I am continuing my year of T. Kingfisher. For my third read, I jumped into Nettle & Bone. It wasn’t quite as dark as A Sorceress Comes to Call, but it shares the same vein of eerie fairy tale, with characters that carry some emotional weight. 

 

Now that I’ve read my third story from Kingfisher, I'm realizing that my love for her writing stems from the way she writes about found families (my favorite).  It is more than tossing a quirky group together; it is about how she weaves them together to tell the story. Every character connection feels distinct and intentional.  In this tale, you have the friendship between the dust-wife and Agnes-Love. The motherly tone of Marra and the dust-wife - Love. The soft, respectful, slow-burn between Marra and Fenris - Love.  Plus, you have your sidekicks of a demon-possessed chicken and a dog made of bones to round everything out. The character depth overall came more from the relationships made and not from us learning their internal thoughts, etc, which was fine by me. 

 

For a short novel, it had strong themes of finding your power. It wasn’t in that epic fantasy way of ‘you are the chosen one’, but a softer element of you can do hard things, even if you have to prove it to yourself first. And by doing those hard things, you might find where you belong.  Makes you question if you’ve been living in your comfort zone a little too long. 

 

I had worries about the ending, but it ended, leaving me content. And sure, you could tug a few plot elements loose, but what is the fun in that? Just enjoy a slightly twisted fairytale that includes more chickens than you expected. 

 

My bottom line: I’m still obsessed with Kingfisher. 

(Second in the Norse-inspired duet—don’t read this without A Fate Inked in Blood!) 

 

The first book in this duet introduced me to Jensen’s writing, and I’ve been thankful ever since. This follow-up delivers everything I hoped for: a fast-paced, myth-laced adventure with wit, heart, and just the right amount of chaos. 

 

The story picks up right where we left off. There’s a bit of a slow start while you settle back into the world, but once the momentum builds, it’s hard to put down. 

 

The dynamic between Freya and Bjorn continues to shine. I love it when a romance makes the MMC work for it; Bjorn is steadfast and loyal, trying to earn back trust with quips and honesty. The tension, the pacing, the forgiveness arc? Just right. 

 

Freya is even stronger this time around—more confident, more determined, and more self-assured. Gone is the uncertainty of book one, and in its place is a woman who’s fighting for truth and a future that’s hers to shape. 

 

The twists? Some you’ll see coming, some you won’t—but the story keeps its pace and stays fun to read. There’s also more focus on the Unfated in this one, which adds a kind of maybe-found-family energy. It’s not the strongest example of that trope (they’re constantly flipping between friend and foe), but the threads are there if you’re looking. 

 

In the end, this duet is exactly the kind of fantasy escape I often need: clever banter, fun characters, and a world I enjoy visiting. I’m sad it’s over—but so glad I got to go on the ride. 

 

(Thank you to NetGalley for the eARC—this one hits shelves in July 2025!) 

 

I went into this final book in the trilogy hoping for more Gabe—and I got it. He’s always been my favorite of the trio, and while he spends the first half being a bit of an idiot (tricked way more often than someone that hot should be), it somehow works. Maybe it’s the distraction of love and loyalty? Either way, I was glad to have more of his perspective. 

 

Lore, as our leading lady, is solid. Not my all-time favorite, but she holds her ground—clever, capable, a bit hardened by her past but still fighting for something better. Her instinct to build a found family remains one of my favorite parts of this story. That thread continues to weave through the book in ways both personal and powerful. 

 

I really liked how the POVs were handled in this one. Everyone’s scattered, everyone’s carrying their own piece of the puzzle, and watching it all slowly come together kept the tension just high enough to keep me turning pages. I especially loved Alie’s chapters—she had more space to shine here, and I was fully onboard for it. 

 

Bastian… less so. He’s never really been my favorite, and I was okay with him taking more of a backseat this time around. 

 

Now, the throuple. I’ll admit, I didn’t think I was in the mood for another one of these this month—but it worked. The romantic tension never overtakes the plot. Instead, it reads like another layer of the found family dynamic, just with more complicated feelings and the occasional kiss. There’s a quote in the book that nails it: Gabe is the catalyst, Bastian the salve, and Lore the end. It’s messy, but it makes sense. 

 

That said, I did want a stronger finish—especially from the god plotlines. Nyxara’s resolution felt anticlimactic. Apollius got the most focus (as expected), but Hestraon’s arc ended abruptly too. I was expecting the final act to be fast-paced and emotionally intense, but while it was enjoyable, it didn’t quite blow me away. 

 

There were also a few details that could have been trimmed—scenes that felt like filler rather than essential beats. Still, Whitten’s writing style remains a strength. Her pacing works for me, her world-building is vivid without being overwhelming, and she writes just enough darkness to make the hope stand out. 

 

Final note: what is with all the island rescues in my recent reads? Is that a trope now? Is it just me? 

 

I didn’t expect to love this one as much as I did—Lost and Lassoed (Teddy and Gus) still has the #1 spot —but Wild and Wrangled might be the most Rebel Blue of all the Rebel Blue books. It’s that steady kind of love. The kind built on old memories, patience, and people who just know each other. 

 

Dusty, with his nomadic ways, finally finds anchor. Cam, always retreating but never really alone. Their story was soft, warm, and full of the kind of trust that comes from people who are meant to be family. No huge twists, no sweeping declarations—just a romance built on quiet loyalty and earned closeness. It reminded me a bit of Wes and Ada’s story, and honestly? That’s a compliment. 

 

The flashbacks added just the right touch—filling in things I didn’t know I wanted to know from across all the books. And the ending? It tied everything together. Not just for Dusty and Cam, but for the whole Rebel Blue family. You feel how much they’ve all grown and leaned on each other. It’s found family at its best. (as you may know, my favorite trope.) 

 

This series has always been about the family you choose. About protecting each other, knowing when to give space and when to show up with a shovel or a whiskey bottle. This final book stayed true to that heart. 

 

It’s calm. It’s comforting. And now that it’s over, I already miss it. 

I love found family—it’s one of the things I look for in fantasy. But this book proved to me that found family on its own isn’t enough. 

The Teller of Small Fortunes had all the right ingredients: a group of misfits brought together by fate, a road trip-style journey, and a cozy, low-stakes tone. But the characters never felt fully formed, and the plot... well, it kind of drifted. There were several points where it felt like the story could’ve ended, and at just over 300 pages, that’s not a great sign. 

Each shift in the story felt more like a detour than a step forward, and while I don’t need constant action, I do need purpose—and that was missing here. If the characters had been a bit sharper or more distinct, I probably would’ve been more forgiving of the meandering plot. But as it stands, it didn’t fully deliver on either front. 

It wasn’t a bad read. It was fine. I’ve read worse. But I’ve also read better, and this isn’t one I’d personally recommend or revisit. Sometimes a book just doesn’t hit, and that’s okay.

 

Starting Onyx Storm came with a certain kind of dread—I knew the cliffhanger was coming, and book four isn’t even on the horizon yet. But I’m committed now, and of course, I want answers to the million questions left hanging at the end of this installment. 

 

I liked this more than Iron Flame, which felt rushed to me. The pacing in Onyx Storm was steadier, and it finally set up bigger stakes for what’s to come. (In fact, this is where I wish Iron Flame had ended.) 

 

The saving grace of this book? The expanded world and the space it gave for characters like Dain, Ridoc, and others to have actual moments. Dain’s arc in particular felt like a quiet redemption, and I’m curious how it will continue. Still, being back in classes again felt odd and a little underwhelming given everything at stake. 

 

The push and pull between Violet and Xaden continues—less miscommunication than before, but still enough back-and-forth that I found myself sighing a few times. Their chemistry is still there, but it didn’t feel like it evolved much. 

 

There’s a lot that still doesn’t make sense, and the plot felt like it lost its thread more than once. Big efforts that led to very little payoff. A lot of sacrifices, not a lot of progress. 

 

But this is the story now. I’m here. I’m going to see it through. 

*Slight Spoilers*

I don’t have a ton of big thoughts on this one, but I was happy to jump back into the Bridge Kingdom world. Kicking things off with a rescue mission was a great start—there’s new ground explored, both in the physical world and the emotional dynamics, plus more political layers to peel back. We follow Zarrah and Keris again, and while their relationship still holds that star-crossed tension, it’s less about high drama this time and more about rebuilding trust and figuring out how to lead in a world that keeps shifting under their feet.

Even after the rescue, they weave in and out of each other’s lives—never quite aligned, always carrying the weight of what came before. It takes Zarrah a while to forgive him (understandably), but their emotional distance worked for the story even if it slowed the pace a bit.

The rest of the book settles into a more straightforward push toward defeating Petra. There weren’t a lot of surprises or secrets here, but the political maneuvering kept me interested. The real strength of the story was in its quiet reflections—how do you lead when everything feels like it’s crumbling? What kind of strength do you show when people are watching? Both Zarrah and Keris have grown into the roles set up for them back in The Inadequate Heir, and it was satisfying to see that growth play out.

I also loved getting more glimpses of Aren and Lara. Their presence always pulls me in, and the connection between Keris and Lara brought just the right mix of tension and healing. I love a big, messy, loyal family.

As for Zarrah and Keris, this felt like the right sendoff. Their story has been through the wringer, and while this book wasn’t the most explosive of the series, it gave them closure. And sometimes that’s exactly what a finale needs to be.

 *Slight Spoilers* 

This book caught me completely off guard—but in a way that’s very Kimberly Lemming. I should have known what I was walking into, but somehow, I still wasn’t prepared. Let’s just say this: there was more fornicating than plot at the start, and I found myself reading another book with knotting. I thought I was safe with aliens. Clearly not. 

 

I also did not realize I’d be rooting for a full-blown throuple, but here we are—and oddly, by the end, I was happy for them. 

 

As with her other books, the pacing is fast, the dialogue is snappy, and the entire reading experience is a bit of a fever dream in the best way. It’s not the kind of story you overthink—after all, when you pick up a book with aliens, dinosaurs, and a talking lion named Toto, you shouldn’t expect logic. You should expect fun. And that’s exactly what this is. 

 

The second half brings a stronger sense of plot and connection—where the emotional ties between characters really come through, the found family themes start to bloom, and our FMC starts realizing what she wants. The chaos of the first half starts to make a little more sense.

Are the sex scenes a bit much? Absolutely. They’ll make a girl blush. But once you settle into the tone, it’s all part of the fun. 

 

Is this the deepest book I’ve ever read? No. But does it deliver what it promises—humor, heat, and escapism with a ridiculous sci-fi twist? Absolutely. 

 

And while I’m still deciding if I’ll venture deeper into alien romance territory, I can say this one was a ride. A silly, chaotic, unexpectedly sweet ride that let me escape for a few hours and laugh out loud along the way. 

 

If you’re in the mood for a fast-paced, low-stakes romance with otherworldly antics, a dash of emotional payoff, and a generous helping of spice—you’ll have a good time with this one. 

 Witchcraft for Wayward Girls wasn’t what I expected. I went in thinking I’d get a dark, witchy horror story—but instead found something much quieter and sadder, grounded in the real, painful history of how young women were silenced and controlled. 

 

The story had moments that really held me, but it also dragged in places and felt longer than it needed to be. The writing is clear, the imagery is strong, and the emotional weight is there. But the witchcraft element didn’t quite land. It felt more like a forced metaphor than something that added to the heart of the story—and by the end, it edged into corny for me. 

 

Would I recommend it? Not really. But I wouldn’t steer anyone away either. It’s meaningful, just not what I was led to believe I’d be reading. 

 

I loved this book. And the fact that it will be a duology? Even better. 

 

It took me a minute to get into the rhythm of it—there’s quite a bit of setup in the beginning—but it’s necessary and really well done. Once things clicked into place, I was all in. The early chapters give us a glimpse of Nina and Patrick as kids, but we grow up with Nina. We see what she learns, how she changes, and how the world around her shifts as the rebellion builds. Patrick’s absence in this part leaves a bit of mystery—which ends up being one of the fun elements of the story. It’s a smart way to write the beginning and lays the groundwork for everything that follows. 

 

Nina and Patrick’s reconnection is where the real story kicks in. I loved watching them find their way back to each other while navigating betrayal, politics, and everything they’ve lost. There’s a bit of miscommunication, yes—but it makes sense given the stakes and how much they’re both holding back. And you are justs begging them to get to that point when they will trust eachother. 

 

The world-building really works. The Artisan vs. Craftsman class system is a familiar setup, but how Stacey McEwan spins it feels fresh. Magic isn’t random here—it’s purposeful. Every elemental ability has a role in how this society functions, and the rarity of certain powers adds real weight to the story. It makes sense, and I appreciate that. 

 

And Patrick? Total book crush material. He’s rough around the edges but smart, protective, and has just the right amount of emotional depth under that guarded exterior. You can picture him immediately—and it’s a good picture. 

 

As always, I’m a sucker for found family, and this book hits that note so well. Once the story takes us to a certain little town (no spoilers), that dynamic settles in beautifully. The mix of personalities, loyalties, and tensions adds heart to the plot. 

One heads-up: it ends on a cliffhanger. And since I read it as an ARC, the wait for book two feels especially unfair. But if this setup is any indication, the second book will be so worth it.