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It took me a while to get around to reading Nexus Alpha: Unbroken but after reading Katie’s review I knew that I had to give it a shot. It turns out that nobody else knew how to recommend this one to me, because I’d been given a completely different impression that didn’t convey just how fun and just how hot this whole book is.

It might be a surprise that I feel so positively about Nexus Alpha given my review of WARHOUND, but despite sharing a number of surface-level similarities the two could not be more different in execution. I want to be clear that I do not think either of these approaches is necessarily better than the other, just that one of them worked significantly better for me. The biggest difference is in characterization. Epoc and Antimony are wonderfully realized, something that helps elevate their relationship beyond a kink dynamic into something special. Nexus Alpha is incredibly hot, don’t get me wrong, but there was never a moment where the sex felt like it was taking precedent over the narrative, an issue I’ve had with other “mechsploitation” stories. Nexus Alpha explores many of the same concepts as these stories from a completely different angle, one that maintains the inherent eroticism of piloting a mech and the sexual dynamic between pilot and handler without sacrificing their humanity. It’s really some good shit.

Nexus Alpha is incredibly fast paced, and while the book stays remarkably engaging as it bounces from idea to idea I would have loved some more time to flesh things out. It’s a minor issue, though, because the pacing really plays to the book’s strengths. Bambust’s writing is incredibly engaging (and—I feel obligated to mention—hot) to the point that I felt enraptured by parts of the story that would have otherwise done nothing for me (i.e. the petplay.) More than anything, I just wish there was more, which is always a great sign for part one in a trilogy.

All of the character writing here is absolutely top notch. Ela does a great job blending character development and deeper conversations into otherwise incredibly horny scenes, something that helps flesh out the side cast—particularly Diana and Devah—despite their limited screentime.

It’s been a while since I picked up a book and immediately fell in love with it, but Nexus Alpha: Unbroken delivered on everything I could have hoped for and then some. There are a lot of other stories that are kind of like this one, but there’s nothing quite like it. It took everything in me to hold off on starting part two until I could get myself together enough to write this review, and if that isn’t a sign that this one’s worth a read I don’t know what is.

WARHOUND Volume One is a bit of a disjointed mess. What's here is a four-part collection: Two short stories, a novella, and a novel. The increase in scope with each subsequent part is impressive, but the execution stumbles when trying to grow beyond the scope of the original story.

WARHOUND works great as a standalone short story. Rho's writing elevates what could have otherwise been a thinly-veiled excuse for smut into a fairly compelling narrative. Grasping the Weapon is a perfectly serviceable followup that delivers a satisfying ending but feels held back by the fact that Meetra is just a less compelling character than Sartha. Hunting Hound is where the cracks really start to show. Leinth feels incomplete—a trans girl in a world without men—and her inclusion feels a little forced. What's here is a 30,000 word diversion, one that services as solid smut without adding much to the overarching narrative beyond fleshing out Sartha's characterization. Nothing here is outright bad, but up to this point there hasn't been much in the way of an overarching narrative and things are starting to feel a little tired and repetitive.

Rescue Hound is the star of the show here, and manages to take the flimsy foundation established by the previous stories and turn it into a fairly compelling narrative. There's a lot of extra room to explore both Sartha and Kione's characters, and the shift in dynamics manages to keep things fresh. Unfortunately, it's marred by a second half that feels fairly forced, as Kione's desperation forces her to make dumber and dumber choices. I still enjoyed what was here, but I was waiting for the end long before I reached it because the narrative tension just was not there.

This is a collection of stories that works better when treated as an anthology rather than an overarching narrative, but the way that each story builds on the previous makes it hard to see each one as truly independent. There are a lot of clever ideas in here—and Rho's writing does a great job breaking down and exploring these characters—but WARHOUND Volume One is held back by its' foundation. There's certainly room to grow and expand from here—much of the awkwardness needed to stretch the backdrop for a short story into a fully developed setting has already been done—but the process to get there scarred my enjoyment of some otherwise fun stories.

Show Girl is a book with a lot of potential. I'm a huge fan of Alyson Greaves' later works, and much of what I love about them is present here. Greaves does a wonderful job fully realizing classic trans stories, accented with some of the best character writing I've ever seen. But where Alyson's other books transcend the stories that inspired them, Show Girl merely succeeds. Much of this is due to the constrained time frame: Alex has to go from a sad boy to a happy woman over the course of just one weekend, and this results in fairly jarring pacing as she speedruns through things that would normally span days if not weeks in just a few hours. Despite this awkwardness—there are a few contrived scenes in which way-too-knowledgable cis people handhold Alex through her transition—she's a perfectly fun lead for a story like this. But without any room to breathe, she and the other characters don't feel fully realized.

I don't want to sound too negative because what's here is still incredibly fun. The core premise is incredibly solid, Ben and Emily steal every single scene they're in, and Alex and James' relationship is engaging. But the pacing really drags this one down for me, from something that could have been truly special to a fun, but ultimately unremarkable story.

If there's one word I can use to describe The Boy Who Would Be Prom Queen it's messy. This isn't a quality judgement on the book itself—it's messy in both good and bad ways—but an undercurrent throughout every aspect of the book. The setting is messy—the characters feel anachronistic, holding mostly modern understandings of queer relationships and identities. So is the pacing—the first act feels jarringly fast, speedrunning from sad boy to (mostly sad) girl with little concern for how she got there, the second act meanders through a number of plot points that seem to go nowhere, and the third act attempts to tie things together cleanly in a way that feels fairly abrupt (primarily as a result of the aforementioned anachronisms). The writing is messy—there are a number of jokes that don't quite land for me, a number of minor editing mistakes that could make things confusing to follow sometimes, and chapters that occasionally switch perspectives without warning. The characters are messy too, although I found this to be (mostly) a positive. There were moments that felt a little melodramatic, but most of the conflicts and plot twists that underly the book's second and third acts were incredibly fun to watch unfold, even if some of them lead to unsatisfyingly abrupt conclusions.

But despite all of this, I enjoyed my time with The Boy Who Would Be Prom Queen. It's undeniably messy, but messy can be fun. While Sorrento never quite surpasses the teen movies that inspired her, she captures their vibe quite well and (barring a couple subplots that don't go anywhere) delivers a fun ride from beginning to end. There are some incredibly fun twists here, and the core cast is all fairly likeable.

It's easy for me to imagine a cleaner version of this story, one that delivers a more satisfying conclusion while smoothing over some of its' contrivances. And while The Boy Who Would Be Prom Queen could use another edit pass, a lot of what I loved here was enhanced by the mess, rather than detracted by it. This was a fun read—even if it had me yelling at the words on the page a number of times before the end—and worth giving a look.

I'm going to try and keep this review contained to just the first book, but so much of what I love about Dorley as a series is paid off later on in the series, so forgive me if I can't control myself. Welcome to Dorley Hall is one of the most compelling books I've ever read, and is absolutely worth your consideration.

The force fem nature of this premise is by far its' most provocative, so let's start there. I don't think that morality discourse is the most productive this early into the narrative; there's so much context about Dorley's methods and history revealed later in the series that informs my thoughts on the matter, but I also don't think that the question of whether or not Dorley Hall is morally good directly informs the quality of the book. If anything, the complexity of the question only speaks to its' qualities. If the premise doesn't make you too uncomfortable, feel free to skip ahead a little bit.

However, it is an aspect of the story that many people, particularly non transfems, struggle with overcoming. So, as a trans woman, here's some things to consider: transition isn't just something you are, it's also something you do. Dorley's women are materially trans, they've taken the steps to transition both physically and socially. And while they may not have taken those steps on their own, Dorley's program is designed to select those who are most likely to benefit from a material transition. Gendering is an inherently violent and traumatic process, one done to each and every one of us from birth. Dorley's mechanisms are designed to inflict that trauma in reverse, to provide its' patients with a healthier framework to interact with the world.

You can argue about the nuances of these mechanisms, but I find it extremely reductive to treat Dorley Hall's morality as a black and white issue. You can be uncomfortable with a premise while still engaging with it; the fact that Dorley's forced feminization is so provocative is part of what makes the series so compelling.

In the same way that I find much of Dorley's morality discourse to be reductive, I find framings of the series as some kind of “enlightened forcefem” to be unhelpful. It is undeniable that Dorley is written with clear mastery of forcefem as a genre; Alyson explores tropes and archetypes with a level of depth and nuance rarely seen, and the series' popularity has ensured that it will remain both monumental and influential for forcefem and broader tg/tf narratives for a long time. But I also feel that this framing, that Dorley somehow “redeems” a genre of transmisogynistic smut, is incomplete. What Dorley does with the genre is incredible, yes, but its' built on a foundation of other stories, each of which has something to offer.

Dorley has one of the best ensemble casts I've ever seen. While much of this comes later in the series, as Welcome to Dorley Hall focuses primarily on the viewpoints of Stef and Christine, the foundation for that growth is established here. Alyson depicts the internal struggles of transfemininity absolutely incredibly, while simultaneously managing to cover such a broad spectrum of the trans experience.

Stef's internal struggles reminded me of many of my own very early in transition. Overcoming the seemingly impossible mental barrier of admitting your transness. Struggling to accept a new identity because you still “feel” like your old gender, before hormones have had time to do their thing. She's got so, so much to work through, and works as a fantastic challenge to Dorley's methods.

Christine is the other focus of book one, and for the sake of brevity I won't go into full detail about how much I love her. Long story short: I've never felt so damn seen by a fictional character before. Her struggles with being seen as a woman publicly, with overcoming her anxieties and insecurities in order to learn the tools of femininity that she yearns for, mirrored so many of my own struggles so perfectly. Her arc was the motivating push I needed to push beyond the stagnation I'd been feeling in my own transition, and I cannot praise it enough.

Every single side character has this level of depth throughout the series. While Dorley's deconstruction of forced feminization is both provocative and compelling, I personally believe its greatest strength lies in its depiction of transness. This is something the series goes in much greater depth on as it continues, expanding to the viewpoints of a much larger cast, but those characters are all established here, and even without their internal monologues, their internality remains extremely apparant.

Alyson's writing is absolutely captivating. The story is paced incredibly well, allowing its' heavier moments to land without ever letting things get too dark. And more than anything, I can't understate just how funny it is. The premise is big and weighty, yes, but there are so many jokes that absolutely land here. The gallows humor on display here does an excellent job keeping things fun without ever fully distracting from the facts of the scenario. I could not put this book down on first read, and that's a fact that's remained true on rereads.

The Sisters of Dorley is one of the most compelling pieces of fiction I've ever read. And so much of that ground work is laid here in Welcome to Dorley Hall. I cannot understate just how impressive it is for a serialized work to feel so carefully planned and considered. Every single aspect of Dorley's world and characters feels perfectly crafted to spark interesting discussions about the nature of gender and the trans experience. If the premise makes you uncomfortable, that's fine! Don't let that discomfort rob you of an incredible read.

Book 2 

Read Katie's Review! 

I don't think I could have been more excited for The Snowball Effect. I've loved literally every single Haley Cass book, and an enemies to lovers fake relationship starring two of my favorite characters from Those Who Wait? That's basically everything I could have ever wanted. And even with those extremely high expectations, The Snowball Effect still managed to surpass them.

This book just builds and builds and builds. The pacing is absolutely exquisite, and the tension is palpable. Watching Emma and Regan's relationship finally come together was just so, so satisfying. Finally reaching the tipping point where everything starts to fall into place was absolutely enthralling, and I seriously couldn't get enough of these two.

Emma and Regan were both extremely likable in Those Who Wait, but they're both given so much more depth here as leads. They both have relatively similar arcs, but their personalities are so different that the similarities only serve to complement each other. Combined with a dynamic supporting cast (both new and old), and every single scene is just so engaging.

My only major complaint is that I just want more of these two. I absolutely love the slow burn, and everything comes together in an extremely satisfying way, but by the time Emma and Regan actually get together, things are already wrapping up. Ultimately, it works, and in my mind wanting more of a great book is never a bad thing.

Absolutely recommended. I could not put this down from the second I picked it up, and I'm already desperate to reread it when my physical copy arrives. Easily one of the best books I've read this year, and worth every second of your time.

How to Fly is one of the most fun books I've ever read. It's more than a little contrived: any tf/tg story set in our cissexist world needs to make its' reasons and methods for transitioning air tight to combat cisnormativity. Alyson does an excellent job realizing this premise, going into extensive detail about every step of the process, managing to find a balance between feeling authentically trans while fully capitalizing on the potential dramatics of the premise.

Consequentially, this leads to a book dominated by setup, a story that ends feeling like its' only just begun. While Max and Taylor often feel like they're written as pieces of a machine that turns sad boys into cheerleaders (an issue that's more than alleviated by the sequel), Alyson does a great job realizing both leads. High school is the perfect gender role pressure cooker to ground these characters, exemplifying the cissexism and heterosexism of society and maximizing the number of messy and dramatic situations that Max and Taylor find themselves in. Much of this is facilitated by the side cast which—while likable— feels fairly utilitarian, filling roles in the plot without receiving any major focus or character development (again, alleviated by the sequel).

How to Fly establishes an excellent foundation. Greaves continues her tradition of fully realizing TF/TG tropes to interrogate cissexist society, wrapping these heavier ideas in a fun, light package. It's a great read, held back only by its' role as setup for a larger story. I absolutely loved this book on first read and love it even more having read the sequel, absolutely check this one out. 

As a big fan of both Those Who Waitand Taylor Swift I had a lot of hopes going into this one. I'm not normally the biggest fan of second chance romances, but my biggest issue with Those Who Wait was that its' ending felt a little rushed and underbaked compared to the excellent slow burn that built up to it, and I was hoping that Midnight Rain would provide something more satisfying. I'm happy to report that the book more than delivered on this promise.

Both Sutton and Charlotte are wonderfully fleshed out here. Charlotte's developments from the end of Those Who Wait have been expanded into a delightfully slow burn, but Sutton's characterization here is what really makes this work. Those Who Wait's central conflict hinged entirely on Charlotte's actions; while Sutton never felt underdeveloped, there were times where she could feel like an observer in her own relationship. Cass develops this feeling into her central conflict throughout Midnight Rain, adding additional layers of complexity to Those Who Wait's initial dilemma while ultimately leading to a satisfying closure for these characters and their relationship.

The pacing can feel a little disjointed, and when viewed strictly as a part two there are a number of unresolved plot threads and characters. I wouldn't jump straight into this one from where it diverges from Those Who Wait even though I consider its' ending significantly more satisfying, because there's some connective tissue missing to make that work. But Midnight Rain largely builds on the characters and conflicts established in Those Who Wait, and is absolutely worth a read.  

A/S/L presents an impressive rumination on queer nostalgia, one seeped in the culture of amateur queer game design. If you aren't familiar with classic RPGs or the engines that try to emulate them, I'm not sure how accessible much of this book will be for you. But if you have even a tangential understanding of the communities that surround them, this is absolutely Your Shit and worth a read.

The first act is an explosive portrait of teenage angst, of grandiose self-importance and the chain reaction of small decisions that shatter its' fragile foundation. While I was a little too young for the specific ZZT community that Thorton draws from, I was able to resonate deeply with the raw queerness of it all, at times cringe while constantly feeling like home; the embodiment of queer nostalgia. 

Thorton lingers on nostalgia to an almost uncomfortable degree, her writing both extremely expressive and evocative. Guided by an all-consuming specter of their collective past, watching all three protagonists crash back into each others' lives through small, consequential decisions is enthralling. These characters are messy. They're rash, impulsive, and delusional. But they're shaped by the world around them, one that pushes trans women away from community and towards bitter desperation. When the world is falling apart around you, the pull of nostalgia only begins to grow stronger, a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

A/S/L felt extremely targeted at a part of my adolescence that, by design, was never quite given a satisfying conclusion. I've been haunted by the ghosts of my own unfinished projects, the friends I made along the way, back before life became messy and complicated. Thorton's writing is incredibly evocative, with incredibly fleshed out characters placed in a fully realized world. Just like the games that inspired it, A/S/L isn't going to work for everyone, but is absolutely something special for the people it connects with.

This one was sold to me as “magical girl Kimmy” and as a fan of psychosexual robot girls (who are also trans women) I was absolutely sat. Magical Girl Mechanical Heart simultaneously feels like it underdelivers and perfectly delivers on this premise, delighting in the sheer angst of being trapped in a body that isn't yours, one that you can't fully control. Luna is an incredibly fun protagonist, the exact kind of sicko I would be if I woke up in a robot magical girl's body, and Maher's prose does an excellent job in fully realizing her thoughts and actions. 

I ultimately found the book to be a little too slowly paced without fully realizing some of the potential behind its' scenarios, even if they were ultimately enjoyable. This is the first part of a larger story, and there's plenty of room for satisfying payoff in the sequel (the setup for which has me absolutely sat) so it's not the biggest deal in the world, and I ultimately enjoyed what was here. It just left me a little unsatisfied, if mostly content.
 
Still a very fun read, one that frequently hits the mark. If you're the kind of sicko who gets excited at the idea of a psychosexual robot magical girl servant, then this is absolutely worth a read.

First off, quick disclaimer: This is a sequel, and you really need to read Welcome to Dorley Hall to have any idea what's happening. This review will reference the events of Welcome to Dorley Hall, if you're sensitive to spoilers please don't read this before reading the first book. There will also be some light spoilers in this review, although, I've tagged the bigger reveals so you can avoid them if you're curious about the book, but haven't read it yet.

Secondly, this is a sequel. If you've read through all of Welcome to Dorley Hall, then chances are you already know whether you want to continue reading or not. You're either on board with the concept, or you aren't. So, tl;dr: Secrets of Dorley Hall is a very good book. It's a thrilling read, one that goes much more in depth on the concepts introduced in Welcome to Dorley Hall.

The end of Welcome to Dorley Hall shifted the status quo in a few pretty major ways, and Secrets of Dorley Hall delights in exploring each of those shifts as much as possible. Now that Stef's transness has been exposed, she suddenly finds herself significantly more complicit in the programme, all while slowly exploring her newfound freedoms. There's so much to love here. Steph finally getting the opportunity to discover herself; trying on clothes, picking out a name, figuring out who she wants to be, is all absolutely delightful. Her core conflict, her newfound complicity in the programme, especially in light of her rapidly growing feelings for Aaron, is absolutely wonderful.

Gaining more context into the hall's history, learning that the original version of Dorley was – in essence – your standard trashy, transmisogynistic forcefem setting (though portrayed with the appropriate amount of horror) further complicates any discussion of the hall's operations in some delightfully interesting ways. Secrets of Dorley Hall provides much more specific insight into how old Dorley operated, and they do a great job contextualizing Dorley, particularly when viewed through any moral lens.

Even more so than the first book, Secrets of Dorley Hall is extremely interested in exploring the intricacies of Dorley Hall's operation. Greaves slowly introduces us to additional perspectives beyond Steph and Christine, giving so much more insight onto how each of the girls view themselves, and their experiences at the hall. In my previous review of Welcome to Dorley Hall, I touched on the idea that while the Dorley Girls might not fit a standard trans narrative (i.e. figured out their gender on their own before pursuing medical and/or social transition), they are still mechanically trans – capable of transitioning without experiencing dysphoria, and benefitting from being treated as a woman. It's an absolutely fascinating idea – one that personally lines up with my own experiences regarding transition and dysphoria – and one thoroughly explored by multiple characters here. Watching girls like Christine and Jodie come to terms with their transness, seeing Lorna realize just how similar their experiences were to her, a more traditional trans girl, is all super fascinating and engaging stuff.

I want to talk a little bit in depth about Chapter 9 (24 in the web version), Everything Must Go, but bear in mind that everything in this section is going to contain some pretty big spoilers. The chapter is fairly standalone, and in many ways is the series at its' absolute best. It's not my personal favorite chapter, but it is the one most worth talking about in isolation.

Everything Must Go is an extended flashback, showing Melissa's backstory. It's absolutely heartbreaking, the story of a trans girl who doesn't have the tools to figure herself out, suffocating in a miserable environment. Shahida is a wonderful addition; delightfully messy, weird, and assertive, she pushes Melissa towards happiness, all without the final piece of the puzzle.

Melissa acts as a wonderful contrast to Steph's experiences – Dorley having failed Melissa where it's currently able to help Steph – and her addition to the plot helps add some much appreciated chaos to the book's climax. As a big fan of Greaves' When You Fell From Heaven series (which you should also read; it's generally much lighter than Dorley, but still delightfully trans), Melissa's experiences also contrast with Maxine's. Where Maxine has Taylor, someone who stumbled her way into figuring her out, Melissa has Shahida, someone so desperate to do the same, but who wasn't able to put the pieces together.

Where other chapters balance multiple plot threads and perspectives, Everything Must Go remains extremely focused. Only a tiny section of the chapter – a brief conversation in which Aaron learns about Maria's past, followed by a cut to Melissa discovering that Steph is at Dorley – is laser focused. There's a stark contrast in tone; while there are lighter moments, Melissa's melancholy is all encompassing, and does a great job setting the mood. The small details – the steps she takes to purge safely, the ways in which she is (and isn't) able to conceptualize herself as someone other than Mark, sympathizing with Steph without being able to properly diagnose their shared symptoms – go such a long way in painting an absolutely vivid portrait of her life. Melissa's been a shadow looming over the series since Chapter 1, and her experiences add so much to the themes and concepts that Alyson was already exploring throughout the book.


I've seen people call Dorley slow paced, and while Secrets of Dorley Hall is a pretty substantial read, I'd be hard pressed to call it slow. So much happens in every single chapter, and while most of these developments are character driven, the concepts and themes that Greaves touches on are consistently interesting. But the various plot threads that are building throughout the book all converge near the end in one of the most exciting chapters I've ever read. Watching all the major unresolved plot points converge into one moment is absolutely captivating. While this isn't my favorite Alyson Greaves book, it is (at time of writing) her best written, paced to provide the perfect level of tension at any given moment.

There's so much I could say about Secrets of Dorley Hall because it really is an excellently written book. It expands on every single idea introduced in Welcome to Dorley Hall while remaining a tightly focused, excellently paced read. Greaves is clearly writing with such love for trans people and trans experiences, drawing on deep knowledge of trans fiction to deliver what I believe to be the most important piece of trans fiction of the early 2020s, an absolute zeitgeist of transness.

Book 1 
Read Katie's Review! 

Satire about marginalized books isn't exactly new, and in many ways A Rotten Girl almost feels inevitable. But Topaz does an excellent job setting this story apart. Pearl is a trans woman who, in an attempt to achieve mainstream success, poses as a cisgender gay man to write a trashy M/M romance targeted at straight women. She's a fairly unlikeable protagonist, willing to go to extreme lengths at the expense of her gay trans roommate Pippin and her girlfriend Barbs, but her motivations are ultimately fairly relatable.

It helps that the writing is consistently a blast: relentlessly quotable, with nearly every single paragraph having at least one standout line. From exerpts from Pearl's novel, to pointed (and fairly) accurate depictions of the horrors of being an online trans woman, Topaz's writing is incredibly sharp, balancing both humor and commentary excellently.

My only major complaint is that some character development, particularly in regards to Pearl's relationship with Barbs, felt a little rushed and contrived. I would have loved to see more justification for Pearl's decision not to be upfront with both Barbs and Pippin, and neither characters' relationship with Pearl felt like it ended on a satisfying note.

A Rotten Girl is an absolute blast to read. But more than that, it's an excellently written piece of satire, that manages to cram quite a bit of layered commentary into a short (but sweet) package. Definitely worth a read, I loved this one quite a bit.

When I first read A Break in Communications, I immediately wanted a book following Kelcey and Veronica. I assumed that, if it happened, it would happen next year. I never expected my wish to come true just one month later. And A Conflict of Interest is every bit as good as I hoped for.

Kelcey and Veronica's history and dynamics are just so compelling. Watching Veronica accept the fact that she's absolutely in love is great, and Kelcey's struggles with with trusting her are totally understandable. These two are both so, so damn fun and Seabrooke does an excellent job at voicing each of them. I laughed out loud at multiple points, and I just couldn't get enough of them. More than anything, it was great to see Kelcey and Veronica get fleshed out, with aspects of their characters that once only served comedic purposes getting explored with the depth and humanity they deserved.

The returning supporting cast was absolutely wonderful. I loved Anna and Lucy, so getting more of them was absolutely delightful. Most of the supporting cast is giving more of what they offered in the previous book, but they were a delight there too so I really can't complain.

I was never expecting to get to read this book, much less so soon, but it's everything I could've dreamed of. An absolutely delightful holiday romance, two perfectly unhinged leads, and some of the best yearning I've read all year. Definitely check this one out.

I received an advance copy in exchange for a review, but all opinions and ideas expressed are my own.

There's a definite swiftie bias here, but there's a lot to like here. The layout is clean, the print quality is fantastic. I love the way each album's font is incorporated; while the layouts of each section broadly stay the same, it does a nice job differentiating each one just enough from one another.

Getting a full version of the setlist with all the eras included, and without the compromises to incorporate TTPD was nice. Even songs like invisible string that haven't been on since the very start get a spot here, it's nice.

I do wish there was more information in here, though? Each era only gets a paragraph, and a brief behind the scenes section at the end. The behind the scenes stuff is fantastic, but there just isn't that much in terms of new information at hand here. It's a nice thing to have, it'll display well, but I would've loved just a little bit more with such a steep price tag.

It's really hard to review Love/Aggression without spoiling so much of what makes it incredible. At the heart of this bizarre, fragmented, surreal world is an incredibly human story about our relationships with others. One of the most inventive pieces of trans literature I've ever read; I don't want to say more for fear of spoilers, this is absolutely worth a read.

A Break in Communications is incredibly fun. A rivals-to-lovers holiday romance with elements of fake dating and some of the best characterization I've ever seen. The sudden shift from Anna's rivalry towards Lucy's obsessive crush is absolutely adorable, and the chemistry between the two is palpable throughout every stage of their relationship. I'm not usually a fan of fake dating plotlines, but the way this one was framed made it more than enjoyable.

The side cast is extremely dynamic, with Anna's meddling mother, Lucy's grandmother, and the relationship between Anna's sister and coworker being highlights. I would've read an entire book on Kelcey and Veronica's relationship.

The workplace subplot felt a little unnecessarily convoluted at points, but resolves in an incredibly entertaining fashion, and ultimately doesn't detract from the focus of the book.

A Break in Communications is a delightful, charming and cozy holiday read. The chemistry is fantastic, the twists are engaging, and I couldn't put it down from beginning to end. Absolutely recommended.

I received an advance copy in exchange for a review, but all opinions and ideas expressed are my own.

I absolutely adored Ribbonwood. Absolutely seeping in atmosphere and full of complex, dynamic characters with palpable chemistry, I was absolutely hooked from page one.

Lara is such a beautifully complex character. Turning years of mistreatment and mischaracterizations into armor to protect her and other women, all while cutting herself off from the same community she's helped. It's not surprising that the book begins and ends with vivid descriptions of how the town's residents see her; Lara is the absolute center of this story.

Ollie, in comparison, is a little more straight forward, but her personal issues are still handled masterfully. Struggling to slow down after years of focusing solely on her career have finally caught up to her, watching Ollie reconcile with her hometown was incredibly heartwarming.

Together, Ollie and Lara have so much chemistry. Their history is obvious, but it's clear from their first interaction that both women are way more than their high school selves. Watching both of them learn to truly see each other for the first time and fall in love with one another was extremely captivating. These are two complex characters with a complex relationship, but the core of that relationship burns with such intensity that I couldn't help but be entranced by every single moment.

Ollie's family and Lara's bonfire community helped give Ribbonwood the warmth it needs; despite the town's darker aspects, the closeness of its' residents shines through. Landers' depicts partner violence with the weight it deserves, and the town's casual misogyny is confronted in a beautifully satisfying way.

This was an absolutely captivating work, one I couldn't put down from start to finish. Absolutely recommended.

I received an advance copy in exchange for a review, but all opinions and ideas expressed are my own.

I don't know why I took so long to finally get around to reading this one, but I'm absolutely regretting it. Because Delilah Green Doesn't Care is absolutely fantastic. By far one of the strongest supporting casts I've ever seen in a romance novel, and a main romance that starts off absolutely incredible.

Unfortunately, the last few chapters were a little disappointing to me. The shift from a casual relationship to a serious one felt a little bit rushed, even if the build-up to that shift had been very well established. Part of this is that there are sort of two separate third-act conflicts, without enough time to properly explore either afterward. I'm sure that the sequels will help quite a bit, but the ending fell a little flat for me. Which is a shame, because I loved absolutely everything else.

Still recommended, and I'm definitely going to check out the sequels, because everything I loved here I absolutely loved, even if I was a bit disappointed by the ending.

I was absolutely expecting this to be a fun read, but I wasn't expecting it to be so, so human. As someone who has personally struggled with impostor syndrome throughout my transition, Lily's struggles here were just so, so relatable (even if I wasn't that dense). Good trans representation is such an easy way to my heart, and reading through this book made me feel something good during a very rough moment.

Absolutely recommended, we don't get enough legitimately fun and heartwarming trans fiction, and I could not put this one down from the very first page.

I've been hearing great things about Fingersmith for about as long as I've been hearing great things about Park Chan-wook's The Handmaiden (which I swear I'll get around to watching soon! I know I'll love it), so it's honestly a wonder that it took me so long to get around to reading it. A queer as hell dickensian story featuring one of the most riveting psychosexual dynamics I've ever seen was basically guaranteed to permanently alter my brain chemistry, and I'm glad to say that Waters absolutely delivers.

There are a few points where the final act dragged for me a bit; there are just a few too many twists laid on top of each other, but the twists that land absolutely floored me, and none of them were so egregious as to hurt my enjoyment. Waters' is absolutely masterful at pacing and atmosphere, I seriously could not put this one down.

This summer was the apocalypse is genuinely such an impactful entry in contrast to how elaborate the other entries are

This summer was the apocalypse is genuinely such an impactful entry in contrast to how elaborate the other entries are

I want to preface this (admittedly very critical) review by stating that—despite my many issues—Those Who Wait delivers an incredibly captivating romance. Haley Cass shows incredible understanding of slow burn, successfully finding a balance between anticipation and payoff. This is some of the best yearning I've seen in a romance novel, enough to make up for many of its' issues. 
While the idealized portrayal of politics that overhangs their relationship didn't quite work for me (and at times feels in direct conflict with the hidden nature of their relationship), Sutton and Charlotte are both incredibly likable characters, whose chemistry together is absolutely enthralling. Those Who Wait is quite a long read—one that might have benefitted from some editing down—but the smaller moments between these two are so enjoyable that I rarely noticed its' length. 
The side characters—particularly Sutton's friends and family—are among the strongest I've seen in a contemporary romance novel. They make this slow burn work, maximizing tension through the chaotic pressure they present, something particularly key for a hidden relationship. 
Unfortunately, things fall apart for me a little bit in the novel's third act. While I personally didn't find it to be a deal breaker (and many of my issues with the third act were addressed by Cass' later books, particularly the alternate universe sequel Midnight Rain which rewrites the majority of my issues with the third act, though not without its' own issues), the ending ultimately feels a little under baked. 
Sutton's arc throughout the novel revolves around her becoming more active in her own relationships. At the start of the novel, she's too passive to even swipe right on Charlotte's dating app profile, but she learns to actively pursue the relationship she wants, one step at a time. And yet, she plays a passive role in both her own breakup and its' reconciliation. Charlotte is the one to break up with her, because of conflicts in Charlotte's life. And she's the one to resolve those conflicts, the one to reconcile their relationship. It ultimately leaves Sutton's character arc feeling unresolved.
The ending also feels fairly rushed—in stark contrast with the novel's otherwise deliberate pacing. While the main conflict preventing Sutton and Charlotte's relationship has been resolved, the ending handwaves many of the other potential issues surrounding their relationship. I believe that both Sutton and Charlotte are willing to work towards resolving those issues, but the abruptness of the ending compounds with Sutton's passivity to result in something ultimately unsatisfying.
Haley Cass understands how to write a compelling slow burn, and Those Who Wait's highs more than make up for its lows. Highly recommend checking this one out.

I absolutely adored On the Same Page, so it's not surprise that I loved seeing more of Riley and Gianna. I absolutely loved the way this was structured; getting glimpses into their past experiences before seeing how those experiences shaped their futures really helped to maintain the feeling of the first book. Absolutely recommend to anyone who read the original!

I've loved every single Lily Seabrooke book I've read, and Bad Luck Charm is no exception. London and Cameron's chemistry is immediately tantalizing and exhilarating; I knew from the start that this was going to be an extremely entertaining read, but I wasn't expecting London and Cameron's personal struggles to be just as captivating as they were. These two really help each other become the best version of themselves, and watching them fall in love with each other in the process is extremely enjoyable.Miami is a very different setting than most of Seabrooke's earlier works, but she does an excellent job representing the city, especially through it's food, something not surprising to anyone familiar with Seabrooke's prior works. I couldn't stop myself from smiling through each and every one of London and Cameron's dates.My only major complaint is that there were a few places where the pacing felt a little too quick. London, in particular, has a pretty major character shift that felt like it could have used some more time to establish, but I find it hard to complain too much when everything that came after that growth was so enjoyable. I absolutely could not put down Bad Luck Charm, it's a truly exhilarating and enjoyable ride from beginning to end.