Tag: Fiction

Book Review

Stolen Midnights by Katherine Quinn

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Stolen Midnights by Katherine Quinn is a regency-inspired young adult romantasy that unfolds in the gilded city of Andalay, where the Three Fates bestow magical gifts upon the upper classes as a mark of divine favor and social worth. On her eighteenth birthday, Wren Hayes, the so-called “princess” of Ward One, waits to receive the powerful magic her status promises. But it never comes. Unbeknownst to her, a thief has stolen it! And in a society where magic is currency and legitimacy, that turns Wren into a social pariah. What follows is a richly layered, compulsively readable story about power, class warfare, dangerous alliances, and one of the most delightful grumpy x sunshine slow-burn romances I’ve read in a long time.

Book cover for Stolen Midnights by Katherine Quinn set against a pink background.

One day our world would change, and all it took to start a revolution was one person.

Katherine Quinn, Stolen Midnights

Despite being marketed as young adult, I think Stolen Midnights just barely on the edges of it. Tonally, this novel reminds me a lot of Heartless Hunter by Kristen Ciccarelli. It has that same balance of sharp banter, moral ambiguity, simmering tension, and high-stakes worldbuilding. Even when the plot turns twisty and dark, there’s an undercurrent of yearning and restraint that keeps the characters at its center, and that’s why it works so well.

I love a good thief character, so Damien was always going to be an instant favorite, but Wren really surprised me, too. She begins the story sheltered and naive, yet never willfully ignorant. Wren wants to understand the world beyond her privilege, and once that privilege is stripped away, she actively chooses growth, accountability, and compassion. Damien, meanwhile, is morally gray in all the right ways, shaped by a system that exploits the poor to keep the wealthy powerful. His motives are messy, personal, and deeply tied to the book’s class commentary. Watching these two become reluctant allies—especially with Wren unaware that Damien is the thief who stole her gift—creates a dynamic that is both emotionally charged and narratively compelling.

The dual POV structure of the chapters also works beautifully here, giving equal weight to both Wren and Damien’s perspectives without letting one overshadow the other. Seeing Andalay from opposite sides of the class divide adds real texture to the story, especially as the larger conspiracy begins to unravel.

I’m sorry because I allowed myself to be blind when I had the choice to do otherwise. I’m sorry for being a part of a society that uses people when they’re desperate. That forces them to remain desperate. Afraid. Hungry.

Katherine Quinn, Stolen Midnights

The magic system itself deserves special attention because it’s such a clever device. In Andalay, gifts granted by the Three Fates are not random blessings but deliberate reinforcements of wealth and status. Therefore, magic becomes another mechanism of control, hoarded by the upper classes and used to keep power exactly where it already sits. I loved how this magic system feeds directly into the novel’s social commentary, interrogating privilege and exploitation. It shapes Damien’s anger and motivations just as much as it forces Wren to confront the moral cost of her upbringing, adding layers that make the story resonate well beyond the romance.

Speaking of the romance, it was so much fun! The dynamic between Wren and Damien is exactly what I expect when promised enemies-to-lovers. The banter is genuinely delightful, the grumpy x sunshine trope is fully realized (he literally calls her “sunshine”!!), and the slow burn is paced to perfection. Watching Damien deny his feelings while very obviously falling for Wren was endlessly entertaining, and their chemistry is off the charts.

I also really appreciated the emphasis on female empowerment throughout the story. Andalay is unapologetically patriarchal, but Quinn highlights women supporting women, questioning their assigned roles, and actively resisting expectations designed to limit them. The contrast between older men enforcing tradition and a younger generation beginning to push back felt deliberate and thoughtfully executed.

I knew with complete certainty that I’d done the one thing I promised I’d never do—I’d fallen for a mark.

Katherine Quinn, Stolen Midnights

If I had any minor nitpicks, they come down to personal preference rather than flaws. I found myself wishing for a deeper exploration of how certain magical powers work and more on-page moments of characters actively using their magic. There’s also a mention of a jail early on that stuck in my brain. I kept expecting it to reappear or play a larger role later (at one point, I was fully convinced Damien would end up there!), but it never did. That’s very much on me for latching onto it, not the book failing to deliver. But who knows? Maybe it’s there, waiting for book 2 shenanigans!

By the time I reached the final chapters, I was fully hooked. And then that ending completely blindsided me! Jaw on the floor, theories in shambles, and a cliffhanger that was brutal in the best way. I genuinely have no idea how I’m supposed to wait for the sequel! Consider me fully committed, emotionally compromised, and counting the days.

Thank you to NetGalley and Delacorte Press for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

Break Wide the Sea by Sara Holland

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Break Wide the Sea by Sara Holland is a moody, ocean-soaked young adult romantasy that immediately pulled me in with the promise of mysterious fae sea creatures, ancient curses, and that particular brand of melancholy that only stories at sea seem to pull off. The cover alone had me sold, and the premise gave me the same atmospheric pull I felt with When the Tides Held the Moon by Venessa Vida Kelley. And to be fair, the atmosphere is there. The salt, the isolation, the tension of life aboard a ship in unforgiving waters? That part worked so well for me. But while the vibes were vibing, the story itself never quite broke open the way I hoped it would.

Book cover for Break Wide the Sea by Sara Holland.

Maybe I need to be a monster to survive this.

Sara Holland, Break Wide the Sea

At the center of the novel is Annie, the heir to a powerful whaling company whose survival (and humanity’s) depends on harvesting magic from whales. It’s a fascinating and morally messy setup, especially paired with the presence of finfolk and fae mythology. Annie is also cursed, slowly transforming into something monstrous and not entirely human, which should’ve been the emotional core of the book. I kept waiting for that thread to really take over, and for Annie to reckon with what she’s becoming and what that means. Instead, so much of the narrative energy is spent on human conflicts aboard the ship, and it often feels like the most interesting parts of the story are hovering just out of reach.

Annie herself was difficult for me. She’s been trained her entire life to lead, yet repeatedly gives up power while insisting she wants it. Early on, she’s told she will be betrayed, and even as every possible sign points directly at her fiancé, August, she refuses to believe it. We spend what feels like half the book circling this impending betrayal, and because Annie won’t open her eyes, the plot stalls right along with her. Watching her continue to trust him, excuse his behavior, and remain emotionally and physically involved with him was genuinely maddening.

I didn’t want anyone else’s whole heart. I wanted the broken scraps of yours. Whatever you saw fit to give me.

Sara Holland, Break Wide the Sea

August is exactly as awful as you’d expect, and not in a way that felt particularly nuanced. He’s manipulative, controlling, and deeply unlikable, but the story spends so much time having Annie deny this that it dulls the impact. Silas, on the other hand, was the character I wanted more of. He’s the type of character I usually latch onto immediately, but we just don’t get enough of him. His relationship with Annie felt underdeveloped, and I never felt a real spark between them. The romance overall was honestly frustrating. At a certain point, I would have preferred it to be nonexistent because it didn’t add anything meaningful to Annie’s growth or the story’s tension.

Pacing was another major issue for me. For hundreds of pages, the story revisits the same ideas without much escalation, and then suddenly, everything happens at once. When the plot finally surges in the last act, it feels rushed and almost disconnected from what came before. The ending is fine, and it clearly sets up the sequel, but it didn’t reel me in or leave me desperate for more. Instead, I found myself questioning Annie’s final choices yet again, especially since I couldn’t understand why she agreed to the terms she did. Like, hello? You’re cursed to transform into a sea monster. Show me some teeth, girl!

I can’t touch him how I’d like to, not with the gloves and what’s under them. I have to be careful, but there’s something thrilling about that too—that he wants me despite the risk, despite everything.

Sara Holland, Break Wide the Sea

That said, there are things this book does well. The worldbuilding is strong, the concept is genuinely intriguing, and the ethical tension surrounding whaling gives the story real weight. I just wanted more immersion. More finfolk. More literal and figurative transformation. More time underwater! I wanted to taste the salt spray, feel the bone-deep cold of Arctic waters, and completely lose myself in those submerged realms.

Ultimately, Break Wide the Sea is a unique story with a lot of potential. My issues with it are subjective and largely tied to characterization and narrative focus rather than the core idea itself. I can absolutely see this working better for other readers, especially those who enjoy slow-burn tension and morally complex fantasy worlds.

Thank you to NetGalley and Wednesday Books for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

The Swan’s Daughter by Roshani Chokshi

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The Swan’s Daughter by Roshani Chokshi is a lavish, strange, and quietly radical fairytale retelling that takes familiar tropes and reshapes them from the inside out. On the surface, it looks like a classic setup: a young woman enters a glittering court to compete for a prince’s hand, surrounded by beautiful rivals and impossible expectations. But almost immediately, the story begins to question who holds power, who is truly at risk, and what beauty is allowed to look like in a world obsessed with spectacle. This Ugly Duckling retelling, wrapped in a Bachelor-style tournament of brides, is indulgent and whimsical, but it is also deeply intentional in the way it reframes vulnerability, worth, and agency.

Book cover for The Swan's Daughter by Roshani Chokshi.

They’re terrified of you, which is far more useful than affection.

Roshani Chokshi, The Swan’s Daughter

I came into this novel with high expectations because The Gilded Wolves is one of my favorite books. While The Swan’s Daughter is far frothier in tone, it carries the same confidence in its worldbuilding. This is one of the most decadent settings I have read in a fairytale retelling. Sentient castles, library wyverns disguised as rabbits, and daydream trees create a lush, storybook atmosphere, but there is always something sharp beneath the surface. The satire also works especially well here. The competition is absurd, glamorous, and dangerous in equal measure, and the book never lets you forget that performance and survival are deeply intertwined.

One of the most interesting things this book does is quietly subvert the traditional damsel narrative. Demelza arrives at the tournament of brides as someone easily overlooked. She is physically unremarkable by the court’s standards, visibly out of place among competitors who embody polished, effortless beauty. From the outside, she appears vulnerable, even pitiable. In reality, it is Prince Arris who occupies the most precarious position. His life, his future, and his very humanity hinge on making the right choice. If he chooses poorly, the consequences are catastrophic. I loved how this inversion reframes the entire competition. Demelza may look like the one in need of saving, but Arris is the one trapped by expectation and consequence.

Love is dazzling. Can you imagine it? To be entrusted with someone’s heart…to be all the radiance in their world? To be the only shelter in which they know both safety and bliss?

Roshani Chokshi, The Swan’s Daughter

Beauty is also treated with a surprising intentionality in this novel. Demelza is not revealed to be secretly stunning, nor does the narrative rush to “fix” her appearance to make her worthy. Instead, her beauty is initially internal, invisible to a society trained to value spectacle above substance. Every other competitor is outwardly beautiful in ways the court knows how to reward. Yet by the end, it becomes clear that none of them can match what Demelza offers as a person. Her honesty, emotional steadiness, and refusal to perform a version of herself for approval give the story a quiet power that will stay with readers. The novel slowly becomes less interested in beauty as currency and more invested in beauty as character.

Arris, too, is written in ways that resist traditional fairytale masculinity. I was especially drawn to the attention paid to his routines, his clothing, and the care he takes in presentation. There is something almost traditionally feminine in how these moments are framed for him and not for Demelza, and yet the story never treats this as weakness or contradiction. His sensitivity, precision, and emotional awareness exist comfortably alongside his role as prince and romantic lead. Even within the confines of a heterosexual romance, the book allows softness and attentiveness to be strengths rather than liabilities, which felt both refreshing and intentional.

Power is a matter of perception. In the end, it’s what you believe that holds the most sway. All the rationale in the world might tell you you are walking headlong into danger. But if you believe yourself an exception, if you believe that fate walks you down a different road despite every evidence to the contrary, then it is perception alone that rules you. Nothing else.

Roshani Chokshi, The Swan’s Daughter

The weakest element for me was the romance. While I appreciate that Demelza and Arris don’t experience insta-love (an annoying pitfall of many YA romances for me!), their relationship never really evolves into something convincingly romantic. Their chemistry is muted, and there is no clear emotional turning point where their feelings shift from friendship to romantic love. At times, it even feels as though the narrative invites us to root for Arris to end up with someone else. Given how central love is positioned within the story, this lack of development is disappointing.

Several plot threads also feel underresolved, particularly those involving Demelza’s father and the spell she and her sisters were raised to decipher. Both arcs are introduced with significant weight and then quietly fade away, which undermines their earlier importance.

Still, I genuinely enjoyed The Swan’s Daughter. Its greatest strength lies in how it reimagines familiar tropes without stripping them of their magic. This is a story about being underestimated, about finding worth beyond performance, and about choosing who you are in a world determined to define you first.

Thank you to NetGalley and Wednesday Books for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

And They Were Roommates by Page Powars

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And They Were Roommates by Page Powars is a YA romantic comedy set at an all-boys boarding school, wrapped in Valentine’s Day antics, secret love letters, and the heightened emotions of being 16 and figuring yourself out. I went into this one with high expectations, partly because I love most things associated with the meme the title originates from, and partly because of the trans representation at its center. And we get all of that! This book is charming and genuinely sweet, but it’s also uneven, overly silly at times, and emotionally thinner than I wanted it to be. I kept wishing it would go deeper and let the characters linger in some of the heavier, more real moments instead of constantly playing to the bit.

Book cover for And They Were Roommates by Page Powars.

I’d been drawn to those boys because I wanted to be a boy. Because I was a boy.

Page Powars, And They Were Roommates

One of the strongest aspects of the book is Charlie as a protagonist, particularly in how his internal anxieties are portrayed. Powars does a good job capturing the hypervigilance that can come with being trans in spaces that don’t always feel safe or fully welcoming. Charlie’s fear isn’t rooted in shame about who he is, but in the very real concern of being scrutinized, questioned, or denied the ability to exist comfortably as himself

Jasper, on the other hand, was where the romance really lost me. As a love interest, he often came across as more irritating than intriguing, and I struggled to understand what originally drew Charlie to him so strongly. The book hinges on their shared past at summer camp and frames their relationship as a meaningful second-chance romance, but when that first chance happened at 13, it’s difficult to buy the depth and permanence of that bond. I tend to be skeptical of second-chance romance in YA for this reason, and this book didn’t quite convince me otherwise. The emotional stakes felt inflated without enough concrete backstory to support them.

Love is never not scary. It’s a matter of whether you’re enjoying that fear.

Page Powars, And They Were Roommates

Tonally, this novel leans hard into whimsy. The Valentine Academy setting, the anonymous love letter delivery service, and the heightened drama all gave me strong K-drama, J-drama, and even manga vibes (I kept thinking of Hana-Kimi!). That aesthetic can be very fun, and at times it absolutely worked. I loved the classic all-boys boarding school atmosphere, but that sense of contained chaos taken together sometimes overwhelmed the emotional throughline. Too many subplots were introduced, and not enough of them received satisfying closure by the end.

The love-letter premise is a good example of this. Charlie and Jasper writing anonymous romantic letters for their classmates creates plenty of angst and comedic mishaps, but the plot never quite lands its point. I expected the story to resolve this either by empowering students to write their own letters or by fundamentally changing the relationship between the two campuses. Instead, the thread simply fizzles out, leaving me unsure what the point was, beyond fueling drama.

Overall, And They Were Roommates is sweet, sincere, and full of queer joy. Readers who love exaggerated rom-com energy, boarding school settings, and lighthearted YA romance may have a great time with it. For me, though, the characterization needed more grounding, and the romance never really earns its emotional payoff. Still, I’m glad this book exists, and I hope it finds the readers who will adore it.

Thank you to NetGalley and Roaring Brook Press / Macmillan Children’s Publishing Group for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

The Love Haters by Katherine Center

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The Love Haters by Katherine Center follows Katie Vaughn, a video producer staring down layoffs, who grabs a last-chance assignment filming Tom “Hutch” Hutcheson, a Coast Guard rescue swimmer turned viral hero in Key West. The gig could save her career, but there’s a catch: the entire shoot takes place in and around the water, and Katie can’t swim. Worse, she’s spent years battling the mirror, counting calories, hiding her body, and shrinking herself to fit a world that demands smallness. So when she’s forced to don a bathing suit on a tropical beach with cameras rolling, every insecurity she’s tried to bury comes surging back to the surface. The story implies that love can heal self-loathing, but unfortunately, both unravel in the attempt, leaving neither fully convincing.

Book cover for The Love Haters by Katherine Center.

The funny thing about the internet is that it is basically a collective hallucination. If you don’t join in, it doesn’t exist.

Katherine Center, The Love Haters

What immediately struck me was how quickly this book plunges readers into the deep end of Katie’s body image struggles (without a trigger warning in sight!). From the very beginning of this novel, readers are immersed in calorie logs, obsessive self-scrutiny, and a fixation on size and appearance that dominates nearly every thought Katie has. It’s relentless and nearly made me put the book down. It could genuinely be triggering for readers sensitive to themes of body dysmorphia or disordered eating, so take care of yourselves!

It’s clear Center means to excavate the pain of existing in a body under siege—by culture, by the patriarchy, by self-loathing—but intent and impact diverge sharply. The narrative never quite interrogates the systems that made Katie feel the way she does about her body. Instead, it documents her obsession until it becomes the story itself. And while that might mirror the claustrophobia of living with disordered thinking, the lack of distance or reflection turns empathy into exhaustion. There’s no relief, only repetition. And for readers who understand this kind of thinking, it feels less like representation and more like being trapped inside a familiar cage.

If you don’t reject the harsh things people say to you, then I guess, at some point, that means you accept them.

Katherine Center, The Love Haters

When the novel relocates to Key West, the tone brightens but never fully transforms into the familiar, fizzy rhythm I expect from a Katherine Center beach read. Aunt Rue, with her unfiltered wisdom and larger-than-life energy, is the book’s saving grace. She’s a reminder of what Center can do when she writes women who are vivid, messy, and alive. Rue’s presence reminds readers that joy might still be possible even when self-acceptance feels far away. Honestly, she and the dog were the best part of the book.

Hutch, the supposed love interest, never evolves beyond his résumé: heroic, humble, vaguely haunted. His romance with Katie feels like a narrative obligation, built on proximity and projection rather than genuine chemistry. And when the story pivots toward the idea that Hutch helps Katie finally see her own beauty, I nearly lost it. Women do not need men to feel beautiful or worthy! What could have been a meditation on self-acceptance dissolves into a tired, outdated trope where love is mistaken for validation and vulnerability for dependence. Miss me with that noise!

Every time you have to be brave, you get to be a little braver next time. That’s what life is for.

Katherine Center, The Love Haters

Center’s prose has always leaned on optimism, a kind of curated hope that can make even pain feel purposeful, as if every heartbreak can lead somewhere lighter. At her best, that outlook turns her stories into gentle reminders that resilience can coexist with joy. But here, that instinct backfires. The tone wavers between lighthearted beach read and heavy-handed self-hatred without ever finding balance. The result is tonal whiplash: a story that wants to be both a balm and a confrontation but ends up being neither. Even the structure buckles under the weight of contradictions, from a fake-dating subplot that feels nonsensical to a drinking contest scene that borders on grotesque, and an ending that asks for more suspension of disbelief than emotional investment.

There are, admittedly, glimpses of Center’s craft beneath the wreckage. She captures the sensory immediacy of place with almost painterly precision: the burn of sunlight on bare shoulders, the damp quiet before a storm, the lazy rhythm of a coastal town half-asleep in its own heat. But aesthetic competence cannot rescue what the book refuses to confront: its own complicity in the very narrative it seems to critique. For a novel about a woman learning to take up space, The Love Haters spends an extraordinary amount of time shrinking her down again.

Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.