innamorare's Reviews (71)

Coraline "Cora" Zeng lives in New York with her half-sister Delilah, who is beautiful and arty and dreams of becoming a famous model, when the pandemic begins. After witnessing Delilah is pushed in front of a subway train by a stranger who shouts "bat eater" at her, Cora becomes a crime scene cleaner and starts noticing a majority of murder victims she's cleaning off the walls all seem to be young East-Asian women. 

Is Cora going off the walls and imagining being followed by creepy ghosts that remind you of the yall ma from It Follows, or is she truly being haunted? Sometimes, I wondered if she was a reliable narrator, and it's easy to make that assessment with a heroine who suffers from OCD and cleans "people's entrails for a living". While I don't typically read books set in the real world during Covid 19, I thoroughly enjoyed this book.

Where do I even START? This book deserves all five stars and then some. From the moment I cracked it open, I was swept into Briony Rosewood’s dark, magical world, and let me tell you, I did NOT want to leave. It’s like Soto waved a wand and crafted a romantasy so lush and addictive, I forgot to finish my chicken pasta. 

The enemies-to-lovers tension between Briony and Toven had me clutching my chest like a Victorian heroine. The slow burn? Torture! (But like, we’re happy about it?)

The cliffhanger ending? Rude in the best way. I’m counting the days until book two, because I need it enough I’m willing to read the fanfic it’s based off of just to see if I can figure out where it will go. If you love dark, swoony, magical romance, this is your new obsession. 

What happens if you mix a group of misfit college kids, a dragon straight out of a nightmare, and a pact that spirals way out of control? 

Arthur Oakes is a guy who’s got “outsider” stamped all over him (Hill does love a good underdog). His mom’s in prison, his dad’s MIA, and he’s just trying to keep his head down. But then he sticks up for someone and suddenly he’s tangled up in a scheme to steal rare books from the library. I mean, who hasn’t been there, right? Okay, maybe not, but bear with me. His friends decide the logical next step is to summon a dragon named King Sorrow using a creepy book bound in human skin. Because THAT has never ever gone wrong or lead to demons in the basement or creepy trees who assault people. 

I laughed out loud when they first summon King Sorrow, half-expecting it to fail spectacularly like a jaunt into a restaraunt bathroom to summon Bloody Mary in the dark, only to realize they’ve unleashed a problem that demands a human sacrifice every year. Whoops. Could happen to anyone. 

What really got me, though, was the heart. This isn’t just a horror show; it’s a story about friendship, loyalty, and the dumb choices we make for the people we love.

Is it perfect? Maybe not. Sometimes it feels like Hill went ahead and packed every idea he’s ever had into one book, but it's Joe Hill at his peak, proving he’s not just Stephen King’s kid but a storyteller in his own right.

A Sapphic gothic tale? Easy way to sell me, especially since I enjoyed Blood on her Tongue (although the Sapphic relationship wasn't the main character, but her sister and her sisters husbands cousin?) 

 Anyway. 

This was both haunting and frustrating, like a creaky old house you’re dying to explore but wish had better lighting and you're probably a little worried about the flooring giving out under you. 

This sapphic horror debut lured me in with its promise of ghostly vibes and forbidden romance, and for a bit, it DID deliver. 

Picture this: me, curled up with a cup of tea on a stormy night, fully ready to be spooked by Roos and her spectral gal-pal Ruth. The prose is lush, dripping with that Edgar Allan Poe-esque melancholy... crumbling estates and bog bodies that gave me chills in the best way.

But then, somewhere around the halfway mark, it’s like the story tripped over its own two feet. Or Roos' petticoat. The slow burn of Roos and Agnes’s romance, which I was rooting for despite the age gap (I’m not usually a fan, especially when Agnes is twice the age of Roos, but I let it slide), started to feel more like a flicker than a flame. And the pacing? It went from a deliciously eerie crawl to a rushed stumble toward the end, as if van Veen realized she was late for work, or a Jason Rothenburg Bury Your Gays meeting. I wanted to linger in the dread, not sprint through it.

Speaking of the BYG trope rearing its predictable head...

Without spoiling too much, let’s just say one of our queer leads doesn’t make it to the final curtain. 

SIGH. 

It’s 2025—can’t we let the gays live happily ever after in a haunted manor for once? 

Still, there’s a twisted beauty here, and the trauma woven into Roos’s story hit me harder than I expected, like when I cried over a cracked teacup because it reminded me of my grandma. It’s not perfect, but it’s got heart, guts, and a gothic charm that’ll stick with me, even if I’m grumbling about the ending. Worth a read if you’re into spooky vibes and don’t mind a sting.

This is the sequel to A Fire in the Sky, and y’all, I was READY to swoon and cry. Did it deliver? Kinda, but not without a few “hmmm” moments that had me side-eyeing my Kindle.

First off, Tamsyn? My fiery queen! She’s out here transforming from whipping girl to full-on dragon warrior.

But then there’s Vetr, Fell’s broody brother with those silver eyes. Did I ship it? Maybe for like, two seconds, before I remembered Fell is my OG.

Stig turning villain was a gut punch, though haven’t all women had a guy friend who seemed so kind and when they came out of nowhere basically crying about friend zone (when they f-- zoned us first???) then did a 180 when they're rejected. I love a good twist, but I wish we’d gotten more of his descent. It felt a teensy bit rushed. 

The romance? Still hot, still swoony, but I wanted MORE Fell. I need my OTP front and center. Vetr’s vibes were a fun tease, but they didn’t fully fill the Fell-shaped hole. 

It’s not perfect (give me more Fell, Sophie!), but it’s got me hooked for whatever’s next.

First off, Rory Power is a queen of twisty, atmospheric vibes. This is my first foray into her writing but I’ll be keeping her on my watch list (that sounded less creepy in my head). 

The story follows Nan, who’s been haunted for a year after her three besties vanished into Saltcedar Canyon. She’s all set to say goodbye at this one-year memorial thing, but then—plot twist of the century—one of them, Luce, stumbles back ALIVE. 

Everyone’s overcome with joy, but Nan’s over here sweating bullets because, um, she’s pretty damn sure she KILLED THEM. Like, what?! 

Nan is such an unreliable narrator, and I was living for it. She’s messy, jagged, and honestly a little feral, but I was rooting for her anyway. I don’t care if she’s a cold-blooded murderer. There’s this one scene where she’s staring at Luce, trying to figure out if she’s real or if she’s losing it, because she’s rather certain she killed her and why would her memory hide that from her in a trauma blackout when she’s proud of the fact? 

The friendship drama? Toxic and enjoyable. These girls are all jealousy and secrets, and it’s so real it hurts. Nan’s crew takes it to a whole new level, and I was here for every petty, violent second. The twists kept coming, too. Is Nan losing it? Seems likely to be l sure, the way she keeps seeing flashes of weird little hallucinations. Or is something supernatural afoot? Because there’s no way a teenage girl with a catastrophic head wound can survive unnoticed in a canyon for a year, right? 

If I had one tiny gripe, it’s that I wanted more from Luce’s side of the story. I was dying to crawl into her head a bit more, but it’s such a small thing because the rest was perfection. The ending left me shook. It’s not super twisty in a cheap way—it’s more like a gut punch that lingers. I feel like I’m watching Heathers.  

If you love thrillers with messy girls and unreliable, potentially deranged narrators, Kill Creatures is your next read. I’m already counting down to her next book because I need more of this in my life. 

I went into Katabasis with pretty high hopes.  When I heard this one was about two rival PhD students diving into Hell to snag a recommendation letter from their dead advisor, I was sold. A fun plot that didn't take itself seriously sounded nice. Oh, how wrong I was. This is my first foray into RF Kuang so I was woefully naieve. 

The setup is alright: Alice Law is an ambitious, slightly unhinged grad student (aren't they all?), is willing to literally go to Hell for her career. Her academic rival (and frenemy?) Peter Murdoch is just as driven, and their banter is snappy enough to keep things moving. The whole “academia is hell” metaphor isn’t subtle; Kuang practically winks at you through the pages, but it’s clever enough. College IS hell, thank you very much. I’ve had my own hellish academia nightmares (like the time I accidentally emailed my professor a draft with “this is fkn trash” still in the margins), so I sort of with the desperation here. The descent into Hell itself is illustrated with some Dante-inspired flourishes that made me feel briefly smart for catching them.

But here’s where it stumbles for me: Kuang’s need to flex her intellectual muscles. It’s like she’s channeling Cassandra Clare at her most “look how many books I’ve read, I'm so smart and well-read” energy—you know, those moments in her multiple shadowhunter series where Clare name-drops every myth and classic just to remind you she’s done her homework? In Katabasis, there’s a stretch where the characters debate philosophy and math for what feels like eternity, (and not just once or twice) and I swear I could hear Kuang manically whispering, “See? I know Nietzsche AND Gödel's theorem AND the liar paradox!” It’s not that I don’t appreciate a brainy book, but it felt like she was showing off more than telling a story. Sometimes the plot was abandoned for Alice to reminisce on past events that weren't necessary and conversations between her and Peter turned into Debate Team for Cambridge Scholars. I zoned out. 

The action picks up later, and there’s a twisty emotional bit toward the end that almost bumped this to 4 stars. Almost. The problem is, the characters didn’t fully click for me. They're more vessels for Kuang’s ideas than people I could root for. Still, it’s a fun ride if you don’t mind the occasionally too often lecture hall detour. I’d say it’s worth a read if you’re into Kuang’s style. Just don’t expect it to haunt you like The Poppy War did. For me, it’s a solid “liked it, didn’t love it”—kind of like that one coffee shop pastry that’s alright but then you're kinda annoyed you're out $7 when a vending machine Texas cinnamon roll would've had the same mouthfeel for a third of the price. 

I really wanted to love Spider to the Fly by J.H. Markert. The premise sounded so promising: a true crime junkie obsessed with catching a serial killer, a creepy database of Jane and John Does, and that whole haunting vibe of a long lost twin lurking in the background. I’m a sucker for a dark thriller, especially one with a horror twist and a Stephen King-esque chill. But honestly, this one just didn’t hit the mark for me, and I’m kind of bummed about it.

Let’s start with Ellie. She’s this driven, slightly unhinged bit traumatized woman who’s built an online empire tracking unidentified victims, hoping to give them names. I liked that idea—it’s noble in a gritty, messed-up way. But then the book just… keeps going with that same note. She’s manic, sure, but after a while, it felt like she was spinning her wheels instead of growing or surprising me. I kept waiting for her to do something that’d make me root for her, but she just stayed stuck in this loop of obsession that got old fast.

The killer himself? He’s creepy enough with his stats including dozens of murdered women via spider bites and a fly in the mouth that he feeds baby batter to? Gross, yikes, deranged. Alas, the plot starts piling on all these extra threads, like Ellie’s twin thing, the task force, random side characters who don’t really go anywhere… and it’s like the book couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. A serial killer chase? A personal redemption story? A horror flick? It’s all there, but it’s a jumbled mess. I remember sitting on my couch, my dog snoring next to me, thinking, “Okay, can we just focus on *one* thing here?”

I’ll give it this: Markert knows how to write atmosphere. The bit where Ellie visits some sketchy alley to chase a lead, the fog rolling in, the shadows twitching—it’s straight out of a nightmare, and I was into it. But the payoff? Meh. The twists felt forced. And don’t get me started on the ending. Without spoiling it, let’s just say it left me flipping back a page, wondering if I missed something, because it didn’t tie up half the stuff I cared about.

All in all, Spider to the Fly felt like a rough draft that needed a tighter edit. It’s not terrible; it’s just… fine. It had potential and a few creepy moments that stuck with me, but I wouldn’t reread it. If you’re new to Markert, maybe start with The Nightmare Man. 

Medieval horror with a side of cannibalism and some seriously unhinged vibes? Yes, please, my bread and butter. The Starving Saints delivers on that promise, but while it hooked me at first, it didn’t quite stick the landing for me.

Aymar Castle has been under siege for six months, and everyone’s starving. You can feel the desperation dripping off the page, when you know things are about as dire as debating mass layoffs of life (heh). Enter the Constant Lady and her Saints—mysterious, godlike figures who show up out of nowhere with feasts and miracles but no wagons or trunks or horses in sight. Appeared during a siege as if out of thin air. It’s creepy and intriguing, and I was all in for this dark fairy tale vibe.

There are three women at the heart of the story: Ser Voyne, the war hero (serious Brienne of Tarth vibes with her, I was constantly seeing Gwendolyn Christie in my head); Phosyne, the paranoid ex-nun-turned-sorceress (admittedly, I was only seeing Madam Mim, which made for some laughs); and Treila, the vengeful serving girl who used to be a noble girl before her father supposedly commited treason.

As the book went on, it started feeling like a fever dream that didn’t know where it was going. The magic and madness got so trippy that I was lost half the time, and not always in a good way.

By the end, I was left with mixed feelings. It’s bold and weird, and I respect that Starling went for it. But the pacing dragged in spots, and the payoff didn’t hit as hard as I’d hoped. It’s like I was starving for a big, satisfying bite, and instead I got a handful of crumbs. If you’re into dark, messy horror with a sapphic twist and don’t mind some (or maybe a lot of?) confusion, this might be your jam. For me, it was a creepy, uneven adventure that I liked but didn’t love.

The title alone promises something wild, and I was in the mood for a thriller that’d keep me up past my bedtime. It’s got this premise that hooks you right away—imagine a therapy group gone rogue, filled with women who’ve been wronged, turning their pain into something dark and vengeful.

But while it had its moments, it didn’t quite hit the mark for me the way I’d hoped. The concept initially intrigued me—the “you kill for me, I kill for you” dynamic teased in the blurb, reminiscent of the film Kill For Me (2013) and probably a couple of Lifetime movies, the execution left me with mixed feelings.

Jess Pendle joins a Domestic Violence support group after her boyfriend lands her in the hospital needing stitches. She’s expecting to connect with other women who’ve been through hell. 

I love the idea of these women flipping the script—there’s something satisfying about seeing the underdog bite back. I enjoy a good read or movie in where a woman gets her lick. 

Til about the fifty percent mark, it was starting to read a little Frieda McFadden: here, look this shiny gimmick, so you won’t look at the purse snatcher making off with your wallet. The limp thing with Geoff and The Caretakers POV being he/him had me had me second guessing the blurb. 

Where it stumbled for me was pacing and depth. The buildup was tense, but then it felt like Stephens hit the gas too hard toward the end—everything wrapped up faster than my attempt to assemble a desk (which, trust me, was a disaster). I wanted more time with the characters, especially the group members. They’re a fierce bunch, and you root for them, but I didn’t know them as well as I’d have liked…. At all. Just that they hate abusers because they’re survivors of abuse. Which, yeah. But that’s pretty much a golem of a character in a DV  support group. 

The writing’s easy, though, and there’s a dark humor that sneaks in, which I appreciated. It’s gory at times, but not gratuitous; it fits the tone. Fans of fast-paced thrillers will probably eat this up, especially if you’re into that “justice served cold” vibe. Definitely worth a read if you’re curious, just don’t expect it to linger with you too long after the last page.