A Book A Week

From an early age, we’re taught to fear the dark. Sure, most of us outgrow it, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t flick on my phone’s flashlight when navigating the darkened halls of my home—just in case. There’s a thrilling uncertainty in the night, where the darkness toys with our better judgment, daring us to see monsters in what daylight would reveal as perfectly ordinary. In her latest novel, Something in the Walls, Daisy Pearce preys on this universal fear, crafting a chilling tale of childhood nightmares, witchcraft, and the things that go bump in the night. 

Fresh out of school and with a wedding on the horizon, Mina is eager to take the next step in her life. With a degree in child psychology, she’s ready to put her studies to use, but with little hands-on experience, finding a job proves more complicated than she expected. After all, who would entrust their troubled child to a complete newcomer? Stuck in limbo, waiting for her career to take off and her marriage to Oscar to begin, Mina finds her only real outlet in attending a local bereavement group, where she continues to grieve the loss of her brother years after his passing.

It’s at one of these meetings that Mina meets journalist Sam, who offers her an unexpected opportunity. He’s chasing a story about thirteen-year-old Alice Webber, a girl who claims to be haunted by a witch. And she has the chilling stories and disturbing evidence to back it up. Her family is desperate for answers but lacks the means to hire a top expert. They can, however, afford Mina.

For Mina, the job is a chance to gain crucial experience. For Sam, it’s an opportunity to document a bizarre and unsettling case firsthand. But as Mina immerses herself in Alice’s world, she quickly realizes she may be in over her head. The girl’s symptoms are growing more disturbing by the day, and the deeper Mina digs, the more she begins to question whether Alice’s affliction is psychological...or something far more sinister.

I was instantly drawn into the eerie atmosphere of Something in the Walls. In the novel's opening, Pearce wisely employs a less-is-more approach, allowing the mere possibility of something sinister lurking beneath the surface to drive much of the suspense. I received an audiobook copy from the publisher, and Ana Clements’ narration hit all the right notes for this unsettling story.

The setup had all the makings of a classic horror tale: a small town with a dark history, a family struggling to find a logical explanation for their child’s strange behavior, and breadcrumb clues hinting at the true terror lurking beneath the surface (or, in this case, behind the walls). But as I ventured deeper into the novel, I found the horror’s impact diminishing. It’s a classic case of my imagination conjuring far more unsettling possibilities than what the story ultimately delivered.

Lulls in pacing and a glaring unresolved plot point further dampened the novel’s effectiveness. Yes, there’s plenty of creepiness to be found, and I seem to be in the minority of readers on this one. Still, Something in the Walls left me more intrigued by the possibility of discovering something lurking in the shadows than by what it actually revealed in the end.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 16)

These days, keeping up with the most talked-about shows often means subscribing to multiple streaming services. While I don’t love paying for each one, I do appreciate the vast selection of content they provide. With the constant demand for new material, many streamers turn to the literary world for inspiration, adapting popular novels into hit series. That’s precisely the case with my latest read, Wool by Hugh Howey, which was adapted into the Apple TV+ show Silo. I had no idea it was based on a book until I finished the first episode, so I decided to pause the show and read the novel first to avoid spoilers.

For the last survivors of humanity, the silo is the only world they’ve ever known. Deep underground, they live by strict rules designed to keep them safe. These rules cannot be questioned. Breaking them means exile. Exile means death. Generation after generation has accepted this reality, never daring to ask what lies beyond.

Sheriff Holston has spent his life enforcing these laws, ensuring order within the silo. But something shifts inside him, and without warning, he makes the unthinkable decision to leave. He steps outside into the toxic wasteland to face a certain death.

Juliette Nichols, a no-nonsense engineer from the lower levels, has never sought power or influence. She’s content working in the depths of the silo, far from politics and secrets. But when Holston’s departure leaves a void, Juliette is unexpectedly chosen to take his place. With her new role comes access to hidden truths, fragments of a past that don’t add up, and whispers of a reality the silo’s leaders don’t want to be exposed. The more she uncovers, the more dangerous her position becomes. Because in the silo, knowledge is a threat, and those who ask too many questions don’t live long enough to hear the answers.

In Wool, Hugh Howey crafts a dystopian world brimming with secrets waiting to be uncovered. While the novel features extensive world-building, it remains grounded in the deeply personal, familial bonds, political struggles, and emotional stakes that make this society feel authentic. Howey masterfully scatters breadcrumbs of mystery throughout the story, creating a steady momentum that kept me eagerly turning the pages, wondering what would unfold next.

Wool successfully introduces the larger mythology of its world as the first book in a trilogy while still delivering a satisfying standalone experience. This isn’t a genre I typically gravitate toward, but Howey’s storytelling has convinced me to explore it further. I’m looking forward to continuing the series and returning to the TV adaptation.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.

(2025, 15)

As a mother, you’ll do anything to protect your child. Even as an adult, I know my mom is only a phone call away if I need her. It’s a sacred bond, an unshakable connection we instinctively trust. We’re conditioned to see the mother-child relationship as one of love and protection, especially when a child is sick. But what happens when the mother is the reason the child is sick?

In The Mother Next Door, authors Andrea Dunlop and Mike Webber delve into the disturbing reality of Munchausen by proxy (MBP), exposing its devastating impact on families and the extraordinary lengths required to bring justice. Through their gripping investigations, they shed light on a crime that thrives in secrecy, challenging our perceptions of maternal devotion and the systems meant to safeguard children.

Dunlop and Webber bring deeply personal and professional perspectives to The Mother Next Door. Dunlop’s own family was shattered by MBP, leaving lasting wounds that continue to haunt her. At the same time, Webber has dedicated his career to investigating medical child abuse, handling more cases than any other detective in the nation. Together, they unravel the harrowing experiences of three families impacted by MBP, weaving firsthand accounts from loved ones, medical professionals, and government officials. Their reporting exposes the shocking depths of these crimes and the nearly insurmountable challenges of seeking justice for the children caught in the web of deception.

I went into The Mother Next Door with little understanding of MBP and was completely unprepared for just how shocking and devastating its impact can be. It’s almost impossible to fathom what would drive someone to deliberately harm a person they claim to love—let alone their own child.

After much encouragement from friends, family, and coworkers late last year, I finally gave in to peer pressure. I stepped outside my literary comfort zone to read A Court of Thorns and Roses, the first book in Sarah J. Maas's bestselling series. While I found the fantasy world easy to slip into and appreciated the setup of its central conflict, the romance—intended to be the story’s emotional core—fell flat for me.

"Don't worry," readers assured me. "The second book is so much better!"

Despite my reservations, I borrowed a friend's copy of A Court of Mist and Fury and gave the series another chance.

Feyre has survived the darkest trials of her life, but the scars remain. Her time Under the Mountain—enduring unimaginable horrors to save Tamlin and his people—still haunts her. Though she now walks among the immortal High Fae, the weight of her past lingers, refusing to let her rest.

At least there’s a wedding to look forward to. Tamlin is the love of her life, and Feyre is ready to become his bride and settle into the safety of the Spring Court. But adjusting to this new existence isn't easy—especially when her bargain with Rhysand, the enigmatic and dangerous High Lord of the Night Court, continues to pull her toward a world she doesn’t fully understand.

As Feyre finds herself entangled in a treacherous web of politics, passion, and power, an even greater threat looms on the horizon. She may hold the key to stopping it—but only if she can master her newfound abilities, mend the fractures within herself, and decide the role she’s willing to play in a world on the brink of war.

Nora Roberts was a constant presence in my home growing up, with many of my earliest memories of my mom reading involving one of her paperbacks in hand. Despite being well aware of her work, I had never actually read one of her books myself. Under the pseudonym J.D. Robb, Roberts has been writing the In Death series for decades, and as a fan of murder mysteries, I figured this long-running series would be the perfect place to start. When her publisher offered me a copy of Bonded in Death, the 60th installment, I was excited to finally take the plunge.

Decades ago, Giovanni Rossi belonged to a secretive organization known as The Twelve. The Urban Wars were a time of chaos, but Rossi had long since left that life behind, settling into a peaceful existence in Rome with his wife. Yet, his ties to The Twelve were never truly severed. When an urgent call from an old comrade came, he had no choice but to answer. Rossi landed in New York, stepped into a waiting car—and was dead within minutes.

Lieutenant Eve Dallas is baffled by the case. There’s no clear evidence, no witnesses, and even the most advanced technology turns up nothing. She’s at a dead end until a link to the Urban Wars of the 2020s surfaces, leading her to an unexpected connection—Summerset, a longtime confidant and former wartime medic.

Summerset’s reaction to the crime is immediate and deeply personal. He confesses that he, too, was once part of The Twelve, a past he has spent decades trying to forget. But now, with a killer methodically hunting down its former members, he has no choice but to confront old ghosts. A chilling message makes one thing clear: others have already fallen, and the mission isn’t over yet.

As I began reading Bonded in Death, it quickly became clear that I had some catching up to do if I wanted to fully appreciate J.D. Robb’s long-running In Death series. Set in a futuristic world brimming with advanced technology and urban innovation, the novel offers a setting that modern-day investigators could only dream of. While Robb provides enough surface-level context for new readers to follow along, I couldn’t shake the feeling that having prior knowledge of the characters and their relationships would have deepened my connection to the story. That said, I was immediately drawn into the mystery at the novel’s core. The blend of espionage, suspense, and a seemingly impossible case made for a compelling read that kept the plot moving at a steady pace.

What surprised me most was the humor woven throughout the narrative, bringing moments of levity even amid high-stakes tension. The novel ultimately builds to a satisfying conclusion, even if the resolution isn’t entirely shocking. While jumping in at book 60 may not have been the ideal way to experience this series for the first time, I can see why these characters and this world have captivated readers for decades.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 12)

Meeting the family is nerve-wracking in any new relationship, but it's downright suffocating for Theodora Scott. And why wouldn’t it be? Her fiancé, Connor Dalton, belongs to the notoriously wealthy and secretive Dalton family. Their whirlwind romance has gone from a chance meeting at one of Theo's art shows to an engagement in just six months, and now she’s traveling to Idlewood, the Daltons’ isolated winter retreat, to meet the family for the first time. Theo knows the stakes are high. She's determined to prove she’s in this for love, not their fortune.

But something isn’t right. Theo has received anonymous text messages for weeks warning her to stay away from Connor. Dismissing them as pranks, she steels herself to make a good impression. Yet the moment she steps into Idlewood, Theo can’t shake the uneasy feeling creeping over her. The family’s frosty reception is bad enough, but then there’s the unsettling familiarity of the place. Strange footprints appear outside her window. A disused cabin on the property hides something impossible: a photo of Theo as a child, taken at Idlewood. Theo barely remembers her earliest years, but the splintered memories that emerge point to secrets someone in the Dalton family is desperate to keep hidden. As Theo inches closer to uncovering the truth, she realizes she’s not just an outsider trying to win their approval—she’s a threat. And the Daltons will do anything to protect their legacy, even if it means silencing her forever.

Kate Alice Marshall has built a reputation for crafting atmospheric thrillers that keep readers on edge, and her latest, A Killing Cold, is no exception. After making her mark in YA fiction, Marshall broke into adult thrillers with the exceptional What Lies in the Woods, a gripping mystery that delved into the perils of memory and generational trauma. I thoroughly enjoyed that novel and was thrilled to receive a copy of this newest standalone from the publisher. From the first chapter, Marshall establishes a sense of creeping unease. Theo, our protagonist, feels like she’s wading into waters far deeper than she’s prepared for, and it quickly becomes apparent that she’s harboring secrets of her own. As her fiancé’s family secrets come to light, the narrative twists into a tangled web of deceit, ensuring no character—and no reader—is left entirely sure of the truth.

I alternated between reading and listening to the audiobook, and Karissa Vacker’s narration was, as always, a highlight. Her voice brought a chilling immediacy to Theo’s mounting paranoia and the story’s steadily escalating tension. Marshall expertly keeps the reader slightly off balance, just enough to ensure that when the big reveals come, they land with maximum impact. The pacing is relentless, ramping up as threats grow more urgent, culminating in a genuinely shocking conclusion. With A Killing Cold, Marshall proves once again that she’s a master of the winter thriller, delivering an irresistible blend of atmosphere, suspense, and twists. She’s quickly becoming one of my must-read authors.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 11)

Like many others, my first encounter with Eowyn Ivey’s writing was through her extraordinary debut novel, The Snow Child. With its rich depictions of Alaska’s rugged wilderness—where Ivey herself lives—woven together with magical realism and heartfelt emotional depth, the novel left an indelible mark on me. It even earned a place on the shortlist for the Pulitzer Prize. When Ivey’s publisher offered me a copy of her newest novel, Black Woods, Blue Sky, I jumped at the chance to read it. True to her signature style, it’s a story that defies genre and immerses readers deep into its emotional core. 

Birdie is doing her best to keep things together, even if it looks different from what others might expect. After growing up with an absentee mother who barely acknowledged her or her sister, Birdie never had a blueprint for raising a child. Now, as the sole caregiver for her young daughter, Emaleen, she’s left to figure it out on her own. She bartends all night and indulges in her fair share of reckless partying. These choices might draw judgment from others, but Birdie is doing what she can to provide. It’s messy and imperfect, but it’s all she knows. No one can say she isn't trying.

Still, Birdie is learning that survival takes a village, even in the isolated Alaskan town she calls home. Luckily, Emaleen has a network of unofficial aunts and uncles—locals who step in where they can. When Emaleen wanders into the wilderness one day, it’s not the usual friendly faces who rescue her. Arthur Nielsen, the reclusive, soft-spoken man with a scarred face that keeps most people at arm’s length, unexpectedly brings Emaleen back to safety. While the townsfolk warn Birdie to stay away from him, she’s drawn to his quiet, unburdened existence. For Birdie, Arthur symbolizes a freedom she’s only ever dreamed of, a life without constraints or expectations. Despite her doubts, she forges a connection with the outcast, setting into motion a journey of friendship, love, and self-discovery that will reshape her life in ways she never imagined.

It’s almost impossible to describe Black Woods, Blue Sky without stripping it of the magic that makes it so unique. When I began reading, I wasn’t entirely sure what kind of story I was stepping into. Eowyn Ivey lets the narrative unfold at its own pace, immersing us in relationships and moments that feel as organic as they are captivating. Her vivid, lyrical prose draws you into the world she so carefully constructs, where the stark beauty of the Alaskan wilderness becomes a stage for the vibrant, deeply human characters she brings to life.

As the true essence of the story slowly revealed itself, I found myself completely enchanted. What begins as a quiet tale blossoms into a fable—a meditation on love, nurturing, and the profound connections we forge with ourselves, others, and the world around us. Like the best fairy tales, Black Woods, Blue Sky carries an undercurrent of tragedy. Triumphs are met with tribulations, and light and shadow constantly alternate. Yet, also like the best fairy tales, this one leaves behind a sense of wonder, a moral resonance, and a craving for more.

The novel culminates in a powerful reckoning with memory and grief, an emotional depth that hit me in ways I didn’t anticipate. Ivey’s storytelling is singular. No one else could have written this novel. Black Woods, Blue Sky is a unique triumph, a literary marvel, and a book that will undoubtedly remain one of my favorites of the year.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 10)