Been sick

 Hey all,

Sorry, I haven't posted in a while. I've been sick for the past 12 days and just when I think I've turned the corner on this, I wake up the next day feeling awful. 

I hope to get some rest and post some reviews soon. In the meantime, I've been rereading favorite books and I just finished watching The Black Dagger Brotherhood -  Episode 1 from Passionflix. It was pretty good.

I hope you all are doing well. Take care!

Elizabeth

Read-Along Review: Clean Sweep by Ilona Andrews

I am so excited to be taking part in Books of My Heart's annual Read-Along! 

This year, the blog picked The Edge and Innkeeper Chronicles series by Ilona Andrews!

Clean Sweep is the first book in the Innkeeper Chronicles series and is an exciting story full of action, adventure, subterfuge, and surprises!

About the Book

On the outside, Dina Demille is the epitome of normal. She runs a quaint Victorian Bed and Breakfast in a small Texas town, owns a Shih Tzu named Beast, and is a perfect neighbor, whose biggest problem should be what to serve her guests for breakfast.

But Dina is…different: Her broom is a deadly weapon; her Inn is magic and thinks for itself. Meant to be a lodging for otherworldly visitors, the only permanent guest is a retired Galactic aristocrat who can’t leave the grounds because she’s responsible for the deaths of millions and someone might shoot her on sight. Under the circumstances, “normal” is a bit of a stretch for Dina. And now, something with wicked claws and deepwater teeth has begun to hunt at night….

Feeling responsible for her neighbors, Dina decides to get involved. Before long, she has to juggle dealing with the annoyingly attractive, ex-military, new neighbor, Sean Evans—an alpha-strain werewolf—and the equally arresting cosmic vampire soldier, Arland, while trying to keep her inn and its guests safe. But the enemy she’s facing is unlike anything she’s ever encountered before. It’s smart, vicious, and lethal, and putting herself between this creature and her neighbors might just cost her everything.

 

My Review

Clean Sweep is a fun, entertaining read with quirky characters, wacky adventures, and a Shih Tzu that’s not what she seems.

One of my favorite characters in the story happens to be the house. I love that it’s sentient and interacts with everyone. It’s just like the house in the Disney movie Encanto, except this book was published several years before it, and there’s not much to sing about 😉

The storyline is bizarre and took a lot of left turns. There’s action, mystery, suspense, sci-fi, magic, COUS (creatures of unusual size) and so much more.

This is a full service reading experience overflowing with the strange and unusual. Perfect for readers who are. . . strange and unusual #beetlejuicereference.

Dina is a strong, likable FMC that can kick some serious tail. As an Innkeeper, she has magical powers which she shares through a symbiotic relationship with the house and the grounds. Her parents were innkeepers before their disappearance and Dina is continuing their legacy while trying to find them.

First rule of Innkeepers club is that the safety of guests comes first. I almost went for a Fight Club reference but I held back. Go Me! Okay, so as an innkeeper, Dina has to stay neutral at all times. But when some disturbing things start happening in her neighborhood, Dina can’t stand by and watch as her neighbors fall prey to otherworldly nasties. No good deed goes unpunished. Chaos ensues.

What a wild ride! Clean Sweep left me with so many questions! Make sure you have the second book handy. Now I’m hooked.

Purchase Links

Ilona Andrews Website*

About the Author

“Ilona Andrews” is the pseudonym for a husband-and-wife writing team. Ilona is a native-born Russian and Gordon is a former communications sergeant in the U.S. Army. Contrary to popular belief, Gordon was never an intelligence officer with a license to kill, and Ilona was never the mysterious Russian spy who seduced him. They met in college, in English Composition 101, where Ilona got a better grade. (Gordon is still sore about that.)

Gordon and Ilona currently reside in Texas with their two children and many dogs and cats.

They have co-authored several bestselling series, including the #1 NYT bestselling urban fantasy of Kate Daniels, rustic fantasy of the Edge, paranormal romance of Hidden Legacy, and Innkeeper Chronicles, which they post as a free weekly serial. For complete list of their books, fun extras, and Innkeeper installments, please visit their website at Ilona-andrews.com.

*Third party links to the publisher's website. May contain affiliate links.

Review: Fan Service by Rosie Danan

The truth is stranger than fan fiction in the next sexy paranormal rom-com from the beloved author of The Roommate.

About the Book

The only place small-town outcast Alex Lawson fits in is the online fan forum she built for The Arcane Files, a long-running werewolf detective show. Her dedication to archiving fictional supernatural lore made her Internet-famous, even if she harbors a secret disdain for the show’s star, Devin Ashwood. (Never meet your heroes—sometimes they turn out to be The Worst.)

Ever since his show went off the air, Devin and his career have spiraled, but waking up naked in the woods outside his LA home with no memory of the night before is a new low. It must have been a coincidence that the once-in-a-century Wolf Blood Moon crested last night. The claws, fangs, and howling are a little more difficult to explain away. Desperate for answers, Devin finds Alex—the closest thing to an expert that exists. If only he could convince her to stop hating his guts long enough to help….

Once he makes her an offer she can’t refuse, these reluctant allies lower their guards trying to wrangle his inner beast. Unfortunately, getting up close and personal quickly comes back to bite them.

My Thoughts

Fan Service is one for the misfits!

Positives

🐺 Nerds rule
🐺 LGBTQIA+ representation
🐺 Animal protection
🐺 Advocating for your community
🐺 Making your voice heard
🐺 The love of a fandom
🐺 Personal growth

🐺 A fun and unique take on the werewolf legend

Not so Positives

🐺 Washed up actor who needs an ego check

🐺 Small town bigotry

🐺 Growing up in a broken home

🐺 Perception-shattering teenage heartbreak

🐺 Distasteful side of the movie/TV industry

Fan Service is fun, fun-loving, heartfelt, and easily relatable. Growing up in a small town being an awkward kid in a single parent home and the only saving grace is the fandom of your favorite TV show to comfort you. And having your dreams shattered at a critical age in your development can be life crushing. But Alex is resilient, stubborn, and stronger than she knows. She’s the heroine you want, and the advocate you need in your corner. 

I absolutely LOVE this story and highly recommend it to all the misfits out there that don’t feel their contribution to society is a meaningful one. Your spectacular individuality is what’s needed most in this world. I see you, and so does Rosie Danan. Let your freak flag fly high, loud and proud!

FTC Disclaimer: I voluntarily read a copy of the book generously provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review. This in no way influences my thoughts or feelings about the book or the content of my review.

Excerpt

 

Chapter One

Present day

Devin Ashwood wished he could say this was the first time he’d woken up butt naked in his backyard with no memory of the night before. At least last time he’d been in his twenties. Call it a perk or a dangerous downside, but any former child star could tell you the consequences of mixing booze and benzos on an empty stomach.

Opening first one eye and then the other, he squinted up at the sky, trying to gauge the time based on the angle of the sun. Midday? Maybe? His parents never let him join the Boy Scouts.

Devin lifted his pounding head gingerly off the ground, wiping at dirt embedded in the surface of his scruffy cheek. His stomach rolled as he sat up. That combined with his sour tongue confirmed his suspicions: hangover.

Every muscle in his body ached. Was all this from working out? His personal trainer, Claude, had him on some new resistance-training program designed to keep his forty-two-year-old body from looking forty-two. It involved a lot of bungee cords.

Holy shit. Speaking of overworked glutes, he was ass to the wind out here. Thank god he slept on his stomach or he’d probably have second-degree burns on his junk right now.

What in the world had he gotten up to last night?

He remembered most of yesterday. After hitting the gym in the morning, he’d called his agent, gotten her voice mail, and left a rude message.

Jade had been dodging him for weeks now. As if he didn’t pay her to take his calls. Which, okay, yeah, Devin hadn’t booked anything to write home about lately, but how was he supposed to if he couldn’t get his own representation on the phone?

After hanging up, he Googled himself in a fit of self-loathing, got predictably depressed by what he found, and then fucked around playing Call of Duty until sunset. At that point he’d been desperate enough to speak to someone, anyone, other than the fourteen-year-olds on the other side of his headset who kept threatening to “pwn” him.

He broke down and asked his publicist to find him a party.

That was how he ended up all the way out in the Palisades for some cologne launch that was a total bust. If Devin wanted to smell like a lemon fucking a pine tree, he would— Well, he didn’t was the point. The only thing that made the evening halfway worth putting on dress pants was the bacon-wrapped scallops they had going around on little trays.

Devin only managed to snag one of those before some alleged former gaffer from the first season of The Arcane Files started chatting his ear off. At first, the guy, Mitchell or Michael, seemed decent. He told Devin his favorite episode was the one told through the POV of Colby’s beloved motorcycle, which did, objectively, rule. But then he asked what Devin was up to now, and when he explained he was actually trying to get the studio on board for an Arcane Files reboot, the asshole laughed.

“Wait, seriously?”

Devin got pretty drunk after that. By midnight, he was slipping the bartender a couple hundred bucks to hand him a bottle of Blanton’s and wandering off into the woods at the edge of the property.

But after that? The rest of the night wasn’t just hazy. It was missing.

Damn. It wasn’t cute to black out at forty-two. He was fucking middle-aged.

Devin got to his feet. He was filthy, his bare torso and legs covered in streaks of dried mud and scattered scrapes and shaded marks that promised to turn into full-on bruises. Running a hand through his hair, he pulled out a twig. What in the Bear Grylls bullshit . . . ?

Hobbling across his landscaper’s “vision” of a “tranquil rock oasis,” he let himself in the back door and went to put on boxer briefs. The question of whether or not he’d lost his phone in last night’s mystery exploits was answered when it rang just as he managed to hike on a pair of sweats. Unearthing the thing from a potted plant next to his front door, Devin fumbled for the accept call button.

“Jade,” he said, having seen her name on the home screen. “What the hell? I must’ve left you twenty messages. Next time you decide to go radio silent for a month, at least shoot me an email so I know you didn’t get sucked into a sex cult.”

His agent murmured some soothing excuses for her absence, something about a wellness retreat in Fiji, then suggested they meet for sushi later tonight.

Immediately, Devin’s hackles rose. Jade hated sushi.

“Whatever I heard, it’s good,” she defended, when he said as much. “I’ll order chicken teriyaki or something.”

Bullshit, he wanted to say but didn’t, too much of a coward to call her out twice in one phone call. He’d known Jade for almost twenty years; she sure as hell didn’t make a habit out of compromise.

She must have bad news. Oh fuck. What if she was quitting the business? Or pregnant?

Between the state of his hangover and delays from construction on the freeway, Devin barely managed to shower and make himself presentable before he had to haul ass to Venice Beach. An investigation into what the fuck he’d done last night would have to wait until tomorrow. It was probably fine. His publicist would have called by now if he’d done something truly heinous.

At the sushi spot, Devin’s pounding headache intensified despite the Advil he’d swallowed dry before handing his keys over to the valet.

He’d been in LA a long time. Fuck—he grimaced as he did the math—thirty-five years. Long enough to know that there were basically two kinds of places in this neighborhood: highly exclusive ones where you needed your name on a list to see and be seen, and ones crowded enough with tourists that you could count on getting hustled out in an hour so the waitstaff could turn over the table.

This place fell squarely into the latter bucket.

By the time he was escorted to the table, Jade was already there, pounding away at her phone with a steaming mug of something aggressively herbal at her elbow.

Jade wasn’t his first agent, but she was the first one Devin hired himself, a couple of years before he landed The Arcane Files. Thanks to what a judge called his parents’ “questionable investment” with his paychecks, Devin was slumming it as a cater waiter in Pasadena between auditions, barely making enough to cover rent on a shitty studio. In those dark, lean months after Sands of Time had gone off air, casting directors kept telling him he had a pretty mouth, then declining to actually book him.

At some benefit out on the water, Devin thought Jade—sleek and professional in her shiny black skirt suit—was a guest. It was only years later when they were sharing a joint in the back of a black car after the third-season wrap party that she admitted she’d snuck in a side door that night, just as hungry as he was.

“You an actor by any chance?” she asked him.

“How’d you know?” Devin had grown his hair out, paranoid about someone recognizing him working an industry event.

Looking back, that had been goofy. No one attending those galas fell into the demographic religiously watching daytime soaps.

Jade pointed to the headshot rolled up in the back pocket of his rented tux.

For some reason, she’d found that charming.

A few days later at her office—a single room rented in some warehouse out in Burbank—she offered him a contract.

“There’s one thing you should know before you sign,” she said, her pretty face guarded. “I’m a lesbian and it’s not something I’m willing to hide.”

“Oh. Cool.” Devin didn’t actually know any lesbians, but Ellen DeGeneres seemed nice. “You got a pen?”

“You’re late,” Jade said now, standing as they exchanged pleasantries and air-kisses (god, sometimes he hated what LA had turned him into). “And you look like shit.”

He supposed twenty-odd years of working together bred this kind of informality.

“Thanks.” Devin took his seat and ordered a hot sake, hoping to take the edge off. Even the dim lighting in here made his eyes threaten to bleed.

Jade had the decency to let him order a shumai appetizer before she tucked her severe blond bob behind her ears and folded her hands in front of her.

Oh shit. Here it comes. His gut sank. Devin didn’t want to hear whatever it was she wanted to tell him.

“I think we should pitch the reboot again,” he spit out before she could break her bad news.

Jade’s placid expression slipped, a flicker of irritation flaring around her mouth. “Devin, we’ve talked about this.”

That was true. Jade had made her thoughts about reviving The Arcane Files clear. Her last words on the subject were something along the lines of “the dead should stay buried.” Which, now that he thought about it, sounded like something Colby might say after stumbling upon a freshly disturbed grave. Dun dun. Fade to black. Cut to commercial.

Jade thought his starring role, the one that had made him if not a household name then at least someone regularly invited to the Teen Choice Awards, had grown stale. Come to think of it, had Jade ever liked Colby? Even after they’d renegotiated his contract between the third and fourth seasons and he’d started making good money? Was that the year she’d called his character “a maladjusted Hardy Boy with a tail”?

Devin didn’t get it. Colby was smart and tough and cool. After thirteen years wearing his skin, Devin hadn’t even had to think about how his character would react to a situation. It had become instinct, as natural as breathing.

“Come on, Jade.” He gave her his most charming smile, the one Seventeen magazine had dedicated a whole column to before it went under. “Reboots are cool now. Kids today are obsessed with shit from the nineties and early aughts.” He wasn’t a hundo percent confident he’d pronounced that last word correctly, but Jade hadn’t flinched, so probably “aughts” did rhyme with “tots.”

Jade took a sip of her tea. “How do you know what kids are obsessed with?”

“I’m on the Internet,” he said, defensive.

“Right.” She put down her earthenware mug. “Listen.”

Oh man. Devin hated that “listen.” That was Jade’s patented “let you down easy” listen. The one he’d heard her use on Chad Michael Murray at Jingle Ball in 2009.

“It’s been almost seven years since The Arcane Files went off air. Even if I could get the network interested in a revival, we’d never get the right people. Gus Rochester is in movies now. He just did that big World War II epic where he cries beautifully for like thirty minutes straight. And you know they gave Brian Dempsey that series on HBO where they let him show full frontal. He’s happier than a pig in mud.”

It was true. The Arcane Files’ former showrunner kept giving interviews where he talked about how his talent had finally been “unleashed” on the premium channel’s streaming platform.

Devin must have done something pathetic with his face, because Jade’s tone softened.

“TAF had a good run. Thirteen seasons. That’s the second-longest fantasy series on cable. But it’s over now,” she said. “Everyone’s moved on.”

Everyone—the rest of the sentence hung in the air alongside the sweet smoke of incense—except him.

How had he let this happen?

When the show went off air in 2018, Devin had been excited to see what was next. He’d bulked up for the superhero auditions that never panned out. After months of practicing with a dialect coach to nail a British accent for consideration in a period piece, he’d been told he “didn’t look believable in a cravat.” Whatever the fuck that meant.

Then COVID hit and everything dried up. Suddenly he was stuck in his big stupid house, alone. His ex-wife checked in once through an Instagram DM. Her profile picture was her and two ginger children.

As the months passed, he realized the only people he talked to regularly were on his payroll.

Devin had spent thirteen years on The Arcane Files seeing the same faces five days a week during filming months. The cast and crew had shared meals. Worked through long nights and holidays. He’d thought that had been, almost, like a family. But nobody hung around once he stopped being Colby. It had taken a global pandemic to make Devin realize how completely unlovable he was as himself.

“Jade, please, I need you to try.”

His agent sighed.

She probably thought Devin meant from a financial perspective. That he had an online gambling problem or something. He didn’t. She’d gotten him the fat paychecks all those years ago, and outside of his stupid car and the house, he’d barely touched them. Devin just felt useless—used up—as himself.

He needed to be Colby again: someone smart and good and brave. His character wasn’t perfect. You could fill an ocean with his daddy issues, and his love interests had a tendency to end up dead on his watch. But Colby had a partner and a purpose.

“Please,” he said again, hating himself even more for begging.

“Devin, I’m not just advising you as your agent. I’m telling you this as someone who’s known you a long time and who genuinely cares about you.” Jade’s voice was firm, but her eyes were gentle. “I’m not gonna indulge this anymore. You gotta find something else that makes you feel good.”

Pots and pans banging in the kitchen fifty feet away suddenly felt like they were colliding right inside his skull.

“Jade.” What could he say to convince her? “Come on. Don’t do this.”

“Fuck.” She reached for his hand across the tabletop, a gesture that was likely supposed to be comforting but missed the mark when she ended up nailing him in the knuckles with her rings. “I’m sorry, but I’m also serious. If we can’t agree on this, I think it’s best if we call this business relationship and go our separate ways.”

“You’re firing me?” Devin couldn’t believe it. For the first decade they’d worked together, they used to watch the Super Bowl together every year. Jade would come over—she was from Texas and her family was big into football—and Devin would make dips. Taco dip. Buffalo chicken dip. Spinach and artichoke in a hollowed-out loaf of sourdough. Didn’t that mean anything to her?

“I know this is difficult,” Jade said carefully, all business. “But the timing is right for a new beginning. Did you see the moon last night?”

Excerpted from Fan Service by Rosie Danan. Copyright © 2025 by Rosie Danan. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

Purchase Links*

Penguin Random House

About the Author

Photo: © Sylvie Rosokoff

Rosie Danan writes steamy, bighearted books about the trials and triumphs of modern love. When not writing, she enjoys jogging slowly to fast music, petting other people’s dogs, and competing against herself in rounds of Chopped using the miscellaneous ingredients occupying her fridge. As an American expat living in London, Rosie regularly finds herself borrowing slang that doesn’t belong to her. Learn more at www.rosiedanan.com

*Third party links to the publisher's website. May contain affiliate links.

Review: Silver Elite by Dani Francis

In the first book of a sizzling dystopian romance series, psychic gifts are a death sentence and there are rules to survival: Trust no one. Lie to everyone. And whatever you do, don’t fall for your greatest enemy.

This stunning hardcover features a jacket with foil and a black-and-white interior map!

About the Book

TRUST NO ONE.

Wren Darlington has spent her whole life in hiding, honing her psychic abilities and aiding the rebel Uprising in small ways. On the Continent, being Modified means certain death—and Wren is one of the most powerful Mods in existence. When one careless mistake places her in the hands of the enemy and she’s forced to join their most elite training program, she’s finally handed the perfect opportunity to strike a devastating blow from inside their ranks.

LIE TO EVERYONE.

But training for Silver Block can be deadly, especially when you’re harboring dangerous secrets and living in close quarters with everyone who wants you dead.

AND WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T FALL FOR YOUR GREATEST ENEMY.

As the stakes grow ever higher, Wren must prove herself to Silver Block. But that’s easier said than done when your commanding officer is the ruthless and infuriatingly irresistible Cross Redden, who doesn’t miss anything when it comes to her. And as war rages between Mods like her and those who aim to destroy them, Wren must decide just how far she’s willing to go to protect herself . . . and how much of the Continent is worth saving.

Excerpt

 

Chapter 1


I grew up in pure, unceasing, suffocating darkness.

I’d like to say that’s an exaggeration, but it’s not. I was only five years old when my uncle smuggled me out of the city and took me to live in the Blacklands, the place of children’s nightmares. A forest of perpetual darkness. I remember my eyes widening when I first saw it: the ominous black mist rising from the earth and hovering far above the top canopy of the trees. I remember bone-­deep dread and then throat-­closing panic when we were engulfed in the pitch black. I remember how, less than an hour into the trek, I tripped over a skull. I knelt to examine what made me stumble, and although I couldn’t see a thing, I could feel the gaping eye sockets, could run my fingers over smooth, weathered bone.

When I asked Uncle Jim what it was, he said, “Just a rock.”

Even at the age of five, I wasn’t that easy to fool.

It wouldn’t be the last skeleton we came across in the three years we spent in the Blacklands, but by the time we returned to civilization, fear and I were old friends. These days, a predator could lunge for my throat, and I wouldn’t blink. A Command jet could drop a bomb on our house, and my heart rate would remain steady.

When you’re petrified on a daily basis as a child, there aren’t many things left to fear as an adult.

Except, perhaps, awkward conversations.

I would rather fight a cougar barehanded than subject myself to an uncomfortable exchange. Truly.

“Where are you going?”

Damn it. I’d been doing my level best to sneak out of bed without alerting my companion.

The young soldier’s voice is thick with sleep and a hint of lingering seduction. I fix my gaze downward as I button my jeans. I know he’s not wearing anything underneath that thin sheet.

“Oh. Um. Nowhere. I was just getting dressed because I’m cold,” I lie, smoothing the front of my black tank over the jagged stretch of scar tissue on my left hip.

My burns, which dip below my waistband and stretch midway down my thigh, are a permanent reminder of who I am and why I can’t be in this guy’s presence longer than necessary.

I told him the scarring was the result of an accident. A pot of boiling water spilling on me when I was a child.

That wasn’t entirely a lie.

If he knew what the mangled flesh hid, though, he probably wouldn’t have been stroking it with such infinite sympathy.

“Come back here. I’ll keep you warm,” he promises.

I fake a smile and meet his eyes. They’re nice. A deep brown. “Hold that thought? Now that I’m up, I need to use the bathroom. You said it was around the corner?”

Do I sound too eager?

I think I do, but I’m itching to escape. It’s late. Much later than I promised I’d stay out. I was supposed to stop by the village for a quick drink and to say hello to some friends at the Liberty Day festivities. Not hook up with a Command soldier, of all candidates.

There aren’t a lot of things worth celebrating in the Continent. None of those idyllic-­sounding holidays you read about in the history books. And let’s be honest—­it’s probably some sick irony to have a bunch of Modified people dancing, drinking, and screwing to celebrate the anniversary of an event that led to their own slaughter. But Mods do like to dance, drink, and screw, so . . . might as well do it when we can, no matter the occasion.

“You’re not going to run out on me, are you?” He’s teasing again, but there’s an undertone of unhappiness. Shit. He knows I’m preparing to bail.

“Of course not.”

I pretend to concentrate on zipping up my boots, deciding this was a terrible idea. I try not to make a habit of falling into bed with anyone in the Command, the Continent’s military, but their impermanence is a major draw. Soldiers can only leave the base three times a year, which means they’ll never be anything but temporary.

“Good. Because I’m not ready to let you go yet,” he says with a smile. He’s twenty-­five and was so gentle when his hands were roaming my body.

Is it awful that I can’t remember his name?

I pick up my rifle and sling the strap over my shoulder. I notice him watching me.

“What?”

“You look like pure smoke right now,” he says, biting his lip.

“Really.”

“Yes. You don’t see girls with guns in the city.”

He’s right. You don’t. That’s the main reason my uncle settled us in Ward Z, as far west as you can get. It’s one of the asset wards, where professions tend to be ranching and farming, and citizens are allowed to own weapons. All registered and fully accounted for, of course. You can’t get a license without extensive testing to prove your competence, but that wasn’t a problem for me. I received my weapons approval when I was thirteen. I’m beyond competent, more than the testers were even aware. Uncle Jim warned me to “tone it down” on test day.

“Comes in handy out here,” I tell him. “I’ve got white coyotes trying to kill my cows every night.”

He laughs. “I’ll have to come to your ranch one day, see whatever it is you get up to out there.”

The nonchalant remark raises my suspicions. Why does he want to come to the ranch? Was that an innocent comment, or do I need to worry?

When it comes to the Command, I err on the side of paranoia, so I quickly open a path to prod at his mind. His shield is thicker than steel. I could probably find a hole in it if I tried long enough, but it’s too strong to penetrate on the spot. Not a surprise. One of the first things soldiers like him are taught is how to shield themselves from Mods. And they’re right to do it. Primes don’t have enhanced gifts. They also don’t experience any physical signs when someone infiltrates their thoughts, whereas Mods feel it like an electric shock. People like him should be on guard.

I sever the path. It was worth a try. The only time his shield wavered tonight was after our clothes were off, but his thoughts then were an amalgamation of don’t stop and yes.

It was a nice ego boost, I won’t lie.

“Any reason you’re taking your gun to the bathroom?” He raises a brow.

“All registered weapons must be on your person at all times,” I dutifully recite from the handbook every weapon owner is given after certification. “Keep the bed warm for me. I’ll be right back.”

I will not be right back. In fact, I’m forcing myself not to sprint out the door.

“I’ll show you where it is,” he offers.

I start to object, but he’s already climbing out of bed, sliding a pair of pants up his trim hips. At least he’s not wearing the navy-­blue standard-­issue Command uniform. Not sure I could’ve mustered up any arousal if he’d been wearing that. Outside the occasional ale-­induced soldier romp, I hate those assholes, and most of them hate me right back. They’re dedicated to wiping out people like me. The Aberrant, as they call us. Or silverbloods, when they’re feeling nice.

The only aberration around here is General Redden and his irrational hatred for Mods. We didn’t ask to be this way. Some thoughtless war a hundred and fifty years ago released the toxin that made us like this. We didn’t have a choice in the matter.

Despite every cell in my body pleading for escape, I allow the soldier to guide me out the door and down the burgundy carpet of the inn’s second-­floor hallway. We turn the corner and keep walking.

“Here you go.” Like the gentleman he is, he opens the bathroom door for me.

“Thanks.” I force another smile. “I’ll meet you back in your room.”

“Shout if you get lost and I’ll come rescue you, keen?”

In the bathroom, I stand behind the door and listen to the sound of his footsteps. I exhale in a rush, waiting until those footsteps retreat. The reflection in the mirror shows a flush to my bronzed skin, but sex will do that to you. My eyes reveal my impatience. The soldier lauded their color several times tonight—­honey brown specked with yellow gold.

My uncle claims I have my mother’s eyes, but I don’t remember her face, and it bothers me that I can’t. I was five when she sent me away, old enough to have formed concrete memories of her. I should recall her eyes. Sometimes I think I can remember her voice, her smile, but I never know if that’s just my imagination filling in the blanks.

I wait another full minute before emerging from the bathroom. I want to make a run for it, but I’ll have to pass his door to reach the stairs. I’ll need to tiptoe.

Holding my breath, I turn the corner and creep along the worn carpet. I’m nearing the end of the hall when I see his doorknob turn.

As the door inches open, I act on instinct, throwing myself into the nearest room and closing the door behind me.

Excerpted from Silver Elite by Dani Francis. Copyright © 2025 by Dani Francis. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

My Review

Trust is an illusion in this cut-throat world of intrigue and subterfuge.

What a thrilling–and chilling–series of unfortunate events! My heart was in my throat as I devoured chapter after chapter. I’d be biting my nails one minute, crying the next, gasping in shock, sitting stunned in disbelief, or fanning my face as the flames of passion ignited between Wren and Cross. 

The author was very good at making me feel uncomfortable. There’s so much gray area in the story and no delineation between the good guys and the bad. I was morally and emotionally conflicted at the choices each character had to make and the reasoning–or machinations–that drove them to their decisions. 

When I think I had someone figured out, the plot would Inception-style twist, throwing me completely off balance. My gut clenched often, feeling the visceral sting of each and every duplicitous act, as if I were the one being betrayed.    

After finishing the story, I'm more confused now than ever! I'm definitely going to need a second book right away. No, Ms. Francis, you can't just mike-drop the last scene and leave us hanging! 

I couldn’t put the book down! I was completely mesmerized by the incredible architecture of this fascinating world.

Silver Elite is a dangerous adventure with shifting alliances, uncertain loyalties, and earth-shattering consequences. 

100% recommend!

FTC Disclaimer: I voluntarily read a copy of the book generously provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review. This in no way influences my thoughts or feelings about the book or the content of my review.

Purchase Links

Penguin Random House*

About the Author

Dani Francis is an avid reader, a lover of all things breakfast, and a hopeless romantic. When she is not creating high-stakes fantasy worlds and complex characters, you can find Dani spending time with family or trying to figure out why the printer never works. Learn more at www.danifrancisbooks.com

*Third party links to the publisher's website. May contain affiliate links.

Review: Prince of Darkness by Rebecca Zanetti

Unknown to humans, beyond daylight lies a world of intoxicating darkness where deadly creatures prowl with insatiable desires and unbelievable power: vampires, demons, witches, shifters. When vulnerable humans find themselves thrust into that realm, they’ll never be the same…

About the Book

In the aftermath of war, a fragile peace hovers between the Kurjan nation and the Dark Protector coalition. Yet amid labyrinthine politics and intrigue, Vero Phoenix, a Kurjan, stands apart. He has lived devoid of legacy or lineage—until the day he backed his newly found brother as king, putting himself into the treacherous position of enforcer and shield. Yet there is another thorn in his side, no less vexing, undeniably captivating—and all-too-human…

Lyrica Graves was once ensnared by Kurjan captors and now embodies defiance and freedom as she guides other women to independence and modernity. She is particularly amused—and breathtakingly fearful—by her tangles with Vero. But their clashing also belies a sizzling connection, a dark attraction between supernatural and fully human that threatens their chosen destinies and makes them a target for far too many enemies…

My Review

An exciting read full of suspense, intrigue, and mystery.

In Prince of Darkness, we get to see behind the veil of the Kurjan Nation. Throughout the Dark Protectors series, the Kurjans have always been the “bad guys.” They created deadly viruses, they kidnapped enhanced human women and forced them into matings with Kurjan soldiers, or they were used for labor, for experimentation, or worse. 

The history of the Kurjans is a long and bloody one, but there’s a new king in town that’ll hopefully change the evil status quo. That is, if Vero can keep him alive long enough to make it happen. Uncertain who is friend or foe, placing trust in the wrong hands could be devastating for all.

Vero loves his people and wants to make sure they are safe, secure, and modernized. Lyrica has been a big help in bringing the Kurjans–and their human mates–into the 21st century. Yeah, there’s been some pushback but Lyrica is more than up to the challenge. I absolutely love Lyrica! She is a strong woman with courage and conviction. 

Knowing the history of Kurjans, Lyrica wants to make sure the females are given a choice about matings, or freedom if they wish it. Lyrica has a heart the size of Texas and she’s a perfect match for Vero… she just doesn’t know it yet!  

Watching Vero grow up through the series, he was always kind and considerate, and not very Kurjan-like. Vero knew the Kurjans were doing terrible things, but he tried his best to make things better wherever he was. He protected and shielded the defenseless, spoke up against injustice… and paid the heavy price for it. No matter how many times Vero was punished, he never lost his sense of honor or conscience. And even now when his brother sits on the throne, he’s trying his best to protect him and to make life better for the nation… and a certain brown-eyed, PowerPoint-loving female. 

I absolutely LOVE Lyrica and Vero together. Their witty banter is funny and super cute and their chemistry is fiery and totally swoon worthy! 

I thoroughly enjoyed meeting all the new characters as well as being introduced to the Kurjan lifestyle, norms, and culture. I was able to confirm some of my own theories about Kurjans and disproved others. I am looking forward to learning more as the series continues. 

Prince of Darkness is an exhilarating ride of danger and subterfuge with loads of surprises along the way! You’ll be up late at night turning pages until the very last word is consumed. The story can absolutely be read as a standalone but I highly recommend the entire series! 

FTC Disclaimer: I voluntarily read a copy of the book generously provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This in no way influences my thoughts or feelings about the book or the content of my review.

Purchase Links

Rebecca Zanetti Website*

About the Author

New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly and #1 Amazon bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti has published more than sixty novels, which have been translated into several languages, with more than five million copies sold world-wide.  Her books have received Publishers Weekly starred reviews and have been featured in Entertainment Weekly, Woman’s World, and Women’s Day Magazines. Her novels have also been included in Amazon best books of the year and have been favorably reviewed in both the Washington Post and the New York Times Book Reviews.  Rebecca has ridden in a locked Chevy trunk, has asked the unfortunate delivery guy to release her from a set of handcuffs, and has discovered the best silver mine shafts in which to bury a body…all in the name of research.  Honest. Find Rebecca at:  www.RebeccaZanetti.com

*Third party links to the publisher's website. May contain affiliate links.

Review: Predator by Rebecca Zanetti

Enemies clash, Secrets burn, and Love defies every law…

About the Book

Emily Nightsom is a wolf shifter born to lead. Strong, fierce, and fiercely loyal, her pack has always assumed she’ll rise as their next alpha, even though she has repeatedly said otherwise. But Emily harbors a secret—a weakness buried so deeply she’s sworn no one will ever discover it. If it comes to light, it could shatter her pack’s trust and destroy the one thing she’s fought to protect: her family. She’s willing to shoulder the burden of leadership if she has to—but not until every other option is gone.

Then there’s Jackson Tryne, Alpha of the Slate Pack. Enemy. Annoyance. Predator. The wolf shifter who kissed her years ago on a reckless dare—and left her wanting more even as she swore she’d never forgive his arrogance. Jackson has wanted Emily ever since that moment, but her rejection only fueled his desire to prove himself worthy of the untouchable, untamable wolf who refuses to be claimed. Now, with a deadly assassin closing in on her, Jackson doesn’t hesitate: he takes her, hides her, and vows to protect her—even if it means breaking every law of the packs.

Emily’s fury is matched only by the fire between them. She’s spent years fighting her feelings for Jackson, but he’s done waiting. As the danger around them grows, her carefully guarded walls start to crumble, exposing not just her heart but the secret that could ruin her. Jackson is determined to have her, no matter the cost, but when the truth comes out, will he still see her as the fierce warrior he’s always loved? Or will it tear them—and their packs—apart? 

My Review

Predator is an action-packed suspenseful read with engaging characters and an exciting storyline that kept me engaged until the very end.

Jackson and Emily are brilliant together. Both of Alpha blood, they’re equally stubborn, fiercely loyal, and dutybound to their packs. I loved watching these two dance around one another and I especially loved how Jackson’s pack got in on matchmaking Jackson and Emily. It was so funny and completely heartwarming!

This book can easily be read as a standalone but I invite you to check out the entire series. Each story is just as exciting as the next.

I highly recommend the series and any book by Rebecca Zanetti.

Purchase Links

Rebecca Zanetti Website*

About the Author

New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly and #1 Amazon bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti has published more than sixty novels, which have been translated into several languages, with more than five million copies sold world-wide.  Her books have received Publishers Weekly starred reviews and have been featured in Entertainment Weekly, Woman’s World, and Women’s Day Magazines. Her novels have also been included in Amazon best books of the year and have been favorably reviewed in both the Washington Post and the New York Times Book Reviews.  Rebecca has ridden in a locked Chevy trunk, has asked the unfortunate delivery guy to release her from a set of handcuffs, and has discovered the best silver mine shafts in which to bury a body…all in the name of research.  Honest. Find Rebecca at:  www.RebeccaZanetti.com

*Third party links to the publisher's website. May contain affiliate links.

Blog Tour & Review: Archangel's Ascension by Nalini Singh

New York Times bestselling author Nalini Singh takes us back to her breathtakingly passionate Guild Hunter World, where an impending transformation will be both an ending and a beginning…

About the Book

Aodhan and Illium. Adi and Blue. Sparkle and Bluebell. Friends become lovers, their future a wild unknown.

Finally reunited in New York, they must now learn to navigate the monumental shift in their relationship. But for these two members of Archangel Raphael’s legendary Seven, there is no time to rest. As they investigate a case for the Tower that echoes the darkness from Aodhan’s past, they will be forced to confront not only the scars that mark them both, but the promise of a vast power that flickers in Illium.

The threat of ascension has haunted and troubled Aodhan’s Blue for too long, the forces of change immutable and without mercy…and uncaring of Illium’s fierce wish to remain part of the Seven. Change is a constant in an immortal’s life, and this new horizon will bring with it both terrible heartbreak and a joy extraordinary enough to reverberate through time…

Excerpt

 

1

Illium swept past the sleek skyscraper that pierced the white clouds of an early spring day, so close that his wing threatened to brush against black glass tough enough to withstand an angelic strike. It made sense that the innovation had come about in New York-born in the mind of a mortal who had been "sick and tired" of angelic battles leveling his beloved city.

No building, not even the most reinforced, would survive should an archangel turn their ire on it, but archangels had armies for a reason. War was fought on many fronts, and that mortal, his name and history immortalized in the records kept in the Refuge, had given New York a critical advantage: its buildings would not fall easily in any engagement, would instead provide cover for counterstrike after counterstrike.As it was, in the hundreds of years since the invention of this new material, New York had come under only the mildest of attacks-in all cases as a result of Illium's asshole of a father being pissy that his son would rather serve another archangel. But even Aegaeon hadn't had the heart for a true war, so New York hadn't fallen again since the end of the War of the Death Cascade. But why be stupid and arrogant? Better to build ever tougher.

A tall woman with striking facial bones ran to a window of the skyscraper to wave at him. He dipped his wings in acknowledgment. She'd worked in that corner office for half a decade, was a senior associate as of two years ago, and her face still lit up every single time he flew past. Because she was family. Part of the clan that Catalina and Lorenzo had created when they fell in love countless mortal lifetimes ago.

The most extraordinary thing of it all was that his beloved friends' little bakery in Harlem had survived the inexorable passage of time. The home of the city's famous angel-wing alfajores thrived still in that old building where the recipe had first been born-a building that had never lost its warm heart, no matter how often it'd been repaired and renovated. Because every generation of Catalina and Lorenzo's family birthed a passionate baker who wanted to carry on their legacy.

Illium had purchased the entire block piece by piece to ensure the little bakery would always have a home, that it'd never be forced out by progress or simple change. Harlem might morph and alter around it like a chameleon forever in flux, but even when that part of the city had gone dangerously gray for a period, become the haunt of vampiric excess and mortal pain, no one had dared come for the bakery.

The entire city knew that it sheltered beneath wings of a vivid, unmistakable blue veined with fine filaments of silver.

Using those wings to ride the air currents coming off the ocean, Illium flew through the crisp bite of spring. It whispered of snows not long past, was even more acute in the fine mist that kissed his skin as he rose through the clouds to fly at a higher elevation.

Other skyscrapers speared through the clouds around him, and lush floating habitats appeared to sit atop the puffy white, but none came close to the soaring wonder of Raphael's Tower. The tallest point in the sky at any given time, built to offer clear lines of sight in every direction, it, too, had undergone many an iteration over the passage of time, but always, always it had been a beacon of power and light. No black glass for the Tower, its body a steel gray that glittered with metallic highlights. The windows were reflective at the top levels, the levels that would be the most important in any battle, and they intensely annoyed Illium the man, who was as curious as his pet cat.

First General Illium, however, well understood their facility and had been part of the team that had designed the Tower when it came time for a new build. He'd also made sure the entire building was technologically connected in ways unlike that of any other archangelic stronghold in the world. The one thing that had never changed, however, was the waterfall of railingless balconies from which angels took flight.

He caught sight of a pair of wings opening up in flight just then. Feathers the shade of dark mahogany, hair a touch lighter, the flight form of a warrior.

Andreja.

Seven and a half millennia of age or so-she'd forgotten her actual birthing day eons ago-she wore the amber of an angel far younger than her. She, who'd vowed never to lock herself to one lover. But even tough and battle-scarred Andreja wasn't proof against Laric's patient determination. When she'd told the healer he was too young to tie himself to her, he'd simply waited her out.

"He asks me every time he clocks up another century-and reminds me that we've clocked up another century together," Andreja had complained to Illium. "Man is relentless."

Illium's lips curved at the memory; he knew all about quiet, relentless types. He also knew that Andreja had been so terrified of commitment because of how much she loved Laric; she'd been scared he'd fly away after he was healed of his own terrible pain. But Laric was like Illium: they loved deep and true only once . . . and for always.

Sweeping down through the clouds with his own lover's smile in his mind's eye, he dropped to the first set of nonreflective windows, got a wave from a passing vampire with hair of liquid jet that reached her lower back.

Her black bodysuit boasted a jagged cutout over the shoulder and upper chest area that peaked at one shoulder, and her boots had chunky heels of clear glass so high that he had no idea how she walked so effortlessly in them. While her hair had been black this past century, Holly's eyelashes changed color with the day and her mood.

Venom green, came the laughing comment into his mind before he could ask the question, Holly's ability at mental speech excellent. Not every vampire developed that ability, but Holly had been Made by an archangel. An insane one, but one of the Cadre nonetheless.

I'm feeling mushy in love today. She blew him a kiss before vanishing around the corner.

Three floors farther down, a wing of angels took off, with Sameon at the head. Illium would recognize those brown wings tipped with black anywhere, as he would Sam's intense style of flight. The angel of some seven hundred years of age-give or take a few decades-had learned under Galen, but he was a much more contained flyer than the Barbarian-a direct contrast to his openhearted personality. Should the Tower hold a popularity contest, Sam would win.

Everyone loved the dark-eyed wing commander and loyal member of Elena's Guard.

Today, Sam took his wing out over the glass and metal of the city and toward the crystalline blue of the water. That hadn't changed, either-the glass and the metal that was New York. Different, yes, with more skyway bridges, the subways sleek with self-driving transports, and the buildings and floating habitats designed to be full work-life environments, including sprawling internal gardens brought about by the quiet influence of the Legion's green legacy.

But the soul of the city?
It beat loud and clear in the traffic that buzzed along the streets, and in the distinctive yellow color of the autonomous cabs. The technology could've long ago moved into private vehicles, but while vehicles with the option for autonomous operation were popular-with the driver in control of switching it on or off at will-there'd been no demand for fully self-driving cars after a few unfortunate incidents where the safety features had caused the vehicles to come to a halt due to sensing "pedestrians."

Said pedestrians had been frothing-at-the-mouth vampires driven by bloodlust who'd smashed into the vehicles and made a meal of the hapless passengers.

Turned out mortals could have immortal memories when it came to fear. Didn't matter how the manufacturers tried to push upgraded vehicles they promised wouldn't turn their drivers into sitting blood banks; no one was buying.

Illium, lover of tech though he was, couldn't blame them.

Flying cars, of course, had never stood a chance in a world populated by angels, the risk of collisions too high.

He grinned as, just then, he spotted two street vendors yelling at each other across a busy avenue, no doubt complaining about patch poaching. The cabdrivers might have been superseded by technology, but the people were still there-and they were still New Yorkers. Hot dog stands, coffee carts, vendors hawking tourist tchotchkes, the colorful parade continued unabated.

All that had changed was the way of it: the stands and carts were flight capable these days-the sole land vehicles that had an exception to the usual flight rules, but only to claim or leave their assigned spots on rooftops and in habitats. They also had a ponderous maximum speed, and were limited to highly specific pathways at assigned times of the day.

No one wanted a hundred superpowered carts blundering about in angelic airspace.

"Markets have existed since time immemorial," his mother had said to him during one of his visits to Lumia, as the two of them walked the bustling lanes of the local market accompanied by a gaggle of children who adored Sharine, the Hummingbird. "I cannot foresee any future in which they die a total death."

Neither could Illium. The age of online convenience had been followed by a return to open-air markets-the young rediscovering that which their ancestors had disavowed-until the world now stood at a midpoint that had held stable for two hundred years.

One of the vendors saw Illium just then. The man's top half was painted a vivid glowing pink, his bottom half apparently clothed but who knew. Illium was all for self-expression but he'd never been tempted by the trend for paint-closets that decorated their users each morning. At least the Tower had put a "must wear actual physical underwear" law in place.

The painted man lifted up a hand in a wave before going back to his argument.

"Aren't you afraid that being so friendly with the mortals will make them no longer respect you?" a much younger Sameon had asked Illium after the then-youth was first stationed to the Tower, his dark curls atumble and his brown eyes painfully sincere. "You're the only battle commander I know who has mortal friends, and smiles more often than he scowls."

Awash in memories of friends who had laughed with him over the centuries, Illium had clasped the bright-eyed angel on the shoulder. "Respect, Sam, isn't a matter of fear. Respect is power used to protect and to shield-and to go on the offensive when needed. This city knows I have and will again spill my blood for it. I don't need to put on a grim mien to be respected."

He was still thinking of the cheerful, mischievous boy he'd watched grow into a powerful man when he flew over the Hudson-wider now, its path cutting away part of the city that had existed when Raphael first set up his Tower.

The river had already begun to do its slow, steady work by the time Sameon came to the city, wet behind the ears and with his whole heart full of devotion for Ellie, but it had eased up after a period, as if content with its new channel. So many years had passed since then. Funny to think that Sam was now older than Illium had been during the Lijuan years.

The years of horror and pain and a Cascade of Death.

It struck him, not for the first time, how awfully young he'd been at the time. Yet the Cascade had tried to shove him full of a power his mind and body had been nowhere near ready to control. It would've killed him had Raphael not interceded. Illium had been ecstatic when the world went back into balance, taking with it the threat of an early ascension-and he remained as happy when it became clear he'd been bypassed for ascension.

After stabilizing during the time now referred to as The Rise of Marduk, his power had never again spiked. He knew the spiteful in angelkind whispered that he must be disappointed in his "decline"-as if he wasn't one of the most powerful angels in the world outside the Cadre-but Illium had never wanted to ascend, never wanted to become one of the rulers of the world.

He loved this city, and he loved being one of Raphael's Seven, part of a tight group that had survived so long as a unit that they were legend even among angelkind.

No other archangel could claim to have warriors so loyal and so true.

Illium was content to serve millennia as Raphael's first general.

As he was content to live in the Enclave home he'd built with the man he loved beyond reason or sense. Situated not far from Elena and Raphael's own home, theirs was a simple thing of large glass panels and a soaring ceiling nestled in the trees, but beside it stood a much larger building designed to capture light from every angle.

The studio was, however, also engineered to ensure that Aodhan could create shadows or semidarkness as needed; furthermore, he had the ability to turn all the windows opaque, should he wish to remove from passing angels the temptation to peek at his works in progress.

Illium landed in front of the open barn-style doors.

And there was Aodhan in the center of that cavernous space awash in sunlight, the dazzling brightness of him scowling as he worked on a tiny sculpture that had him clenching his jaw and muttering under his breath.

A cat with fur of darkest gray and one white paw usually lay curled up on another part of his workbench, dozing in the sun. Shadow, of the line of Illium's beloved Smoke, was far more attached to Aodhan than she was to Illium-and Illium well understood that.

He, too, would choose Aodhan over anyone and anything.

Today, his lover wore a loose linen shirt of the kind he'd long preferred, with an opening at the neck and no buttons, the color a faded cream. He'd pushed both the sleeves hard back, the hem of the shirt flirting with pants of a fine brown canvas splattered with color from how often he wore them while painting.

While Illium had tested new styles and fabrics over the years, Aodhan knew what he liked and stuck to it. "It means I never have to worry about horrendous images from the time when transparent plastic was all the rage."

Excerpted from Archangel's Ascension by Nalini Singh. Copyright © 2025 by Nalini Singh. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

My Review

10,000,000 Stars!

Bittersweet kismet

Nalini Singh masterfully pens a beautiful love letter to her readers with Archangel’s Ascension. 

Illium and Aodhan’s love story is one for the ages, beautifully fragile, unbending, and stronger than ever before.

Archangel’s Ascension is where our precious Bluebell is catapulted into his destiny. A destiny that he never wanted, but was his path all along. 

When the Guild Hunter series began, Illium was in his early 500s. Still pretty young for an angel let alone old enough to become an archangel. As the series progresses, we see signs that Illium is becoming a Power. 

When a catastrophic archangelic event hits the world, the powers that be try to ascend Illium into an archangel too soon and almost kills him. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before Illium began his ultimate ascension. 

Now, the youngest angel to ascend in the entire history of angels was Raphael. As the son of two archangels, he ascended at just over 1,000 years old, that’s almost unheard of. Since Illium has been in his fifth century throughout the series, a significant time jump has to happen for Illium to ascend. I know guys, I know. I’m still not ready!

The time jump is what’s most devastating to me about the story. We know that angels and vampires live centuries and millennia and mortals don’t. Their fire burns so bright, yet extinguishes all too soon, shattering our hearts. I have never cried so much as I have while reading this book. 

Having loved all these characters from the very beginning of the series, experiencing all these pivotal changes in the landscape and timeframe of the books has me completely shook. I deeply empathized with every character and every scene so much so that I wept uncontrollably many times, and smiled my heart’s smile while laughing at wonderful memories. And also finding it extremely difficult to accept the earth shattering changes that follow such an immense shift in the Guild Hunter universe. 

I am fundamentally changed after reading this book.

There are so many parallels in Archangel’s Ascension and so many lessons to learn about life and love. There are also so many lovely surprises in this book that I refuse to say more about because readers need to experience it themselves. I will politely suggest having a BIG box of tissues handy though. The author is gonna take you through some things. 

I’m not gonna lie, Archangel’s Ascension is as heart wrenching as it is grief inducing. But it’s also exciting, funny, breathtaking, hopeful, and transformative.

What Nalini Singh has created in the Guild Hunter universe is magical, extraordinary, and beautiful beyond comparison. I’m sure it can be quite difficult for any author to keep track of storylines and characters, especially when you are 17 books deep into a series but Ms. Singh does it flawlessly. 

Archangel’s Ascension is THE best book of 2025 and one of the very best books I’ve ever read. Standing mother fucking ovation! Bravo, Ms. Singh! Bravo!

FTC Disclaimer: I voluntarily read a copy of the book generously provided by the publisher via Net Galley in exchange for an honest review. This in no way influences my thoughts or feelings about the book or the content of my review.

Purchase Links

Penguin Random House*

About the Author

Photo: © Shay Barratt

New York Times bestselling author Nalini Singh is passionate about writing. Though she’s traveled as far afield as the deserts of China, the temples of Japan, and the frozen landscapes of Antarctica, it is the journey of the imagination that fascinates her most. She’s beyond delighted to be able to follow her dream as a writer.

She is the author of the Psy-Changeling novels, including Primal Mirror, Resonance Surge, and Storm Echo. She is also the author of the Guild Hunter series, including Archangel’s Lineage, Archangel’s Resurrection, and Archangel’s Light, and three stand-alone thrillers: There Should Have Been Eight, Quiet in Her Bones, and A Madness of Sunshine. Learn more at nalinisingh.com

*Third party links to the publisher's website. May contain affiliate links.