Published October 17, 2023 by Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)

A bloodstained tale of a girl torn between her vows and her heart, where falling in love may be the deepest sin of all…

Everline Blackthorn has devoted her life to the wardens—a sect of holy warriors who guard against monsters known as the vespertine.

When a series of strange omens occur, Everline disobeys orders to investigate, and uncovers a startling truth in the form of Ravel Severin: a rogue vespertine who reveals the monsters have secrets of their own.

Ravel promises the help she needs— for a price. Vespertine magic requires blood, and if Everline wants Ravel to guide across the dangerous moorland, she will have to allow him to feed from her.

It’s a sin for a warden to feed a vespertine— let alone love one— and as Everline and Ravel travel further across the moorland, she realizes the question isn’t whether she will survive the journey, but if she will return unchanged. Or if she wants to.

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Unholy Terrors is a breathtaking descent into a world of ruined faith, cursed forests, and forbidden love. It’s the kind of gothic fantasy that is full of blood and bone-deep magic and decayed beauty. 

Set in a realm haunted by terrifying creatures called vespertine, the story follows Everline Blackthorn, a young warden bound by duty but born without magic. Her life has been shaped by silence, discipline, and the shadow of her mother’s betrayal. When she meets Ravel Severin—a boy she’s been taught to fear—Everline’s world begins to unravel. Forced into a dangerous alliance to save her best friend, she must question everything she’s ever believed about monsters, loyalty, and herself.

Clipstone’s writing is lush and immersive, filled with grief, rage, longing, and desire woven through every scene. The worldbuilding is gorgeous: ancient cathedrals slowly sliding into rot and ruin, magic that’s as much curse as blessing, and monsters that speak in riddles and memory. There’s an almost reverence for decay and ruin, making the setting feel like a living character in its own right.

The relationship between Everline and Ravel is at the heart of the novel, with their growing connection adding emotional depth to the story. It’s everything a gothic love story should be—slow-burning, feral, and dangerous. Everline and Ravel’s bond is rooted in shared pain and the brutal process of unlearning everything they’ve been taught about good and evil. Their connection is intense, yet tender, and never simple. Their dynamic is layered and complicated, exploring how love, loyalty, and betrayal intertwine in a world filled with secrets. 

Lyndall Clipstone has written a novel that feels like it was pulled from the bones of a dark fairytale—strange and darkly beautiful. Unholy Terrors is more than just a fantasy with monsters. It's about shedding the expectations that bind you, breaking free of old truths, and finding love in the last place you’re supposed to look.

Published March 28, 2023 by Tor Nightfire

A contemporary Southern Gothic from award-winning master of modern horror, T. Kingfisher. A House With Good Bones explores the deep, dark roots of family.

Sam Montgomery is worried about her mother. She seems anxious, jumpy, and she's begun making mystifying changes to the family home on Lammergeier Lane. Sam figures it has something to do with her mother's relationship to Sam's late, unlamented grandmother.

She's not wrong.

As vultures gather around the house and frightful family secrets are unearthed under the rosebushes, Sam struggles to unravel the truth about the house on Lammergeier Lane before it consumes her and everyone else who stands in its way...

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A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher is what happens when Southern hospitality meets creeping dread—and then both sit down for a very awkward family dinner. The story follows Sam, a refreshingly snarky archaeologist and bug enthusiast, who returns to her childhood home only to find her usually vibrant mother behaving like a polite, nervous stranger. The usually eccentric house is too clean, too white, the air too still and the garden? Let’s just say it has… opinions. Things go from “Hmm, that’s odd” to “Holy freaking ladybugs” in the best, weirdest way possible.

Kingfisher blends unsettling horror with laugh-out-loud moments in a way only she can. One minute you’re creeped out, the next you’re snorting at Sam’s deadpan commentary. It’s not a scream-fest, but it is eerie and absurd and deeply weird in the way only Kingfisher does. One minute you're reading about ghostly whispers and oppressive vibes, the next you're laughing at Sam's sarcastic inner monologue or her casual conversations about bugs. The horror here is more unsettling than terrifying, but it sticks with you—and there's a wonderfully grotesque twist that really delivers.

The novel spends a lot of time carefully layering tension, hinting at deep-rooted family trauma, strange supernatural forces, and an ominous legacy tied to the grandmother’s influence. But when the horror finally arrives, it feels a bit rushed and underdeveloped. It’s not a bad ending by any means, it’s quirky, bold, and in line with the novel’s tone but compared to the expansiveness of the first two-thirds, it feels like it wrapped up too quickly. Despite that, Kingfisher remains on the must-read list for me. 

Published May 2, 2023 by Tor Nightfire

From USA Today bestselling author Cassandra Khaw comes The Salt Grows Heavy, a razor-sharp and bewitching fairytale of discovering the darkness in the world, and the darkness within oneself.

You may think you know how the fairytale goes: a mermaid comes to shore and weds the prince. But what the fables forget is that mermaids have teeth. And now, her daughters have devoured the kingdom and burned it to ashes.

On the run, the mermaid is joined by a mysterious plague doctor with a darkness of their own. Deep in the eerie, snow-crusted forest, the pair stumble upon a village of ageless children who thirst for blood, and the three 'saints' who control them.

The mermaid and her doctor must embrace the cruelest parts of their true nature if they hope to survive.

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 Cassandra Khaw’s The Salt Grows Heavy is a grim, lyrical horror-fantasy that begins with the mermaid's children having just eaten her prince. Albeit, he wasn't a very nice one. Khaw takes the familiar mermaid myth and completely capsizes it, crafting a story that’s brutal, surreal, and, beneath all the blood and bone, surprisingly tender. It's a novella that defies clear classification — a hybrid of gothic fairy tale, body horror, and lushly poetic prose. 

The story kicks off with the merchildren eating their way through the kingdom. Striking a weird companionship are the murderous mermaid and a plague doctor. She’s a predator, archaic and uncaring, but also deeply introspective. (Of course, she'd have to be since her husband recently cut out her tongue.) The peculiar plague doctor is enigmatic yet witty. The two strike up a friendship and almost coy flirtation.

I've said before that Khaw's writing is not for everyone. It's dense, with each morsel needing to be chewed carefully before being consumed. It’s the kind of language that turns violence into poetry and transforms body horror into something oddly exquisite.  It’s brutal and beautiful, grotesque and captivating. For readers who enjoy language that leans into the stylized and surreal, it’s an enjoyable experience. For many others, it may be a barrier to reading any of Khaw's writing. 

The tone is relentlessly grim, but not without a strange, dry humor that punctuates the story in unexpected places. It’s perfect for readers who enjoy weird literary horror, mythic storytelling, and moral ambiguity. It’s about monsters but also transformation, and what it means to survive when the world sees you as a thing to be used or controlled. This isn't a fairy tale. It's what crawls out of the sea foam after the supposed "happily ever after" is over.

Just like Khaw's expansive writing, The Salt Grows Heavy is not for everyone. If you’re looking for a tightly plotted story with clear moral lines and conventional structure, this probably won’t be your thing. It’s strange. It’s lyrical. It’s emotional. It’s a novella that doesn’t explain itself — it just pulls you under the waves and waits for you to drown.

Published March 25, 2025 by Poisoned Pen Press

"I'm in your blood, and you are in mine…"

The Netherlands, 1887. Lucy's twin sister Sarah is unwell. She refuses to eat, mumbles nonsensically, and is increasingly obsessed with a centuries-old corpse recently discovered on her husband's grand estate. The doctor has diagnosed her with temporary insanity caused by a fever of the brain. To protect her twin from a terrible fate in a lunatic asylum, Lucy must unravel the mystery surrounding her sister's condition, but it's clear her twin is hiding something. Then again, Lucy is harboring secrets of her own, too.

Then, the worst happens. Sarah's behavior takes a turn for the strange. She becomes angry… and hungry. 

Lucy soon comes to suspect that something is trying to possess her beloved sister. Or is it madness? As Sarah changes before her very eyes, Lucy must reckon with the dark, monstrous truth, or risk losing her forever.

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Set in 1887 Netherlands, Blood on Her Tongue follows Lucy as she returns to her family's estate to care for her twin sister, Sarah, who has become ill and dangerously fixated on a bizarre body unearthed in the bog near their home. As Sarah's behavior grows increasingly erratic, Lucy must confront the possibility that something far more sinister than madness is at play.

As is true with gothic fiction, the atmosphere reigns supreme. The author builds a haunting, claustrophobic setting that perfectly complements the story’s tension. The house feels cold and suffocating, the nearby bog is basically a character itself, and there’s this constant dread hanging over everything. Sarah's transformation is both disturbing and magnetic, drawing readers into a world where the line between the natural and the supernatural blurs. Her peculiar behavior and condition are filled with uncertainty and mystery.

 
Lucy is a great narrator, determined to make sense of her sister's decline. The bond between the twins is the heart of the story, but it’s twisted and uncomfortable in a way that totally works for gothic fiction. It's complicated, painful, and achingly human.  You’re never quite sure what’s real or what’s supernatural, which helps the creeping unease. As with a lot of gothic fiction, it’s a slow burn. There’s more moodiness and creeping unease than plot devices, but the payoff is worth it if you hang in there.

If you like your horror quiet, slow, and full of creeping dread, Blood on Her Tongue might be right up your alley. This book is all about mood—foggy landscapes, crumbling family homes, and the kind of tension that feels both tender and terrifying.

Published October 8, 2024 by G.P. Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers

Faolan Kelly’s grandfather is dead. She’s alone in the world and suddenly homeless, all because the local powers that be don’t think a young man of sixteen is mature enough to take over his grandfather’s homestead…and that’s with them thinking Faolan is a young man. If she revealed that her grandfather had been disguising her for years, they would marry her off at the first opportunity.

The mayor finds a solution that serves everyone but Faolan. He hires a gunslinger to ship her off to the Settlement, a remote fort where social outcasts live under the leadership of His Benevolence Gideon Dillard. It's a place rife with mystery, kept afloat by suspicious wealth. Dillard's absolute command over his staff just doesn't seem right. And neither do the strange noises that keep Faolan up at night.

When Faolan finds the body of a Settlement boarder, mangled by something that can’t possibly be human, it’s clear something vicious is stalking the palisades. And as Settlement boarders continue to drop like flies, Faolan knows she must escape to evade the creature’s wrath.

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Lish McBride has never met a genre she couldn’t wrestle into something fun and fierce—and Red in Tooth and Claw is no exception. It's a dark and quietly powerful young adult fantasy that blends the dust and grime of Western grit with supernatural intrigue and hidden threats. Imagine if the Wild West got strange, feminist, and slightly feral. Then throw in a heroine who’s tougher than a two-dollar steak and just as likely to punch you in the eye as look at you. It's the perfect amount of heart and snark.

 Set in an alternate Old West where magic and horror entwine, the story follows Faolan Kelly. To keep herself safe and to give her more opportunities in a rugged, patriarchal world, she's spent her life passing as a boy. After her grandfather's death, Faolan is sent to the Settlement, a remote fort led by the enigmatic His Benevolence Gideon Dillard (because that doesn't scream cult leader at all!).  Faolan quickly realizes the Settlement isn’t a refuge—it’s a trap. And she might be the only one sharp enough (or stubborn enough) to escape it.

Faolan is exactly the kind of protagonist you want in a world full of monsters—quick with a comeback and even quicker with a plan. Scrappy, resilient, and totally relatable. No matter the odds, she's not backing down.  She’s not trying to be a hero; she’s trying to survive.

The story weaves together elements of mystery, horror, and magic, keeping readers intrigued as Faolan uncovers the secrets of the Settlement. It’s a story about survival and the cost of being seen in a world that prefers you not to take up space. There's humor, but McBride keeps it light compared to some of her other novels.  If there's a downside, it's that this is a slower-paced book. If you’re expecting action on page one, it might feel like a slow burn. But the tension builds beautifully, and when things do go sideways, it hits harder because of it. There's a tad bit of romance, but it doesn't detract from the story.

Red in Tooth and Claw is a bite-sized delight for fans of paranormal fiction who like their monsters with a side of snark and soul. Moody, magical, and meaningful—with just enough teeth.

Published April 26, 2022 by Tor Books

After years of seeing her sisters suffer at the hands of an abusive prince, Marra—the shy, convent-raised, third-born daughter—has finally realized that no one is coming to their rescue. No one, except for Marra herself.

Seeking help from a powerful gravewitch, Marra is offered the tools to kill a prince—if she can complete three impossible tasks. But, as is the way in tales of princes, witches, and daughters, the impossible is only the beginning.

On her quest, Marra is joined by the gravewitch, a reluctant fairy godmother, a strapping former knight, and a chicken possessed by a demon. Together, the five of them intend to be the hand that closes around the throat of the prince and frees Marra's family and their kingdom from its tyrannous ruler at last.

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In Nettle & Bone, T. Kingfisher delivers a darkly enchanting original fairy tale that is as emotionally rich as it is darkly tongue-in-cheek. This novel threads elements of deconstructed fairy tales with horror and wit. 

When Marra learns the full extent of her sister’s suffering at the hands of a powerful and abusive prince, she sets out to kill him—as one does.  However, this requires the help of a ragtag group of unlikely companions: a dust-wife, a bone dog, an ex-knight, and a possessed chicken.  Yes, you read that right. Demon. Possessed. Chicken. With these quirky sidekicks, this adventure is officially off the rails.  

Marra isn’t your usual heroine either. She’s middle-aged, introverted, and not exactly sword-swinging slay-the-dragon type—but her quiet determination is impossible not to root for. She's realized the painfully obvious: no one is coming to save them. So she’s going to do it herself. If that means it's "off with his head", she'll find the axe. 

Nettle & Bone is a fairy-tale nouveau—a magical, macabre, and mystical messed-up journey full of heart, humor, and just enough horror. If you like your fantasy clever, creepy, and just a tad bit unhinged, this one is for you. 

Published June 7, 2024 by Wicked House Publishing

Whitt Rogers has been dreaming.

Horrible dreams.

Dreams that stretch the very fabric of the real and the unreal as he is pulled by a voice across the country to a small crab fishing ship set to depart into the Bering Sea. At sea, the memories piece themselves together in cracked fragments. But there is something out there. Something speaking to Whitt in his dreams. A voice from a long-forgotten memory that promises peace at the cost of madness. A voice that leads to a place unimaginable and inescapable

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A Dark and Endless Sea is a quiet, introspective horror novel that leans heavily into grief, memory, and isolation. Blaine Daigle clearly has a talent for atmospheric writing—his prose is thoughtful and often poetic, creating a somber tone that lingers throughout the book.

The story centers on Whitt, who has woken with no memory of what came before this moment.  He's plagued by nightmares of a flooded town and floating dead bodies. He's directed to a crabbing boat in small-town Alaska. There’s a lot to admire in how Daigle explores the fragility of human connection while in isolation.  The emotional realism is the book’s strongest point. There are a lot of dream sequences, compounding Whitt as an unreliable narrator, and leaving the reader with a sense of surrealism.

That said, the pacing is slow—very slow. While some readers may appreciate the quiet build, I found myself wanting more payoff and a clearer sense of stakes. It’s a story that flirts heavily with dread, but the ending just didn't deliver in a satisfying way.

I loved The Broken Places, but this one just wasn't for me.

Published October 15, 2024 by Titan Books

A grieving mother and son hope to survive Christmas in a remote mountain cabin, in this chilling novella of dread, isolation and demons lurking in the frozen woods. Perfect for fans of The Only Good Indians, The Shining and The Babadook.

Two weeks ago, Christine Sinclaire's husband slipped off the roof while hanging Christmas lights and fell to his death on the front lawn. Desperate to escape her guilt and her grief, Christine packs up her fifteen-year-old son and the family cat and flees to the cabin they'd reserved deep in the remote Pennsylvania Wilds to wait out the holidays.

It isn't long before Christine begins to hear strange noises coming from the forest. When she spots a horned figure watching from between frozen branches, Christine assumes it's just a forest animal—a moose, maybe, since the property manager warned her about them, said they'd stomp a body so deep into the snow nobody'd find it 'til spring. But moose don't walk upright like the shadowy figure does. They don't call Christine's name with her dead husband's voice.

A haunting examination of the horrors of grief and the hunger of guilt, perfect for readers of Stephen King, Christina Henry, and Chuck Wendig.

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I went into Cold Snap expecting a chilling, atmospheric horror story with strong emotional distress — and for the first little bit, that’s what it seemed to be. Set against the icy backdrop of a small Appalachian town, the setup is familiar but effective: people with emotional baggage retreat to a remote cabin in the woods, and weird things begin to happen. To quote Dora the Explorer: "¡Vámonos!"

Unfortunately, what begin as isolation horror deeply embedded with grief (the husband died hanging Christmas lights), the story quickly took a turn into surreal territory, and I found myself more confused than captivated. Her dead husband is talking to her, or is it the moose, and events start to feel disjointed — almost dreamlike, but not in a way that ever fully clicks.

What really pulled me out of the story, though, was the cat death — which is not only graphic and disturbing but referenced multiple times throughout the book. I understand horror can be visceral and I don't shy from gore, but the way this was handled felt excessive and deeply unpleasant. And the only person traumatized by it was the kid! Mom was just like "Darn, the cat got stomped to death in the snow by a maybe-moose". If animal harm is a deal-breaker for you, I strongly recommend skipping this one.

There are interesting ideas here — grief, guilt, isolation — but they get buried under so much weirdness and emotional chaos that they never fully land. Cold Snap might resonate with readers who enjoy abstract, metaphor-heavy horror, but for me, it was more frustrating than frightening.  I kept waiting for it all to come together or for the deeper meaning to reveal itself, but by the end, I was wondering WTH just happened.

Having loved Bless Your Heart and Throw Me to The Wolves, I was excited to venture into this one, but it missed its mark with me. 

Published  June 25, 2024 by Del Rey

A chilling horror novel about a haunting told from the perspective of a young girl whose troubled family is targeted by an entity she calls “Other Mommy,” from the New York Times bestselling author of Bird Box

 

To eight-year-old Bela, her family is her world. There’s Mommy, Daddo, and Grandma Ruth. But there is also Other Mommy, a malevolent entity who asks her every day: “Can I go inside your heart?”  

 

When horrifying incidents around the house signal that Other Mommy is growing tired of asking Bela the same question, over and over . . . Bela understands that unless she says yes, soon her family must pay. 

 

Other Mommy is getting restless, stronger, bolder. Only the bonds of family can keep Bela safe but other incidents show cracks in her parents' marriage. The safety Bela relies on is on the brink of unraveling.  

 

But Other Mommy needs an answer. 

 

Incidents Around the House is a chilling, wholly unique tale of true horror told by the child Bela. A story about a family as haunted as their home.

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Josh Malerman’s Incidents Around the House is a haunting, tightly-wound domestic horror story told entirely through the lens of a child’s eyes. With its eerie tone, it’s a novel that creeps under your skin slowly, but steadily.

The story centers on Bela, an eight-year-old girl who begins seeing an invisible presence she calls “Other Mommy.” At first, it’s easy for her parents to chalk this up to normal childhood fantasy. After all, many children have imaginary friends, until “Other Mommy” becomes more persistent—and more terrifying.  Every day, the entity asks Bela the same chilling question: “Can I go inside your heart?” The tension builds from that single line, as we begin to understand that what’s happening to Bela may be far more than imaginary.

What makes this novel so unsettling is its perspective. Malerman’s choice to stick closely to eight-year-old Bela’s point of view gives the book a disorienting quality. It’s a bold narrative style that won’t work for everyone, but for Malerman, it serves the story’s creeping dread incredibly well. I picked this one up in audiobook as well, and let me tell you, Delanie Nicole Gill gives life to Bela in the creepiest way.

This is less of a jump-scare horror novel and more of a slow horrific boil. The horror grows not from gore or violence, but from emotional unease and the erosion of safety in the home. You know it's only a matter of time until it spills over, but you can't look away. 

Some readers may find the repetition or ambiguity frustrating—particularly if they prefer clean answers or fast-paced horror—but for those who appreciate character-driven, atmospheric terror, Incidents Around the House delivers. Malerman crafts a tale that is both terrifying and poignant, leaving readers to ponder the true nature of the horrors that lurk within our homes and hearts.

Published July 9, 2024 by Tor Nightfire

Misha is a jaded scriptwriter who has been working in Hollywood for years, and has just been nominated for his first Oscar. But when he's pressured by his producers to kill off a gay character in the upcoming season finale―"for the algorithm"―Misha discovers that it's not that simple.

As he is haunted by his past, and past mistakes, Misha must risk everything to find a way to do what's right―before it's too late.

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Chuck Tingle has delivered a horror novel that’s weird and surprisingly heartfelt. Bury Your Gays is a wild ride through Hollywood, queer trauma, and the horror of being told your story isn’t marketable unless it ends in tragedy. This book is part surreal nightmare, part heartfelt unpacking of queer trauma, and part roast of an industry that loves queer suffering as long as it’s profitable. It’s weird, raw, and a little chaotic—but it knows it’s chaotic, which makes it work.

The story follows Misha Byrne, a queer screenwriter finally getting his big break, nominated for an Oscar. But just as things are looking up, the studio demands he kill off his queer characters “for the algorithm.” Misha refuses—and suddenly, reality starts to bend. Literal monsters show up, old traumas resurface, and Hollywood’s shiny surface reveals some very real rot underneath.

Misha is a fully fleshed-out protagonist: vulnerable, angry, exhausted, and desperately clinging to his sense of self while the industry chews him up. Misha’s emotional journey, especially flashbacks to his rough childhood and complicated present, is heavy, honest, and really well done. His relationship with boyfriend Zeke is sweet, offering warmth and grounding that somehow doesn’t come off cheesy (okay, maybe a little cheesy, but we’re rooting for them anyway).

Tingle throws every flavor of horror into the mix as Misha's own scripts come to life—cosmic dread, slasher gore, eldritch horrors, and some wild body horror—and somehow it all holds together. Is it weird? Absolutely. Is it fun? Most definitely. The result is chaotic, but deliberately so. It’s a mess with meaning. Underneath all the madness is some genuinely powerful insights about identity and how queer people are treated by the media machine. 

“I call on all of you to usher in a new era of stories where the gay, or bi, or lesbian, or asexual, or pansexual, or trans character lives happily ever after. Buy those stories. Make those stories profitable.”

Published May 14, 2024 by Berkley

A single mother working in the gothic mansion of a reclusive horror director stumbles upon terrifying secrets.

Harry Adams loves horror movies, so it’s no coincidence that she accepted a job cleaning house for horror-movie director Javier Castillo. His forbidding gray-stone Chicago mansion, Bright Horses, is filled from top to bottom with terrifying props and costumes as well as glittering awards from his career making movies that thrilled audiences—until family tragedy and scandal forced him to vanish from the industry.

Javier values discretion, and Harry always tries to keep the house immaculate, her head down, and her job safe. Then she hears noises from behind a locked door, noises that sound remarkably like a human voice calling for help. Harry knows not asking questions is a vital part of keeping her job, but she soon discovers that the house may be home to secrets she can’t ignore.

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The House That Horror Built follows Harry Adams, a single mom and horror movie fan, who takes a cleaning job at the creepy mansion of the reclusive director Javier Castillo. His home, packed with eerie props and trophies, has an unsettling vibe right from the start. As Harry explores the mansion, filled with reminders of Castillo’s violent film legacy, strange things begin happening—mysterious noises, costumes that seem almost alive, and other unsettling moments.

The mansion itself almost steals the show. Filled with film set props, costumes, and puppets, the mansion is claustrophobic, richly detailed, and dripping with tension. Harry, meanwhile, comes off as vulnerable and also pretty passive. She mostly reacts to what’s happening instead of driving the story forward, which can be a bit frustrating. Plus, she has this habit of spiraling into worst-case scenarios—her son even jokes she imagines “every possible permutation of doom.” You’d think with all that anxiety, she’d be a little more suspicious of the things that are happening.

Christina Henry’s real talent shines in building a spooky mood. The creepy house, the mysterious director, the whispered voices, and ghostly hints—they’re all here. But the tension unfolds way too slowly, and the pacing drags. Even when the story finally picks up, it’s more melancholy than thrilling. The House That Horror Built might appeal to fans who enjoy slow-burning thrillers, but if you’re after chills, jump scares, or fast-paced action, this one’s more like wandering down a dim hallway that never quite leads to a real fright.

Published March 12, 2024 by Orbit

Set in a world of perilous magic and moonlit forests, this seductive romantic fantasy tells the story of a defiant changeling, her cursed sister, and the dangerous fae lord she must defeat to save her family.

In a kingdom where magic has been lost, Fia is a rare changeling, left behind by the wicked Fair Folk when they stole the high queen's daughter, Eala, and retreated behind the locked gates of the Folk realm. Rather than leave Fia an outcast, the queen takes her in and trains her to be a spy.

When a hidden gate to the realm is discovered, Fia is tasked by the queen to retrieve the princess and break her curse. Accompanying Fia is Prince Rogan, her dearest childhood friend—and Eala’s betrothed. As they journey through the forests of the Folk, Fia’s mission is complicated by her feelings for Rogan…and an unexpected attraction to the fae lord holding Eala captive. 

Soon, Fia begins to question the truth of her origins and the reality of her mission, but time is running out to break Eala's curse. And unraveling the secrets of the past might destroy everything Fia has come to love.

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There is a ton of fae-based "romantasy" out there right now since the rise of fiction like ACOTAR. It's difficult given the complete inundation of the current book market to publish something that feels fresh. However, that's just what Lyra Selene did. This fairytale-inspired tale has a uniqueness, while still containing the elements that more mainstream readers will enjoy. 

Even though she was swapped for the princess, Fia hasn't lived a cushy life. The queen has raised her as a weapon and given her love like one would for a dog learning to sit. Affection only when she's done a good job. As anyone would be raised like that, Fia spent a lot of time with her inner dialogue on repeat. You really just want her to wise up and realize that she's worthy already. Fia could get on your nerves quick yet you found yourself cheering her on at other times. 

Fia and Rogan can only access the fae world on the full moon so a lot of the book was character development. I loved the development of Fia's botanical magic and bringing the greenhouse back to life. Fia's relationship with the sprite Corra added a spot of mischief to the story. Despite that, A Feather So Black's ending got dark.  I was surprised at how dark a turn it actually took. 

This is going to be one of those dividing books. You are either going to love it or hate it. I enjoyed the world-building and the mythology. The romance wasn't my favorite thing about the book but if you like enemy-to-lover tropes and insta love, it may just work for you.

Published October 3, 2023 by Tor Nightfire

Bestselling authors Cassandra Khaw and Richard Kadrey have teamed up to deliver a dark new story with magic, monsters, and mayhem, perfect for fans of Neil Gaiman and Joe Hill.

Julie Crews is a coked-up, burnt-out thirty-something who packs a lot of magic into her small body. She’s been trying to establish herself in the NYC magic scene, and she’ll work the most gruesome gigs to claw her way to the top.

Julie is desperate for a quick career boost to break the dead-end grind, but her pleas draw the attention of an eldritch god who is hungry for revenge. Her power grab sets off a deadly chain of events that puts her closest friends – and the entire world – directly in the path of annihilation.

The first explosive adventure in the Carrion City Duology, The Dead Take the A Train fuses Khaw’s cosmic horror and Kadrey’s gritty fantasy into a full-throttle thrill ride straight into New York’s magical underbelly.

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Had I done anything but see Khaw and Kadrey and gone ooo shiny, I may not have picked this one up.  However, to my surprise, this magic and mayhem mash-up was most engrossing. Kadrey had long solidified his place as one of my favorite urban fantasy series with Sandman Slim. Khaw is hit or miss for me due to their wordsmithing. While it can be lovely, it's often overwhelming due to their more obscure vocabulary. Their prose comes in large mouthfuls that have to be chewed methodically but there's no denying that absolutely no one writes like Khaw. I wondered how exactly the two styles could possibly mesh seamlessly but somehow they did. 

Any good read starts with good characters and the protagonist Julie is an absolute fucking delight. I use that word because writing a review about this book without at least one f-bomb would not be doing justice to the chaotic mess that is Julie. She's snarky, hilarious, and totally off the cuff but when I say she's a mess, she is a MESS. Between the moments she spends being a badass, she's loading herself on whatever she can get, whether that's booze or pills. 

Julie's chaos only adds to that of this book. Urban fantasy heavy on gore with a twist of eldritch horror, The Dead Take The A Train is a bizarre mash-up of genres that probably should not work, like the two authors in questions, yet somehow do. Kadrey has always been on the gritty side of UF and with Khaw's influence taking that completely over the top to the dark side of horror, this is an unconventional pairing that I'm excited to see again in the future.

Gruesomely overflowing with both the grotesque and irreverent, this neon nightmare fuel will have the least tryptophobic of us seeing holes (and eyes, lots of freaking eyes) everywhere. I picked this one up as an audiobook and Natalie Naudus was a fantastic narrator. 

Published January 16, 2024 by Delacorte Press

A teen girl and her family return to her mother's childhood home, only to discover that the house's strange beauty may disguise a sinister past, in this contemporary gothic horror from the author of What We Harvest.

The house was supposed to be a fresh start. That's what Libby's mom said. And after Libby’s recent bipolar III diagnosis and the tragedy that preceded it, Libby knows she and her family need to find a new normal.

But Libby’s new home turns out to be anything but normal. Scores of bugs haunt its winding halls, towering stained-glass windows feature strange, insectile designs, and the garden teems with impossibly blue roses. And then there are the rumors. The locals, including the mysterious boy next door, tell stories about disappearances tied to the house, stretching back over a century to its first owners. Owners who supposedly hosted legendary masked séances on its grounds.

Libby’s mom refuses to hear anything that could derail their family’s perfect new beginning, but Libby knows better. The house is keeping secrets from her, and something tells her that the key to unlocking them lies in the eerie, bug-shaped masks hidden throughout the property.

We all wear masks—to hide our imperfections, to make us stronger and braver. But if Libby keeps hers on for too long, she might just lose herself—and everyone she loves.

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A Place for Vanishing is my first read by Ann Fraistat but it certainly won't be the last. This YA horror has a bit of everything: a creepy house, mystery, séances, and bugs; lots and lots of bugs. I can guarantee that even if you've read lots of books with those same themes, there is nothing like this book out there.

As with any good gothic horror, the setting is the perfect backdrop for this story. At first, it seems charmingly dilapidated with its strange blue roses and beautiful insect-themed stained glass windows containing masks of said insects. Sure, the house needs some love. The crumbling Victorian has good bones but hasn't had upkeep in decades.  From its faded, peeling bug-patterned wallpaper, to its boarded-up windows, it's a strange place with a myriad of different types of insects despite fumigation. There are weird noises from the attic rooms and the grandparent's oddly locked bedroom door. For years, Libby's mom has avoided living in this house and instead chose to live in a small apartment but why? When Libby's new diagnosis means she feels they all need a fresh start in a new town, off they pop to the entomology motific house. 

I can't speak to Libby's diagnosis and whether the author did well with presenting a person with bipolar disorder. Mental health affects not only the person but those who love and care for them as well. In this, I believe the author strived to portray an honesty that isn't often in fiction regarding mental illness.  Libby seems especially laid bare and her emotions are visceral which lends credibility to her character. It was nice to see her relationship with her younger sister, Vivi, grow and ultimately thrive. Flynn makes a great wingman but I'm glad to see any romance takes a backseat to the mystery. 

A Place for Vanishing doesn't give you much time to breathe. Weird stuff starts happening immediately and only accelerates from there. At first, the changes are somewhat extraordinary and bewitching but as time passes, the creepiness and wrongness only snowballs. While this horror is less "Boo I'm a ghost" and more paranormal, there's certainly plenty of body horror to entertain. And bugs. Lots and lots of bugs. 

 

Published August 20, 2024 by HarperCollins Publishers

The Edgar Award–winning author of A Dreadful Splendor blends mystery and spooky thrills with friendship and romance in this delicious love letter to Gothic fiction, featuring two brides who must band together to unravel the ghostly secrets at the heart of a crumbling island manor.

'Til death do us part...

November 1816: Restless but naïve Emeline Fitzpatrick is desperate to escape her stifling life in foggy Halifax. Her guardian is lining up repugnant suitors, but Emeline has her eyes set on a handsome lieutenant in the British navy. She just needs to persuade him to propose, or her one chance at happiness will be gone forever.

But when Emeline’s hopes end in scandal, she finds herself with only one suitor left: the wealthy and enigmatic Captain Graves. Having already lost two wives to tragic circumstances, the unfortunate widower is seeking a new companion in his cloistered seaside manor, Faraday House. Or at least that is what Emeline had been told, because when she arrives, she is horrified to discover that the second Mrs. Graves, Georgina, has not yet died.

Emeline is only certain of two things: something ghastly is afoot at Faraday House, and no one is going to save her. She will have to rely on her own courage, her burgeoning bond with the ill but strong-willed Georgina, and the aid of a handsome reverend with a mysterious past to unravel the secrets at the heart of the manor and forge her own destiny.

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In classic gothic style, The Third Wife of Faraday House was a slow-burn. Sprinkled with mystery and spooky scenes, it was hard to put down once it got started. 

Emeline has recently discovered that her guardians are looking for "appropriate" suitors for her. They do have her best interests at heart for a well-cared-for life. Emeline, however, has something else in mind; the handsome naval officer Frederick Fletcher. If only he would follow through on his proposal and whisk her away to Bermuda as promised. Unfortunately, after being caught together, her only choice is to marry Captain Graves far away from the scandal. Emeline arrives at Faraday house to marry the Captain only to find out that the Captain's second wife, Georgina, isn't dead yet! 

The setting is perfect for a gothic novel. Big stone house on an island, whose ocean road is only accessible during low tide. There's a widow walk, a dusty tower room, secret rooms, ghostly music, and blood dripping from the ceiling. It's creepy without needing to be gory. There's a feeling of constant danger, starting from the moment Emeline arrives on the island to be dumped by a broken carriage and left by herself while the driver goes onward to Faraday House. That feeling continues with Emeline's UNwelcome experience when finally making it to the house and throughout the novel. There's suspicion built into every moment. 

 

If I have one complaint, Emeline is a difficult character to like. She's very naive and her constant pining for the lieutenant is annoying. If only he would sweep in and rescue her. If only she could get a letter to him telling him how awful it is and to hurry up already! In her mind, all she does is babble to look pretty and proper.  Of course, it's in Emeline's best interests to keep Georgina alive, delay the marriage, and give Frederick time to come save her. As time went on and the relationship between Emeline and Georgina developed, she did grow on me.

As with the best gothic mysteries, little hints are given to the reader throughout the story. While you think you know immediately what is happening, there's a lot of redirection. Who you thought was the villain two chapters ago, suddenly seems to not be. There's not a single character that your opinion of will stay the same throughout.  It's such a twisty little plotline!

The Third Wife of Faraday House is a mystery, ghost story, and romance all rolled into one that would appeal to readers of multiple genres. It's a bit light for most horror readers and Regency romance readers, but I think it contains enough elements of each to be discoverable for most mainstream readers. 

Published November 28, 2023 by Starwatch Press

The faeries of Witchwood Manor have stolen its young lord. His governess intends to steal him back.

Victorian governess Winifred Hall knows a con when she sees one. When her bratty young charge transforms overnight into a perfectly behaved block of wood, she soon realises that the real boy has been abducted by the Fair Folk. Unfortunately, the lord of Witchwood Manor is the only man in England who doesn’t believe in faeries—which leaves Winnie in the unenviable position of rescuing the young lord-to-be all by herself.

Witchwood Manor is bigger than its inhabitants realise, however, and full of otherworldly dangers. As Winnie delves deeper into the other side of the house, she enlists the aid of its dark and dubious faerie butler, Mr Quincy, who hides several awful secrets behind his charming smile. Winnie hopes to make her way to the centre of the Witchwood Knot through wit and cleverness… but when all of her usual tricks fail, who will she dare to trust?

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The author states that The Witchwood Knot "started as a cross between the movie Labyrinth and the faerie tale known as the Twelve Dancing Princesses". She admits that what she ended up with wasn't exactly what she planned but that doesn't mean it's any less fantastic. Instead, it's difficult to put a distinct name on the end story.

Is it gothic? Yes. 

It is a fairytale? Yes. 

But is it romantic and whimsical at the same time? Also yes!

The world Atwater created is marvelous. It has everything good gothic fiction should. Isolated countryside mansion resplendent with stained glass windows surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. Pointed gables, white columns like skeletal fingers, screaming faces in the walls. All the finer things really.  Like any good worldbuilding, hers has its own rules that one must abide by but I won't give all the secrets away. 

The characters are what endeared The Witchwood Knot to me. Winnie is well suited to her position as a governess. She handles her charge quite well and when he is replaced by a fetch, doesn't hesitate to head into the fairy realm after him. Mr. Quincy, butler extraordinaire, and Winnie's interactions are frustrating (for Winnie) and yet endearing. He's very smooth but there are many secrets and he is unwilling to impart his knowledge just quite yet. Her charge is quite surly and you almost immediately dislike him as a spoiled child, but like Mr. Quincy, there is so much more than meets the eye. Oliver, the protector spirit cat that resides in his own skull, was destined to be my favorite as soon as he was introduced.

I was quite surprised by the romance. It didn't seem like the characters had anything in common to even find romance an option. Even once it started developing, it lingered for so long before actually becoming romance, that I had just about given up on it. After it was all said and done, this sweet and thoughtful romance made it seem like all the rest hadn't come before. How confounding and yet, I'm still completely on board despite certain anatomical protrusions. No, not that one.

Read it for yourself and you'll see. 

Published October 31, 2023 by Tor Nightfire

Nat Cassidy is at his razor-sharp best again with his horror novel Nestlings, which harnesses the creeping paranoia of Rosemary's Baby and the urban horror of 'Salem's Lot, set in an exclusive New York City residential building.

Ana and Reid need a break. The horrifically complicated birth of their first child has left Ana paralyzed, bitter, and struggling―with mobility, with her relationship with Reid, with resentment for her baby. Reid dismisses disturbing events and Ana’s deep unease and paranoia, but he can't explain the needle-like bite marks on their baby.

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The Deptford is known for celebrities, exquisite architecture, and views of Central Park. Despite its high profile, it remains somewhat of a mystery, as its residents are extremely protective of their privacy within its walls. However, for Reid and Ana, the Deptford represents a new start and presents a financial opportunity they can't possibly turn down. 

Cassidy sets the tone of the novel in the very first sentence of the novel. "We don't belong here." Ana feels that something is off while touring the apartment and that feeling only grows stronger as they are settling in. Oh, not for Ried though. Reid is completely charmed by the Deptford and its odd residents, leaving Ana alone with that creeping sense of unease.  The dread multiplies with each little oddity as Ana insists that something is wrong with the Deptford and something is wrong with Charlie. 

Cassidy has thoughtfully created characters with authenticity, and the worries and dilemmas they face are utterly relatable. Ana's paranoia parallels that of Polanski's Rosemary but what Cassidy has created here is its own being. Ana is not only haunted by the occurrences of the Deptford, but also by the trauma of Charlie's birth, the night she and Reid don't talk about, and by the changes in her own body. Ensnared by their circumstances, the atmospheric horror surges forward until Ana is caught up in uncertainty about the meaning and purpose of her life as well as the environmental apprehension. 

I can't really say anything else about the plot without giving things away but it definitely takes an even weirder turn than I initially expected. If you want a break for something unusual with relatable characters, creeping dread, and an epilogue that is the epitome of a sad smile, then Nestlings should be the next pick off your TBR.

Published June 18, 2013 by 47North

They only come when it snows, and nobody ever gets away.

A group of close friends gathers at a secluded cabin in the wintry mountains of Colorado for a final holiday hurrah. Instead, it may be their last stand. First a massive blizzard leaves them marooned. Then the more chilling realization: something is lurking in the woods, watching them, waiting...

Now a weekend of family, friends, and fun has turned into a test of love and loyalty in the face of inhuman horrors. The only hope for those huddled inside is to fight—tooth and nail, bullet and blade—for their lives. Otherwise, they'll end up like the monsters' other victims: bright pools of blood on glittering snow, screams lost in the vast mountains.

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**First and foremost, my apologies for the radio silence. This is my first review since May. After five years of reviewing, 2023 has left me completely burnt out. With a year in at a job that requires me to interact with a computer screen all day, the thought of coming home and trying to pound the keys has been an entirely revolting and exhausting thought. In order to get back to the love of reading and reviewing, I'm reading whatever the hell I want and writing whatever comes to mind. 

The Shuddering is my first incursion into Ania Ahlborn's books. I tend to be underwhelmed by the more mainstream horror books so I went in with little to no expectations. The isolation cabin-in-the-woods trope is one of my favorites though and to add malevolent monsters to that? Sure, I'm in. 

This is one of those books that doesn't make you wait for the action. There's no build-up, no slow slide into the abyss. You don't get time to acclimate before the slicing and dicing begins. The first chapter is tension-filled and bloody, fulfilling that instant gratification we sometimes need as horror readers. Afterward, it's a balancing act between learning the characters and being introduced to randos that are simply there to be creature fodder. Even those characters managed to have depth. They have strengths and weaknesses that make them realistic and relatable. In the briefest of instances, you still get a good feel for who they are, before they stop being anything at all. 

I won't say that the entire book wasn't a complete cliche because it most certainly was. The characters are conflicted and have complicated relationships. They play stupid games and win stupid prizes. The setting has your typical isolationist feel with an incoming miring winter storm and the monsters have an amorphous embodiment...until they don't. Somehow though, the fact that this was a horror story completely took a backseat to the characters and their drama. 

I can't believe how emotionally involved I got with these characters. When I tell you I gasped at the heart wrench, yeah, it surprised me too. When the heck did these characters get so under my skin? I was completely and totally invested in the potential for them to conquer their insurmountable odds and it broke me when they didn't. It was so bleak and depressing and turned me completely inside out. It was so...unnecessary, and I think that's what made me love it all the more.