A Book A Week

There’s nothing a mother won’t do to protect her child. For single mom Jenna, that means traveling from London to the remote shores of Athelsea in search of her teenage daughter, Chloe. Jenna knows Chloe was struggling after the divorce. If she’s honest, her daughter had been struggling long before that, but the changes of the past few weeks felt different. Chloe seemed withdrawn, almost haunted. When Jenna discovers a ferry ticket to Athelsea, it’s the only lead she has, and she clings to it.

The village itself offers little comfort. As Jenna searches for answers, she’s met with lingering stares and hushed conversations that abruptly stop when she draws near. Everyone seems to know something, but no one is willing to say it outright. Her desperation finally yields a name whispered with unease: the Bone Queen. At first, Jenna dismisses it as nothing more than a local legend, a story meant to frighten outsiders and children alike.

But the fear etched into the villagers’ faces tells a different story. As Jenna learns about the deaths and disappearances that have plagued Athelsea for decades, her certainty begins to erode. The line between folklore and reality grows thinner, paranoia creeping in where logic once held firm. And as her grip on reality starts to slip, Jenna realizes there’s no line she won’t cross to protect her daughter, especially if the Bone Queen is real.

Will Shindler makes his horror debut with a terrifying missing-person story that immediately got under my skin. He blends the procedural pull of an investigation with folkloric legend and richly drawn characters, creating a page-turner that feels grounded even as the uncanny begins to seep in. The Bone Queen is unsettling precisely because it dares readers to question what, if anything, can truly be believed. That lingering sense of possibility worms its way into your thoughts, forcing you to confront horrors that may or may not be real.

Yes, there’s plenty of overt creepiness on the page, but the novel’s real power lies in how quietly it gets under your skin, how your own imagination begins to do some of the work for it. I was glued to every page, unable to stop reading even as the sense of dread steadily intensified. It all builds to an ending that feels satisfying yet unsettling—one that leaves you wondering whether the story is truly over, or if something far more sinister still lies in waiting just out of sight.

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

(2026, 10)

Jennette McCurdy took the literary world by storm with the 2022 release of her memoir I’m Glad My Mom Died. The former child star blended dark humor, a matter-of-fact writing style, and clear-eyed reflection on the traumas of her upbringing to tell her story in a way that captured the attention of both fans and casual readers alike. While I didn’t read the memoir myself, I was certainly aware of the cultural moment it became. So when I was offered a copy of McCurdy’s debut novel, Half His Age, I was curious to see whether that distinctive voice would translate successfully into fiction.

Seventeen-year-old Waldo has always had to fend for herself. Raised by a teenage mother trapped in a cycle of unemployment, addiction, and a revolving door of deadbeat boyfriends, Waldo has learned to survive by keeping her head down and her expectations low. She goes to school, works a dead-end job, and does her best to pass for normal. Money is scarce, her wardrobe is threadbare, and even basic self-care feels like a luxury. But she makes do.

When we first meet her, Waldo is going through the motions of an unfulfilling relationship with her high school boyfriend, more focused on the mechanics of intimacy than any real connection. It’s not satisfying, but it’s familiar. This, for better or worse, is the shape of her life. Waldo doesn’t dream of something more, because she’s never been given reason to believe more is possible.

That begins to change when she meets Mr. Korgy. For the first time, Waldo allows herself to imagine a different future. Korgy is a middle-aged creative writing teacher with a wife, a child, and the lingering disappointment of an abandoned writing career. Teaching was never the dream, but it’s where he landed. Waldo is immediately drawn to him. He’s attentive, candid, and challenges her to be just as honest on the page.

She can’t quite explain the pull, only that he represents everything absent from her world: experience, confidence, intellectual passion. Most of all, he seems to truly see her and to like what he sees. Waldo knows her feelings cross a line, but desire rarely obeys reason. And as her fixation deepens, she begins to suspect that Mr. Korgy’s interest might extend beyond the classroom as well.

Half His Age marks Jennette McCurdy’s fiction debut as bold, unflinching, and undeniably compelling. She writes with a plain, matter-of-fact directness that makes the novel a page-turner, even as its subject matter grows increasingly uncomfortable. It’s spare, unsentimental prose that refuses to soften the edges of what it’s depicting, and that restraint is part of what makes the book so effective.

It’s best to address the elephant in the room upfront. This is a novel centered on an inappropriate relationship between a teacher and his student, complete with explicit sexual encounters and clear emotional grooming. There are many moments that are difficult to stomach, so this will not be a book for every reader. The story's trajectory feels grimly familiar, and the impending disaster is visible from miles away.

That said, McCurdy resists turning the story into something simplistic or purely moralistic. Waldo is unmistakably a victim, but her history of neglect and instability distorts her understanding of what love, attention, and agency look like, leading her to actively yearn for the relationship she’s being exploited by. Korgy, meanwhile, is fully complicit, his shame and personal disappointment creating a hollow rationalization for behavior he knows is wrong. Together, they form a dynamic that is repellent and tragic in equal measure. It all left me deeply unsettled, particularly on Waldo’s behalf.

I hesitate to say that I enjoyed Half His Age, but I did appreciate what it tries to be. While the story itself feels well-trodden, McCurdy’s voice is clear, confident, and purposeful. This is sure to be a divisive debut that will provoke strong reactions on both sides. Even so, McCurdy’s transition to fiction is impressive. She's chosen not to take the easy approach to her writing, and that's got me curious to see where this journey will take her next. 

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

(2026, 9)

Every month, Amazon sends me an email offering me a free ebook from their First Reads program. And every month, I dutifully browse the selections, choose a title (or two), and download it with genuine enthusiasm. Then, almost immediately, I forget it exists. Instead, it joins the many other well-intentioned downloads quietly haunting my Kindle library.

But that ends today. I’m making a conscious effort to read the books I already own instead of endlessly chasing shiny new releases that demand my attention. So I started with a First Reads pick that’s been languishing on my Kindle for far too long: Into the Fall by Tamara L. Miller.

It had been a peaceful night in the tent, all things considered. But when Sarah wakes the next morning, she can immediately sense that something is wrong. At first, she tries to stay calm. Her husband, Matthew, is an early riser, so it isn’t unusual that he’s not lying beside her. Still, as she replays the night before, Sarah can’t remember him coming to bed at all.

She does remember her daughter slipping into the tent, mumbling something about Daddy—but that could have been a dream. Or at least, she tells herself it was.

When Sarah steps outside and takes in their lakeside campsite, reality begins to settle in. Her two children are there. Matthew is not. Minutes stretch into hours, and as a storm gathers over the lake, Sarah is forced to confront a terrifying truth. Wherever her husband has gone, he may not be coming back.

Into the Fall has the makings of a compelling suspense novel. A missing person, simmering relationship drama, and a remote setting are all perfect ingredients for this kind of story. I breezed through the pages, eager to learn Matthew’s fate.

As I read on, though, a few issues with the execution became harder to ignore. Tamara L. Miller leans heavily on verbose description, which at times stalls the narrative momentum. The novel seems unsure of what it wants to be—literary suspense or straight-ahead thriller—and ends up landing uncomfortably between the two, never fully committing to either.

While I eventually adjusted to the writing style, I had more trouble with how the story’s reveals were handled. Much of the suspense hinges on how much Sarah did—or didn’t—know about Matthew, and the role she may or may not have played in his disappearance. The ending does ultimately answer the novel’s central questions, but it does so in a way that feels more explanatory than suspenseful, laying its cards on the table rather than letting the tension fully unfold. It’s a choice that slightly undercuts what could have been a more powerful payoff. Still, Into the Fall remains an accessible, quick read with an intriguing premise, even if it doesn’t fully capitalize on all the tension it sets up.

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

(2026, 8)

For twenty years, Deedee has lived in the shadow of her kid sister’s disappearance. It was a summer night in 1999 when her nine-year-old sister, Roisin, entered the Hanging Woods. Everyone in their small Irish town knew the stories about that place. Children were warned away. No one went into the woods without a reason. But Roisin did, and she was never seen again.

Deedee can’t say for certain if that night is what led her to become a cop, but she knows it never truly left her. The unanswered questions, the guilt, the sense that something was missed, it’s all still there, quietly eating away at her. She’s spent years trying to hold herself together, and it’s getting harder to pretend she’s succeeded.

When Deedee crosses paths with Caitlin again, she wants nothing to do with her. Caitlin was Roisin’s best friend, the last person to see her alive. The disappearance marked Caitlin, too, though in a very different way, sending her down a path of petty crime and bad decisions she never quite escaped. Now, with her mother’s death, Caitlin has returned to the town she once fled.

Reluctantly drawn back into each other’s lives, Deedee and Caitlin are forced to reckon with a past they’ve spent years trying to bury. The Hanging Woods are still there, waiting. Whatever happened that night in 1999 was never finished, and the woods aren’t done with them yet.

In Darkrooms, Rebecca Hannigan delivers a psychological suspense novel steeped in blame, grief, and unanswered questions. The story hinges on two characters struggling under the weight of a shared history they can’t escape, even as they desperately try to move beyond it. Both Deedee and Caitlin feel layered and authentic, drawing the reader in despite their flaws and unlikable tendencies.

The first half of the novel unfolds slowly, with Hannigan taking a deliberate approach to atmosphere and world-building. She crafts a setting that simmers with quiet menace, and her literary prose kept me engaged even as I began to wonder where it was all leading. It isn’t until a twist reframes the story that the novel truly finds its momentum. From there, the book shifts from an introspective character study into a more propulsive mystery, driving the pace through the final stretch.

While I’m not entirely convinced the ending fully justifies the journey, Darkrooms is an impressive debut. Readers who enjoy the moody, character-driven suspense of authors like Tana French or Liz Moore will find plenty here to admire. Even when it falters, Hannigan’s control of mood and character proves that she is an author with a clear vision. I’ll be curious to see how she builds on that promise in future work.

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

(2026, 7)

The best thrillers hook you from the very first page, setting up a situation so tantalizing you can’t help but keep reading. That’s long been the case with Alice Feeney’s books. She has a knack for devising irresistible hooks, writing stories you’re instantly drawn into. While she may not always stick the landing, Feeney never plays it safe. She always swings for the fences. Her latest thriller, My Husband’s Wife, is no exception. Its a twisty page-turner with an opening so audacious it may be the hookiest first chapter I read all year.

It’s been a big week for Eden Fox. She’s just moved into Spyglass, a historic home in the small coastal town of Hope Falls, and tonight marks her first gallery exhibition as an artist. Sure, it’s only the local gallery in her new hometown, but Eden can’t help believing this could be the break she’s been dreaming of. Naturally, her nerves are shot, so she turns to the one thing that always calms her: a run. As she moves, her worries fall away, leaving only the sound of her measured breath and her feet hitting the pavement in steady rhythm.

When Eden returns home, she feels refreshed and renewed—ready to face the day ahead. But when she slides her key into the lock of her new house, it doesn’t fit. She tries again. Still nothing. She left everything inside—her phone, her wallet—so, hoping her husband is still home, she rings the doorbell.

Relief flickers when she sees movement on the other side of the door. But when it opens, she’s greeted by a woman she doesn’t recognize—one who looks eerily like her. Eden demands to know who she is and why she’s in her home. The woman calmly insists the house is hers.

And when Eden’s husband appears at the door to see what the commotion is about, the situation turns even more terrifying. He insists that the stranger standing beside him is his wife.

From the very beginning of My Husband’s Wife, Alice Feeney presents readers with an impossible situation. It’s a case of stolen identity that had me glued to the pages from the start. She pairs this central mystery with the story of another woman who, six months earlier, inherited Spyglass, was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and encountered a mysterious medical company that claimed it could predict the exact date of a person’s death.

These two threads alternate, pulling readers across shifting perspectives and timelines until everything converges in a conclusion that feels both earned and inevitable. Feeney isn’t aiming for strict realism here, but if you’re willing to go with the flow, you’ll be rewarded. I’ve found her work to be hit or miss in the past, but My Husband’s Wife is a definite hit for me. Go in with as few preconceptions as possible and enjoy the ride. I certainly did.

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

(2026, 6)

Ashley Elston burst onto the thriller scene a couple of years ago with First Lie Wins. Making the jump from her usual young adult genre proved to be a major success, as she delivered a twisted, multi-POV thrill ride that I devoured in a single sitting. Naturally, I was eager to see what she’d do next, and that arrived this week in the form of another standalone thriller, Anatomy of an Alibi. It’s yet another page-turner that hooked me from the very first chapter.

Like her first thriller, the less you know about Anatomy of an Alibi going in, the more you’ll enjoy it. As usual, I think the publisher’s blurb gives away a bit too much. The real fun here lies in the discovery. That said, the basic setup is simple enough to share without spoiling the twists that make this book work. The novel centers on two women, Camille and Aubrey, who both suspect that Camille’s hotshot lawyer husband, Ben, is hiding something. They hatch a risky plan: Aubrey will pose as Camille, distracting Ben while the real Camille spies on him. But when Ben is found murdered the very next day, both women are left scrambling to construct an airtight alibi.

Anatomy of an Alibi proves that Ashley Elston has a real knack for crafting twisty, page-turning thrillers. She leans into shifting perspectives, flashbacks, and well-placed red herrings, weaving them together into a suspenseful ride that kept me glued to the pages. Yes, things get a little over the top at times, but that’s part of the fun with a book like this. And while the ending didn’t quite land as strongly as I’d hoped, with some character motivations left frustratingly opaque, the journey to get there was more than worth it. Elston has clearly found her stride in the suspense genre, and she’s quickly earned a spot on my must-read list.

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

(2026, 5)