My Five Favourite Book Series…es

I’m an unabashed book series lover. If a book is the first in a series, as opposed to a standalone, I’m 80% more likely to read it (I just pulled that percentage out of my ass, but it’s probably accurate.)

With that in mind, I have no idea how I’m going to whittle down my favourite series to just my top five, but at the very least an attempt will be made and I’m proud of myself for that.

Without further ado, and in no particular order – actually in a very specific order – here are my choices.

Trust me when I say, this was agonizing in the most bookish way possible.

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Review: The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn

“Something’s happening to me, through me, something dangerous and new. It’s taken root, a poison tree; it’s grown, fanning out, vines winding round my gut, my lungs, my heart.”

★★★★★

William Morrow | 2018

Filed Under: WHERE IS YOUR WIFE?!

I went into this reading experience with full-blown anxiety triggered by a library return date breathing down my neck.

I assumed there was not enough time for me to get through this because my weekend included my in-laws staying over and a front-hall closet renovation. I decided to try anyway because I ain’t no quitter. I opened this Saturday night, so completely aware that I had a Monday morning deadline that I got a little high first to set my nerves.

And guess what, nerds? I blew through this baby so hard I gave myself TMJ.

Look, the truth is that this is not a groundbreaking novel or even particularly original in its overall concept. I see a lot of middle-of-the-road reviews from my friends who just didn’t get into it, who thought it was overhyped and underwhelming, and I understand. I think those reviews had a “Lowered Expectations” effect on me because I FUCKING LOVED THIS BOOK.

Shout out to all the special people who got the MadTV reference. You are my people.

Maybe it was the library anxiety meets weed meets meh reviews, but holy shit if this isn’t the most fun I’ve had reading a book since…like…a week ago…

Okay, you know what? The timeline isn’t important.

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Review: The Vanishing Season by Joanna Schaffhausen

★★★

Minotaur Books | 2017

Filed Under: Birthday cards and beer bottles doing their best to be creepy

This novel reads like the author really likes to watch the Hallmark Channel or Lifetime movies. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing if you’re into that.

Thor knows, I’ve binged all the Aurora Teagarden movies like a fucking champ.

The Vanishing Season ticks off a lot of boxes on the “Cozy Lifetime Mystery Checklist.”

That’s a thing. Let’s go through it…

In a small town (✓), Abigail Hathaway, who now goes by Ellery and escaped a serial killer as a teenager (✓), is now a cop herself (✓). But no one knows about her dark past (✓) and she intends to keep it that way. Ellery, with knowledge no one else has (✓), connects three seemingly unrelated missing persons cases that she’s never worked on (✓) and decides there must be a copycat killer in her tiny town (✓), but no one believes her (✓) and won’t unless she outs her true identity (✓). What this killer really wants is her (✓)! The killer starts to leave her notes and packages to let her know he knows who she is and is watching her (✓).

Ellery calls for backup in the form of a disgraced FBI agent (✓), who also happens to be the same agent that saved her from certain death all those years ago (✓).

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Review: Eighth Grave After Dark (Charley Davidson, #8) by Darynda Jones

★★

St. Martin’s Press | 2015

Filed Under: Pregnant Mirror Sex

It physically hurts to say this, like I have bad gas, but I must tell the truth: I did not like this book.

I really do love this series and the characters have a special place in my heart, but WHAT IN THE HOLY-HELL IS GOING ON?

This can be my problem with long-running series: at some point, the author wants to take things to a new, unexpected level, but because the story has been going on for so long the only place left to take readers is right off the fucking rails.

And this is the book in Charley Davidson’s adventures that dropped off the tracks and decided to go careening off a bridge.

First of all, this book read more like a romance erotica novel than a true Charley Davidson instalment and I was just not fucking into it.

In case anyone forgot over the previous seven novels, Reyes is hot. Reyes is sexy. Reyes is the hottest, sexiest Son of Satan that ever did exist. Also, he’s Charley’s husband. They are married. They got married. Charley married the Son of Satan and he’s hot and sexy and beautiful, and they are so so SO in love and have amazing, mind-altering, orgasmic sex. Reyes is more beautiful than any human male could hope to be…

Honestly, this book might as well have been titled An Ode to Reyes Farrow’s Muscles and Beauty.

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Review: Into The Black Nowhere (UNSUB, #2) by Meg Gardiner

★★★★★

Dutton | 2018

Filed Under: Physical satisfaction

OKAY, FIRST OF-FUCKING-ALL: FUCK YES

And second: I’m so depressed this is over.

I’m not religious, but over this Easter weekend, I’ve decided I worship at the printing press of Meg Gardiner. And her books are my bible.

If you’re interested in my new religion, let me know. Maybe I’ll make some pamphlets.

I’m completely blown away by this instalment in the UNSUB series. I think I literally peed my pants over the first one. And it seemed a completely impossible task that an author would deliver an equally pee-pants worthy follow-up.

But, I’m peeing my pants right now. (Not really. I’m at work. No one would appreciate that.)

Still, this is a completely solid five-star rating, and my only little tiny, itty-bitty teeny issue is a completely personal one that comes from the fact that I know everything about Ted Bundy. He’s my favourite serial killer. Not in a weird way. You know what I mean.

Look, I’m not apologizing. It is what it is.

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