Author: Erica Moses

★★★★☆

Blackthorn is a fever dream masquerading as a romance novel. It’s dark, lush, and soaked in legacy, lust, and layered betrayals. Geissinger delivers a genre-blending experience that moves from second-chance enemies-to-lovers into gothic horror and full-blown paranormal prophecy without missing a beat.

Maven is everything I love in a protagonist: sharp, skeptical, and unapologetically powerful, even when the world gaslights her into doubting her own senses. When she returns to her cursed hometown with a child in tow and trauma barely packed away, she collides with Ronan, her wealthy, possessive ex who broke her heart once and seems dangerously eager to do it again. The chemistry is volcanic. The history is bloody. And the nickname “little witch”? Absolutely devastating in all the right ways.

What starts as small-town intrigue quickly spirals into something mythic: ancestral sins, bloodline curses, missing corpses, generational matriarchal magic, and a heroine caught between reclaiming her power and resisting the man fate won’t let her forget. There’s a supernatural element that unveils itself slowly, but when it hits, it hits hard. Fallen angel vibes, monster lore, and seven nights a month of dark, carnal consequences? Yes, this book takes bold risks, and for the most part, they pay off.

One scene did push into my personal ick zone. Particularly a hyper-explicit sex scene with detail that felt less erotic and more extreme than necessary. While some readers may enjoy its transgressive audacity, others (like me) may flinch. That said, it didn’t detract from the overall power of the story or the emotional depth between the characters. Consent and emotional clarity eventually ground even the most intense moments.

Geissinger’s writing remains sharp, cinematic, and emotionally charged. Blackthorn is an ambitious, genre-blending, morally tangled tale about fate, fire, and finding truth in the monsters we both fear and crave. If you like your romance with a side of ancestral reckoning and literal wings? This one’s for you.

★★★☆☆

A Land So Wide is dripping with the atmospheric charm Erin A. Craig does so well—fog-drenched cliffs, crumbling estates, and a touch of the eerie that makes you second-guess the edges of reality. But while the setting lured me in, the pacing and character work didn’t hold me quite as tightly as I hoped.

Greer, the main character, often felt more like a love-struck teen than a woman in her late twenties. Her voice came off as a bit whiny at times, which made it harder to fully root for her, though I did appreciate the deeper emotional struggles she faced beneath the surface. The internal conflict gave her some dimension, even when her outward choices felt frustrating.

The story unfolds slowly—almost too slowly—and while there are twists, most of them felt easy to see coming. I kept hoping for one truly shocking moment, but it never arrived. And the ending? Abrupt. I turned the last page feeling a bit unsatisfied, like there was more story to tell or more emotional payoff to earn.

All that said, fans of Craig’s previous books or readers who enjoy slow-burn gothic tales might still find something to enjoy here. It just wasn’t quite the haunting, immersive experience I was hoping for.

Note: This book does not release until September 2025

★★★☆☆

Preserving the Seasons is a visually appealing and accessible guide for beginners or casual home preservers. It covers a wide range of methods—canning, freezing, drying, infusions, and even freeze-drying—with a friendly, encouraging tone.

The section on drying flowers stood out as a highlight. It’s not something you typically find in preservation books, and it added a thoughtful, almost whimsical layer to the usual techniques. I also appreciated the inclusion of some less-expected fruits and vegetables—things many people might not think to freeze, dry, or can.

That said, the canning section felt a bit light. It covered the basics well enough, but didn’t go much deeper than simple water bath recipes. The freeze-drying content seemed tacked on, possibly because the equipment is still cost-prohibitive for many households. A little more detail or clarity on its use would’ve helped.

Some of the recipes leaned toward the niche side, like plum and black pepper jam or lilac sugar. While interesting, they might not appeal to a broad audience and may leave newer preservers unsure of where to start.

Overall, this is a solid entry-level resource with a few unique touches. I’ll be adding it to our library collection—it’s a good fit for those curious about seasonal preserving but not yet ready to dive too deep.

★★★★☆

Not quite as good as Lights Out, but damn—the spice was just as satisfying. Allen shines when it comes to character development, and I loved watching Junior and Lauren’s dynamic unfold. Their chemistry? On point. Their growth? Even better.

Now, let’s address the elephant in the room: I have thoughts about the people who dismissed this book just because Lauren is a cam girl. Funny how that wasn’t a problem in Lights Out when it was Josh, right? That double standard says more about them than it does about the story.

Sure, the storyline could’ve been stronger in places, but I loved how sex-positive this book was. Exploring kinks wasn’t something to tiptoe around—it was embraced, celebrated. That alone has me ready to pick up book three the moment it drops.

★★★☆☆

This one took me a while to get into. The first half felt slow and disjointed, like I was reading two completely separate stories and waiting for the threads to finally tie together. I will give it credit for tackling postpartum depression and psychosis—that’s not something you see explored in a lot of thrillers. But let’s be real: if this character hadn’t been rich, she would’ve been arrested. No question.

And somehow the whole town managed to keep a life-altering secret from her for nine years? That stretched believability a bit far, even for me. By the time the ending rolled around, I found myself blinking at the page thinking, Really? That’s where we’re leaving this? It wasn’t bad exactly, just… odd.

Glad I finished it, but I won’t be racing to revisit it.

★★★★★

Holly Jackson is a master of creating suspense. I wasn’t sure how she was going to handle an adult title, but she more than exceeded my expectation. I’m not afraid to say I bawled my eyes out reading the last handful of chapters. You know what’s going to happen at the end, you know Jet is going to die, but I kept waiting for the miracle to happen. The fact that she finally “lived” when she only had a week left, the fact that she realized the boy next store was meant for her all along…. then finally finding out who killed her a week before she died…. Holly Jackson makes you feel all the feels.

★★★★☆

Note: This book doesn’t release until September 2025

Fermentation books can be hit or miss—either too simplistic and safe, or so complex they feel like a lab manual written for people who casually keep a koji chamber in their basement. (Noma, I’m glaring at you.) Ferment by Kenji Morimoto manages to strike that rare balance: accessible without dumbing it down, detailed without being condescending, and with enough inspiration to make even a seasoned fermenter reach for a clean jar.

This book focuses primarily on small-batch lactofermentation—my personal sweet spot—but also dips a careful toe into koji, with just enough depth to intrigue without overwhelming. There’s even a section on pickling, which at first felt slightly out of place, but ultimately serves as a smart contrast. Morimoto doesn’t just tell you there’s a difference between pickling and fermentation—he shows it. That’s something a lot of books gloss over, and I respect the clarity.

Now, let’s talk criteria:

Photos:
Look, in a fermentation book, photos matter. Especially for beginners. People need to see the difference between harmless kahm yeast and mold that should send your jar straight to the compost. While Ferment includes a decent number of photos, I’d love to see more images of things going wrong. The whole “when in doubt, throw it out” line just doesn’t cut it for me without visual context. That said, most books fail this test, so I’m not holding it too harshly against this one.

Measurements:
This is where Morimoto wins serious points. He uses weight-based measurements throughout—because let’s be honest, anything else in fermentation is a guessing game you don’t want to play. He also lays out brine calculations and salt percentages in a way that actually makes sense. Beginner-friendly without being patronizing. Clear. Practical. Well done.

Recipe Quality:
The real test: how many recipes do I actually want to make? With Ferment—almost all of them. That doesn’t happen often. A few are too funky for my personal tastes, sure, but there were several that made me stop mid-page and say “I need to make that.” That immediate, gut-level yes is rare, and this book earned it.

Bonus Points:
The final section? Recipes that actually use the ferments you’ve made. Finally. So many fermentation books stop at “congratulations, here’s your jar of preserved magic” and leave you guessing how to use it. Ferment connects the dots and brings it full circle. That alone makes it worth adding to my shelf and to the library.

★★★★★

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Alex North does it yet again. He is a master at weaving a great tale, leading in one direction until the truth smacks you in the face. The Man Made of Smoke is no different. After a brush with the “Pied Piper” as a kid, Dan does everything he can to forget the small boy he could have saved that day. Running away from the island he called his home, Dan becomes a criminal profiler who spends his days psychoanalyzing violent inmates. When the apparent suicide of his father brings Dan back to the island, Dan must unravel the clues his father was leaving behind.

The repeating line of “Nobody Sees, and nobody cares,” drives home the fact that humanity only pays attention to the people they think matter. Could the “Pied Piper” have been caught years earlier if someone at the rest stop other than Dan had just paid attention? I guess we’ll never really know.

A bit of a slow burn in the beginning, but by half way through, I couldn’t put it down.