yourbookishbff's Reviews (650)

I loved this debut from Faye Delacour and cannot wait to read what she writes next. I knew from the first lines that this would be wry and absurdly charming, and I was not disappointed. At the outset, our male main character returns from the (presumed) dead after being (allegedly) drowned at sea two years prior, and our female main character is hell-bent on starting a reputable gaming club for women as a means of financial security and independence outside the marriage mart. I always enjoy the delicious angst of my-love-proposed-to-my-sister/cousin/friend, and the pseudo competition with the vapid (but ultimately still not unlikeable) Cecily adds steady humor throughout and a reliably tense backstory for our childhood-friends-turned-enemies-turned-lovers. Add in the doting-but-determined Uncle Bertie frantically trying to set up his charges for their future happiness so he can pursue happiness of his own, and you have a cast of family and friends that consistently strikes the right balance between funny and sincere. 

For romance lovers, there are familiar beats executed with delicious twists - a stolen kiss in a downpour, a woman facing ruination - and the added intrigue of pirates and scandal and sexy talk at Ascot. This is a lighthearted and sexy and delightfully feminist historical romance for readers who love sunshine MMCs who desperately want to do the right thing and will sacrifice everything to see their women thrive. Thank you to the publisher and Netgalley for an Advanced Readers Copy!

This is cozy magical realism/light fantasy at its absolute best. I love this blend of witchcraft and necromancy with cottage core, and I felt so soothed by the story. The romance itself actually deals with some heavier themes - specifically attempts to start a family and fears of infertility - and the relationship between our primary couple feels fully realized and tender. I appreciated the sharp edge the selkie brings to their seemingly idyllic life and the ways in which they have to navigate new desires and expectations. This is like a beautifully queer (and erotic) Practical Magic. 

Did I love an amnesia book?! I think I did. This is the conclusion to the Wagers of Sin series by Caroline Linden, and features my favorite male main character in the trilogy, the Marquess of Westmorland. A very rakish rake and a gambling, no-good drunk, Westmorland starts the book by winning an unbelievable pot at Vega's that includes the deed to a lesser nobleman's house. A series of romance-coincidences befall him and he ends up at said nobleman's house nearly beaten to death, where our female main character, Georgiana, happens to be visiting. To protect him from the wrath of her hosts and to ensure he receives immediate medical intervention, she lies and tells everyone he is her longtime betrothed, Lord Sterling. This is exactly the kind of bananas plot premise I've come to love in this series, and it makes the amnesia less stressful and ultimately humorous. 

The swoon factor set this one apart for me - this man is besotted and he shows it, and I adore seeing a man as thoroughly undone as Westmorland. There is no third act breakup in this, though the secondary plot that drives the second half of the story is far-fetched, even in the context of this far-fetched premise, and it felt like it could have been lifted out entirely. 

That said, the romance itself sung for me. I'll forgive the additional machinations in the third act, and would recommend this series to historical romance readers who want well-built characters and fresh twists on classic tropes.

Chain-Gang All-Stars is a compelling, character-driven dystopian with a Hunger-Games-style premise that explores the very real present-day horrors of the prison-industrial complex in the United States. The story is told through a fragmented series of fictional POVs and is occasionally interspersed with real statistics and historical context. The idea of the games - killing contests derived for commercial entertainment staged between inmates from prisons across the country - calls on the language and history of slavery in the United States and blends it with the present commodification of a capitalist prison system. It might seem dystopian to imagine large corporations sponsoring prisoners' scythes, hammers, and other murder weapons, but it's hardly very futuristic when we consider the existing - and very profitable - industry surrounding imprisonment, security, monitoring and policing.

This is a stand-out read, and particularly enjoyable on audio, given the diverse cast of narrators. I only wish it had been a bit tighter in execution, because there were parts where I struggled to stay fully invested in the throughline of the story. That said, this is remarkable, and I highly recommend.

I flew through this, largely because the anxiety of waiting for the big third-act reveal is so propelling that I couldn't set it aside. I genuinely enjoyed this bizarre twist on the gambling premises of the series. A new-money speculator buys out all of the Earl of Hastings' inherited debt, and then blackmails him into courting his only daughter, Eliza. Eliza, suspicious of men chasing her dowry and hoping for a love match, is surprised by the Earl's sudden interest in her, but is lured into their well-laid marriage trap, and ultimately falls in love. This, in some ways, felt reminiscent of Devil is a Marquess, by Elisa Braden, where a broke lord is bought out by an heiress's father (who inevitably underestimates his own daughter) and is haunted by his own lies of omission as they grow closer. 

Most challenging in this set-up, though, is the deception, as the Earl is blackmailed with the threat of prosecution on his debt if he doesn't comply, and is unable to divulge the farce to Eliza, who he (obviously) comes to care for. It's our knowledge, as readers, that Eliza believes this is a love match and not a marriage of convenience that drives the plot tension. Waiting for Eliza to discover the layers of deceit had me in Sherry-Thomas-levels-of-pain, and I stayed up until 1:30am to finish this, desperately needing the happily ever after for these two. I thoroughly enjoyed all the ways in which the deception created greater complexity in all of their lives, and how both of our main characters had to work to unwind it. 

I have noted in content warnings that the consent in a few interactions felt dubious to me - this didn't necessarily surprise me, given the conflicts we were navigating and the general deception, but I've noted it with additional detail for readers who may wish to avoid. 

This was my first book by Caroline Linden, and I'm anxious to continue the series! The premise of this story - stern and starchy Duke is leveled by ambitious and borderline scandalous woman - felt reminiscent of Bringing Down the Duke, by Evie Dunmore, and Silk is for Seduction, by Loretta Chase. All three dukes inherit young and face cumbersome marriage mart expectations, and in the case of Sebastian in Bringing Down the Duke and Jack in My Once and Future Duke, the trials of reigning in adventurous (and irresponsible) younger brothers stress their already-heightened sense of familial expectation and duty. 

What sets this particular duke apart (for me) is his inner monologue. I can become frustrated with starchy dukes, particularly when they ride the you're-good-enough-to-be-my-mistress-but-not-my-wife line in a class difference story, but this inner monologue evidences that our duke is a GONER for our female main character, that he's desperate for her attention and affection, that he fears only that they don't know each other well enough and that she may not risk scandal for him. I loved the romance in this, and every beat of their relationship (even the miscommunication in the third act) worked for me. 

The only story elements that didn't quite work were some of the more sudden plot turns in the secondary family stories, and occasional moments of telling vs. showing (I don't love when inner monologue leads a character too easily to an emotional conclusion or decision that could have been better evidenced in dialogue or action). That said, this is the start of a long Caroline Linden journey for me, as I thoroughly enjoyed this read.

I loved this! A bite-sized novella with a well-executed second-chance-romance between two now-grown former childhood-friends. This is low angst with lots of silly hijinks (she sets *actual booby traps* around her Christmas getaway cabin), and it's surprisingly high heat for the page count (I'm not complaining!). For historical romance readers desperate to get out of regency and/or Victorian England, this is set in the countryside outside of Seattle in the early 20th century, and our female main character is inspired by a real female photographer of the time (check the author's note for more details!). I look forward to reading more by Kat Sterling. 

I love Erin Mclellan's So Over the Holidays series of novellas, and this installment did not disappoint. Our female main character is a sex toy marketer snowed in at a cute bed-and-breakfast after selling her wares at the Christmas gathering of the Raunchy Readers book club, and our male main character is her host's adorably sincere brother, currently homeless and jobless and single. These two characters are shouldering emotional baggage when they agree to no-strings-attached intimacy while she's stranded with him, and their encounters are lighthearted and sweet. This has fantastic on-page representation of toy use in intimacy (even showing routine cleaning and maintenance, discussion of preferences, etc.), with Mclellan's trademark focus on weaving verbal consent throughout sexy talk. If you enjoy seasonal contemporary romance novellas, this series is fantastic! Added bonus: each novella I've read in the series features bisexual main characters (our female main character is bi in this installment). 

Brickmakers is a gritty retelling of Romeo and Juliet set in rural Argentina that circles the deaths of two opposing brickmakers' sons - Marciano Miranda and Pájaro Tamai. It examines the circumstances of their families' feud, cycling the reader through a refracted, episodic retelling of the lives and losses that drove them to their deaths in the dust beneath a Ferris wheel. This is a tight narrative (under 200 pages) that leans heavily on character dialogue, but despite its short page count, its non-linear timeline makes it a challenging story to navigate at times. We see not only Marciano and Pájaro's  memories, but also those of their parents, and it's this choice to linger between a more limited third-person narration (which would be expected of death-bed flashbacks) and an omniscient third-person narration that creates additional narrative complexity. I can appreciate that it calls back to its theatrical inspiration (there are so many moments that feel like they are meant to be seen on the stage), though it did pull me out of the story occasionally.  

Most unsettling in this retelling is the complete absence of one of our love interests until the final 40-50 pages. We suspect from the start that the inciting incident is related to a potential love affair between Pájaro and Marciano's younger brother,  Ángelito, but Ángelito is only tangentially present in a handful of scenes and is only shown through the perspectives of Marciano or Pájaro. In reading other reviews, I would note that readers should not expect an on-page queer romance between these two - their romance is largely off-page, aside from a few frenetic encounters - and is not centered in the narrative. In decentering the romance, Almada emphasizes that the real crux of the story is the generational trauma of toxic masculinity and patriarchal traditions that nurture homophobia, physical and sexual abuse, addiction and more. 

This is a tough story to read, and the lack of chapter headings in the English translation of the e-book added to the numerous challenges of the narrative, but it's a story that is richer for its complexity, and I look forward to reading more from Almada. 

If you're looking for a thoroughly macabre reimagining of The Little Mermaid and don't mind (or enjoy!) significant on-page body horror, this is an excellent novella. The story was imaginative and dark and calls back to the much grittier origins of our favorite fairytales. The writing is evocative and flowery (even in describing the rituals of a cannibalistic cult), and the epilogue was actually... sweet? That said, I almost set this aside at 20%, after realizing just how substantial the body horror elements were (I wasn't sure if I could manage another 60 pages). Ultimately, I pushed through because I appreciated the story arc and the thematic goal, and because I do like to read outside my typical genres occasionally. Recommended to horror readers who enjoy dark fairytale retellings!