Dead Inside by Kate Bold

Great thriller. The narration owes me an apology.

I just finished listening to Dead Inside by Kate Bold, and I have… feelings. Let’s start with the story itself.

The killer freezes women in blocks of ice and puts them on display at winter festivals. That is next-level unhinged. It’s the kind of premise that makes you stop and think, Who comes up with this stuff? And then immediately keep listening because you need to know what happens next.

FBI Agent Kelsey Hawk is intense, driven, and occasionally impulsive, which is exactly why her partnership with Deputy Sheriff John Gallant works so well. He’s steady where she’s sharp, calm where she pushes. I genuinely enjoyed their dynamic. He was such a strong supporting character without feeling overshadowed.

If I had read this in hard copy, I would have easily given the story five stars. The pacing was solid. The concept was bold (no pun intended). The killer was truly unsettling. This is my kind of crime thriller...high stakes, twisted, and just a little bit outrageous.

Now. We need to talk about the audiobook narration.

Mispronunciations of common words, like hoped ("ho'-ped"). Flat delivery. Almost no inflection. And, most distracting of all, the AI voice would sometimes go up for male characters and down for female characters. Backwards. Repeatedly. It completely pulled me out of the tension. And in a thriller, tension is everything.

The narration didn’t just fail to elevate the story, it actively worked against it. I would rate the story a five. The narration, on the other hand, was a negative five. It genuinely took away from what was otherwise a gripping read.

If you’re interested in this one, I strongly recommend reading it rather than listening. The story deserves better than the performance it got.

Winter Song by Rebeca Lee Morales

 A quiet small-town mystery where justice has a conscience and a heart.

In most wrongful-conviction stories, the system is the villain. In Winter Song, the system has a conscience.

Set in a small Minnesota town where everybody knows everybody (and yes, everybody has opinions) this character-driven mystery follows Byron Lugo after his release from prison. Convicted of vehicular manslaughter in the death of a child, Byron has never wavered from his claim that he had an alibi. He served his time, but returning home means facing what he truly lost: his job, his reputation, his friends, and the woman he planned to marry.

The heart of this story isn’t high-speed chases or shocking twists. It’s quieter than that. The tension comes from a couple central questions: if Byron didn’t do it, who did? Will the truth ever come out? And will the town, especially Police Chief Gordon Trent, be willing to look again?

Chief Trent was my favorite part of this novel. He cares. He cares about Byron, about the victim’s family, and about the integrity of his town. That felt authentic to small-town life, and I appreciated how his personal investment added both hope and emotional weight to the story.

This is a steady, beautifully paced read. I never skimmed. I never felt impatient. The atmosphere is vivid and picturesque, and having lived in several small towns myself, I can say Morales captured that dynamic perfectly including the loyalty, the long memories, and the quiet judgments.

The novel explores justice, loyalty, and what happens when legal closure doesn’t feel like moral truth. There is a moment of justice outside the system and I’ll admit, I approved.

Content considerations include the death of a child, vehicular manslaughter, and murder.

This isn’t a heart-pounding thriller. It’s a thoughtful, character-driven mystery with a strong emotional core. I’d recommend it to readers who enjoy small-town crime with depth and heart. I’ll be buying a copy when it releases. I give this 4.5 stars.  It's a solid, satisfying read with no eye-rolls.

A special thank you to Ecco for providing this book for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

The Last Sinner by Lisa Jackson

 Murder by rosary. How deliciously sacrilegious.

I just finished The Last Sinner by Lisa Jackson, my first Rick Bentz/Reuben Montoya novel. I’m landing at a solid four stars. Let’s start with what worked.

This is absolutely a crime thriller. We have detectives. We have ritualistic murders. We have serial killer energy. And yes… murder by rosary. Deliciously sacrilegious and deeply unsettling. I appreciated the boldness of the crime method. It wasn’t cookie-cutter or predictable. It leaned hard into religious symbolism in a way that felt daring and dark. I loved it.

Where it lost a star for me was momentum. I favor high tension and fast pacing. Once the murders were underway, I wanted tightening piano wire. Instead, there were stretches where I felt like I was getting information that wasn’t germane to the story, especially the extended detail about Kristi’s prior true crime books. As a first-time reader of the series, it felt like I’d walked into an ongoing conversation and someone insisted on explaining every inside joke before getting back to the body on the floor. I had to actively resist the urge to skim. And if I’m thinking about skimming in a crime thriller, that’s a pacing problem.

The other lingering question for me: Who was Father John really? Was that his actual name? Was he someone from Kristi’s previous books? Did I miss something from an earlier installment in the series? That left me unsatisfied rather than intrigued.

So here’s where I land: It was a good read, and absolutely creative. However, I didn't not lose sleep. Five-star thrillers make me irresponsible about bedtime. This one did not.

Four stars feels fair. It was a strong concept, had solid investigation and dark atmosphere… just not quite tight enough for my personal thriller sweet spot. 

Now I need something razor-paced and relentless. I'm going to find something by James Patterson. Because apparently “serial killer energy + justice-with-an-edge” is my comfort zone.

Fracture Point by Jeff Altabef

The cure for insomnia...yawn... 

I gave Fracture Point a fair shot. About a third of the way in, actually. And then I tapped out.

The premise had potential. Jack goes missing, tension builds, questions swirl, but a third of the way in, I still didn't have a good grasp of the plot and something in my brain just quietly clocked out. I wanted grounded suspense. What I got felt like it was veering somewhere I didn’t want to follow.

To be clear, the audiobook narrator was excellent. No complaints there. The pacing of the performance was solid, the voices were distinct, and if narration alone could carry a book, this one would’ve kept me listening.

But story is king. And this storyline just never grabbed me.

Maybe it picks up later. Maybe it twists into brilliance. But at one-third in, I realized I was inventing reasons not to press play. And life is too short, and my TBR pile too tall, to force it.

On to the next one.

Dear Debbie by Freida McFadden

Five stars. Mild psychological damage. Worth it.

I have just returned from the twisted corridors of Freida McFadden’s brain. It is unsettling in there.

Let’s start with this: I literally cancelled plans to finish it. Not “I’ll be late.” Not “Maybe next week.” Cancelled. Once this story grabbed me, it did not politely release me back into society.

The premise feels almost playful at first. Advice columnist vibes, reader letters, sharp responses. And then it tilts. Subtly, like a gentle wave rocking a boat on a sunny day... Then dramatically, overturned in hurricane force winds straight from the gates of Hades. And you realize you’re in delightfully unhinged territory.

The Dear Debbie responses were spectacularly psychotic in the most creative way possible. I found myself laughing and then immediately whispering, “Oh no. No no no.” (And then thinking, "Well...maybe...")  The app ideas were excellent. The Punish Your Husband app alone was bold, absurd, a little diabolical, and just plausible enough to make you side-eye the App Store.

Classic Freida. I did not see the twists coming, even though I should have known better after reading The Teacher. I was emotionally mugged and left blinking at the wall with my mouth open like I’d just been personally betrayed.

Five stars. No hesitation. Ms. McFadden, I am both very impressed and mildly concerned. Please keep writing.

⭐ My Slightly Snarky Book Rating System ⭐

It occurred to me that I should spell out my personal (slightly snarky) rating system for those who wander into my book reviews. 

From the top: 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Loved it. Could not put it down. Canceled plans and lost sleep with no regrets.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ A good solid read. Kept me turning pages with only occasional eye rolls. 

⭐⭐⭐ Decent. Kept me mildly interested, but I won't be recommending it.

⭐⭐ Meh. I finished it, but only because quitting felt like losing. Forgettable at best. 

⭐ Ugh. I can't believe I read this drivel. If it were on fire, I wouldn't grab a bucket. In fact, I may start a fire with it.

This rating system probably tells you something about me. I’m a thriller girl at heart. Psychological thrillers, crime thrillers, military thrillers, bring 'em on. I’ve yet to meet a thriller I didn’t at least mildly enjoy. I like my books fast, twisty, and a little dangerous.

So there you have it: My completely scientific, highly technical rating system. Give me secrets, twists, and ticking clocks, and we’re in business. Five stars is a public service announcement ... cancel your plans. One star means I already suffered for both of us.

The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store by James McBride

 Some books grab you by the throat. This one gently suggested a nap.

I tried. I really did.

I picked up The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store by James McBride with good intentions and a full cup of coffee. I made it about 100 pages in… and kept finding reasons to wander off. Fold laundry. Scroll my phone. Stare at the wall. You know. Important things.

On paper, this book should have worked for me. Small-town setting, layered community dynamics, secrets bubbling under the surface. That’s usually my jam. But the pacing? Slower than crawling. I never quite found my footing with the characters, and instead of feeling immersed, I felt like I was trudging uphill in wet cement.

It wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t for me.

I’m a pretty determined reader, but when I start looking for excuses not to pick a book up, that’s my sign. Life’s too short, and my TBR pile is too tall.

So this one is officially a DNF at 100 pages. No hard feelings. Just a gentle “we’re not compatible.” And that’s okay.

Brimstone Hollow by Archer Sullivan

A dead snake-handling preacher? I was hooked before page two.

A snake-handling preacher dies from a snake bite during a church service. Yes. Snake-handling. That alone was enough to hook me. 

Brimstone Hollow is a tightly paced thriller set in an insular religious community where faith, fear, and power are deeply intertwined. When doubts arise about the preacher’s death, a private investigator is brought in to uncover the truth. As she begins asking questions, it becomes clear that Brimstone Hollow is built on secrets, and not everyone wants them exposed.

The setting is one of the book’s greatest strengths. The snake-handling element isn’t just atmospheric; it drives the tension. The danger, both spiritual and physical, is always present. I was fully engaged the entire read.

I especially appreciated the PI. She’s a steady, believable professional and a strong female lead without unnecessary drama. Her persistence and intelligence ground the story and make the investigation feel authentic.

Content considerations include religious extremism, live snake handling with venomous snakes, and a suspicious death. The themes may be unsettling for some readers, though nothing felt gratuitous.

Why 4 stars instead of 5? For me, a 5-star thriller keeps me up at night. This one didn’t cost me sleep but it absolutely held my attention and delivered a satisfying, well-constructed mystery.

I would recommend this to readers who enjoy atmospheric thrillers, strong female leads, and small-town stories where everyone has something to hide. I’ll definitely be looking for more from this author.

A special thank you to Minotaur Books for providing this book for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

Girl Ten: Wanted by Molly Black

 A serial killer with a bunker full of girls and a morally gray FBI agent.

I just finished listening to Girl 10: Wanted by Molly Black, and this one is a solid four stars for me.

I didn't lose sleep or consider sitting in my driveway to finish a chapter, but it was a strong, twisty commute companion. 

The premise does the heavy lifting here, and it’s a good one. A serial killer, later convicted, claims he didn’t commit certain murders. His leverage is a bunker filled with girls in cages, like bunnies, and he forces FBI agent Maya Gray to solve cold cases to prove his innocence.

Tell me that’s not twisted. The question the book plays with is: What does a serial killer have to lose by lying when he’s already convicted? He could be manipulating the system one last time. That tension worked. The bunker was genuinely creepy and added urgency. I appreciated that.

Where I struggled was with Maya. I didn’t find her morally gray; I found her manipulative. She keeps secrets, justifies them, then outright lies to her fiancé and her sister, people who likely would have supported her if she’d just told the truth. At some point I stopped worrying about the case and started thinking, “Just. Stop. Lying.”

The villain felt more theatrical than chilling, and the ending left me with a loose thread (what exactly happened to Lucy’s abductor? He just rides away into the sunset like, "Hi ho Silver!"?). And I still don’t fully understand the title. Who was Girl 10? Lucy? The sister? Someone symbolic? I finished the book unsure.

That said, the pacing was strong, the premise was bold, and the psychological cat-and-mouse kept me engaged. It was very good, but not unforgettable.

The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides

 "I may never see a therapist again." - Me, after reading this book

I just finished The Silent Patient, and I have one thing to say: Rude. Not the writing. Not the plot. Not even the twist. Just… rude. Because I did not see that coming. Not even a little bit. Not a whisper. Not a suspicious eyebrow twitch. Completely blindsided.

Here’s the thing: I’ve read a decent number of psychological thrillers. I know the tricks. I look for the unreliable narrator. I question timelines. I am suspicious of everyone. And this book still managed to calmly rearrange my brain furniture while I stood there holding a throw pillow.

The structure is what makes it so effective. We’ve got Theo, the therapist, guiding us through sessions with Alicia, the woman who shot her husband (five times!) and then stopped speaking. We also get Alicia’s diary entries, which feel intimate and revealing. Between the two perspectives, you feel grounded. You feel informed. You feel smart.

You are being played.

The book plays fair, which is what makes it even more impressive. The clues are there. Subtle. Quiet. Hiding in plain sight while we’re busy analyzing Alicia, trying to “solve” her. Meanwhile, the real story is unfolding right in front of us.

Theo goes from calm, analytical, compassionate professional to… well. Let’s just say my trust issues have been activated. I spent the whole book sitting comfortably in those therapy sessions, nodding along like, “Yes, very insightful.” Sir. You were not insightful. You were spiraling. You said, "Trust the process," and then weaponized the process.

What I appreciate most is that the twist doesn’t feel random or desperate. It recontextualizes everything. It’s the kind of ending that makes you mentally flip back through earlier chapters, realizing you were expertly manipulated. 

This is one of those rare thrillers that makes you question not just the characters, but your own reading instincts. It reminds you that sometimes the most dangerous perspective is the one you trust the most.

Real-life therapists are safe.
Fictional narrators? I will now be evaluating all of them.

That Night by Gillian McAllister

I love my brother, but there are limits. This book lives right at that line.

The prologue hooked me immediately: a narrator standing over a body, begging her sister for help. You can’t not turn the page after that. I was in. If I had to pitch That Night in one breath, it would be this: How far would you go for your family?

The story follows three siblings, Cathy, Joe, and Frannie, who are unusually close after losing their youngest sister to SIDS and growing up with parents locked in endless grief. While on vacation, Frannie accidentally hits someone with her car, and what follows is not so much about the accident itself, but about everything that happens because of that night. The book moves back and forth in time, slowly revealing how far the siblings are willing to go to protect one another, and how messy those choices become.

I appreciated how the story lingered in the “then” long enough to establish the situation and its consequences. The moral dilemma at the heart of this book is deeply uncomfortable, and McAllister really got under my skin with the extremes these characters were willing to reach. The theme of family secrets, not just from the outside world, but from each other as well, was especially effective. The ending genuinely surprised me, once again forcing that central question: How far would you go for family?

That said, this didn’t fully grip me emotionally. The shifting timeline occasionally made it hard to stay oriented, and there were moments where POV changes happened without enough warning. When I lost track of who was who or where I was in the timeline, I also lost some emotional investment. I also struggled to connect with the siblings themselves; their level of closeness didn’t feel believable to me. (I love my brother, and I’ll give him a great character witness, but I’m not burying any bodies.) Interestingly, I found myself most connected to Joe’s wife, Lydia, and wished her perspective carried more weight.

The pacing itself worked well for me. It never dragged or rushed, but despite being a psychological thriller, I never felt an urgent need to race back to the book.

Content warnings include family trauma and the death of a sibling. This is an emotionally heavy read, particularly in terms of moral unease.

Overall, That Night is a thought-provoking but not gripping psychological thriller that will appeal to readers who enjoy crime fiction and morally complex family dramas. On my own personal rating system, I would give this 4 out of 5 stars. It is a solid, well-constructed read that made me think, even if it didn’t keep me up at night.

A special thank you to William Morrow for providing this book for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

A Killing Truth by DV Berkom

I didn’t expect to root for a mercenary, but somehow this one pulled it off. 

I never thought I’d say this, but here we are: I found myself rooting for a mercenary.

A Killing Truth by DV Berkom is a solid, fast-moving thriller with a main character who lives firmly in moral gray territory and somehow still earns your sympathy. The story moves along at a good clip, the stakes are clear, and there’s enough tension to keep you engaged without feeling emotionally wrung out. This was very much a “just one more chapter” listen… but not a “staring at the ceiling at 2 a.m.” kind of book.

As an audiobook, it worked well for commuting and daily life. It was easy to follow, well-paced, and generally not confusing. I stayed interested the whole time, which counts for a lot.

I landed at a 4 out of 5 stars. A good story, an unexpected character to root for, and an entertaining listen, even if it didn’t completely wreck me (and honestly, sometimes that’s a plus).

Just Breaking the Rules by Lauren Blakely

Not a romance reader, plenty of page-skipping, but the story itself was solid. 

I picked up Just Breaking the Rules by Lauren Blakely for the Rusty book club, fully aware that romance novels are not really my thing. As usual, once a shirt came off, I started skimming like it was my job. That said, the story itself worked for me.

Mabel inherits an old firehouse from her grandmother and turns it into a bakery. She teams up with Corbin who just happens to be a professional hockey player with a genuine love for baking. Honestly, that combination was way more charming than I expected. The small-town setup, family vibes, and shared passion for creating something meaningful gave the book some heart beyond the romance.

While I could have done with fewer steamy scenes and more time in the kitchen, I enjoyed watching the bakery come to life. My only real complaint? Blakely missed opportunity on not including a recipe or two. If you’re a romance reader, you’ll probably love it. If you’re romance-adjacent like me, the storyline makes it worth the read, even with strategic page skipping.

Bitter Roots by CJ Carmichael

Secrets, murder, and missing money, perfect commuter listening.

Bitter Roots by C.J. Carmichael was a great audiobook choice for my daily commute, engaging enough to keep me alert in traffic without being so twisty I missed things if someone cut me off. The story follows two parallel mysteries: the murder of a new girl in town and missing funds tied to a Christmas tree ranch, both unfolding in a small community where everyone knows everyone… or thinks they do.

I really enjoyed how the two storylines gradually intersect, although the missing funds storyline was abruptly solved and not fully developed. The story has that classic small-town crime feel and the pacing worked especially well in audio. A solid, satisfying listen that kept me looking forward to my drive.

Target Acquired by Don Bentley

Heavy on military detail, light on story

Target Acquired by Don Bentley delivers exactly what it promises: Intense combat scenes, detailed military operations, and a heavy focus on tactics, weapons, and chain-of-command decision-making. And if that’s what you’re here for, you’ll probably be very happy. Bentley clearly knows his stuff, and the action is constant.

For me, though, it was too much military and not enough story.

I struggled to connect with the characters on any meaningful level. They felt more like vehicles for missions than fully realized people, which made it hard for me to stay emotionally invested. The plot moves fast, but it’s driven almost entirely by operations rather than character development or suspense that builds beyond “what happens next in the mission.”

There’s also a lot of technical detail, which slowed the pacing for me instead of heightening tension. I found myself skimming sections, waiting for the story to dig deeper or shift focus, and it never quite did.

This isn’t a bad book; it’s just very much written for a specific audience. If you love military thrillers with nonstop action and realism, this will probably hit the mark. If you’re like me and need more character, intrigue, and narrative depth, this one may miss the target.

The Quiet Girls by Dorothy Koomson

A missing girl, a dead teacher, and an appalling amount of silence.

From the opening pages, The Quiet Girls feels off in the most unsettling way. A teenage girl goes missing from a prestigious school, a teacher is found dead, and yet there is a disturbing lack of urgency from those in power. The absence of official investigation becomes one of the book’s earliest sources of tension, immediately signaling that this story will not follow a typical crime-fiction path.

The narrative unfolds through two interwoven threads: Dr. Kez Lanyon’s present-day perspective as she begins asking quiet but dangerous questions, and the voice notes of Fredi, the missing girl, which gradually reveal her experiences leading up to her disappearance. Between these two timelines, the story develops not through procedural investigation but through relationships, power dynamics, and what people choose not to say.

As Kez untangles the web surrounding the school it becomes increasingly clear that silence is not accidental. The story starts as a slow burn while the characters and dynamics are established, but that pacing works in its favor. About 100 pages in, I found myself tracking relationships, sensing early on that nothing here would be straightforward. Once the momentum builds, the book becomes a relentless psychological thriller. I put it down once to sleep and picked it up first thing the next morning, unable to stop until the final page.

Kez Lanyon was a standout character for me. I admired her courage, her persistence, and her refusal to back down when something felt deeply wrong. What frustrated me, clearly by design, was the number of adults who either suspected the truth or chose not to act. This is a school, and as a teacher, I found the collective silence surrounding the girls was infuriating.

The psychological tension is highly effective, creating the feeling of watching a slow-motion train wreck. You don’t want to see what’s coming, but you can’t look away. Themes of wealth, class privilege, and silence are woven seamlessly into the story, highlighting how power protects itself. I did not see the villain coming, and the reveal genuinely shocked and appalled me in the best possible way.

Content warnings include sexual assault, pedophilia, and animal cruelty. Despite some deceptively simple language early on, this is not a young adult novel. Readers who enjoy dark psychological thrillers, particularly fans of Freida McFadden, will likely find this one gripping and unsettling.

A special thank you to Headline Publishing Group for providing this book for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

The Dahlia Suite by Carinn Jade

Three women, one island, and far more baggage than what’s packed for vacation.

The Dahlia Suite pulled me in slowly and deliberately, taking its time to let me settle into the world and really get to know the characters before tightening the screws. That patience pays off. By the time the story turns twisty, I was fully invested, and eventually, completely unable to put it down until the ending, which I never saw coming.

The novel is told from the points of view of three women: Gabby, Lindsay, and Paige. Each was carrying her own private struggles to Suenos Resort on Beck Island, a small, exclusive private island off the coast of Puerto Rico. Suenos caters to the ultra-wealthy, offering luxury and privacy that feels almost unreal… and that setting of “perfect paradise” becomes a sharp contrast to the very real problems the characters bring with them.

Gabby is the resort concierge, someone who prides herself on making other people’s dreams come true while quietly neglecting her own. Lindsay is an actress desperate to win an Oscar, retreating to Suenos to reassess her career and her life away from public scrutiny. Paige is married to Ethan, the COO of the hospitality company that operates the resort, and she’s struggling on two fronts: infertility after trying to conceive again, and the frustration of a manuscript that no publisher seems willing to accept. Each woman’s voice feels distinct, and I appreciated how their experiences, hang-ups, and emotional baggage unfolded naturally through their individual perspectives.

This book truly has a bit of everything, lost love, the possibility of romance rekindled, murder, and even a touch of the paranormal, all set against a backdrop most people would consider absolute paradise. When someone goes missing and it becomes clear she isn’t the first, the story shifts gears and becomes increasingly tense and unpredictable.

I’ll admit that when a psychic entered the picture, I initially rolled my eyes. I’m skeptical by nature. But the way Jade integrates this element, particularly in relation to Paige, felt organic and surprisingly effective. Even if you’re unsure where you land on psychic abilities, the story makes it easy to suspend disbelief and lean into it.

If I had to note one critique, it would be that the book starts on the slower side as the foundation is being built. Personally, I appreciated that time spent developing character and atmosphere, but readers expecting immediate action should know this is a gradual, layered build. Once it takes off, though, it really takes off.

The hook, for me, is simple and powerful: even in paradise, people don’t leave their troubles behind, and sometimes those troubles are deadly. I loved how justice was ultimately handled and how the women find their way forward without everything being neatly or unrealistically tied up.

I don’t want to give anything away, but I can say this confidently: I loved this book. As the story grew, so did my inability to stop reading. I would recommend The Dahlia Suite to just about everyone. Yes, everyone. It really is That Good.

A special thank you to Atria Books for providing this book for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

The Waitress by K.L. Slater

What would you do if escaping one dangerous man meant putting your trust in another?

The Waitress opens with a death and the unsettling revelation that the deceased was a liar and a cheat who tried to destroy the narrator’s life. From there, the story rewinds to show how Alicia became trapped in an increasingly dangerous web. She’s being coerced by one man who threatens her family if she doesn’t get him what he wants, while at the same time spying on him for another man with his own motives. Caught between two controlling figures, Alicia’s only real goal is survival and keeping her family safe.

The premise is strong and immediately intriguing. Watching Alicia attempt to play both sides against the middle was the hook that kept me reading. The tension comes not from action-heavy scenes, but from the constant sense that one wrong move could have devastating consequences. Alicia isn’t reckless or naïve, but rather someone reacting under pressure with limited choices. Even when I questioned her decisions, I understood the fear driving them.

However, while the setup suggested a fast-paced psychological thriller, the execution felt much slower than I expected. The pacing is deliberate, and although all the threads eventually come together, I never felt a strong sense of urgency to reach the conclusion. Crucial motivations behind Alicia’s situation aren’t fully explained until the final quarter of the book, and spending so much time wondering why everything was happening made it harder for me to stay emotionally invested. By the time those answers arrived, my interest had already started to fade.

Content warnings include references to domestic abuse and a controlling partner, which are important to note for sensitive readers.

Overall, The Waitress is a solid psychological suspense novel with an engaging concept and a sympathetic main character, but it didn’t deliver the tension or momentum I look for in a thriller. On my rating scale, I’m giving it a 3 out of 5: a decent read that kept me mildly interested, but not one I’d recommend to readers seeking a high-stakes, fast-moving thriller.

I would recommend this to fans of slow-burn psychological suspense who prefer character-driven tension over rapid pacing.

A special thank you to Bookouture for providing this book for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

One Good Deed by David Baldacci (Archer #1)

I don't care what they were wearing. I just wanted the story to Move! 

I knew One Good Deed was going to land squarely in the “fine, but not a favorite” category when I realized it was less mystery-thriller and more historical mystery. Set in the late 1940s, this book spends a lot of time establishing atmosphere, and by atmosphere, I mean what everyone is wearing, what things look like, and other period details that mattered far less to me than, you know… the actual story. They all could’ve been naked for all I cared. I just wanted to get to the point.

That said, the story itself is solid.

Aloysius Archer has just been released from prison and sent to Poca City to serve out his parole. As the plot unfolds, it becomes clear that Archer didn’t commit the crime that landed him behind bars. When a wealthy and powerful man in this small town is murdered, Archer finds himself tangled in something much bigger and framed yet again. Along the way, he builds relationships with his parole officer, the murdered man’s concubine, and the local lawman, all while trying to stay on the right side of the law.

Archer is a well-rounded, likable character. In fact, it wasn’t until I finished the book that I really saw his potential as a series lead. He’s already edging into amateur-detective territory here by making smart observations, asking questions, and making plenty of mistakes along the way. That growth arc worked for me.

The small-town setting also added genuine tension. In a place where everyone knows everyone (and everyone’s business), things get personal for Archer very quickly. I especially enjoyed his relationship with Shaw, the local lawman. Shaw felt fair, steady, and quietly instructive, taking on a subtle mentor role as Archer finds his footing. That dynamic was easily my favorite part of the book.

The mystery itself was satisfying. While the “wrongly accused man” trope is very familiar and obvious from early on, the eventual villain wasn’t who I expected, which helped the ending land well.

Where the book struggled for me was pacing and focus. This is not a thriller, which something worth knowing going in. The story moves slowly, and while it kept me engaged in a “pleasant, steady read” kind of way, it never generated real urgency. Much of the book felt longer than necessary due to superfluous detail that didn’t add to the plot. None of it made the book hard to read, but it did dilute the momentum.

In the end, this stayed at 3 stars for me. It’s a decent read with a strong central character and a solid mystery, but the execution felt overstuffed. Less atmosphere, more story would’ve gone a long way.

I wouldn’t recommend this to thriller readers looking for fast pacing and high stakes. However, readers who enjoy historical mysteries, especially fans of authors like Charles Todd, will likely appreciate this much more than I did.

The Keeper of Happy Endings by Barbara Davis

A love story broken by war, stitched back together by time, memory, and hope. 

I don’t usually reach for historical fiction, so when a book set during WWII completely pulls me in, I pay attention. The Keeper of Happy Endings did exactly that, quietly, gently, and with just enough magic to make it unforgettable.

The story opens in Paris during World War II, where Soline Roussel is young, talented, and secretly working for the French Resistance. She falls in love with Anson, another Resistance member, and for a brief moment, hope feels possible. But war doesn’t allow for easy love stories. When Soline is suddenly forced to flee France for her own safety, everything she knows and everyone she loves falls apart.

What follows is a devastating turn of events: Soline discovers she is pregnant and ends up in the care of Anson’s father, a cruel and controlling man. She is told that Anson and their newborn child are dead. From there, the novel becomes less about war itself and more about survival, how grief reshapes a person, how love can be buried but not erased, and how some promises refuse to stay broken.

Running alongside Soline’s story is the present-day narrative of Aurora (called Rory) who leases Soline’s long-shuttered bridal shop. Rory arrives carrying her own grief and uncertainty, unsure of what comes next in her life. As she begins restoring the shop and turning it into an art gallery, she unknowingly brings life back into more than just a physical space. Light fills rooms that have been closed off for decades. Joy slowly re-enters a place that has been frozen in time.

Watching the shop come back to life is quietly powerful, especially because Rory isn’t trying to fix anything. She just allows something beautiful to grow, and in doing so, she becomes the bridge between past and present. She reminds us that places hold memories. Sometimes all they need is the right person to help them wake up again.

If you’re worried this is a heavy WWII novel filled with battlefield scenes and dense historical detail, don’t be. The war matters, but the heart of the story is deeply personal. This is about love that endures, grief that lingers, and the courage it takes to keep going when happy endings feel impossible.

Readers who love emotional, character-driven stories will enjoy this book along with anyone who believes in second chances. And yes, even those of us who usually scoff at historical fiction will enjoy this story.

Sometimes a book reminds you that happy endings aren’t always loud or obvious. Sometimes they’re quiet. And sometimes, they just take a very long time to arrive. In keeping with my personal rating system, I gave this a 4 out of 5 stars. I didn't lose sleep or cancel plans, but it was a good solid read that kept me turning pages. 

Not My Sister by Rosie Walker

 This book crept under my skin, messed with my head, and stole my sleep.

Twelve-year-old Lydia vanishes without a trace, leaving her sister Annabel and their mother Wendy shattered. Soon after, Annabel’s father walks out, and the family fractures completely. Six years later, Lydia suddenly comes home, alive, older, and with significant gaps in her memory. Wendy is overjoyed. Annabel is not. Even the family dog doesn’t recognize her. As Annabel grows increasingly convinced that this girl is not her sister, the story spirals into a tense psychological game where nothing, and no one, feels entirely reliable.

This is a slow-burn psychological thriller that rewards patience. The suspense builds gradually, tightening chapter by chapter, until it becomes genuinely head-spinning. I loved how Rosie Walker keeps the reader constantly off-balance; I went back and forth repeatedly on who was unraveling faster: Annabel, Wendy, Lydia… or possibly all three. That uncertainty is the hook, and it’s executed beautifully. I lost sleep with this one and found myself irritated when real life (rude) interfered with my reading time.

Content-wise, readers should be aware of themes involving child disappearance, family trauma, abandonment, and psychological manipulation. None are handled gratuitously, but they are central to the story. My only minor critique is that the pacing may feel a touch slow for readers who prefer nonstop action, but for me, the creeping dread was exactly what made it so effective. I think fans of Gillian Flynn and Freida McFadden will feel right at home here. This was a compulsive, unsettling, and very satisfying read, and an easy five stars.

A special thank you to Bookouture for providing this book for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

No Prisoners by Ellis Blake

 Nothing is wasted, nothing is random, and sleep is not an option.

No Prisoners starts quietly, almost deceptively so. Hannah’s husband has been missing for three weeks. There are no solid leads, no dramatic breakthroughs, and the detective assigned to the case has essentially stalled out. At first, it feels like a straightforward missing persons investigation ... sad, frustrating, but contained.

Then Hannah realizes someone is following her.

From that moment on, the story tightens its grip and refuses to let go. What unfolds is a steadily escalating thriller where nothing is quite what it seems, and every new detail subtly shifts your understanding of what’s really happening. This book doesn’t rely on shock for shock’s sake; instead, it builds tension brick by brick until you suddenly realize you’re reading way past your bedtime.

One of the strongest aspects of this novel is how precise it is. There’s nothing superfluous here. Every scene, every detail serves a purpose. Ellis Blake trusts the reader to pay attention, and that trust pays off in a twisty, deeply satisfying way. The moment I read that Hannah was being followed, I was all in. Sleep became optional. Regrets were minimal.

There is mention of domestic violence. It is not a recurring or graphic theme, but it is present and may be difficult for some readers.

As for critiques, this is one of those rare cases where I don’t have much to nitpick. The pacing is deliberate rather than flashy, which may not work for readers who want nonstop action right out of the gate, but for me, that slow, creeping tension is exactly what made the payoff so effective.

This is absolutely a book for readers who love psychological thrillers, unreliable situations, and stories where the unease grows quietly until it’s impossible to ignore. If you enjoy thrillers that reward close reading and leave you thinking long after you close the book, this one is for you.

Five out of five stars. I only hand out my highest praise when a book costs me sleep. No Prisoners definitely did.

A special thank you to Penguin Random House for providing this book for review consideration via NetGallery. All opinions are my own.

Lies and Bones by RJ Law (Det. Tracy Sterling #1)

 A solid crime novel where sexism talks louder than evidence and the wrong people refuse to listen.

Tracy is the kind of character I immediately root for: a woman following in her father’s footsteps, doing the job because she wants it and not because of who her dad was. Of course, that doesn’t stop everyone around her from accusing her of riding his coattails. She’s told she won’t amount to half the cop he was, and when she makes mistakes (you know, because she’s human?), it only reinforces their assumptions.

What really got under my skin is that Tracy was on the right track. She made one mistake, got pulled from the case, and after that no one would listen to her. Not because she was wrong but because she was inconvenient.

Then there’s Bradley. Ugh.

Bradley is a condescending, know-it-all slob who clearly believes he’s better than any woman within breathing distance. His attitude alone made my blood pressure spike. He talks down to Tracy constantly, dismisses her instincts, and treats basic respect like it’s optional. Unfortunately, he also felt uncomfortably realistic. Cops like him exist, and that made him even harder to stomach.

John was more complicated. I sympathized with him at first; he liked Tracy and genuinely wanted to help her. But he worked alongside Bradley, and that limited what he was willing to do. My feelings shifted when John, too, refused to listen to Tracy and instead told her she sounded crazy and needed some sleep. Which… come on. In a murder investigation, isn’t a little crazy kind of the baseline?

Bradley’s version of events was the one I trusted the least from the very beginning. His lack of respect for Tracy immediately made me question his credibility. If you can’t take someone seriously, why should I take you seriously?

Jimmy Hunter, the former cop turned PI, was an interesting secondary character. I still don’t quite know what to make of him. He bends the rules sometimes and sticks to them other times, like he’s operating under a personal code only he understands. I’m guessing he’s the kind of character who makes more sense the more you read assuming he shows up again later in the series.

As for pacing, it worked. I didn’t lose sleep, but I also didn’t skim or skip ahead. No filler, no dragging, no unnecessary drama. I appreciated that most about this book.

No romance. No hysterics. No flashy twists for shock value. Just real people doing real jobs, making real mistakes, in real time. Well, not really real, but you know what I mean.

Lies and Bones isn’t trying to be clever or trendy. It’s just a good, solid crime novel that knows exactly what it is.

Close By by Blake Pierce

'Not human. Not human.’ 

That line alone made this audiobook leave my car and follow me home.

I usually only listen to audiobooks in the car. It's my strict rule. Commute only. Close By broke that rule.

The moment I knew this audiobook wasn’t staying in my car was during the second murder, when the victim is running for her life thinking, “Not human. Not human.” That was it. Couch listening activated. Shoes still on. Priorities reassessed.

The book hooks you immediately with a murder that feels almost inevitable. A geologist is warned to stay away from a site after dark. He ignores that warning. If this were a horror movie, he’d be the person hiding behind the one tree in an open field. You know something terrible is coming—you just don’t know exactly how bad it’s going to be. That sense of dread never really lets up.

What really sets Close By apart is how deeply it weaves in Native American spirituality and culture. The respect for the earth, the heavens, and everything in between felt genuine and thoughtfully handled. It wasn’t flashy or overdone; it just made sense. Pure in a way that grounded the story rather than distracting from it.

Kari, our main character, stands with one foot in two worlds: Her mother’s Navajo culture and her father’s white culture. Watching her navigate both with respect, intelligence, and purpose was one of the strongest parts of the book. She doesn’t reject either side. She uses both to solve the murders, and that balance felt authentic and earned.

Audiobook-wise, listening definitely slowed me down. If I’d had a paperback, I’d have torn through this in half the time. That said, the narrator did a solid job, emotion where it mattered, emphasis in the right places, and no vocal gymnastics that make you cringe. Always appreciated.

Kari was front and center for me the entire time, but I wanted to slap the conceited FBI agent on her behalf. Gently. With a 2 x 4. He was insufferable. The kind of character who exists solely to make you mutter, “Ugh, this guy again,” every time he shows up.

The setting did a lot of the heavy lifting when it came to tension. These murders happen on sacred land, and that alone adds a layer of unease that seeps into every scene. You don’t just feel like crimes are being committed. You feel like something deeper is being violated.

This was my first Blake Pierce book, but it won’t be my last. These are exactly the kinds of thrillers I love: crime-focused, atmospheric, culturally rich, and unapologetically dark.

And for the record, there’s no sweaty sex, no romance, no flowers. Just pure, unadulterated murder and mayhem.

Which is exactly how I like it.

Murder On Site by TG Wolff

 My first TG Wolff book—and definitely not my last.

When Inspector Lucy Torok is murdered and dumped at a construction site, the case quickly becomes complicated legally, politically, and personally. Newly appointed interim Attorney General Jakob Rizk is tasked with prosecuting the case, and his twin brother Seth flies in to help. From there, the story weaves through dirty politics, competing construction companies, and a young engineer who appears to be framed, all while keeping the focus on character and momentum rather than getting bogged down in technical detail.

The real hook for me was the dynamic between the twins. Jakob is serious and academic, while Seth brings humor and mischief, and their interactions added warmth and levity to an otherwise serious story. While this isn’t a thriller, I had a hard time putting it down. Wolff balances legal intrigue, police work, and political maneuvering without overwhelming the reader, keeping the twists coming and the pages turning. The Indianapolis setting gave the story a solid mid-sized city feel which is important to the plot without overshadowing it.

Content-wise, the book includes the sudden death of a close friend and a suicide attempt by the accused engineer. These moments were handled thoughtfully and realistically, without unnecessary drama. The characters felt fully developed and familiar very quickly, from Jakob navigating his new role, to Seth hiding his own problems to support his brother, to the sharp and capable detectives and the less admirable political players. Based on my rating system, this earned 5 out of 5 stars. Any book that keeps me reading past my bedtime gets top marks. Readers who enjoy legal mysteries with strong characters and a touch more humor than a typical John Grisham novel should find this a great fit. I’ll definitely be reading more from TG Wolff and hope this turns into a series.

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