I just finished Fallen by Linda Castillo, and this one reminded me exactly why I keep coming back to the Kate Burkholder series.

The book wastes no time: It opens with murder, and from that first page, you’re pulled straight in. What makes it especially compelling is the setting. Castillo has a real gift for contrast, and here she uses it beautifully: the quiet, orderly Amish world set against sudden violence and chaos. The peace of the surroundings doesn’t soften the crime. It makes it more disturbing.

There’s something deeply unsettling about murder intruding into a community built on simplicity, faith, and nonviolence. Every act of mayhem feels amplified because it doesn’t belong there. The barns, fields, and close-knit families create a calm backdrop that only sharpens the brutality of what’s happening.

Kate Burkholder, as always, is the perfect guide through that tension. Her understanding of both Amish and “English” worlds adds depth to the investigation and keeps the story grounded. The crimes feel personal, not just to Kate, but to the entire community they disrupt.

Books like Fallen are why the Kate Burkholder series never gets old for me. The blend of community, culture, and crime keeps the stakes high and the stories memorable, proof that peace and violence make a chilling combination. 

Personal by Lee Child (Reacher #19)

 This is the first Reacher novel that didn’t keep me awake.  And that says everything.

Personal is the first Reacher novel that literally put me to sleep. Not figuratively. Literally. I woke up wondering if I’d missed something important, only to realize… probably not. This is supposedly a personal case for Reacher, but the emotional stakes never land. We’re told it matters; we’re never shown why. His fixation on his partner’s pills felt forced and oddly out of character. The international espionage angle drags, the tension fizzles, and Reacher, usually sharp as a blade, feels dulled. If this was meant to be personal, it forgot to make me care.

14th Deadly Sin by James Patterson and Maxine Paetro

 When people sworn to protect become part of the problem, nothing is simple anymore.

Lindsay Boxer is still very much human here. She makes mistakes, second-guesses herself, and doesn’t always get it right the first time. But she’s also strong, stubborn, and grounded in a way that feels earned after thirteen books. I really liked her in this installment. She still feels real.

There are four storylines running at once:

First up are the Windbreaker Murders, where check cashing places and SFPD officers are being targeted. I spent most of that storyline hoping the killers weren’t actually cops, because a few bad apples can ruin the reputation of the whole barrel, and that theme hangs heavy over the book.

Then there’s Joe’s case, which starts almost by accident. Lindsay realizes she’s been pulled away from Claire’s birthday by a murder Again. Turns out it’s been happening for five straight years. That discovery leads to the Claire’s Birthday Murders, and I loved seeing Joe take the lead here. Yes, it’s the Women’s Murder Club, but Joe is such a central part of Lindsay’s life that it makes sense to give him more page time. It added emotional weight without stealing focus.

Yuki’s storyline might be the most infuriating and powerful. She takes a new job with a defense league and immediately goes up against the police department and the DA, her former boss. A mentally challenged kid is coerced into confessing to a crime he didn’t commit and then murdered in jail. It’s ugly, heartbreaking, and painfully believable. Yuki’s anger and determination felt justified, and I liked seeing her pushed into morally uncomfortable territory and winning.

And finally, we get a bit of happiness. Cindy writes a book, goes on tour, and reconnects with Richie. It’s a lighter thread, but a welcome one. These characters go through so much that it’s nice to see something just work out.

Overall, 14th Deadly Sin balances multiple plots, emotional stakes, and character growth really well. It’s fast, it’s frustrating in the right ways, and it deepens the relationships that keep this series going. Not every installment hits like this, but this one definitely did. Plus, it ended in a cliffhanger.

On to number fifteen.

The Paris Detective by James Patterson

 

I never thought I'd say this about a James Patterson book, but this one was definitely unmemorable and boring. I struggled to finish it. Moving on...

Win or Die by Darren O'Sullivan

 This isn't a game you can log out of, and there is no pause button. 

Wow. Just… wow. This is one of those books that doesn’t politely leave your brain when you’re done. It moves in, rearranges the furniture, and lingers. I'm still trying to catch my breath. 

Cass’s brother Sam makes a series of truly terrible life choices (as brothers in thrillers are wont to do) and ends up owing a dangerous group of people a frightening amount of money. The kind of people who don’t send polite reminder emails. Sam gets beaten, handed a deadline, and suddenly Cass is staring down a problem with no good solutions.

So she joins an app. An app that dares people to do things for money. Silly things at first. Then riskier things. Streaking. Kissing a stranger. Swimming across rivers. Pushing boundaries for cash and clout. It’s clever, it’s terrifying, and it feels way too plausible for comfort. Because of course people would download it. And of course it would go viral. And mob mentality is a thing.

Then it gets worse.

The same people Sam owes decide Cass should be the target of a dare and put a price on her head. Literally. From that point on, the book turns into a brutal, high-stakes game of hide-and-seek where every decision feels like it could be the wrong one. The tension doesn’t let up. Not once.

This isn’t flashy thriller nonsense. It’s relentless, claustrophobic, and emotionally exhausting. Cass isn’t a superhero. She’s smart, desperate, scared, and determined, which somehow makes everything seem that much more real.

This is not a cozy read. This is a stay up all night and then stare at the wall after finishing kind of read. If you like thrillers that crawl under your skin and stay long after the last page, Win or Die delivers.

Just don’t expect it to be gentle.

Just a Little Bit Dangerous by Linda Castillo

 A reminder that sometimes ‘trying something different’ just makes you miss what an author does best.

I picked this up for one reason and one reason only: Linda Castillo. I love her Kate Burkholder series, so I figured, why not see what else she’s written?

Spoiler alert: I should have read the description first.

This one turned out to be a Harlequin Intrigue romance, and it follows the formula to the letter. Innocent, naïve woman lands in danger. Big, capable, handsome man swoops in. Sparks fly. Trouble happens. Love conquers all. The end. 

Nothing about it was bad, exactly, it just wasn’t for me. I kept waiting for the grit, tension, and depth I get from the Kate books, and instead got predictable romance beats and a happily-ever-after I could see coming from page ten.

Lesson learned. For Linda Castillo writing Kate Burkholder I’m all in. For Linda Castillo writing Harlequin romance not so much. I’ll happily stick to what she does best.

Gone Tomorrow by Lee Child (Reacher #13)

 This one rattled me. Not because it’s outrageous, but because it isn’t.

I just finished Gone Tomorrow by Lee Child, and honestly, Reacher never disappoints. This time Lee Child drops him into a subway car with a woman who checks every box for “suicide bomber”. Of course, she isn’t what she seems, and from there it feels like everyone Reacher crosses paths with is lying to him at least once. If not, more. 

That said, this one got under my skin a bit. The plot veers into territory that feels uncomfortably plausible, and I caught myself hoping, really hoping, that this story is pure fiction. I read thrillers for the adrenaline rush, not existential dread. Still, Reacher’s steady moral compass, sharp instincts, and refusal to be played kept me turning pages. As always, I’m glad he’s the one asking the questions… because he will get the answers.

Broometime Serenade by Barry Metcalf

 Not bad, but the audiobook format and naked witch chaos worked against it.

I listened to Broometime Serenade by Barry Metcalf, and overall… it was okay. The story had moments that worked, but as an audiobook, it wasn’t always easy to follow. More than once I found myself wondering who was talking. It definitely felt written with print in mind rather than audio.

There was also some unnecessary nakedness that added nothing to the story except mild confusion, along with the improbable shenanigans of a witch that required a fair amount of suspension of disbelief. Not impossible—just eyebrow-raising.

All in all, not a bad listen, but not one that fully clicked for me. This is probably a book I would’ve enjoyed more on the page than in my earbuds… and maybe with a little less naked witching involved.

Unlucky 13 by James Patterson and Maxine Paetro

 Nothing kills a McNugget craving faster than a Patterson belly-bomber plot.

I just finished Unlucky 13 by James Patterson, and I may not sleep tonight. Every time I pick up a Women’s Murder Club book, I’m reminded that police don’t get the luxury of one case at a time, and this one throws Lindsay straight into the blender. She’s juggling three nightmares at once: Maggie Morales (serial killer Randy Fish’s girlfriend who’s got revenge on her crazy brain), Brady and Yuki’s cruise being hijacked by pirates, and the belly bomber plot, which honestly made me the most uncomfortable. Who really knows what goes into fast food? Certainly not me. Makes me rethink my occasional McNugget cravings.

I loved Lindsay here: Strong, steady, and putting her baby first every chance she gets. Cindy, on the other hand… let’s just say chasing down a serial killer solo isn’t exactly a Mensa-approved plan. Yuki showed real backbone taking out one of the hijackers, and while Claire didn’t get a huge role this time, she was key in pulling Lindsay into the belly bomber case.

All in all, this was a five-star installment for me, and now I’m looking forward #14.

Winter Cabin by Sam Baron

Caves, a cult, and a snowstorm. What could go wrong?

I’m a sucker for an isolated setting, so the cabin, a mountain, and a snowstorm sealed the deal for me. That trope can get old, but Baron somehow breathes fresh life into it. Maybe it’s the combination of creepy caves, creeping weather, and a cult that took it to a whole new level. 

The creepy cult vibe is what really hooked me. The tension builds slowly; no jump scares, no cheap tricks, just a steady drip of “oooooh, this can’t be good.” And when the Rangers get jumped by knife-wielding cult members I realized we weren’t dealing with your standard manipulative-but-mostly-harmless cult. These folks skipped straight past brainwashing and went right into “stab first, ask questions never.”

Ruth, our main character, is solid. Strong, capable, and exactly the kind of female lead I always root for. Everyone knows I love women who can stand their ground and still keep their wits about them. I was also absolutely convinced I knew who the villain was… until I didn’t. Baron made a fool out of me at least three times, which I grudgingly respect.

The cult dynamics were uncomfortably accurate: The isolation, the constant training, the mind control wrapped in myths and fear. Legends and religion often go hand in hand in my opinion, especially in groups where the leader’s word becomes gospel. Add hallucinogens to the mix, and suddenly people are ready to murder for a mountain. That was the part that chilled me the most—because it felt terrifyingly real. 

The snowstorm setup felt classic, but classic done well. The cave scenes were fantastic. Enough of a claustrophobic atmosphere to make me tense up but not so over the top that I rolled my eyes. The college girls caught up in the cult frustrated me (Ladies. You have brains. Use them.) but that frustration served the story.

The pacing was a nice mix. I could put the book down to refill my coffee, but the story kept pulling me right back, determined to solve the case and get that cult leader his well-earned comeuppance.

And the ending delivered. Justice served, cult broken, heroes safe… at least until the next book. Because yes, I’d absolutely read more with these characters. I think I missed the first one in the series, so I'll go backward before I go forward.

If you like thrillers with brainwashed zealots, icy isolation, and strong leads making smart choices under pressure, consider Winter Cabin is win.

Two Cold Killers by K. J. Kalis

 I knew who the villain was. I just needed Max to sober up long enough to catch him.

I’ll be honest: Two Cold Killers did not sweep me off my feet in chapter one. It took me half the book (almost) to get fully invested. Max, our resident ex-cop/alcoholic/self-pity expert, spends the early chapters doing emotional laps around the misery track. I get that he’s had a rough go at life, but his “woe is me” with the back of his hand to his forehead routine had me wanting to reach into the pages, slap the whiskey glass out of his hand, and tell him, “Dude. Consequences.”

But then Max started cleaning up his act. Literally. Dumping his whiskey down the drain, avoiding the bar, picking up the wreckage that was his house. And as he sobered up, his brain cells started firing again. Watching his detective instincts resurface was like finally seeing the headlights come on during a long, dark drive. Suddenly, the story had momentum.

I knew who the villain was, absolutely. But the “how” and the “why” kept me reading. I needed to know what connected a corrections officer, two drug dealers, and Max’s own mother. When his mom’s death was officially ruled a homicide, the pieces really started snapping together. Forensics is fascinating.

By the end, Max walks into an AA meeting and finally admits he has a problem. And look, I’m not saying I jumped up and cheered, but I may have nodded approvingly like a proud, slightly exhausted parent at a school assembly. It even made me think about picking up the next book in the series.

But.

Max must stay sober, and the self-pity has got to go. My patience has limits.

If you like character-driven mysteries where a protagonist has to scrape himself off the floor before solving anything, this might be your jam. Max is messy, frustrating, and occasionally infuriating, but once he stops spiraling, the story becomes an engaging ride. I’m cautiously curious to see where Kalis takes him next.

Now You See Her by Linda Howard

I came for the mystery, stayed for the chaos, and skipped the unnecessary nakedness.

I picked up Now You See Her because it was on Kindle Unlimited, I love a good mystery, and I’ve heard Linda Howard’s name tossed around enough times to be curious. I didn’t look too closely at the description, but the book cover with a lonely drop of blood sliding down it caught my eye. Absolutely macabre, but in the words of Popeye, “I yam what I yam.”

The opening hooked me right away. Sweeney sounded like someone I’d love to hang out with, the kind of chaotic friend who pulls you into questionable adventures but keeps you laughing the whole time. Her sudden psychic visions didn’t bother me either. I’ve never had one myself, but I’m open-minded enough to say, “Sure, why not?”

What I wasn’t expecting was a steamy romance. If I had known clothes were going to start flying, I might’ve politely left this one on the e-shelf. I remain firmly Team Murder-and-Mayhem, not Romance-and-Flowers. So yes, I did a little strategic page-skipping when the temperature rose. (Call me old-fashioned, but sex rarely adds to the story. It certainly didn’t here.) 

I did like Richard, though. He is exactly the sort of man fiction serves up because real life refuses to cooperate. Strong, steady, protective, the whole “dream hero” package.

The suspense worked for me. I kept guessing, never spotted the villain in advance. All I knew for sure was that there was more than one. It was a fun, twisty ride from start to finish.

All in all, I’d definitely recommend this to readers who enjoy romantic suspense with the note that yes, this leans heavily into the romance part. I gave it four out of five stars because, for crying out loud, leave something to the imagination.

A Wanted Man by Lee Child (Reacher #17)

 Sometimes the real danger isn’t the road. It’s the people in the car.

Usually Reacher books are more action-packed, but I genuinely enjoyed this one. The novel opens with Reacher hitching a ride and ending up in a car with three strangers, and right from the start something felt off. No small talk, no casual chatter, not even a throwaway comment about the weather. Just three people who clearly weren’t who they were pretending to be. Reacher stayed true to form: Talk only when necessary and otherwise sit back and observe.

From the get-go, I was keeping my eye on the two men in the car. They were both too pushy for the situation. Reacher didn’t ask for aspirin… so why were they insisting Karen give him one? And later, when all the alphabet agencies got involved and Reacher was taken to some sort of holding center/safe house, I thought, "Oh, come ON!" Reacher can take care of himself, thank you very much.

The most satisfying part of the book was watching him peel back the layers to figure out what was really going on, who all the players were, and then, of course, mete out justice Reacher-style.

12th of Never by James Patterson and Maxine Paetro

Some tropes deserve retirement, like giving birth in a storm. Please let it rest.

I picked up 12th of Never because it was the next in the series and, honestly, I just enjoy reading Lindsay Boxer do her thing. But this time around, the thrill was… muted. Instead of diving into a juicy case, we opened with a triple-punch of familiar tropes: Lindsay gives birth at home in a storm (of course she does), the baby immediately gets sick (of course she does), and chaos descends upon brand-new motherhood (of course it does). Cue my eye roll so hard it nearly sprained my optic nerve.

And if that wasn’t enough predictable drama, Rich and Cindy are still working through the issues they started in 11th Hour. Spoiler: they’re not really “working through” anything. Cindy keeps putting her job first, Rich wants commitment, and I’m in the background asking, “Then why are you two still together?” Honestly, this relationship should’ve been wrapped up somewhere between books 11 and 12 so we didn’t have to sit through its inevitable decline.

But the cases themselves actually delivered.

Claire’s subplot had, and held, my attention. A dead body vanishes from her morgue. Not undead or mostly dead or kind of dead. Dead-dead. Since bodies rarely stroll out for fresh air unassisted, the whole situation had “inside job” written all over it. And because we know Claire treats her work like sacred ground, the culprit had to be someone with access. The creep factor was delightfully macabre.

Then we’ve got the professor with the visions. Crazy has nothing on him. His plotline was fine, but the disappearing corpse was what kept me flipping pages at Patterson-speed.

If I were in charge of editing, I’d toss the entire new-mom chaos arc, the storm birth, the immediate baby illness, and the Rich/Cindy relationship woes. None of those added tension; they just padded the story with predictable beats we’ve all seen before.

Still, I stuck with the book for one reason: It’s Patterson, and there’s going to be a 13. And you know I’ll be there, popcorn in hand, hoping the next one leaves the worn-out tropes at the door.

Lies Run Deep by Valerie Brandy

I’ll happily attend your wedding. I just won’t be in it. Blame this book. 

This being December (when my students are somehow even crazier than usual) I knew I wasn’t going to have much time to actually sit and read. Survival mode doesn’t leave room for page-turning. So I grabbed an audiobook on Chirp to keep me sane during my drives, hoping it would satisfy my craving for an escape from real life. This one delivered.

I just finished listening to Lies Run Deep by Valerie Brandy, and ... wow. If this book were a roller coaster, I’d be the person in the souvenir photo with my hair straight up and my soul leaving my body. There was so much I didn’t see coming.

The story is told through the alternating viewpoints of Zoe and Cassandra, which was absolutely the right choice. At first, I trusted Zoe more because she seemed like the saner of the two. Cassandra came across as someone who might label her food in a shared fridge with threats. But then I found myself trusting Cassandra too. I mean, who broadcasts their own chaotic lunacy unless they are truly, spectacularly chaotic? Someone over-the-top insane, that’s who. Yet she kept sounding believable. 

The dual perspectives added so much depth. There was just enough insight into both sides of the story without giving you the full picture, which meant I spent the entire listen convinced I had it all figured out. Yeah, I did not. Not even once. I was confidently wrong for hours at a time. The only two things I felt sure about were (1) Cassandra was absolutely unwell, and (2) Zoe and Mike genuinely loved each other.

The “whodunit” reveal was completely jaw-dropping. I had my suspicions locked on one person the whole way through and could not have been more wrong. 

My feelings about the characters shifted a lot as the story unfolded. Cassandra stayed unhinged, yes, but the more I learned, the more compassion I felt. She went from cringe-worthy with much shuddering and wincing to tragically needing empathy and understanding.  I loved Zoe from the start. I liked Mike and then respected his tenacity. Oliver, Alicia, Rick, and Jason I hated them with the fire of a thousand suns. Peak narcissists. Walking red flags. If they were on a wedding seating chart, I’d put theirs in the next county.

The theme that stood out the most for me was loyalty: Who has it, who doesn’t, and how far people will go when they feel betrayed. And that made the wedding setting diabolical. To go from bridal bliss to kidnapping to lights-out terror on an isolated island was enough to make me want the narrator to pick up the pace. And for this to happen on Zoe and Mike’s honeymoon was absolutely unconscionable. I want a safe, boring redo honeymoon for them.

I liked the ending. It wrapped up the story well but left things open for what’s next. I didn’t read the first book in the trilogy, but this one stands on its own just fine. Still…Logan is out there, and something needs to be done about him. I might pick up book three just to make sure he gets what’s coming to him. Hopefully what's coming to him is done Reacher-style.

And as for me? After reading this, I’ve decided one thing with absolute certainty: I’m never being in another wedding party ever again. I’ll send a gift. I’ll smile for pictures. I’ll eat cake. But bridesmaid? Maid of honor? Flower girl? Nope. Not happening. I’m not taking that risk.