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I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

 The Geomagician by Jennifer Mandula

Mogsy’s Rating: 4 of 5 stars

Genre: Fantasy

Series: Book 1 of The Geomagician

Publisher: Del Rey (March 31, 2026)

Length: 464 pages

Author Information: Website

I confess, I went into The Geomagician expecting something lighter and fluffier with a heavier romance angle, but this is one of those rare cases where I’m glad to be wrong. Instead, the novel delivers a story with far more substance than I anticipated, blending historical inspiration with magical charm and bigger, thoughtful thematic ideas embedded in a strong narrative that kept me hooked.

The book follows Mary Anning, an aspiring geomagician who grew up fossil hunting along the English coast in the small, humble village she calls home. All her life, she’s dreamed of joining the elite Geomagical Society in London, a group of scholars who can harness magic from fossils. But as a woman, that path is firmly closed to her. For now, she has to settle for building a reputation through her remarkable finds, selling fossils to tourists and the very geomagicians who benefit from work she’ll never be credited for.

But everything changes when Mary stumbles upon a fossil bed containing an intact egg which, against all odds, hatches into a living baby pterodactyl after she channels her magic into it. All of a sudden, she has something the Geomagical Society would be desperate to have. Maybe even enough to finally offer her a place among them? She quickly reaches out to her mentor, hoping to turn the discovery into an opportunity, but when he arrives, he brings along his colleague Henry Stanton, the man who was once her first love before breaking her heart. Though Henry’s presence complicates things, Mary is determined not to let it derail her plans. And yet, as she pushes ahead to London, she finds herself caught in a tangled web of politics, rivalries, and conflicting beliefs about magic, forcing her to confront just how far she’s willing to go to claim her place.

To start, I loved the world-building, which is easily one of the book’s biggest highlights. The idea that fossils can store and channel magical energy to accomplish incredible things is such a cool concept, and the story really digs into it from multiple perspectives, featuring strong tensions between science and the book’s fictional church, with different factions holding opposing beliefs about where magic comes from. Without spoiling anything, I’ll just say that this conflict ends up shaping a lot of what happens, and on top of that, you’ve got layers of social hierarchy, gender barriers, and shifting political viewpoints, all tied to bigger questions about power. Who gets to have it? Who controls it? Should magic belong to an elite few or be accessible to everyone? All these questions and more are woven into the plot naturally, giving the world a depth that feels lived in.

And then, of course, there’s Ajax, who completely stole the show. Honestly, I wish we’d gotten more of that little pterodactyl, along with more of the prehistoric elements in general. For a book so rooted in fossils and ancient creatures, it feels like this should have been featured more prominently, especially since the whole science and scholarship angle in addition to a woman fighting for her place in that world are one of its biggest draws. That said, this book still taps into the same appeal as series like Emily Wilde by Heather Fawcett or The Memoirs of Lady Trent by Marie Brennan, both of which feature ambitious female protagonists driven by their pursuit of knowledge and academic curiosity. I think if you are a fan of those types of stories, this one will be quite the treat.

In the end, The Geomagician ended up being a really entertaining novel and meatier than I expected, all in the best ways. It’s got a unique premise, a richly developed world, and just enough emotional weight to balance out its airier moments. If you’re in the mood for historical fantasy with a strong sense of place and an emphasis on ideas as much as plot, this one is definitely worth the read.

 I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

The Caretaker by Marcus Kliewer

Mogsy’s Rating (Overall): 3.5 of 5 stars

Genre: Horror

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Simon & Schuster Audio (April 21, 2026)

Length: 9 hrs and 33 mins

Author Information: Website

This was my first Marcus Kliewer book, and I was quite excited to tackle it since I’ve heard such great things about his debut We Used to Live Here. And now I can see why his style of horror has garnered him so many fans. The Caretaker leans hard into that brand of eerie, slow-burn horror where you’re never quite sure what’s real and what’s simply the protagonist’s sanity unraveling inside her own mind. But at the same time, the writing doesn’t always complement the story’s goals, often running long and being repetitive in ways that took away from the tension. That said, I also listened to this in audio, so it’s possible that the format might have made these issues stand out more.

The story follows Macy Mullins, a young woman barely keeping her head above water. After her father’s death, she’s left as the sole guardian of her teenage sister, and between the grief and a growing pile of bills, survival has become a daily struggle. Desperate to keep the rent paid and the lights on in their tiny apartment, Macy can’t afford to be picky about work. So when she stumbles across a vague Craigslist ad offering a short-term caretaking job at an isolated coastal property, with suspiciously generous pay, she decides to take the chance. Even if the woman hiring her is evasive about the details, and the job itself comes with a list of strange, unsettling requirements, it’s hard to say no to that kind of money for just a few days’ work.

At first, the rules seem odd but manageable. The homeowner explains they were put in place by her late husband, who insisted they be followed to the letter even after his death, with all instructions recorded on a VHS tape for Macy to watch. Some involve checking lights at specific times in the middle of the night, answering mysterious phone calls, and keeping a close eye on the rabbits that roam the property. Strange, sure, but straightforward. However, it doesn’t take long for things to spiral. Small mistakes lead to escalating consequences, and the written instructions in the event of failure quickly become more extreme, more unsettling, and at times outright unhinged. As Macy struggles to keep up with these “rites” that grow increasingly complex and difficult to follow, she finds her grip on reality slipping, blurred by exhaustion, fear, and the surreal nature of what’s happening around her. What started as a simple job soon reveals itself to be something far bigger, more dangerous, and impossible to escape.

First, the positives. The Caretaker really shines when it comes to concept and atmosphere. After looking into the author, I also discovered that Marcus Kliewer likes to weave mental health themes into his work. For example, OCD features heavily in this story, and the allusions aren’t exactly subtle. You can see it in the way the rites are structured, or the constant dread tied to getting them wrong. As someone with OCD though, I was surprised how strongly these connections resonated, like the constant checking, the double-checking, the second-guessing, and the intrusive thoughts that something terrible will happen if you don’t get it just right. Overall, it’s a clever use of horror that adds an extra layer of meaning beneath the strangeness, and I thought it worked really well.

But now, the elements that didn’t work so well. For me, the biggest weakness was the novel’s longwindedness with certain ideas, such as whole paragraphs devoted to expounding on topics related to Macy’s financial struggles, her cigarette cravings, how crappy her apartment is, etc. The writing had this tendency to keep pressing on things you’ve long already absorbed, and it’s like, “Okay, I get it!” It’s very conspicuous in audio and very distracting, making it easy to lose focus and drift off once the rambling starts.

In the end, The Caretaker is a solid if imperfect novel of psychological horror. It has a unique hook, interesting themes, and some genuinely unsettling moments. However, it’s also weighed down by repetition and an overextended runtime, making the final sections drag on and on. Still, pacing issues aside, this is one to check out if you’re drawn to horror that excels at building a strong sense of dread, and the audiobook is worth a listen as well.

 I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Two Truths and A Lie by Mark Stevens

Mogsy’s Rating: 3.5 of 5 stars

Genre: Thriller, Mystery

Series: Book 2 of Flynn Martin

Publisher: Thomas & Mercer (April 7, 2026)

Length: 459 pages

Author Information: Website

After having such an enjoyable time with Mark Stevens’s No Lie Lasts Forever, I went into the sequel Two Truths and a Lie expecting more of that same sharp cat-and-mouse tension. The good news is, I still received an engaging thriller. That said, this one didn’t quite hit me in the same way as the first book. While it’s still a great follow-up with plenty to like, I just think it was missing some of what made the original feel so tight and suspenseful.

The story picks up with the return of series protagonist Flynn Martin, a Denver journalist who finds herself back in the spotlight following her role in capturing the PDQ Killer, the man who terrorized the city fifteen years ago by murdering three women. At least this time, she’s making headlines for the right reasons, earning back the trust of her employer. But that high doesn’t last long. When a family of four disappears under suspicious circumstances, Flynn seizes the opportunity to prove herself, digging into what at first looks like a tragic but routine missing persons case. However, it quickly becomes clear that there’s far more to the story.

At the same time, Flynn begins receiving unsettling messages, written in a way that immediately brings the PDQ Killer to mind, even though he’s supposedly behind bars and no longer a threat. Or is he? The possibility that she’s being watched again leaves her fearing for her family’s safety, and that personal threat adds a new sense of urgency to the investigation. As Flynn follows the trail, the case begins to branch in multiple directions, pulling in connections to a powerful local church, whispers of corruption, and a web of secrets that may all be connected.

Much like the first book, what continues to work really well here is Stevens’ writing style. The prose is clean and direct, built for speed. It makes for another easy, bingeable read. The newsroom angle remains a strong hook, and I like how the case plays out like a police procedural while approaching it from a different perspective through Flynn’s role. Not being in law enforcement does limit her in some ways, but at the same time, her position as a journalist opens doors and gives her access to sources she might not otherwise reach. The high-octane, punchy pacing highlights the need for instant action as Flynn chases downs leads and puts the pieces of the puzzle together, giving the story a sharp edge.

That said, the structure of this sequel feels noticeably busier. There is simply so much happening all at once, it’s not always clear which thread is the main one, so the end result feels a bit scattered. Compared to the first book, where both the central conflict and the villain were sharply defined, this one comes across as more of a jumble. While it does keep things unpredictable and opens up a wider web of possibilities, this approach also ends up diluting some of the tension, especially when the antagonist and the story’s direction feel less focused.

Flynn herself remains a compelling protagonist, but frequently still manages to get under my skin. More often than not, she ends up being her own worst enemy, and it’s a lesson she’s failed to learn since the first book. And even though I understand it comes with the territory of her job, some of her methods for chasing information also leave a bad taste in my mouth. There are plenty of moments where her decisions feel frustrating, especially when she’s clearly worried about her own safety and her son’s, yet in the very next scene, she’s charging straight into another dangerous situation instead of pulling back. Yes, it creates tension, but it also makes it harder to fully get behind her choices, leaving her character caught somewhere between being admirable and idiotic.

Still, I had a good time with this one. Overall, Two Truths and a Lie is a solid if slightly less focused follow-up that continues Flynn Martin’s story in an engaging and meaningful way. Where the first book felt like a tight psychological showdown, you might find this one to be a broader, more chaotic mystery. Not necessarily a bad trade-off, but it does sometimes feel like it’s juggling a few too many ideas at once. Even so, while it may not reach the heights as No Lie Lasts Forever, it remains a worthwhile sequel that keeps you invested in both the characters and the world.

More on The BiblioSanctum:
Review of No Lie Lasts Forever (Book 1)

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

First Sign of Danger by Kelley Armstrong

Mogsy’s Rating (Overall): 4 of 5 stars

Genre: Mystery, Thriller

Series: Book 4 of Haven’s Rock

Publisher: Macmillan Audio (February 17, 2026)

Length: 9 hrs and 38 mins

Author Information: Website | Twitter

Narrator: Therese Plummer

I make it no secret how much I love the Haven’s Rock series, and I’ve been with this crew since they were first introduced in Rockton. As the fourth installment in this spinoff series, First Sign of Danger delivers the same tense, wilderness-set mystery I’ve come to expect, nothing more, nothing less. But while that may sound like business as usual rather than anything standout, it’s still a satisfying read.

The story picks up six months after the previous volume, Cold as Hell. Casey Duncan and Eric Dalton are new parents! Their home, the off-the-grid settlement of Haven’s Rock hidden in the wilds of the Yukon, continues to serve as a sanctuary for people looking to disappear, and this is where they are content to raise their family. Even the nearby mining operation has, for the moment, fallen into a workable truce. Boundaries are being respected, and both sides are keeping to themselves, at least for now. Everything feels relatively calm and balanced, just the way the town’s residents would prefer as they head into winter hoping for as little drama as possible.

But that fragile peace is abruptly shattered when Casey and Eric encounter two hikers who have wandered far too close to Haven’s Rock’s borders, raising immediate concerns about exposure. Thinking quickly, they point the interlopers away from town, towards a safer direction. But when they return the next day to make sure the hikers have moved on, they instead find one of them dead and the other missing without a trace. With no clear idea who these people were or why they were in the area, Haven’s Rock goes on high alert as Casey and Eric begin digging into the mystery. At best, the hikers’ presence is an unfortunate coincidence, but at worst, it could mean a new threat has found its way to their doorstep. Given everything this town has already endured, there’s too much at stake to take any chances.

One of the things this series does well is atmosphere, and that still holds true. The setting once more plays a starring role, the Yukon providing an active source of tension. Between the isolation, the harsh conditions, and the ever-present danger of nature and wildlife (speaking of which, there is a truly harrowing scene involving a bear in First Sign of Danger), there’s just this constant awareness in the back of your mind that things could go wrong at any moment. It gives the story a survivalist edge that perfectly complements the police procedural elements.

In terms of character development, Casey and Eric are now navigating a completely new phase of their lives with their six-month-old daughter, Rory. There’s a clear adjustment period as they figure out how to balance parenthood with their law enforcement responsibilities, but the book takes a refreshing approach here. Instead of playing up the usual themes of stress, exhaustion, and guilt in stories about new parents, it highlights how a strong support system can make all the difference, even in a remote place like Haven’s Rock. Here, the side characters step up. While overall they are in more background roles this time, their presence is still felt in meaningful ways, reinforcing the town’s sense of community. Sure, Casey is tired, but she’s never forced to choose between her job and her child. Rory, meanwhile, is growing up loved and cared for by a network of honorary aunties and uncles pitching in when needed, giving mom and dad the space to do what they need to do.

The mystery itself is engaging, though inevitably it feels familiar at times. Some of the plot points are recycled, easy to anticipate because we’ve seen them before. That said, I come at this as someone who genuinely loves this series, and there’s an undeniable comfort of returning to something I know. At the same time, I’m realistic. Between this series and the original Rockton run, we’re pushing close to a dozen novels in this world, and it’s starting to feel like we’re nearing the natural end of the road. And maybe that’s why I’m not all that upset about the author’s news that the next book will be the last. As much fun as I’ve had, quitting while you’re ahead is never a bad thing, and in this case, I’d much rather see the series wrap up on a strong note than stretch things out unnecessarily.

At the end of the day, First Sign of Danger is another dependable and easy-to-enjoy installment of the Haven’s Rock sequence. I also had the pleasure of listening to this in audio, and narrator Therese Plummer as ever does a fantastic job as Casey, bringing a natural and down-to-earth tone to her voice that fits the character completely. While this book doesn’t quite reach standout status for me, it still delivers a satisfying mix of mystery, character development, and wilderness tension, which are the exact ingredients that have always made this series so enjoyable.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Green & Deadly Things by Jenn Lyons

Mogsy’s Rating: 3 of 5 stars

Genre: Fantasy

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Tor Books (March 3, 2026)

Length: 368 pages

Author Information: Website

I enjoyed Jenn Lyons’ Sky on Fire, so when I heard she was returning with another standalone novel which sounds right up my alley, I was immediately intrigued. But while Green & Deadly Things is an undeniably entertaining “in the moment” kind of book, it’s also not one that’s easy to breeze through. Despite being packed with action and big ideas, it also somehow feels lighter and surface-level than expected, never quite digging deep enough to leave a lasting impression.

The story follows Mathaiik, a young novitiate training with the Idallik Knights, an order devoted to protecting the world from the lingering threat of necromancy. But though he has spent years preparing, Math still struggles to control the magic required to complete his training to become a full knight. At the same time, he’s hiding a secret related to his family’s past and his own strange connection to plants. In a world where nature itself has become increasingly dangerous, Math’s ability to tap into its powers is something that is viewed upon with suspicion.

Then, an unexpected attack throws the Idallik Knights into chaos, leaving Math in a position to help uncover the truth behind the sentient vegetation that has suddenly turned hostile. Subsequently, he finds himself magically linked to a mysterious woman he awakens from beneath the order’s fortress. A necromancer from the long-lost era of the Grim Lords, Kaiataris may hold the key to understanding and ultimately stopping the unchecked wild magic driving these cycles of destruction. From there, the two are forced into an uneasy alliance as they flee from the knights and into the unpredictable wilderness, where the enemy is the very landscape around them.

Necromancy. Ancient magic. Killer plants. There’s a lot to like here. Lyon’s creative talents are something to be admired for sure, especially when it comes to world-building and magic systems. The integration of botanical horror into the epic fantasy framework is genuinely cool, giving readers some vivid and occasionally unsettling imagery as the natural environment comes to life and IT IS PISSED. There’s also a quiet sense of dread lingering just beneath the surface, because I guess there’s just something deeply unsettling about the inevitability of cyclical destruction.

That said, my biggest issue with the book involves its pacing and its lack of depth, in that it never quite slows down enough to let all its ideas breathe and settle. The plot is relentless, throwing the characters into one crisis after the other. While this rapid-fire development is what kept the pages turning, paradoxically it also made it more difficult to stay fully invested as events started to blur together.

The characters fall into a similar pattern. Math is a likeable enough protagonist, but he’s also tragically bland, an earnest figure caught between loyalty, truth, and his own feelings, like any standard fantasy hero pulled from a template. Kaiataris, meanwhile, offers a slightly more intriguing dynamic as an ancient necromancer who challenges everything Math believes. However, rather than fully exploring that conflict, the story quickly steers them into a romance, and a rushed one at that. It’s frustrating and it’s disappointing, because one feels that both characters deserve far more than simply becoming a checkbox for a romantic subplot.

Still, that’s not to say the book isn’t enjoyable. Lyon’s writing is approachable and easy to get into. The characters’ banter has plenty of sass and humor to keep things from getting grim. I also love the fact that it’s a standalone. As it was with Sky on Fire, it felt refreshing to read Green & Deadly Things knowing you’ll get a complete story in one volume. These strengths go a long way toward counterbalancing the novel’s weaknesses, which mainly come down to parts of the narrative feeling predictable or too convenient, and the relationship between the characters relying too heavily on proximity and magic rather than more organic development. Still, all this, along with its accessible tone which sits comfortably in a crossover space between adult and YA, makes this book a strong “entry into fantasy” kind of read.

In the end, Green & Deadly Things is a fun, fast-moving fantasy with lots of cool concepts and an easy reading style, but while reading it, I also couldn’t help but feel a nagging sense that it’s reaching for something a little deeper, a little more. Regardless, it remains accessible and entertaining, a good standalone that will probably work best for readers looking for a lighter entry point into fantasy rather than something more complex or layered.

I know I haven’t been posting or commenting on blogs these past couple weeks, but it was spring break for the schools over here and my family and I have been away traveling. I thought I was going to have some downtown to read and get a few reviews up while I was gone, but yes, that plan turned out to be just a tad over ambitious. We flew out west to visit family, and between stops in San Diego, Las Vegas, and then a full tour of the Utah national parks, there really wasn’t much time to sit still, let alone write anything coherent.

Anyway, I just got back and I’m still recovering, so honestly this might be the perfect time for another DNF update while I take the next couple days to gather my wits and catch up. Recently, I ended up abandoning several books, and honestly, nothing against them, but they just weren’d holding my attention, and I have very little patience for that when I’m traveling. My reading mood tends to get extra picky when I’m on the go.

As always, just because I DNF a book doesn’t mean it’s terrible. Most of the time, it just means it’s not the right fit at the right moment. And that’s why I do these posts, because even if something didn’t work for me, it might be exactly what someone else is looking for.

I received review copies from the publisher(s). This does not affect the contents of my reviews and all opinions are my own.

I’ll Make A Spectacle of You by Beatrice Winifred Iker

Mogsy’s Rating: DNF

Genre: Horror

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Run For It (November 18, 2025)

Length: 388 pages

This one ended up being a DNF for me quite early on. The premise of a Southern gothic horror set at an old university, complete with secret societies and a legend about a beast lurking in the nearby woods drew me in initially. However, the execution didn’t quite click. From the start, the pacing felt very slow, and I struggled to stay engaged. The writing style also didn’t help. Despite the beauty of the prose, it came across more clunky and awkward than I liked. It made it hard to connect with any of the characters or care about what was happening. I had to restart this one multiple times just in case it was me being in a distractable mood, but ultimately it started to feel like a chore to keep trying. That said, I can see the appeal for readers who enjoy slower, more atmospheric horror with heavy folklore and historical influences.

Graceless Heart by Isabel Ibañez

Genre: Fantasy, Romance

Series: Book 1 of The Spellbound History Quartet

Publisher: Saturday Books (January 13, 2026)

Length: 488 pages

I technically “finished” this book which is why you see a rating, but because I also ended up skimming through huge chunks (eventually just giving up and skipping to the end so I could find out what happened), I feel it appropriate enough to include my thoughts here. Graceless Heart is another book whose premise sounds rich on paper, featuring a heroine who is a sculptor who uses forbidden magic, but not much about its story or central romance worked for me at all. The plot was linear and the tropes were predictable, which is why I felt so comfortable skimming without feeling I was missing much. The world-building was also sparse, though there were flashes of intersting ideas, especially with the magic tied to artistry and the main character’s skills. Plus, I was invested enough to see how it all ended, so there’s something to be said for that, though in the end, none of it was explored deeply enough to really matter.

After the Fall by Edward Ashton

Mogsy’s Rating: DNF

Genre: Science Fiction

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: St. Martin’s Press (February 24, 2026)

Length: 288 pages

This one actually hurt a bit to abandon. I’ve genuinely had a great time with Edward Ashton’s previous books, and going into After the Fall, I wanted to like the whole “humans as pets to alien overlords” concept. Unfortunately, it did not come together for me in the way I’d hoped. Instead of the usual sharp, witty voice I associate withe author, the story felt strangely flat and lifeless. Gone was the humor or personality that normally carries his writing. Again, I had several false starts, but in the end, I just had to accept that the hook was never going to come. This one just felt bland more than anything else, though I think readers who might connect with a more subdued approach should still give it a try.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Dollface by Lindy Ryan

Mogsy’s Rating: 4.5 of 5 stars

Genre: Horror

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Minotaur Books (February 24, 2025)

Length: 304 pages

Author Information: Website | Twitter

Ever since her Bless Your Heart series, I’ve been on a bit of a Lindy Ryan kick. So, I went into Dollface already expecting a good time, and honestly, it was awesome! This book is like a love letter to the classic slasher movies with just the right amount of self-awareness to pull off the campiness, and despite the violence and chaos, its lively tone ensures that things never get too heavy.

The story follows Jill, a horror author who has just relocated to suburban New Jersey with her husband and young son. Struggling with writer’s block, she’s hoping the change of scenery might even offer a little inspiration for her next book. Instead, she finds herself immediately roped into the baffling world of PTA mom politics and meetings, thanks to her bubbly new neighbor who volunteers Jill for a position on the committee. Unsure how well she’ll fit into this strange new social ecosystem, Jill nonetheless decides to make the best out of the situation, using the opportunity to settle in and make friends.

But suddenly, things take a terrifying turn. A mysterious killer begins targeting the women in the community, starting with the barista at the local coffee shop. And then, one of Jill’s fellow PTA moms is brutally attacked in her home. Could these incidents be connected? As more women are attacked, Jill is starting to think so. After all, she’s no stranger to slasher movies, and as the body count continues to rise, she also can’t help but notice a pattern emerging. The killer wears a plastic doll mask, appearing to choose their victims and methods with a specific purpose. Things are shaping up to be just like the kind of stories she writes about, making Jill think she’s on to something. But can a horror author and PTA mom turn detective and crack the case before she becomes the final girl?

This meta quality of Dollface is where it really shines, with the story going all in on embracing its inspirational origins while affectionately poking fun at them. Take the masked killer, for example, reminiscent of Ghostface of the Scream franchise but reimagined with an uncanny twist that’s both a little creepy but also ridiculous in the best way. Fans of the classic slashers will recognize all our favorite tropes, and what makes it even better is that our protagonist knows all these tropes too! Jill sees them happening in real time, literally even calls them out, but still makes the same kinds of mistakes that land her deeper into trouble. And yet, readers know all this is done by design, because Lindy Ryan is a great sport.

That tongue-in-cheek energy also adds a lot of charm to the story. There’s something genuinely entertaining about watching a horror-savvy character try to outmaneuver a narrative she considers herself an expert in but still messes up. But the fact that Jill is such a congenial protagonist gives this book a playful edge, almost like it’s in conversation with the genre itself, rather than simply existing in it. She’s also an endearing and uplifting figure, despite plenty of trauma and heartbreak in her past. It’s just hard not to root for a character who keeps soldiering on, even in the face of looming publisher deadlines or all the absurd crap she has to put up with from the PTA.

Yet here the supporting cast shines through as well, with the over-the-top moms and neighbors that make up Jill’s new social circle. If you’re wondering if there might be a satirical element to this, the answer is absolutely! The suburban dynamics are exaggerated and a little ridiculous, but that is clearly the point. Even so, the portrayal never feels truly negative. Instead, it comes across as affectionate, rendering the characters in a larger-than-life way that perfectly suits the tone. The novel knows exactly what its going for and doesn’t take itself too seriously, which works well in its favor.

At the end of the day, that’s really the key to enjoying Dollface. Get ready for something quirky, a little messy, but also very self-aware. Rather than trying to reinvent the genre, it embraces it, plays with its conventions, and has a blast along the way. In between all the nostalgic moments and nods to classic horror, there’s humor and there’s gore, coming together beautifully to create a story that’s just plain fun.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Haven by Ani Katz

Mogsy’s Rating: 3 of 5 stars

Genre: Thriller, Science Fiction

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Penguin Books (March 10, 2026)

Length: 256 pages

Author Information: Website

Haven by Ani Katz was interesting and a little weird, in both good and slightly frustrating ways. It has the sort of premise I’m usually drawn to, kind of a mix of near-future science fiction and thriller elements, but at the same time, the story leans heavily into an uncanny, surreal atmosphere that leaves you with the nagging sense that something is off, even if you can’t quite put your finger on what.

The novel follows Caroline, who arrives at the island community of Haven with her husband, Adam, and their infant son, Gabriel. The past few months have been challenging, marked by the stresses of new parenthood and financial uncertainty while Adam searched for work. Things finally seem to turn around when he lands a position at a powerful tech company called Corridor. Though it means long hours and time away from his family, the promise of stability and security makes it all worth it. And with Haven serving both as the company’s base of operations and a summer retreat for its employees, the couple decides to take advantage of the opportunity to unwind and strengthen their bond. Besides, Caroline is curious about Adam’s new friends and colleagues, hoping to gradually integrate into their world.

But Haven quickly proves to be anything but relaxing. The community feels overly curated, the residents polite yet distant, and there’s something about the island’s culture that seems a little too polished to be genuine. Adam’s new colleagues are friendly enough on the surface, but beneath that geniality runs an undercurrent of detachment, their relationships both exclusive and vaguely performative. Caroline senses the tension, and even though she can’t fully make sense of it, she feels an odd pull toward these social dynamics. When Adam leaves for work, leaving her alone to take care of Gabriel, that temptation only grows. Then one morning, she wakes up to find the baby missing, and that lingering sense of unease suddenly snaps into something far more immediate and terrifying.

I want to reiterate how much I really liked the book’s concept here. However, the execution had a way of stumbling all over itself. The combination of tech culture, the seemingly idyllic isolation, and an almost cult-like elitism among the characters was compelling, but at times, it was like the plot was circling itself without knowing what it wanted to say. Something about control? Influence? Complicity? Caroline’s perspective adds to this haziness, because in a way, she is an unreliable narrator, filtering everything through her own anxiety, isolation, and fear that she might be missing something just out of reach. I will say this works wonders for the atmosphere, but when it comes to clarity? Nope, I am still very confused.

That same quality extends to the world-building. There are a lot of interesting ideas baked into Haven as a setting, this polished and almost artificial community shaped by Big Tech. Again, the vibes are spot on. There’s just enough strangeness in the residents’ behaviors, the manicured landscapes, the absurd commercials on the television, etc. to be appropriately creepy and off-putting. But at the same time, the details never fully coalesce, leaving you with questions about why some of these eccentricities even exist or how this world actually functions.

As an example, the inclusion of medically assisted suicide is another element that feels like it’s reaching for something weighty and provocative, but in reality, it is already something happening in some parts of the world, and the book’s presentation of it as shocking or ethnically extreme comes across as a bit overdramatized, adding to the sense that the story is gesturing toward themes that are big and profound without fully grounding them. Characters fall into a similar pattern. Caroline’s motivations are solid in theory, being a new mother who is navigating an unfamiliar environment. But as the story progresses, she drifts further from us, so that by the end her reactions feel increasingly untethered and harder to understand.

Even so, there was something about Haven that kept me reading. There are moments, especially after Gabriel goes missing, where the suspense is sharpened and the story starts to come together in a more satisfying way. However, the final sections deliver a resolution that, while tense and dramatic, feels a little rushed and leaves several of the novel’s bigger questions only partially answered.

All in all, Haven is one of those books that lingers in your mind more for its atmosphere and ideas than for a fully coherent story. It’s uneven, occasionally frustrating, and doesn’t quite deliver on all its promises, but at the same time, there’s a certain magnetism that made it hard to put down. If you’re drawn to stories that blur the lines between thriller and speculative fiction, there’s a lot here to enjoy, but don’t expect everything to be neatly tied up by the final page.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Wolf Worm by T. Kingfisher

Mogsy’s Rating (Overall): 4.5 of 5 stars

Genre: Horror

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Macmillan Audio (March 24, 2026)

Length: 9 hrs and 14 mins

Author Information: Website

Narrator: Mary Robinette Kowal

T. Kingfisher is at it again, and this is exactly what I’m talking about! I am all in on the creepy setting, the brave and quietly capable heroine, and a horror premise that makes me squirm in grossed out discomfort. The author just has this unmatched talent for taking esoteric subjects or slightly odd interests and spinning them into highly engaging stories that keep me up at night, and listening to this one in audio was even more immersive.

Set at the tail end of the 19th century, the story follows Sonia Wilson, a struggling artist whose career prospects have dried up after a string of personal and professional setbacks. After the death of her father, she decides to leave her dead-end teaching job to return to her first love: scientific illustration. However, the only job she’s able to land is with a surly, reclusive entomologist named Dr. Halder, who needs a new illustrator to finish a book based on his research after his previous artist departed under unknown circumstances. This is how Sonia finds herself at his sprawling rural estate deep in the North Carolinian woods, where the only other residents besides the doctor are his housekeeper, groundskeeper, and a young maid.

It doesn’t take long for Sonia to sense that something isn’t quite right about her new situation. The discovery of an old sketchbook in her quarters reveals that Dr. Halder’s former artist was none other than his own wife, who vanished mysteriously about a year earlier. No one will speak openly about what happened, and the same reticence surrounds the local rumors of “blood thieves” who were said to have terrorized the townsfolk at the time. Sonia tries to keep her head down and focus on her work, even as Halder’s assignments force her to illustrate increasingly unsettling specimens tied to his research. But the deeper she throws herself in the work, the harder it becomes to ignore the strange happenings around her. Is her imagination running wild after too many hours reading up on the grotesque details of parasitic insects and their invasive life cycles? Or is there something truly unnatural stirring in the forest?

What really sold me about Wolf Worm was Sonia. A scientific illustrator protagonist hit a very specific soft spot for me, as I was genuinely interested in pursuing that field myself once upon a time, back before the digital age kind of ruined my plans. Kingfisher captures the tactile, observational nature of the work so well, and also portrays Sonia as a true artist: the way she sketches out the faces of the people she meets for the first time in her head, or the way she matches the names of watercolor paints to the hues she sees in the environment around her. Fans of the author will also recognize Sonia as a classic Kingfisher lead. She’s practical, a little anxious, but also stubbornly competent. Her wry personality allows her to take things in stride, helpful when her job frequently brings her up close and personal with all kinds of creepy crawlies.

Speaking of which, the tone of the novel falls in horror-mystery territory, though the setting does a lot of heavy lifting with its isolation, and then of course, there are the insects! Flesh eating parasites, maggots, you name it. Lots of messy, wriggly, burrowing things! Intimate, horrifying details of how insects live, eat, and reproduce. It’s all here, described in an uncomfortable level of detail, and reading this in spring right when it’s warming up and real-world insects are starting to emerge, it felt even more effective. So, if you have a bug phobia, you have been warned.

Finally, there’s a supernatural thread woven through the mystery that I absolutely loved. I won’t spoil it, but Kingfisher plays with a very familiar gothic creature myth and it filters through a strangely scientific, biological lens. It’s one of those clever reveals that makes you stop and think, ooooh I like that. It’s familiar territory but tackled from a highly unexpected and unconventional angle, and I think it works well with the story’s themes of bodies, hosts, and hunger.

All told, this is easily one of the best books by T. Kingfisher, and now one of my personal favorites. Much praise also goes to Mary Robinette Kowal’s whose narration in the audiobook brought Sonia’s curious and lively personality to life, and made the people and environment feel real around her. Wolf Worm is a smart, character-first horror novel that will make you squirm, and readers who wouldn’t mind a bit of weird science with their Southern Gothic tales will get a cool bonus. In other words, It’s exactly my kind of book.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Weavingshaw by Heba Al-Wasity

Mogsy’s Rating: 2.5 of 5 stars

Genre: Fantasy, Romance

Series: Book 1 of Weavingshaw

Publisher: Del Rey (February 24, 2026)

Length: 464 pages

Author Information: Website

A lot of other reviewers enjoyed this book, so I’m just going to say this right now: Hi, it’s me, I’m probably the problem! Weavingshaw has a lot of things going for it, at least on a craft level, including a full-on gothic fantasy aesthetic and a tension-laden romance. Unfortunately though, it didn’t fully click for me.

The story follows Leena, a young woman who can see the dead. Ever since her mother died and her father was imprisoned, she and her younger brother Rami have been living as refugees, adrift in a country that treats them as outsiders. For years, they have been trying to survive while she is forced to hide her abilities for fear of being institutionalized or exploited. But when Rami falls gravely ill, Leena has no choice but to seek out help, and the only treatment that can save him is far beyond anything she can realistically afford. Out of options, she turns to the one person everyone warns her to avoid.

Enter Silas, the Saint of Silence, an enigmatic trader in favors and information. The name of his game is leverage, or any knowledge he can use as currency to keep people in his debt. In exchange for the medicine to save her brother’s life, she offers up her secret, the only thing of value that she has. As she’d hoped, it catches the attention of St. Silas, but the bargain comes with strings attached. She’s bound to his service and tasked with finding the ghost of Percival Avon, a figure connected to both the decaying estate of Weavingshaw and St. Silas’s past. From there, Leena and the Saint fall into a tense, uneasy partnership, working together to untangle a mystery buried deep in the past, drawing closer as hidden agendas and outside threats start closing in.

All the classic gothic fantasy and romance ingredients are here, and the setup itself is very much my thing. That said, I found myself appreciating the individual pieces more than the whole. From a world-building standpoint, the lore and supernatural elements are intriguing, but the details are pretty surface level, such as the ghostly mechanics and the stratified society. Ideas are seemingly conjured up whenever the plot needs them, then sidelined again when something else is required. Even though I could sense a larger mythology in play, much of it feels backloaded instead of immersive.

Character-wise, Leena and St. Silas are familiar archetypes, but in a good way. I liked how their motivations were simple, but made sense in the context of their circumstances, i.e. Leena is driven by loyalty to her family vs. Silas being propelled by the secrets in his past and his need to see his long-running plans through. Ironically, the romance was where their relationship felt the weakest. It’s meant to be slow burning, which is fine, but the dynamic also felt overly guarded and stiff as a result. More spark and less posturing would have been better.

Structurally, the pacing can drift with subplots weaving in and out. I confess I put this book down many times because of the meandering, with a storyline that sometimes felt as if it was playing for time in a holding pattern rather than moving towards its destination. However, I always picked it up again, so there is that. The setting really is outstanding, and I enjoyed the fantastically broody vibes. Still, there is a fine line between atmosphere and narrative drag, and I won’t lie, this one frequently came close to crossing it. The open ending was a bit annoying too. As cliffhangers go, it’s far from the worst, but I didn’t love how abruptly it cut off.

In the end, Weavingshaw is a debut with some clear talent behind it, and I completely understand why it’s finding an audience. This just happens to be one where my personal tastes didn’t quite align with the execution. If broody gothic fantasy with haunted settings and a slow-building romance is your thing, there’s a good chance this will work much better for you.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Nowhere Burning by Catriona Ward

Mogsy’s Rating: 3 of 5 stars

Genre: Horror

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Nightfire (February 24, 2026)

Length: 304 pages

Author Information: Twitter

Catriona Ward has built a reputation for writing horror that’s strange, unsettling, and often surreally disorienting by design. Nowhere Burning continues following in that same vein, though in this case, it might have gone a bit too far, pushing the story into hazy disjointedness. As a result, I didn’t quite take to this one as much as I’d hoped, finding it occasionally difficult to stay invested in what was happening from one section to the next.

In one major thread, we follow Riley, a teenage girl on the run with her younger brother Oliver. Desperate to escape their abusive foster home, she decides to seek out a place called Nowhere, rumored to be a safe haven hidden deep in the mountains where runaway children can live off the grid. The place, however, comes with its own dark history. The land once belonged to a reclusive actor named Leaf Winham, who built the sprawling ranch retreat years earlier. But what was meant to be a private sanctuary eventually became the center of a horrific scandal before a devastating fire consumed the property. All that’s left now are the burned-out ruins and the bad memories and ugly rumors that have grown around them.

In addition to Riley’s story, a couple others also run alongside in tandem. One follows a pair of filmmakers digging into the ranch’s past for a documentary, interviewing people who were connected to it from before the fire and trying to piece together what really happened. Another thread looks back at Leaf Winham and the early days of the estate, hinting at the secrets that shaped its creepy reputation. As the novel moves between these perspectives, details about Nowhere, its former inhabitants, and the events that led to its ruin gradually come together, showing how past and present collide.

Unfortunately, with so many separate threads and sudden jumps in time, the plot can start to feel a little choppy and hard to follow, and not every storyline gets the space it needs to fully develop. Riley’s is by far the most compelling and arguably the most important; some of the others, however, feel less essential. These came and went like side narratives that only appear in short bursts to give background information before shifting back to Riley’s perspective, which I started looking at as the “main” story. At least her chapters had plenty of emotional themes to anchor them, like her love for Oliver and her determination to secure a safe place for them to live. This was not the case with the “before” and “after” storylines, whose purposes were less defined and didn’t hold my interest as much.

That said, Ward still does a solid job creating a strong sense of place. The isolated mountain setting gives an unsettling edge right from the start, and once we get to the section where Riley finds Nowhere, the behaviors of the young people living there make things feel even more off. And no wonder. Bad things have happened in this place, and the kids here now have had bad things happen to them. The book is heavy with themes of trauma, abuse, and the misery that leads people to make desperate choices when they feel trapped with no way out. It can be difficult read at times.

At the same time, the nebulous tone that defines much of the author’s work can make the reading experience frustrating. The story often hints at deeper, hidden meanings without fully explaining how everything fits together. Granted, it’s clear that some of the vagueness is intentional, since there are secrets buried in the timelines before and after Riley’s storyline that don’t connect until the very end. And yet, the confusion it leads to doesn’t always feel rewarding since the story withholds too much information for too long.

In the end, Nowhere Burning ended up being a bit of a mixed bag. The premise is intriguing, the setting works well, and Riley makes for a strong central character. But the crowded structure and hazy storytelling kept the book from fully coming together for me. I’ve enjoyed Catriona Ward’s previous books (even the more surreal ones!) but this one might end up being my least favorite. Fans of her dreamlike style may still enjoy the ride, but for me this one ultimately landed somewhere in the middle.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

The Red Winter by Cameron Sullivan

Mogsy’s Rating: 4 of 5 stars

Genre: Horror, Historical Fiction

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Tor Books (February 24, 2026)

Length: 535 pages

Author Information: Website

Historical horror with a generous heaping of sardonic humor. That’s the way I would describe The Red Winter by Cameron Sullivan, which draws inspiration from the real-life mystery of the Beast of Gévaudan, the name given to the man-eating creature that terrorized the French countryside in the 1760s, killing more than a hundred people. This novel is a retelling of those events, with a mythical twist.

Told as a memoir written by an ancient warlock named Sebastian Grave, the main plot is a detailed account of his involvement in the hunt for the Beast. Split into two distinct timelines, one follows him in the past as he is called to the region to deal with the creature, and then the second one follows him years later, when he has been asked to return once the killings start up again. Could the attacks from these two periods be related? The story jumps between these two timelines as Sebastian tries to figure it out, reliving the past to find clues that might connect them to the present.

At the same time, running through the story are also a few side threads that gradually connect Sebastian’s backstory to the larger picture. With his body serving as a vessel for a powerful demon named Sarmodel, he has been wandering the earth for centuries, the arrangement giving him immortality as well as access to certain magical abilities. An additional narrative which unfolds in a series of interludes details the succubus Livia’s exploits as she is tasked with carrying out a mission related to Joan of Arc, then later the relic associated with her remains. All these pieces come together to give the novel a wider scope, revealing the events that helped set the stage for the beast itself and the forces driving the violence in Gévaudan.

Despite the shifting timelines, the story is easy enough to follow, though certain sections are more interesting than others. But even with its complex structure, the mystery is engaging, becoming more solid as each perspective adds more context little by little. Sullivan does a good job of dropping just enough information in each chapter to keep the reader satisfied and feeling like the developments are earned rather than rushed. However, I did occasionally find the interruptions from Livia’s interlude chapters distracting, since more than once they pulled the reader’s attention away just as the main storyline was reaching its most important moments. And speaking of distractions, this might also be a good time to mention the footnotes, which The Red Winter uses quite liberally. The book really leans into this stylistic quirk, so how much you enjoy them will probably depend on what kind of reader you are.

The book also undoubtedly falls into the horror genre and gets pretty gory and intense when it comes to the beast side of things, especially its attacks. That said, the author balances the brutality and carnage with plenty of humor, especially through the narration and those aforementioned footnotes. Sebastian is a fantastic character to spend time with, and as you might expect after centuries of life, he’s amassed a vast amount of knowledge and has at least one cynical observation to offer on just about everything. He and his demon Sarmodel provide lots of lighthearted back-and-forth, adding a much-needed layer of levity to what could otherwise be a very grim and heavy story.

For a debut, The Red Winter is genuinely impressive. Sure, there are a few pacing issues to smooth out, along with some timing hiccups and moments where the character development could have gone a bit deeper. Still, these are relatively minor in the grand scheme of things, and the book remains highly readable. Sullivan clearly knows the kind of story he wants to tell, and his confident storytelling reflects that. The blending of history, occult magic, and a touch of werewolf lore results in a very distinct vibe, and it’s this creativity and overall polish that give it an edge, helping the novel stand out from your typical werewolf tale.

If you enjoy stories that mix real historical events with speculative elements like horror and the supernatural, then The Red Winter will likely be right up your alley. It’s an entertaining read packed with atmosphere, combining bloody horror with a streak of irreverent humor that helps it feel fresh even in a genre that’s already pretty crowded.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

House of Splinters by Laura Purcell

Mogsy’s Rating: 4 of 5 stars

Genre: Horror, Historical Fiction

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Blackstone Publishing (February 10, 2026)

Length: 346 pages

Author Information: Website | Twitter

My queen of gothic horror is at it again! Laura Purcell returns to the haunting concept she first introduced in The Silent Companions, bringing back those creepy wooden figures in House of Splinters. As a long-time fan of the author, stepping back into that eeriness and uncanny atmosphere felt like coming home, though as it turns out, home might not be the best choice of word.

The story follows Belinda Bainbridge, who has spent most of her life under the thumb of her anxious, overbearing mother. So when her father-in-law dies, prompting her husband Wilfred to relocate his family to take over management of his ancestral estate, Belinda quietly hopes the change will give her the chance to build a life of her own. With her young son Freddie approaching his breeching and another child on the way, the move feels like a turning point. However, the one tie from her past that she insists on bringing with her is her lady’s maid, a steady source of familiarity and reassurance as she prepares to leave her old life behind.

But when they arrive at the estate, known as the Bridge, Belinda quickly realizes it is nothing like the future she imagined. The place had never seemed particularly cheerful during her earlier visits, but now it’s practically falling apart. The house is in disrepair, the gardens neglected and lifeless. The villagers, long under the Bainbridges’ care, are resentful and wary of the family, whispering that they are cursed. Indeed, the Bridge has had its share of dark history, including an ancestor rumored to have been executed as a witch, the mysterious death of Wilfred’s sister when they were children, and the accidental death of a servant. Then there are the wooden figures known as silent companions, flat wooden cutouts once popular as household decorations during the Dutch Golden Age. Those that once belonged to Wilfred’s mother are found locked away in a room Belinda hopes to turn into a nursery, but once they are uncovered, strange things begin to happen. Freddie becomes oddly fascinated with them, talking to them and treating them like real people. And with the birth of her second child drawing closer, Belinda begins to fear that something is deeply wrong with the house and that something is haunting her family.

Considering The Silent Companions was the novel that first made me fall in love with the author’s work, one of the most exciting aspects of House of Splinters is how it reconnects with the world of the earlier book. While this novel tells a completely new story with completely new characters, Purcell cleverly revisits some familiar ground by returning to the Bainbridge family and the Bridge. Fans will recognize certain elements echoed in this one, like a pregnant protagonist, the rundown estate, the unwelcoming villagers, and of course, the stars of this horror show which are the silent wooden figures themselves. At the same time, this isn’t a rehash of the original plot with just a few things tweaked. Rather, it feels more like another chapter in the wider legacy of the unfortunate Bainbridges, exploring how multiple generations continue to become haunted by the house and the companions.

One of the things Purcell always does so well is atmosphere, and House of Splinters certainly delivers on that front. The Bridge is practically a character in its own right, and it serves as the perfect gothic setting with its isolation and decaying front, full of secrets that quite literally refuse to stay buried. You never know what might emerge from its overgrown grounds or from the shadows within the house, because the entire place carries an air of unease and the sense that something isn’t right. I’ve also always felt the companions concept had far more potential to explore, and they are again put to excellent use.

Beyond the paranormal elements, the novel also heartily embraces all the classic gothic themes. We have Belinda, a particularly sympathetic protagonist who wants so badly for her new life in her new home to work out, but feels increasingly trapped by the family secrets, societal pressures, and the guilt brought on by unrealistic expectations. And whenever children are involved, the horror becomes even more disturbing. Let’s just say there’s a reason why the “creepy child” trope has become so embedded in the genre, and Purcell taps into it big time here through Freddie’s increasingly strange behavior. The idea that something evil could be influencing a child or threatening a baby makes the implications especially chilling and difficult to shake.

If there’s any downside, it’s that the story takes some time to get going. But then again, it’s a gothic novel. Slow-building tension is par for the course. But once those threads start coming together, particularly with the arrival of Wilfred’s estranged brother Nathan, and the opening of the floodgates with regard to the Bainbridge secrets, things start gaining serious momentum. Is there something supernatural at work at the Bridge? Or is superstition and paranoia getting the better of our characters’ perceptions?

In the end, this ws another strong addition to Laura Purcell’s growing catalogue of spectacular gothic horror. If you enjoy slow-burning tales filled with atmosphere and uneasy mysteries, do yourself a favor and pick one up now. Dark and unsettling, House of Splinters is full of the creeping sense of dread that she does so well, and fans of her work will find plenty to enjoy here, along with the return of the eerie silent companions.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Her Last Breath by Taylor Adams

Mogsy’s Rating: 5 of 5 stars

Genre: Thriller

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: William Morrow (February 17, 2026)

Length: 323 pages

Author Information: Website | Twitter

I now find myself frantically looking up every single book by Taylor Adams because I genuinely can’t believe I have never read him before now. Her Last Breath was my first, but it will absolutely not be my last. It’s been a while since a thriller gripped me like this; I finished this book so exhilarated I could barely catch my breath.

The story centers on two women, Tess and Allie, whose lives have been intertwined since childhood despite very different beginnings. Tess grew up in an abusive home, and it was Allie’s family who took her in and gave her the stability she desperately needed. From there, they became lifelong friends, though as adults, their paths diverged. Allie’s bold, outgoing personality led her to a career as a successful travel influencer, while Tess, who is more cautious and anxious, stayed closer to home, helping manage Allie’s accounts as a way to pay her way through law school. But after returning from a long period of jet-setting around the globe, Allie suggests a caving trip as a chance for them to reconnect, and Tess reluctantly agrees.

Things get off to a bad start when they arrive and find a strange man lingering near the cave entrance, asking unsettling questions. Then, the encounter quickly spirals into something far more dangerous. As it turns out, the man wasn’t just there by random. He has a purpose, and he’s determined that neither women will leave the cave alive. The real question is why they were targeted in the first place.

The book opens with Tess in a hospital bed, referred to as “the survivor” by the detective interviewing her. The story next alternates between this present-day interrogation and Tess’s detailed account of the women’s harrowing ordeal that occurred underground. It’s a structure that works beautifully, with information carefully revealed and sometimes deliberately withheld. I won’t say much more than this, because Her Last Breath is one of those books that’s best experienced without knowing too much. Just trust that there are plenty of surprises waiting.

The pacing is tight, and once things start moving, they do not slow down. Even the quieter, “safer” interview scenes carry tension because you can feel that something bigger is lurking beneath the surface. There’s a mystery here that won’t be revealed until it’s good and ready, and looking back, I realized all the perspective changes were planned deliberately for maximum effect. The author knew exactly what he was doing, when to give and when to hold back, when to drop a detail that makes the reader rethink everything they just read.

The cave scenes also shredded my nerves. If you’re claustrophobic, or heck, even if you’re not, I would strongly recommend asking yourself if you really want to tackle this book. The writing was so immersive, I actually felt physically uncomfortable reading it. The descriptions of the cramped tunnels, the suffocating darkness, and the cold hard rock pressing in on you from every direction are no joke. The sense of being trapped, of not being able to stand up straight or turn around or even expand your lungs to take a full breath, is so vivid that it’s hard not to feel it yourself.

I also really appreciated the character dynamics. Tess and Allie’s friendship is layered and complex, shaped by years of history but also the differences in their personalities. When met with a challenge or danger, they have different ideas on how to confront it. These emotional currents make the experience feel more personal and lead to uncertainty when questions arise. If you read a lot of thrillers, you might spot a few of the tricks Adams has up his sleeve, but honestly, even though I did catch onto some things, it didn’t lessen the fun I had with this book at all. The suspense, the atmosphere, and the execution were solid and carried the story, not to mention there were still plenty of twists that floored me.

By the end, I was in disbelief at how brilliantly everything came together. Her Last Break is tense and claustrophobic, but also incredibly entertaining. It’s the kind of book that reminds me why I love thrillers and why I will never agree to go caving in a million years. Plus, now I have a new must-read author in Taylor Adams, and I’m very happy about that.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Agnes Aubert’s Mystical Cat Shelter by Heather Fawcett

Mogsy’s Rating: 4 of 5 stars

Genre: Fantasy

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Del Rey (February 17, 2026)

Length: 368 pages

Author Information: Website

With a title like that, it’s almost as if Heather Fawcett’s Agnes Aubert’s Mystical Cat Shelter was written to be the ultimate crowd pleaser. It’s honestly difficult to imagine anyone not being charmed by this one, at least a little. It’s got all the ingredients of a successful cozy fantasy, including a magical 1920s Montreal setting, a soft and slow-burning romance between a tenderhearted widow and a misunderstood wizard, and of course, at the center of it all, a house full of judgy cats.

The novel follows Agnes Aubert, a woman struggling to keep her small cat rescue afloat. The past few years have not been kind to her. After her husband’s sudden death, she was left to manage the shelter on her own, aided only by her sister and the occasional volunteer. They are constantly stretched thin, with too many cats in need of homes and never enough funds to cover the basic necessities plus veterinary care. And as if that wasn’t enough, Agnes is now faced with the near-impossible task of finding a new location after their previous building was destroyed by a couple of careless wizards having an impromptu duel in the streets. With winter closing in, if she cannot secure a new space, her animals will freeze. Yet what landlord in their right mind would agree to rent to a woman with dozens of stray cats which many still dismiss as little better than vermin?

Out of options, Agnes decides to take a chance on a suspiciously affordable property with a dubious reputation. While she has her misgivings, desperation leaves little room for pride. However, it doesn’t take long to discover why the rent is so cheap. Hidden in the basement is a secret magicians’ den run by the notorious wizard Havelock Renard, a man rumored to have once nearly brought about the end of the world. Agnes, however, has little interest in him or his legend. As long as she has a safe haven for her cats, she’s willing to put up with nearly anything. But when a rival from Havelock’s past resurfaces looking to settle an old score, the resulting conflict spills into Agnes’s carefully managed world. No longer able to ignore the magical chaos, she finds herself reluctantly drawn into a battle she never wanted to fight.

What follows next strikes a careful balance between the everyday realities of running a shelter and the steadily escalating trouble brewing downstairs, both literally and figuratively. Fawcett never loses sight of the practical details that shape Agnes’s life, like the routine of taking in strays, juggling adoption inquiries, as well as scraping together enough money for food, medicine, and bills. I was happy to see that the cats weren’t just thrown in to be cutesy. They’re essential to the story, each possessing their own quirks and, um, very strong opinions. Their presence keeps both our characters and the plot grounded, so that even when everything else blows up, they are a constant reminder of what’s important in Agnes’s life.

Speaking of which, characters are where this book really shines. Agnes’s world revolves around the cats, and she’s completely unapologetic about it. At the same time, there is a thread of grief running beneath her practicality and stubbornness. She’s also sensitive and deeply empathetic, with most of her quirks being coping mechanisms that prevent her emotions, which are always hovering near the surface, from breaking through. This is in stark contrast to Havelock, who despite his ominous reputation is socially awkward and comes across a little scatter brained. One gets the sense he’s not a fan of his bad rap but tolerates it by convincing himself he’d rather be feared and left alone. Watching them struggle to co-exist in this shared space is half the fun, especially when it turns out Havelock is allergic to cats! It’s a relationship that develops slowly, through small acts of kindness. In a way, these feel more meaningful and swoony than grand gestures ever will.

All that adds up to a cozy, relaxing read. The magic itself is handled with a light touch but definitely present and applied in some fun and creative ways, especially with the cats! I liked how Fawcett wrote these elements into the very fabric of the story without overwhelming it, but at the same time it’s more substantial than window dressing. The setting also plays its part, even though it’s clear that historical detail is not a priority. Still,  the environment lends the book an old-world kind of charm through its descriptions and the culture of its close-knit French-Canadian neighborhoods.

In the end, Agnes Aubert’s Mystical Cat Shelter works because it knows exactly what kind of story it wants to be: a simple yet effective cozy fantasy, wistful and quirky in places to draw you in, but ultimately warm and comforting where it counts. It’s the kind of easy, low-stakes novel you want to curl up with after a long day, and even if you aren’t a cat person, it will warm your heart.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Operation Bounce House by Matt Dinniman

Mogsy’s Rating: 4 of 5 stars

Genre: Science Fiction

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Ace (February 10, 2026)

Length: 448 pages

Author Information: Website

Like many others, I came to Operation Bounce House as a fan of Dungeon Crawler Carl. Let’s face it, at this point I’m pretty much going to read anything Matt Dinniman writes, and what better way to enjoy more of his work while waiting for A Parade of Horribles? I’m also in need of a fun diversion, and honestly, this feels like one for the author too.

First, this isn’t LitRPG, and I’m glad. A one-off standalone like Operation Bounce House deserves the space to be its own thing. The story is set on New Sonora, a colony planet largely populated by farming families who have built stable, self-sustaining communities after generations of surviving without support from Earth. Our protagonist Oliver Lewis is a young colonist who lives on a ranch with his sister, maintaining his land with the help of their agricultural bots and an AI system named Roger. Life hasn’t been easy for them, but they’ve learned to make do. While the colony still bears the scars of past disasters, including the wreckage of crashed ships and the lingering grief of a devastating plague, it’s their home and they are fiercely proud of the life they have managed to build.

But everything changes when contact with Earth suddenly and fully reopens with instant communication and travel through a transfer gate that was long thought dormant. The reason for this unexpected drop-in? Repossession of the entire planet. And as if that wasn’t brazen enough, Earth’s government has contracted a powerful corporation to carry out the “eviction action,” and rather than deploying more traditional tactics, they’ve decided to turn the process into a commercial opportunity—a game. Bored, wealthy Earthers have been offered a chance to participate in Operation Bounce House, shelling out big bucks to design the own war mechs and remotely pilot them from their own homes as they carry their assault on the people of New Sonora. Faced with an enemy that treats invasion like entertainment and ignores the usual rules of war, Oliver and his fellow colonists must fight to survive, forcing them to think creatively and adapt in ways they never imagined.

This one’s for all you fans of a good underdog fight. Operation Bounce House literally pits a group of farmers against a mecha army controlled by what amounts to Twitch streamers. Hardly fair, you might think, but then Oliver and his friends aren’t as helpless as they look. They’ve got a few tricks up their sleeves, along with Roger, who is hands down the best part of the book and an AI you definitely wouldn’t want to cross. If you loved the chaotic energy of the AI in Dungeon Crawler Carl, you’ll recognize a similar sass here, though Roger is very much his own entity and apparently an expert in psychological warfare who doesn’t believe there’s any such thing as going too far. He’s like that crazy scary friend you’re glad is on your side.

But despite the AI stealing the show, this is also a very human story, full of camaraderie, shared love and loss. The characters are easy to root for, and as their personal stories are gradually revealed over time, Oliver and his inner circle grow more and more relatable. They are young, many of them are still uncertain about their futures. They’re also frequently reckless, another symptom of youth, yet trying their best to hold it together even as the world implodes around them. The plot occasionally eases up on its frenetic pace to spend time on these relationships, from messy romances to sibling dynamics, and of course, these are the moments that bring warmth to a story that might otherwise feel like all action and no heart.

Thing is, though, there is plenty of faction. And it is fast and brutal. The costs of the conflict are high, and Dinniman isn’t holding back. When terrible things happen, you are going to feel it, as in there’s not much room for emotional distance. Yet at the same time, there are flashes of humor that come through here and there, often just at the right moment to offer a bit of respite against the darkness. Even so, it is fair to say this is a more somber and hard-hitting book than many of Dinniman’s readers might expect.

Still, the author’s personal interests are clearly woven throughout this novel, like the gamer logic behind the invasion, the tactical planning before and during battles, and the band rehearsals that thread through Oliver’s life. It reads like a passion project, something Dinniman genuinely wanted to explore, and that enthusiasm comes through in the heightened emotions and sharper, more pointed humor.

In the end, Operation Bounce House felt like a satisfying detour. It is darker and in a way more grounded in what I feel is more traditional science fiction, but still unmistakably Matt Dinniman in that it delivers a fantastic genre read that doesn’t feel like the same old stuff.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Nightshade & Oak by Molly O’Neill

Mogsy’s Rating: 3 of 5 stars

Genre: Fantasy

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Orbit (February 3, 2026)

Length: 304 pages

Author Information: Website

Going into Nightshade & Oak, I was genuinely excited. I really enjoyed Greenteeth, and one of the things Molly O’Neill does so well is blend mythology and folklore into something that feels more personal and grounded instead of grand but distant. That said, it’s hard not to compare the books. This one had similar foundations when it comes to setting and themes, and on paper it should have worked just as well. In the end, though, I still liked it, just not nearly as much.

The story opens on a battlefield in ancient Britain, following a brutal clash between the Iceni tribe and the Roman army. Mallt Y Nos, goddess of death, walks calmly through the carnage as she has always done, guiding the souls of the fallen to the afterlife. As she stops to tend to the body of a woman, however, she senses something wrong. Unbeknownst to her, the woman’s sister had been nearby, attempting a desperate spell to save her gravely wounded sibling. Instead, the magic backfires, catching Mallt in its effects and turning her mortal. Furious at the loss of her divinity, Mallt now must contend with all the physical weaknesses of having a human body, leaving her no choice but to bargain with the woman responsible if she hopes to reclaim her powers.

That woman turns out to be Belis, the magically gifted warrior daughter of Queen Boudicca. In trying to help her sister Cati’s soul, which is lingering in an in-between state, Belis has unwittingly bound her fate to a goddess, albeit a now diminished one. Still, Belis knows Mallt holds the key to reaching Annwn, the Otherworld, and will need a guide to survive and navigate her new mortal reality. If they can endure each other long enough to reach the realm of the dead, Belis may yet have another chance to save Cati. Reluctantly, the two women form a tenuous alliance, their goals aligned for now. But as they journey across the war-torn landscape, their quest grows ever more complicated and dangerous, especially with Roman forces on their tail, determined to hunt down the last surviving daughter of Boudicca and crush the rebellion for good.

Like Greenteeth, this novel is heavily inspired by folklore but it also weaves in historical events and figures anchored in real history. The author’s affinity for the mythology behind Mallt Y Nos is obvious here, and I liked her take on goddess’s story. At the same time, I couldn’t help feeling that the historical framework boxed the story in a bit. In a way, Boudicca’s fate, and by extension her daughters’, is a weight that hangs over everything.

Tonally, Nightshade & Oak is also a lot darker. There is war and reminders of it everywhere, creating an undercurrent of inevitability running through the story. That itself is not a flaw, of course, but I did miss the slightly offbeat charm and warmth that made the plot and characters of Greenteeth so endearing. Sure, Mallt’s adjustment to mortality has its moments, especially in the beginning, but overall, she and Belis didn’t quite win me over the same way. Even as their relationship deepened into something more towards the end, there was still that disconnect, largely because I never felt fully invested in it to begin with.

To O’Neill’s credit though, the plot here is much more ambitious, not simply a “go here, fetch this/fix that, rinse and repeat as necessary, then go home” structure. The stakes begin remarkably high and they keep expanding as the story builds. While Mallt and Belis are indeed set on a quest, it’s one that grows ever more complex than it first appears. And I admired that. That said, parts of the middle dragged, and I found it more difficult to stay engaged during those sections. The added layers made it richer, but also occasionally slower and more uneven.

In the end, Nightshade & Oak is a solid read and there’s a lot to love here with its themes of myth and history, gods made human, and love shaped by war. And yet, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, perhaps that extra spark or emotional pull to truly bring it to life. Even so, I’ll absolutely keep reading whatever Molly O’Neill writes next, the promise of creative ideas blending history and fantasy always drawing me back.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

A Box Full of Darkness by Simone St. James

Mogsy’s Rating (Overall): 4.5 of 5 stars

Genre: Mystery, Horror

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Penguin Audio (January 20, 2026)

Length: 10 hrs and 17 mins

Author Information: Website

Narrators: Anna Caputo, Saskia Maarleveld, Ari Fliakos

Simone St. James is one of those authors whose work I’ll happily read without needing to know much going in because I’m just so confident that she’ll deliver. Which is why I went into A Box Full of Darkness almost completely blind, preferring to be surprised. As such, it’s safe to say I had high expectations, but this book still managed to blow me away. From the start, the very moment I realized we would be heading back to Fell, New York, I just knew this was going to be something special.

If you’ve read the author’s The Sun Down Motel, the setting is going to feel familiar. While it’s not a perquisite, returning readers will catch the subtle references and understand the layers of uneasiness that seem to permeate the small town. A Box Full of Darkness is a new story, centering on Violet, Vail, and Dodie Esmie, three siblings who reunite at their childhood home in Fell after being summoned by what they believe is the specter of their younger brother Ben, who disappeared years ago when he was only six years old. “Come home,” was what the message had said. The siblings had never been able to deny their beloved Ben anything when he was still with them, and they can’t now either.

Violet, the oldest, has always seen ghosts, and she has no doubt in the significance of those two simple words. Vail, the middle child, has been making a living as a UFO investigator, drawn to the otherworldly and unexplained in order to fill the void left by Ben’s mysterious disappearance. And then there’s Dodie, a hand and hair model whose unresolved grief from losing her little brother has left her unable to form healthy emotional relationships. Of course, everything changes now that it appears Ben is back, even if it’s not in the way they’d hoped. But is the message really from him? Or might it be something far more sinister?

That hook alone is hard to resist, containing echoes of a haunted house story but also with strong emphasis on family relationships and shared trauma. Each sibling carries the loss of Ben differently, with the bulk of the first half delving into how the boy’s disappearance has defined their lives in separate ways. To be clear, if you’re looking for a horror novel that dives straight into the thrills and chills, this isn’t that kind of book. It’s slower, more deliberate, and very much character driven. That’s what ultimately gives this story its weight.

It’s also why the multiple perspectives work so well here. Alternating POVs between the siblings reinforces the tensions embedded in their shared history, and St. James gives each of them a distinct voice, their individual personalities coming through loud and clear in the audiobook. Dodie’s narration is flippant and performative, projecting a confidence that masks her fragility. Vail carries a heavy burden of guilt, convinced that if he had acted differently, the outcome might have changed. And then there’s Violet, whose ability to see ghosts has shaped her life in the most heartbreaking ways, forcing her to hide a part of herself, leading to a breakdown, a divorce, and a strained relationship with her daughter. At times, we experience the same memory or event in slightly different ways, depending on how it is remembered.

The horror itself is classic St. James. This is a paranormal story, but doesn’t play out like a conventional haunting, even if it does contain a few familiar elements. The mystery surrounding Ben unfolds in ways that feel unexpected, and I liked that it avoids the most predictable ideas. The style here is subtle, eerie, and atmosphere-heavy, perfect for creating a sense of dread by accumulation, where every odd sighting or fragment of local lore adds to the town’s mystique. Fell becomes much like Stephen King’s Derry or Hawkins in Stranger Things, a place that feels complicit in the horror.

In the end, A Box Full of Darkness is definitely one of Simone St. James’ stronger novels, and it made for an absolutely brilliant listen in audio format. It’s a paranormal horror that hits all the right notes, with family drama and a payoff that is absolutely worth it. If we get more books set in Fell, I’m all for it. Already looking forward to what she writes next.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Strange Animals by Jarod K. Anderson

Mogsy’s Rating: 4 of 5 stars

Genre: Fantasy

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Ballantine Books (February 10, 2026)

Length: 320 pages

Author Information: Website | Twitter

In all honesty, Jarod K. Anderson’s Strange Animals is not typically the kind of book I would stick with, which is why it surprised me as much as it did. The novel is a strange kind of beast itself, but now I use that term affectionately. As weird and metaphysical and quirkily magical as it is, it somehow managed to overcome my usual struggle with these types of stories.

The novel follows an ordinary guy named Green, whose life suddenly goes completely sideways after a near-death experience involving a bus that most definitely ran him over. But then it also kind of didn’t. Like, what? At the moment of impact, time experienced something like a reset, and Green finds himself alive and well, like his fatal encounter never happened. From then on, he feels pulled towards the Appalachian wilderness, eventually ending up alone at a remote campground with a mysterious little acorn appearing in his pocket and tucked away like a good luck charm.

Not long after arriving, Green also realizes the woods around him are hiding more than he thought possible. He starts seeing things like creatures that shouldn’t exist, such as giant death moths, a fawn that looks like its made of brittle glass, and of course, the terrifying horned wolf that seems intent on stalking him. Fortunately for our discombobulated protagonist, that’s when a fellow camper steps in, an ancient looking woman named Valetina who is clearly more than she seems. She informs Green that his ability to see impossible creatures makes him something called a cryptonaturalist, just like her. She then agrees to take him under her wing, teaching him how to observe and understand the strange new world around him, just as a very real threat begins to emerge from the mountains.

Not gonna lie, the beginning of Strange Animals nearly lost me. To say the intro to this one is completely bizarro is an understatement. Green’s accident and subsequent inexplicable survival read like a fever dream, I had no idea what was going on, and I wasn’t even confident there would be much of a story here. The abstractness made me come close to calling it quits, and if it hadn’t been for Anderson’s easy, welcoming writing style, I very likely would have. Even when things got weird (and trust me, they did), the prose and Green’s personable voice was what kept things grounded and approachable, so I stuck with it. And I’m glad I did. Once the pieces started coming together, it became much easier to settle in, and yes, a coherent plot did eventually materialize.

What really worked for me were the themes. At its heart, Strange Animals is about humankind’s connection to nature and the idea that there’s more to the world than we notice in our day-to-day lives. As we have the ability to adapt the environment to ourselves and not the other way around, we also have the responsibility to act as its guardians. The cryptids in this book aren’t spectacles or monsters to be hunted down; they’re just like the more mundane and earthly animals around them that need conservation and the basic needs to survive. The best part is that none of these messages come across all that heavy-handed since they are universally relatable or simply common sense.

Of course, the characters also helped to sell it. Green is a likeable protagonist, and even as part of the supporting cast, Valentina easily stood out. The dynamic between them is fun, with the two of them playing their respective roles as the slightly in-over-his-head apprentice and the world-weary mentor. While their conversations frequently turn into philosophical discussions, the light humor keeps things from getting too tedious.

In the end, Strange Animals really caught me off guard. Admittedly, it’s a little odd and difficult to categorize, but somehow the novel made its little eccentricities work in its favor. Crazy to think how close I came to abandoning it, but I’m glad I didn’t. For some, it might take a bit of patience to get into, especially if you’re like me and not into the abstract or weird fiction. But stick with it, and you might also be surprised.

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Sibylline by Melissa de la Cruz

Mogsy’s Rating: 2.5 of 5 stars

Genre: Fantasy, Romance

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: G.P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Young Readers (February 3, 2026)

Length: 304 pages

Author Information: Website | Twitter

I find myself a little torn on my feelings for Sibylline by Melissa de la Cruz. I would say check it out if you’re a sucker for dark academia fantasy, but also be aware of the other major themes in the story. It doesn’t always seem to know what it wants to be, and in the end, that indecision is what dampens what could have been a much better read.

The story follows Atticus, Dorian, and Raven, three childhood friends with magical abilities who have always dreamed of attending the Sibylline school of magic together. However, when all three are sent rejection letters, they refuse to accept this as the end of the line and come up with a way to get inside the university anyway. After all, if they can’t enter as students, what’s stopping them from doing it as employees instead? After securing jobs as a professor assistant, a lab aide, and a library worker, the three begin sneaking into lectures, secretly auditing classes, and stealing access to restricted books. By slowly piecing together a magical education through unofficial means, they hope to better understand their own powers, which seem to grow stronger the longer they spend time on campus.

But their underground efforts soon uncover something rotten at the heart of Sibylline. Ancient magic stirring beneath its grand halls and rumors of a student’s mysterious death hint at a threat that may be tied to the very foundation of the school. As the trio are drawn deeper into their investigation, long-standing feelings and unspoken attractions between them also begin to surface, causing no small amount of friction within their relationship. Caught between keeping their heads down and confronting a danger they barely understand, Raven, Atticus, and Dorian must decide how far they’re willing to go for magic, even if it might tear their friendship apart.

While the premise holds a lot of potential with a setup that is undeniably fun, the execution doesn’t quite hold together. Just when the plot feels like it’s settling into a dark magic school mystery with just a sprinkling of romantic tension, it takes a sharp turn toward emotional angst to become a full-blown relationship drama—and one that is messy and distracting as hell at that. Of course, this was before I realized, at its core, Sibylline is actually a throuple romance. The sexual tensions burning between our three protagonists aren’t part of a supplementary side story running alongside the main narrative as I’d initially thought, but they are in fact THE main focus.

As you can imagine, the dark academia aspects and even the central mystery surrounding the school itself often take a backseat to entire chapters spent belaboring who is in love with whom. For those keeping track, Raven has been quietly pining for Atticus since they were children, but Atticus is in fact secretly love with Dorian, while for years Dorian has been carrying a torch for Raven. The tragedy is that all three are deeply invested in the wrong person, with none of their feelings fully returned. Cue the jealousies, hurt feelings, and overall an exhausting amount of mental turmoil born of unrequited love.

The result is that the mystery and horror elements get pushed out just as they’re starting to become interesting. This lack of balance is especially noticeable when the characters’ actual investigation is frequently interrupted by long stretches focused on their emotional spiraling, bringing the pace to a crawl. The shift feels even more jarring if you went into this novel expecting a very different kind of story, or even one aimed at a different age group. It’s interesting to note that Sibylline is published under a YA imprint, but it feels like it should be categorized as New Adult, given its mature themes and a sexually explicit threesome scene near the end that makes it less appropriate for younger teen readers.

In the end, Sibylline feels like a book full of good ideas that never quite come together. To be fair though, I wasn’t at all prepared for the primary focus of the story to be an overwrought and emotionally complicated three-way romance, but readers who are into that kind of dynamic will likely get way more out of this one than I did.