Admit Nothing by Scott Urbach (Grant Hunter #1)

 Sometimes the bad guys need a different brand of justice.

Every now and then I pick up a thriller that reminds me why I enjoy this genre so much. Admit Nothing by Scott Urbach was one of those books.

The story begins in Bangkok when a CIA operative is found dead in a place he definitely should not have been. Before long, his wife is also dead, Russian operatives are involved, and what initially appears to be death by natural causes turns into a conspiracy involving traitors in high places.

In other words, nobody is having a good day.

What I enjoyed most about this book was the way Urbach balanced the plot with character development. As the mystery unfolded, Grant Hunter's character was taking shape. He quickly became the kind of protagonist I enjoy reading about: competent, determined, and guided by a strong sense of justice even when the official system isn't getting the job done.

My book journal has a trope called "Justice Outside the System," and Grant Hunter fits that category perfectly. He isn't reckless or looking for trouble. He simply refuses to let bad people hide behind power, influence, or bureaucracy. Or diplomatic immunity.

The plot itself kept me hooked. Every time I thought I had a handle on what was happening, another layer of the conspiracy appeared. The international setting added extra tension, and the involvement of intelligence agencies and Russian operatives gave the story a nice political-thriller feel without becoming overly complicated.

This was one of those books I read in a single day, although not in the "ignore all responsibilities and forget to eat" way. I still managed to get some housework done and even took a nap. That's usually my sign of a solid four-star thriller. I was invested, entertained, and eager to keep reading, but I wasn't desperately racing to the finish line.

The ending was especially satisfying. The story delivered on the promises it made early on, the conspiracy was unraveled, and Grant Hunter handled the bad guys in a way that felt earned. Nothing is more disappointing than a thriller that builds suspense for 300 pages and then stumbles at the finish. Fortunately, that wasn't the case here.

Overall, Admit Nothing was an enjoyable political thriller with an engaging protagonist, a fast-moving plot, and a satisfying conclusion. Most importantly, it convinced me that I want to spend more time with Grant Hunter.

And that's probably the best compliment I can give a first book in a series.

The Lightning Girl by Sam Ripley

What if the friend you spent decades mourning wasn't who you thought she was?

When Sarah returns to her hometown after her father's death, she finds herself drawn back into the mystery that has haunted her since childhood: the death of her best friend, Gen. Officially, Gen died after falling from a cliff years ago. Sarah has never fully accepted that explanation, and as she settles her father's estate, old memories and old questions begin resurfacing. The deeper she digs, the less certain she becomes about what really happened.

This was a solid four-star read for me. The biggest strength of the novel is the mystery itself. For most of the book, I genuinely had no idea what happened to Gen. Was she murdered? If so, by whom? A suspected serial killer? The groundskeeper? Someone else entirely? It kept me guessing.

I also appreciated how unsettled the book made me feel. Not frightened exactly, but disconcerted. That's a quality I enjoy in a thriller. Sarah starts out as a narrator I trusted completely, but as the story unfolds, I found myself questioning her perceptions and interpretations of events. The uncertainty added another layer to the mystery and kept me engaged.

Sarah was my favorite character. Even during the moments when I thought she might be a few fries short of a Happy Meal, I still liked her and wanted answers right alongside her. Her grief over both her father and Gen felt genuine, and her determination to uncover the truth kept the story moving.

The supernatural elements worked better for me than I expected. Personally, I'm not fully convinced that talking to dead people is a thing, and there were moments that earned a little eye roll from me. On the other hand, the ambiguity surrounding those experiences added to the novel's uneasy atmosphere. Whether the explanations were supernatural, psychological, or something in between, they helped create a constant feeling that something wasn't quite right.

The pacing is steady, with enough twists and revelations to keep the pages turning. While this wasn't one of those books that kept me awake far past bedtime, it was consistently entertaining and rarely made me roll my eyes ... a compliment thriller readers will understand.

Readers who enjoy mystery thrillers with psychological suspense, unreliable narrators, and a touch of supernatural ambiguity will likely find a lot to enjoy here.

Content warnings: murder, violence against women, grief, death of a parent, and discussions of a possible serial killer.

Overall, The Lightning Girl delivers a compelling mystery, memorable twists, and an unsettling atmosphere that kept me guessing until the end. I am already recommending it to my friends. A special thank you to Atria for providing this book for review consideration via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. 

One Last Smile by Blake Pierce (The Governess #2)

 She is still charging in where angels fear to plonk their holy feet.

There must be something in the water around Mary because wherever this woman goes, trouble follows close behind. In One Last Smile by Blake Pierce, Mary has once again landed herself in a wealthy household. This time, she's supposed to be tutoring Lucas, helping him prepare for admission to a prestigious university. Sounds simple enough ... flashcards, essays, standardized tests, and perhaps the occasional reminder to put down the phone and study ... Naturally, that is not what happens.

Instead, Mary learns about a young woman connected to the family who disappeared and was never found. Most people would file that information under "interesting but none of my business" and continue helping Lucas with his studies. Mary is not most people. Despite repeatedly reminding herself that she is not a detective, Mary once again launches herself into an investigation with all the caution of a squirrel crossing a six-lane highway. 

To be fair, the mystery itself kept me listening. This was actually a great commute audiobook. The pacing moves along nicely, and the story gives you enough breadcrumbs to keep you interested during a drive to work without demanding your complete attention. I never found myself desperate to get back to it, but I also never dreaded pressing play.

The biggest hurdle for me was Mary herself. She has a remarkable talent for inserting herself into increasingly questionable situations while fully acknowledging that she has neither the training nor the authority to be doing any of it. Every time she thought, "I'm not a detective," I found myself agreeing enthusiastically.

The book isn't bad. In fact, it's entertaining enough that I happily listened through to the end. The mystery was interesting, the narration was easy to follow, and I wanted to know what had happened to the missing young woman. But there were enough eye-roll-inducing moments that I can't place it high on my recommendation list.

In the end, I'd call this a solid three-star audiobook. If you're looking for something engaging to fill your commute, it does the job. If you're looking for a psychological thriller that will keep you awake at night thinking about it, this probably isn't the one.

Just be prepared for Mary to charge directly into situations where angels fear to plonk their holy feet.

UNSUB by Meg Gardiner (UNSUB #1)

 Nothing like the 9 circles of hell to keep you awake at night...

Some books politely conclude their business, shake your hand, and send you on your way. UNSUB looked me in the eye and said, "See you in the next book." Fair enough.

The story follows Detective Caitlin Hendrix, whose father, Mack Hendrix, spent years chasing the infamous Mercury Killer. The case consumed him, nearly destroyed him, and was never fully solved. Now the killer appears to be back, and Caitlin finds herself walking down the same dark path her father traveled years before.

One thing I really appreciated was Caitlin herself. She's competent without being invincible, determined without being reckless to the point of making me want to throw the book across the room, and realistic enough to feel like an actual detective rather than a superhero with a badge. But let's be honest here. The Mercury Killer is the real star of the show.

Every time he appeared, I sat up a little straighter. He's the kind of villain who keeps you guessing because his actions don't fit neatly into a pattern you can solve halfway through the book. Just when I thought I understood what was happening, he found a new way to make things weird, creepy, or both.

Then came the twist I genuinely didn't see coming.

The murders are connected to Dante's Inferno.

As someone who has read plenty of thrillers featuring serial killers with grand plans, bizarre obsessions, and enough free time to create elaborate crime scenes, I thought I'd seen it all. Apparently not. The Dante connection added an interesting layer to the investigation and gave the murders a twisted sense of purpose.

The pacing was solid throughout. Not quite "cancel all your responsibilities and stay awake until three in the morning" territory, but definitely engaging enough that I wanted to keep reading.

And then there was that ending. You know the type. Not a cliffhanger exactly. More like the literary equivalent of someone opening a door, pointing into the darkness, and saying, "There's more." And now I need to know what happens next.

So congratulations, Meg Gardiner. I picked up one book and somehow ended up committing to a series. The Mercury Killer completely stole the show, and the ending practically guaranteed I'll be reading the next Caitlin Hendrix book.

The Psychopath Next Door by Mark Edwards

 The Neighborhood Association from Hell

Any book that makes me accidentally skip dinner is doing something right. That's exactly what happened with The Psychopath Next Door by Mark Edwards. One minute I was planning to read a few chapters before bed. The next minute I was squinting at the clock wondering why it was dark out and why my stomach was making sounds usually associated with dying farm equipment.

The story follows Ethan Dove and his family as they attempt a fresh start after some marital turbulence. Unfortunately for Ethan, life has other plans. At about the same time they settle into their new home, Fiona moves in next door. And Fiona is not bringing banana bread to welcome the neighbors.

Recently released from prison, Fiona is carrying enough resentment to power a small city. She blames certain people for the death of her partner and the prison sentence that followed, and she has no intention of moving on peacefully.

What I liked most was that the characters felt believable. Ethan wasn't perfect. He made mistakes. Sometimes I wanted to shake him. But his decisions felt human rather than thriller filler. I wasn't entirely sure about Emma for much of the book. She kept me guessing, which may have been exactly what the author intended. By the end, though, she earned my respect. Dylan, the teenage son, mostly performed his assigned duties as Teenager™. You know the role: appear occasionally, be mildly annoyed by everything, and vanish back into the background.

Then there's Rose.

Without spoiling anything, I'll just say that Rose made me uncomfortable almost immediately. Sometimes a character walks onto the page and your instincts start waving red flags. Mine certainly did. The uncomfortable feeling wasn't accidental, either.

And Fiona was creepy from the very beginning. Not cartoon-villain creepy or twirling-a-mustache creepy. The much more unsettling kind of creepy where every appearance raises your blood pressure a little because you know something bad is coming.

The tension builds steadily throughout the book, and the twists genuinely worked for me. That's becoming harder and harder to accomplish. I've read enough thrillers that I usually spot at least part of the ending coming down the tracks.

Not this time.

Mark Edwards managed to pull the rug out from under me, and I happily face-planted right onto it. By the time I reached the final pages, I was fully invested, thoroughly surprised, and wondering whether I should finally go find something for dinner.

If you're looking for a psychological thriller packed with family drama, revenge, secrets, suspicious neighbors, and an ending that actually delivers, The Psychopath Next Door is well worth your time.

Just maybe eat dinner before you start reading.

X Ways to Die by Stefan Ahnhem (Fabian Risk #5)

I felt like I walked into the movie theater 20 minutes late, but then I realized the movie is excellent! 

I started X Ways to Die by Stefan Ahnhem feeling completely disoriented. Characters already knew each other, relationships had history, and everyone seemed to be carrying emotional baggage I clearly should have recognized. About fifty pages in, I looked it up, and discovered this is not the first book in the series. Mystery solved.

Turns out this is part of the Fabian Risk series, and once I adjusted, it didn’t take long to settle in. The story does a surprisingly good job of pulling new readers along without making you feel hopelessly lost.

The main case involves a serial killer whose methods and victim choices appear completely random, and I don't mean “chaotic genius with hidden clues” random. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern, motive, or logic tying the murders together, which made the investigation feel especially tense because law enforcement never seems fully grounded. 

At the same time, Fabian Risk is also digging into suspicions surrounding one of his own co-workers, apparently using whatever scraps of “free time” homicide detectives are supposed to have. That storyline added another layer of paranoia to an already twisty plot. Between internal politics, cross-border politics between Sweden and Denmark, and powerful people playing their usual political games, this book had a lot going on.

And it worked.

The multiple points of view could have become overwhelming, but instead they made the story feel bigger and more immersive. The glimpses into the killer’s mind were especially unsettling. “Twisty” almost undersells it. 

What I appreciated most was how intricate the plotting was without becoming unreadable. There are a lot of moving pieces here, but they eventually begin locking together like gears. You can tell Ahnhem enjoys building complicated crime stories and trusts readers to keep up.

It didn't keep me awake at night in existential terror, but it did completely pull me in and keep me turning pages. An easy 4.5 stars for me, rounded up to 5 for Goodreads.

You Girls Play Nice by KD Aldyn

I didn't clean the house today. And who needs food?

I received an ARC of You Girls Play Nice by KD Aldyn from NetGalley and Poisoned Pen Press in exchange for an honest review.

This book consumed my entire day. I don't remember if I ate. Who needs food when there is rage, revenge, female friendship, and a murder trial that goes spectacularly wrong?

The story opens at the end of a sexual assault and murder trial. Rebel, Jackie, Sue, and Willow sit through every day of the proceedings, desperate for justice for their murdered friend. Instead, the accused, Daniel, walks free after being found not guilty on all charges. The women try to move on, but grief, anger, and unanswered questions have a way of festering. Years later, the friends begin discussing hypothetical ways they would kill Daniel if they ever chose revenge. Hypothetically, of course. Because nothing says “healthy closure” quite like plotting imaginary murder over drinks.

This book does not waste time easing readers into the story. It drops you directly into the emotional wreckage and lets the tension build from there. The pacing was excellent, and I flew through this book in a single sitting because I needed to know where it was heading.

What really made the story work for me was the friendship between the four women. They each felt distinct and believable instead of blending together. Rebel absolutely lived up to her name, Jackie was quietly intellectual, Willow brought warmth and optimism even while doubting herself, and Sue grounded the group. Their friendships felt layered and authentic, especially the smaller bonds within the larger group dynamic. These women loved each other, protected each other, frustrated each other, and carried their grief differently.

The revenge discussions were some of the strongest scenes in the book because they felt disturbingly understandable. The women are not presented as cartoon vigilantes. They are grieving women failed by the justice system, trying to cope with unbearable anger. The moral grayness of those conversations kept pulling me deeper into the story because part of me understood exactly why they were having them.

I also appreciated how emotionally tense the story felt throughout. This was not simply a mystery about solving a murder. It explored the aftermath of trauma, the damage left behind by violence against women, and what happens when justice and legality are not the same thing.

The reveal genuinely surprised me. Looking back, the clues were there, but I completely underestimated one character because I assumed they were only a minor player in the story. My only small critique is that I would have liked a little more development surrounding the larger villain operating behind the scenes and covering for Daniel. That said, it did not lessen my enjoyment of the book at all.

This was an easy five-star read for me. Readers who enjoy darker psychological thrillers and morally messy stories will probably love this, especially fans of Karin Slaughter. Content warnings should include violence against women, sexual assault, murder, grief, and trauma.

Murder, She Wrote: A Killing in Real Estate by Jessica Fletcher and Terrie Farley Moran

Cabot Cove still feels like home...cozy, charming, and statistically overflowing with murder.

I just finished reading Murder, She Wrote: A Killing in Real Estate by Jessica Fletcher and Terrie Farley Moran. Reading this book felt like I was climbing into a time machine.

I remember watching Murder, She Wrote in the 90s and never missed an episode if I could help it, even going so far as to set my VCR to watch it later. Reading this brought all of that rushing back immediately. I could practically hear Angela Lansbury’s voice in my head while reading. Jessica Fletcher still feels exactly like herself all these years later: sensible shoes, bicycle rides to clear her mind, quiet intelligence, and a knack for finding murder wherever she goes.

This mystery takes place in Cabot Cove, where tensions are rising over a developer hoping to build a four-star hotel in the area. Naturally, not everyone wants the beautiful small-town landscape turned into a tourist destination. At the same time, the town is searching for a new mayor who will protect Cabot Cove from overdevelopment. When murder enters the picture, Jessica starts untangling the secrets and motives hiding beneath the town’s polite surface.

What I enjoyed most was the atmosphere and nostalgia. Cabot Cove still feels cozy and familiar, almost like visiting an old friend. The town itself remains one of the strongest “characters” in the series. I also appreciated that Jessica has not been dramatically modernized or changed into someone unrecognizable after 62 books. She is still calm, observant, compassionate, and quietly sharp.

The mystery itself was solid and entertaining, although this was not one of those books that kept me awake all night because I absolutely had to know what happened next. Instead, it felt comfortable and reliable. The pacing was steady, the small-town politics added an interesting layer to the plot, and the story captured the same cozy charm that made the television series so beloved.

As for content warnings, this is a cozy mystery, so readers should expect murder and investigation themes, but nothing felt overly graphic or disturbing.

Overall, I gave this one 4 out of 5 stars. If you love cozy mysteries, small-town settings, or grew up watching Jessica Fletcher solve crimes from her little corner of Maine, this is a very enjoyable nostalgic read. Even though this is the 62nd book in the series, it works perfectly well as a standalone cozy mystery.

Thank you to NetGalley and Berkley Publishing Group for providing me an advance review copy in exchange for an honest review. 

Hysteria by LJ Ross (Alexander Gregory #2)

Beautiful people, fake identities, psychological trauma, and murder? Paris Fashion Week has really escalated.

Hysteria was a five-star read for me. I picked it up intending to read a few chapters and ended up devouring the entire thing in one sitting. This is absolutely a psychological thriller, and an exceptionally well-done one at that.

Dr. Alexander Gregory is called to Paris during Fashion Week after the attempted murder of a model whose identity appears to have been fabricated only weeks earlier. Then another model turns up dead, and suddenly the glamorous world of high fashion starts feeling less like luxury and more like a pressure cooker waiting to explode. Beneath the beauty and wealth is rot, secrets, manipulation, and people who are very much not what they seem.

What I loved most about this book was the characterization, especially Gregory himself. He is brilliant and respected in his field, but still deeply human. He makes mistakes. He struggles. His night terrors and mental health challenges felt believable and respectfully handled rather than exaggerated for drama. In fact, I think those struggles are what make him so good at understanding other people. He recognizes suffering because he lives with it himself, and that gave the story emotional weight beyond the murder investigation.

The pacing hooked me immediately and never let go. Every time I thought I understood who I could trust, the author quietly removed the entire floor from under me. I genuinely did not see the reveal coming. Even more impressive, the twist felt earned rather than random. 

I also really appreciated the humor. It was dry, sarcastic, and occasionally dark in exactly the right way. In a story dealing with murder, trauma, and psychological strain, those moments kept the book from ever feeling emotionally heavy in a tedious way.

Honestly I can’t think of a single critique. I didn’t even roll my eyes once while reading, which thriller readers know is practically a miracle. The plot stayed believable, the tension stayed high, and the characters remained compelling throughout. I even liked the villain…until the ending made me rethink everything.

Content warnings for murder, abuse, and mental health struggles.

I would highly recommend this to fans of psychological thrillers, especially readers who enjoy damaged but believable investigators, morally complicated characters, and mysteries where appearances are constantly deceiving.

Thank you to NetGalley and Poisoned Pen Press for providing me with an advance review copy in exchange for an honest review.

 Would I like to visit? Absolutely not. Everyone there is probably in a murder cult.

Nothing says ‘relaxing island getaway’ quite like ritual murders, religious fanatics, and enough secrets to sink a fishing boat. After a couple of recent reads that barely scraped past “aggressively mediocre,” I picked up Holy Island by LJ Ross and immediately remembered what it feels like to actually enjoy a thriller again. This book completely understood the assignment.

The setting absolutely carries this story. Holy Island is isolated, naturally quiet, stormy, and the kind of place where everybody knows everybody else’s business while simultaneously pretending they know nothing at all. The island feels less like a backdrop and more like an active participant in the mystery. Every scene has this eerie stillness hanging over it, like the entire town collectively agreed to keep several terrible secrets. Which, as it turns out, they basically did.

We’ve got ritual murders. We’ve got creepy religious circles. We’ve got suspicious locals. We’ve got a pastor who proves once again that fictional clergy are rarely just handing out casseroles and good advice. Every time I thought I had somebody figured out, the book cheerfully informed me that I did not.

DCI Maxwell Ryan was also exactly the kind of detective I enjoy reading about: intelligent, observant, capable, and underestimated by the people above him. There’s something deeply satisfying about watching a competent investigator quietly outthink everyone around him while his bosses act like he’s one missed memo away from disaster.

Then there’s Dr. Anna Taylor, who returns to the island as a police consultant and immediately walks back into years of emotional baggage, especially with her sister, who never escaped island life in the first place. Their relationship added a really grounded emotional layer to the story. In between all the murder and cult nonsense, there’s this underlying tension about family, resentment, and what happens when one person leaves while another stays behind.

The romance was surprisingly well done. It didn’t take over the plot or turn into melodramatic sweaty nonsense every five chapters. It just added warmth and chemistry to a story already drowning in suspicion and ritualistic murder scenes. A refreshing change.

What really made this book work for me, though, was the atmosphere. This wasn’t one of those thrillers where characters sprint alone into danger armed only with bad instincts and a flashlight from Dollar Tree. The tension came from the environment itself: the isolation, the silence, the feeling that the island was watching everything unfold. By the end, I was completely immersed.

Would I visit Holy Island after reading this book? Absolutely not.

Beautiful scenery. Excellent mystery. Very high chance of accidental involvement in a murder cult.

One Last Lie by Blake Pierce (The Governess #1)

Nothing says ‘psychological thriller’ like a governess repeatedly ignoring every survival instinct available to her.

“Psychological thriller” is becoming one of those labels that can mean absolutely anything at this point. Sometimes it means a dark, twisty descent into manipulation and paranoia. Sometimes it means a woman making catastrophically bad decisions in a large house while ignoring every survival instinct God intended her to have. One Last Lie falls somewhere in the middle.

The premise honestly hooked me right away. Mary is hired as the governess for three children after their father dies, and she quickly becomes convinced that his death was not natural. Wealthy household, dead patriarch, suspicious atmosphere, secrets everywhere... Excellent! Sign me up!

This book had all the ingredients for one of those deliciously tense gothic-style mysteries where everyone is hiding something and somebody is definitely lurking dramatically in a hallway at midnight. The problem is that Mary is not a detective. Mary is a governess.

This woman spends the entire book plunking her holy little feet where angels fear to tread. She snoops, eavesdrops, and wanders into situations that would make any rational person immediately fake a headache and leave town.

To be fair, the mystery itself was entertaining enough to keep me listening. I did want to know what happened, and the atmosphere carried the story along reasonably well. But the reveal did not surprise me at all. I had things figured out long before the dramatic conclusion arrived, which took some of the tension out of the experience.

And unfortunately, the audiobook narration did not help matters.

There were repeated phrases and sentences scattered throughout the recording, and once I noticed it, I could not stop noticing it. Every repetition felt like the audiobook briefly skipped sideways in time. Instead of building suspense, it kept interrupting the flow of the story like a verbal speed bump. Nothing destroys thriller momentum quite like: “She walked quietly down the hallway… She walked quietly down the hallway…”

Overall, I landed at three stars. Not terrible. Just one of those books where the premise was stronger than the execution. Still, I will give the book credit for one thing: It fully committed to the timeless thriller tradition of “determined woman repeatedly investigates dangerous people alone for absolutely no reason whatsoever.”

Without Remorse by Ava Strong (Dakota Steele #2)

Hey, maybe stop sprinting alone toward violent suspects with zero backup and the survival instincts of a raccoon in a parking lot.

I just finished listening to Without Remorse by Ava Strong, and I have officially downgraded this one from “solid commute entertainment” to “why is nobody in this department filing paperwork about her behavior?”

This became what I call a commute-only audiobook. You know the type...interesting enough to keep playing during traffic, but not compelling enough to make you sit in the driveway for ten extra minutes pretending you “just need to hear one more chapter.”

The story itself was decent. A lunatic is turning women into metal sculptures. Horrifying premise. It moved quickly, the mystery kept me mildly interested, and there was enough action to hold my attention during the drive. Unfortunately, the main character spent the entire book making decisions that felt less like trained-investigator behavior and more like a raccoon frantically sprinting toward danger because it saw something shiny.

Every single time she got a lead, she immediately charged after it without waiting for backup. Every. Single. Time. And not once did a supervisor step in and say: “Ma’am, please stop running directly toward homicidal suspects by yourself like you’re trying to win a Darwin Award.”

Even her partner just allowed this behavior. No pushback. No consequences. No, “Hey, maybe we should use literally any tactical planning whatsoever.” The entire investigative team started feeling imaginary after a while.

The real problem is that once a thriller loses procedural credibility, it starts losing tension too. Instead of thinking: “Oh no, how will she survive this?” you start thinking: “Okay, what convenient miracle is about to save her now?” And this book loved convenient miracles.

At one point, our plot-armored heroine goes up against the gigantic villain described as basically seven feet tall and four hundred pounds of pure nightmare fuel. But don’t worry. She escapes because she bites him.

Ummm... No.

I can absolutely suspend disbelief for a thriller. I read thrillers constantly. But there’s a difference between exciting and unconvincing. If your main character survives solely because the plot wraps them in bubble wrap every chapter, eventually the danger stops feeling dangerous.

So where did I land? Probably a 3-star read on my snarky rating scale.

It wasn’t terrible. I wasn’t bored. It kept me reasonably entertained during my commute. But it also made me roll my eyes often enough that I probably burned calories.

19th Christmas by James Patterson and Maxine Paetro (Women's Murder Club #19)

Nothing says Christmas spirit quite like a police department drowning in fake crime tips.

I just finished reading 19th Christmas by James Patterson, and it landed squarely at four out of five stars on my highly scientific and occasionally snarky rating scale. This book has two storylines. One of them is excellent. The other feels like an after-school special that accidentally got stapled to the front of the novel. Let us begin with the stapled portion.

Cindy decides to do a Christmas story about undocumented immigrants celebrating the holidays. During this process, she interviews a woman whose husband has been sitting in jail for two years without trial for a crime he did not commit. Cindy gets Yuki involved, justice is served fairly quickly, and then the storyline basically vanishes into the mist.

I kept waiting for this plot to connect to the larger story in some meaningful way. It never really did. It wasn’t terrible. It just felt oddly dropped into the middle of a thriller that was doing something entirely different. The whole thing had the energy of:

    “We should probably include an Important Social Issue.”

    “Great. Put it… somewhere near the beginning.”

Now. The actual story.

A mysterious man known only as Loman is planning a massive Christmas Day heist, and this storyline was a blast. Instead of simply hiding from police, Loman manipulates the entire San Francisco Police Department by flooding them with rumors, anonymous tips, gossip, distractions, false leads, and enough nonsense to make everyone collectively lose their minds. The police are forced to chase every possibility because the one lead they ignore could be the real threat.

That’s what made the story so entertaining to me. Loman doesn’t overpower the police with brute force or cinematic mastermind nonsense. He weaponizes procedure. The department has to respond. They are trapped by their own responsibility, and the result is complete institutional chaos. It turns into this giant maze of dead ends and misdirection, with everyone exhausted, overworked, frustrated, and scrambling to figure out what is real before Christmas Day arrives.

The heist storyline fits the holiday setting perfectly. Christmas already comes with crowds, stress, overloaded systems, emotional people, and general chaos. A criminal exploiting all that noise feels believable in a way the first subplot never quite did.

This is one of those books where you can absolutely see the uneven seams, but you keep reading anyway because the main storyline is genuinely fun. And that is very classic Patterson. Sometimes the books are messy. Sometimes random subplots wander in from another universe. But when he locks into a fast-moving cat-and-mouse thriller, he still knows exactly how to keep the pages turning.

When They Find Me by Carter Wilson

Survival thriller with predators, trauma, and enough tension to ruin your blood pressure.

When They Find Me is one of those books that takes a little patience in the beginning, but once the pieces start falling into place, it becomes genuinely unsettling, and I enjoyed that.

The story follows Annie, a woman hiding in a small town with her daughter, Coral, while another timeline follows Riven, a young girl being raised by her father, Coyote, and his son Boone in an isolated and deeply disturbing “pack” mentality. Those two timelines will collide, but initially I struggled a bit because we are dropped directly into survival mode without much context. I knew Annie was terrified and hiding, and I knew Riven was being prepared to kill someone, but I didn’t yet understand why. That confusion made it harder for me to connect immediately.

Once Part 2 started revealing the backstory, though, everything started falling into place for me. I finally understood exactly what Annie and Coral were running from. When the timelines collided and Coyote, Boone, and Riven invaded the safety of Annie’s isolated home during a snowstorm, I was genuinely nervous for them.

Coyote was probably the most memorable character for me because he felt terrifyingly believable. His obsession with turning his children into “pack animals” instead of fully human individuals created this constant sense of dread throughout the novel. You cannot reason with someone like that, and the book understands this. Boone felt more like an extension of Coyote’s violence, while Riven became increasingly interesting as the story unfolded. She starts as someone completely controlled by fear and manipulation, but little cracks begin forming as she starts questioning her role in her father’s world.

The book explores a lot of heavy themes: survival versus truly living, predatory behavior, male dominance and control over women, trauma, consequences, and mental illness. I appreciated that the psychological elements added to the danger rather than feeling exaggerated just for shock value. Unfortunately, people like Coyote exist, and that realism made the story even more disturbing.

That said, the slow and somewhat confusing beginning kept this from being a full five-star read for me. I understand why the author structured it this way, but it took me a while to feel grounded in the story. Once I was invested, though, I flew through the rest of the book.

Overall, I’m giving When They Find Me 4 out of 5 stars. I would recommend it to readers who enjoy dark psychological thrillers, character-driven suspense, survival stories, and small-town thrillers with heavy emotional tension.

Content warnings for violence, predatory behavior, psychological trauma, manipulation, mental illness themes, and threats against women and children.

Thank you to NetGalley and Poisoned Pen Press for providing me with an advance review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The One by John Marrs

Nothing says modern romance quite like mailing your DNA to strangers and hoping for emotional stability.

I just finished The One, and forget about needles ... my new fear is science-sponsored soulmates.

The premise is simple, which is exactly why it is so creepy. A company discovers that your DNA can identify your perfect romantic match. Your soulmate. Your one true love. Your happily ever after, conveniently delivered through a cheek swab and a database.

This book takes the modern obsession with dating apps, compatibility algorithms, personality quizzes, and “the universe meant for us to be together” energy and shoves it straight off a cliff. Because once society decides DNA matching is scientifically accurate, people stop questioning anything. Marriages implode. Relationships disintegrate. People abandon perfectly decent partners because “the science says otherwise.” Entire lives get rearranged because a lab report basically said, “Congratulations, this stranger is now your destiny.”

The crazy thing is it feels believable. Not futuristic-flying-cars believable. More like “I could absolutely see people doing this by next Tuesday” believable.

The real genius of the book is the mind games. Nobody here is a cartoon villain cackling in the shadows. They are regular people with regular insecurities making increasingly horrifying choices because they are desperate to protect their secrets. And EVERYBODY has secrets. Every single character is carrying emotional baggage like the airline stopped charging baggage fees entirely.

Take the serial killer storyline. This book looked at “DNA soulmates” and decided it still needed MORE nightmare fuel. One character is literally running around murdering women because he wants to reach a personal goal number. Not revenge. Not rage. Just… statistics. Like he turned homicide into a fitness tracker achievement. The scariest part is how calm and matter-of-fact he is about it.

The whole book has this unsettling undercurrent about people handing over responsibility for their choices to systems. The DNA company turns love into data. Society worships the results unquestioningly. Characters ignore giant red flags because “The One” is supposedly fate. Meanwhile, basic common sense packs a suitcase and quietly leaves the building.

It raises some genuinely uncomfortable questions:

If science proved someone was your soulmate, would you leave your spouse?
Would people mistake certainty for love?
Do we actually want truth, or do we just want reassurance?

And maybe most importantly:

Should we really be trusting strangers with our DNA when some of us still use “password123”?

By the end, I was equal parts fascinated, horrified, and deeply suspicious of every ancestry test commercial I have ever seen.

This novel had a slow start for me, but I'm giving it four stars for emotional damage. 

No Man's Land by David Baldacci (John Puller #4)

 Officially, Puller was told not to investigate. Unofficially? ‘Try not to get murdered.’

I finished listening to No Man’s Land by David Baldacci this morning, and this one was five stars all the way.

My Steven, who actually retired from the military and therefore insists on things like “accuracy” and “realistic procedures,” insisted portions of this book were not how any of this would work in real life. Meanwhile, I was over here happily singing, “That's why it's fiction, Steven! ” Because John Puller charging headfirst into danger while everyone around him delivers vague warnings and unofficial orders is exactly what I signed up for.

At the beginning, Puller learns that his father, a respected military figure, may have been involved in the disappearance of Puller’s mother thirty years earlier. Officially, he’s told not to investigate. Unofficially, it feels a lot more like, “Definitely don’t investigate this… but maybe take some leave, quietly poke around, and try not to get murdered.” My kind of logic. And the deeper Puller digs, the messier everything becomes.

That was my favorite thing about this book: Every assumption gets ripped apart. The person everyone believed was evil incarnate ... not so much. The serial killer story everyone accepted for decades ... also ... not so much. The seemingly shallow woman who appears to have ulterior motives ... not so much. Turns out there’s a lot more going on there too.

Nobody is exactly who they first appear to be, and Baldacci keeps shifting the reader’s perspective just enough to make you question every conclusion right alongside Puller. What starts as a cold-case family mystery slowly turns into a tangled web of military secrets, corruption, buried trauma, and people who have spent decades protecting dangerous lies.

And somehow, despite all that complexity, it never became hard to follow. The tension just kept building layer by layer until suddenly I was completely invested in uncovering what really happened to Puller’s mother. And listening to an audiobook while I wasn't in the car.

Paul Rogers was another standout character for me. Fresh out of prison and absolutely uninterested in behaving like a properly grateful parolee, he brought this unpredictable energy to every scene he was in. I never fully trusted him, but I never fully disliked him either, which made him far more interesting than a standard troubled ex-con character. 

Also, a well-deserved shout-out to the audiobook production team because they absolutely nailed this. The dual narration was excellent, and the occasional sound effects added tension without turning the whole thing into an overdramatic radio play. At this point, I’ve come to expect top-tier audiobook production from Baldacci adaptations, and once again they delivered.

This book reminded me why the John Puller series works so well. There’s action, there are conspiracies. There are moments where real military professionals probably clutch their temples in despair. But underneath all of that is a genuinely compelling emotional story about family, loyalty, memory, and the danger of believing easy narratives.

Also, apparently if John Puller followed actual military procedure, this book would’ve been four hundred pages of paperwork and denied requests, so I think fiction made the correct choice here.

In Her Own League by Liz Tomforde

Yes yes, congratulations on the sweating. Anyway, back to the baseball franchise politics.

I am not usually a romance reader. At all. My reading habits generally involve serial killers, conspiracies, missing persons, corrupt officials, or at minimum somebody uncovering dark family secrets in a creepy small town. Romance novels and I tend to look at each other across the room with mutual suspicion. But I actually enjoyed this one. Part of that is because the book has an actual storyline beyond two attractive people staring aggressively at each other for 400 pages.

Reese is the new female owner of the Windy City Warriors MLB team, which means she spends most of the book trying to survive in a world where everyone assumes she is unqualified before she even opens her mouth. She has to constantly prove herself while dealing with players, management, media pressure, and all the lovely sexism that comes with being a woman in charge of a professional baseball franchise.

That immediately gave the story something real to work with.

Then there is Emmett Montgomery, the team’s field manager. Naturally, they hate each other at first because apparently romance novels run on a strict federal enemies-to-lovers requirement. But in this case, the conflict actually made sense. They both care deeply about the team, they clash over leadership and control, and as they slowly start understanding each other, the relationship develops naturally instead of feeling forced. The romance grew out of the story instead of replacing the story.

I also appreciated that Reese felt like an actual competent adult with real pressure on her shoulders rather than a female character whose entire personality is “tiny but stubborn.” She was ambitious, frustrated, determined, and exhausted from constantly having to fight for credibility. Honestly, half the time I was more invested in whether she could survive baseball politics than whether the romance worked out.

Now. We do need to discuss the sweaty elephant in the room.

My opinion on explicit romance scenes remains unchanged. They still do absolutely nothing for me. I skimmed them with the speed and efficiency of someone escaping a burning building. Congratulations to everybody involved, but I would personally like to return to the baseball franchise drama immediately.

That said, even with the scenes I could have done without, I still genuinely liked this book.

I think sports romance works better for me than a lot of romance subgenres because there are actual external stakes involved. There is competition, pressure, career conflict, public image, leadership struggles, and team dynamics. Things are happening besides longing eye contact and emotional spiraling in artisanal coffee shops.

So while I probably will not suddenly transform into a full-time romance reader, In Her Own League definitely proved that if you give me a strong storyline, a capable female lead, and enough workplace chaos, I can be persuaded. Briefly.

Missing Molly by Natalie Barelli

A thriller without urgency is just people making questionable decisions for 300 pages.

I really wanted to enjoy Missing Molly because the premise had all the ingredients for a tense, fast-paced thriller: a missing girl living under a new identity, a murdered family, the wrong man imprisoned for the crime, and the terrifying possibility that the real killer has resurfaced years later. Unfortunately, while the setup was compelling, the execution never fully pulled me in.

Rachel Holloway, who is revealed to be the missing Molly Forster, was difficult for me to connect with as a protagonist. Many of her choices felt unrealistic and frustrating rather than suspenseful. At one point, knowing the real killer may have returned, she still invites him into her home around her boyfriend and young child. Instead of increasing the tension, moments like this pulled me out of the story because her actions often did not feel emotionally believable.

I also struggled with the pacing. For a thriller, the story lacked the urgency and suspense I was expecting. I kept waiting for the tension to build, but I never felt that “just one more chapter” momentum that usually keeps me glued to a thriller late into the night. Ironically, I found myself more interested in what happened during the years Molly spent in hiding than in the present-day storyline itself.

The psychiatric hospital subplot also felt more like a convenient way to create conflict than a natural progression of the story. Combined with Rachel’s increasingly erratic behavior and an unsupportive relationship with her boyfriend, it became difficult to emotionally invest in the characters or their choices.

That said, I can still appreciate the potential behind the concept, and I think readers who enjoy slower-paced domestic suspense with unreliable or emotionally unstable narrators may connect with this more than I did. Unfortunately, I never felt fully engaged, surprised, or emotionally invested in the outcome.

Overall, this one landed at 2 stars for me. I finished it mostly out of determination rather than genuine suspense, which is never quite what I hope for in a thriller.

Thank you to NetGalley and Poisoned Pen Press for providing me with an advance review copy in exchange for an honest review.