Book Review

This Spells Love by Kate Robb

What if one impulsive, margarita-fueled decision could wipe away your worst heartbreak—but at the cost of everything else? In This Spells Love, Kate Robb blends romantic comedy with a dash of magical realism to explore what happens when one woman’s attempt to forget her ex rewrites her entire reality. After a drunken spell with her best friend Dax, her sister, and her eccentric aunt, Gemma wakes up in a world where her ex never existed, her life is nearly unrecognizable, and the one person who’s always mattered most—Dax—no longer remembers her at all. Whimsical and heartfelt, this debut asks a compelling question: if you could undo the past, would you still choose the same future?

Book cover for This Spells Love by Kate Robb.

It’s like Hot Tub Time Machine without the hot tub.

Kate Robb, This Spells Love

There’s real charm in the setup, and the pacing is strong throughout. Robb’s prose is breezy and digestible, with writing that makes it easy to devour chapters without realizing how much time has passed. The magical realism element is understated, more a plot device than a full-on genre shift, which works well for readers who prefer grounded rom-coms. And at its core, the novel is about more than romantic love. It’s about learning to recognize your blind spots, appreciating the people who anchor you, and understanding that healing doesn’t come from rewriting the past. It comes from making peace with it.

But for all its strengths, This Spells Love stumbles where it matters most: character depth. Gemma, as a narrator, is often difficult to root for. Her self-absorption borders on grating, and while the story hinges on her personal growth, it’s hard to feel invested in that journey when she seems oblivious to the emotional needs of those around her. She treats her support system like background noise and rarely reflects on how her actions impact others until late in the book. While this is realistic in some ways, it doesn’t always make for compelling reading.

The side characters—particularly Gemma’s sister and aunt—feel one-dimensional. They appear when needed, serve their purpose, and then retreat until the plot calls for them again. Even Dax, who is arguably the emotional anchor of the novel, is frustratingly underdeveloped. Because the majority of their romance happens in an alternate reality where he’s essentially a different person, the emotional stakes never quite land. The book gestures at a best-friends-to-lovers arc, but it lacks the lived-in warmth and history that make those stories shine. There’s no satisfying build-up to the chemistry; we’re simply told it exists, and then expected to believe it transcends timelines.

The predictable path is boring. And you miss out on the chance to try some really incredible things.

Kate Robb, This Spells Love

That said, there’s something endearing about the concept itself. The idea that love can survive (thrive!) through a fractured reality is a powerful one. And while the execution is imperfect, the themes resonate. Gemma’s realization that Dax is her constant, the one person who feels like home no matter the version, lands with a quiet poignancy. It’s not quite the sweeping romance it could have been, but it’s earnest. And sometimes, that’s enough.

This Spells Love is a flawed but engaging debut. It may not deliver on all its witchy promises, and it might leave some readers wanting more from its characters and emotional arcs. Still, for an afternoon curled up with something light and slightly magical, it scratches the itch for cozy fall vibes. Just don’t expect potions, pentagrams, or a deeply fleshed-out love story. This one’s more about the lesson learned than the spell cast.

Thank you to NetGalley and Dial Press / Random House Publishing Group for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

Thieves’ Gambit by Kayvion Lewis

Thieves’ Gambit by Kayvion Lewis is a young adult thriller that plunges readers into a vibrant, fast-paced world of high-stakes heists and intricate betrayals. It features seventeen-year-old Rosalyn Quest, or Ross, who belongs to an infamous family of legendary thieves. On the very night Ross resolves to escape her family’s criminal legacy, her mother is kidnapped. To rescue her, Ross enters the prestigious Thieves’ Gambit, an international competition of perilous challenges, extravagant heists, and ruthless opponents. Victory promises a single wish to the winner—and Ross’s best chance to save her mom. But as the competition escalates and alliances form and fracture, Ross must decide who to trust, and how much she’s willing to risk to win.

Book cover for Thieves' Gambit by Kayvion Lewis.

I was stealing my own future back.

Kayvion Lewis, Thieves’ Gambit

Right from the start, Ross emerged as my favorite part of this book. She’s tough, resourceful, and relatable. Her evolution from someone who staunchly follows the family rule—“if they’re not a Quest, they can’t be trusted”—to a character who cautiously opens herself up to others, feels genuine and rewarding. I really felt for her as she slowly learned through interactions with her new friends that the family she’s so fiercely loyal to has actually isolated her from the type of life she’s always wanted. The struggle to reconcile who you are with who you want to be is something so relatable.

However, this novel does face some hurdles. With its familiar heist and competition elements, it occasionally fails to establish its own identity distinct from similar stories in the genre. Lewis tees up some thrilling challenges for the Gambit, and it’s fun to watch Ross and the other competitors work through them. But Six of Crows, The Inheritance Games, and even Ocean’s Eleven have been floating around for years. I love a good heist, but the predictability of a less lethal Hunger Games often left me craving something uniquely fresh or surprising with this story.

If you’re not making friends, you’re making enemies.

Kayvion Lewis, Thieves’ Gambit

Another aspect that didn’t entirely hit the mark was the romantic subplot involving Devroe. Though Devroe had brief moments of intriguing vulnerability, his relationship with Ross lacked depth and chemistry. It felt somewhat superficial and rushed, making it difficult to root for them. Perhaps that’s partially due to all the characters actively competing against each other in challenges that rely on them outwitting their opponents. Still, I needed more than a charm offensive from Devroe. That said, I did enjoy the other secondary characters; Kyung-soon and Mylo were two favorites. Lewis’s diversity in character backgrounds and cultures is commendable and by far one of the best things about this book.

Ultimately, Thieves’ Gambit is an enjoyable read ideal for fans of heist adventures and fierce female leads. Though the romance underwhelms and some narrative choices slightly dull its shine, the clever plot, exciting heists, and layered protagonist make it a worthwhile pick.

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

Book Review

Voyage of the Damned by Frances White

Frances White’s Voyage of the Damned is a locked-room murder mystery set aboard a ship in a fantasy empire teetering on the edge of chaos. Ganymedes “Dee” Piscero, the most unremarkable hero of Concordia’s twelve magical heirs, is thrust into a deadly game when a fellow heir is brutally murdered. With no magical “Blessing” of his own, Dee must rely on his wits and sheer luck to survive as suspicion and bloodshed multiply aboard the emperor’s ship. As tensions mount, the question isn’t just who the killer is—it’s whether anyone will survive the voyage long enough for it to matter.

Book cover for Voyage of the Damned by Frances White.

As if the restrictive shell of a body is more important than the infinite possibilities of a mind.

Frances White, Voyage of the Damned

The premise hooked me immediately: A fantasy murder mystery? Twelve heirs, each with a unique secret power, trapped on a ship with a killer among them? Sign me up! The romance—abrupt as it was—grew on me, too. There’s something tender about Dee’s connection with Wyatt that offsets the grimness of the plot. And it was sweet to see a self-loathing protagonist stumble into vulnerability through a soft love story amidst all the chaos unfolding around them.

But with that said, the execution left a lot to be desired. The worldbuilding is the book’s glaring weak spot. Concordia’s provinces are so reductive they feel like caricatures. Each province is defined by a single animal and a somewhat related industry (and a matching hair color for some reason?). From what I gathered, the magic is hereditary within one single family per province, and it passes down from a parent to one of their children, but other than that, the magic lacks any discernible system or depth. I also found myself asking way too many questions about the logistics of this world. For instance, why are there finger guns in a high fantasy setting where actual guns don’t exist? And in this world where there is no electricity, why are there hot dogs, cotton candy, and poutine, and references to how undeniably cool it is to walk away from an explosion without looking back, and comments on something being so good it’s ”like crack”? None of it makes sense and fundamentally strips the setting of its believability.

They keep their memories and stories safe within music, where empires cannot touch them.

Frances White, Voyage of the Damned

The characters are both a highlight and a source of frustration. Dee’s self-deprecating humor and insecurities make him relatable early on, but as the bodies start piling up, his self-absorption and misplaced priorities are distracting and confusing. Why is he busy agonizing over choosing between a dead ex-lover and his very new romantic interest when they’re all actively being pursued by a murderer? I wish White had spent more time on Dee’s journey of self-discovery and his battle with internalized shame, particularly given the book’s LGBTQ+ representation. I appreciated the barest hints of themes like unity, oppression, and the effects of colonialism, but I needed to see way more of it. I also loved Grasshopper and the dynamic between Dee and Grasshopper. Hands down the best part of the book. Unfortunately, the rest of the cast felt more like stereotypes than people, each defined by a single trait.

Representation in fantasy is something I always root for, so seeing characters like Dee, a bisexual, plus-size person grappling with mental health struggles, and Wyatt, who lives with chronic pain and illness, felt refreshing and necessary. Their identities and challenges added depth and realism to the story, as well as glimmers of inclusivity often lacking in this genre. However, as part of the late-stage plot twist, we discover that this version of Wyatt isn’t even real. It’s such a betrayal to Dee (and, honestly, I’m not sure how he could just get over it!) and to the readers who got invested in the romance developing between Dee and Wyatt. It soured the entire story for me because it felt a little like the work this relationship did to help normalize characters like Dee and Wyatt finding love in the stories we consume was just a trick. Fantasy deserves better, and so do the readers who see themselves in these characters.

The final wall around my heart crumbles and his love fills the untouched space behind.

Frances White, Voyage of the Damned

In addition to my major issues with the romance, representation, worldbuilding, and characters, the locked-room mystery also falls short. Instead of piecing together clues, Dee passively gathers information handed to him by other characters. It feels lazy and robs the story of the tension and intrigue that make a good mystery compelling. The story felt really aimless in that regard, and what’s even more frustrating is I don’t think there was any way for readers to solve the murder mystery on their own. Where’s the fun in that?

Voyage of the Damned reads like young adult fiction, so marketing it as adult fantasy sets up expectations it can’t meet. I never got attached enough to the characters, the mission, or the world, so it essentially failed to deliver the compulsive, edge-of-your-seat tension I expect from a murder mystery. The writing is accessible with memorable flashes of wit and charm, but ultimately, any redeeming qualities are drowned out by inconsistent characterization, clunky worldbuilding, and a mystery that doesn’t trust its audience to engage. Fans of lighter fantasy or creative LGBTQ+ representation may enjoy its quirky charm, but for those seeking a tightly woven mystery or a richly immersive fantasy world, this voyage may be one to skip.

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

Book Review

The Pairing by Casey McQuiston

In The Pairing, Casey McQuiston serves up a story of lust, longing, and languid food tours through Europe, all wrapped in the undeniable queerness that has become their signature. Theo, an aspiring sommelier, and Kit, a pastry chef, find themselves accidentally reunited on the food and wine tour that marked the end of their relationship four years prior. What starts as a hookup competition to prove they’re over each other soon unravels into a complicated mess of unresolved feelings and sexual tension. With scenic backdrops and sumptuous descriptions of food and wine, McQuiston delivers an enticing setup—but does the romance sizzle or fizzle?

Book cover for The Pairing by Casey McQuiston.

I’ve always agreed with the French that a meal should begin with sweetness, but I’m beginning to wonder if the Italians had it right—if, sometimes, discovery wants bitterness first.

Casey McQuiston, The Pairing

McQuiston deserves praise for the unapologetically queer heart of The Pairing. Particularly, the scene where Theo comes out to Kit as nonbinary is handled with thoughtfulness and care, and their pronoun switch midway through the story feels authentic and affirming. Theo’s vulnerability in sharing their identity with Kit creates some of the novel’s most tender moments. Kit shows all the unconditional support and encouragement anyone could hope for, and it completely melted my heart! It’s rare to find queer representation so layered, deliberate, and nuanced, and McQuiston nails it here.

Unfortunately, the novel stumbles in crafting compelling characters beyond their queerness. Theo’s privilege as a “nepo baby” who opts to stay poor and struggling despite several people offering to help them throughout the entire novel feels contrived and frustrating. Their refusal to leverage their family’s wealth for the sake of so-called authenticity or some misplaced sense of validation or merit borders on tone deaf and feels hollow, especially when juxtaposed with their ability to casually flit through European cities. This, combined with their insufferable self-pity, makes it difficult to root for them.

Sometimes I think the only way to keep something forever is to lose it and let it haunt you.

Casey McQuiston, The Pairing

Just when all of Theo’s internal struggles and bad decisions have them primed for some significant growth, the story abruptly shifts to Kit’s perspective halfway through the novel, undercutting any meaningful resolution. Kit, while less grating, brings little complexity to the table, beyond his complete and total adoration (infatuation?) for Theo. Together, their chemistry leans heavily on physical attraction, and the emotional weight never lands. Theo and Kit keep circling around the same issues, avoiding the hard conversations that would make their reunion satisfying. By the end, I was left craving more substance—something to make their love story feel earned.

With its vibrant cities and decadent meals, the European backdrop offers a feast for the senses; however, the execution—while meticulously researched—feels superficial. The bacchanalian parade of food, booze, and hookups quickly grows repetitive. I think this is partially because Theo and Kit don’t really develop, so it feels like nothing advances the plot. The tour becomes just as redundant as every scene between the two leads. The characters’ romanticized, tourist-like experience of Western Europe also leaves little room for authentic exploration of various cultures and cuisines. Furthermore, their near-magical ability to charm their way into every bed and social circle simply isn’t realistic. While escapism is often part of romance’s appeal, the sheer perfection of every encounter makes this story feel flat and predictable.

If I can give my whole heart to love without fearing the cost, I will regret nothing.

Casey McQuiston, The Pairing

The Pairing struggles to balance its frothy, sexually charged premise with the deeper emotional work necessary for a satisfying second-chance romance. Some moments in Theo and Kit’s inner monologues are achingly beautiful—one, in particular, stands out when Kit sees Theo in Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, a depiction of the divine feminine, while imagining Theo admiring Michelangelo’s David, a tribute to masculine beauty. Kit wonders, with quiet longing, if Theo also finds pieces of them both reflected in the David. How romantic to discover your lover—and yourself—in the world’s most iconic works of art! Yet moments like this remain internal; the characters never bring such revelations into their shared conversations or let them deepen their connection beyond physical desire.

McQuiston’s hallmark wit and charm, evident in earlier works like Red, White & Royal Blue and One Last Stop, are present but not as pronounced here. Some lighthearted moments occasionally sparkle, but a frustrating lack of narrative depth overshadows them. For readers new to queer romances or those looking for lighthearted escapism, The Pairing might hit the right notes. But for anyone seeking the heartfelt intimacy and layered storytelling that define McQuiston’s best work, this book might feel more like a missed opportunity than a perfect pairing.

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

Book Review

House of Marionne by J. Elle

Seventeen-year-old Quell has spent her life in the shadows, fleeing from city to city to hide the forbidden magic coursing through her veins. But when her secret is discovered, and her mother’s life hangs in the balance, Quell is forced into the gilded world of the Order, a high-society magical debutante system where the stakes are as deadly as they are dazzling. To survive, she must navigate the Order’s trials, master new forms of magic, and resist the allure of her handsome, shadow-wielding mentor—all while concealing her own outlawed powers. But as the dark truths of the Order unravel, Quell faces an impossible choice: tame the magic she fears, or embrace the monster within.

Book cover for House of Marionne by J. Elle.

I’ve done it. I’ve stepped into this world we’ve spent our entire lives running from. There’s no turning back now.

J. Elle, House of Marionne

In House of Marionne, author J. Elle offers an ambitious mix of dark academia, magical intrigue, and an enemies-to-lovers romance. While its premise is captivating, the story doesn’t fully deliver on its promise. The concept of toushana magic—a cornerstone of the story—is underexplored, leaving readers with more questions than answers. The visual idea of diadems and masks as manifestations of mature magic is intriguing (if uncomfortably gendered), but the logic behind them feels incomplete. For instance, the practicalities—like how they impact daily life or sleep—are glossed over. I kept wondering how no one ever got their hair tangled in a diadem! (Magical reasons?) This lack of clarity makes the world-building feel more like a collection of ideas than a cohesive system.

The characters fare slightly better, though still not without their flaws. Quell is a strong, determined protagonist, but her decisions—especially her quick trust in her suspicious grandmother—don’t always align with her survivalist upbringing. Jordan, her mysterious love interest, is a mix of brooding intensity and trope-heavy predictability. He seems designed to evoke fan-favorite archetypes like Rhysand (A Court of Thorns and Roses) or Xaden (Fourth Wing) but falls short of their depth and charisma. Yagrin, a fascinating side character with the potential to steal the show, is frustratingly underutilized. It’s easy to imagine a version of the story from his perspective being far more compelling.

The novel’s writing style is accessible and engaging, though it skews toward a middle-grade tone despite its young adult (YA) label. This lighter touch makes the book easy to read but also limits its emotional resonance and complexity. For instance, many of the lines where Quell describes how she views Jordan physically are so beautiful, but the writing never fully convinces me of their deeper connection. The narrative leans heavily on familiar YA fantasy tropes, and while these elements create a solid framework, they lack the originality or depth needed to stand out. As a result, the attempt to weave in themes of power and danger also often feels surface-level, relying more on atmosphere than substance.

She is fury and determination. Insatiable at times, and intensely powerful. She is also destruction. But some things deserve to be destroyed.

J. Elle, House of Marionne

Ultimately, House of Marionne knows its audience. For readers looking for a fast-paced story with a magical setting, forbidden romance, and high-stakes danger, it delivers. The Order’s glitzy debutante culture and deadly secrets provide an atmospheric backdrop, and the romance, while not groundbreaking, has its moments. Casual readers who enjoy YA fantasy for its escapism and drama will likely find the book entertaining. However, for those seeking deeper world-building or more complex characters, the charm of this book will likely feel more like a spark than a flame.

Thank you to NetGalley and Razorbill / Penguin Random House for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.