Everywhere You Look by Emily Shacklette – A Love Story Beyond the Expected

 Some books make you feel seen. Others crack your heart open. And then there are books like Everywhere You Look—that somehow manage to do both.

Emily Shacklette’s novel is a breathtaking blend of grief, love, and found family, and while there is a romantic story at its core, this book is so much more than a romance. It’s about stepping up when life breaks your heart. About building something lasting in the middle of chaos. And about learning that sometimes, love doesn’t shout—it simply stays.

🖤 The Weight and Beauty of Grief

Grief is a constant presence in this book—not something to be overcome, but something to be carried. And it’s not just Luke’s grief for his sister, Gigi, that’s portrayed. The pain is magnified through the eyes of her three small daughters, who ask heartbreaking questions like “when is mommy coming home?” It’s gutting, and it’s real. Their innocence makes the loss feel even sharper, and Shacklette handles it with so much care and respect. These children are not plot devices—they’re people, and their mourning is as important as Luke’s.

👨‍👧‍👧 Parenthood, Not By Choice—but By Heart

Luke is young, injured, freshly retired from professional football, and suddenly the guardian of three children. And yet, never once does he resent his role. There’s no bitterness, no “poor me” attitude. He simply does the work. He rolls up his sleeves and puts his nieces first—even when it costs him. That quiet, determined love made me fall for him completely.

The parenting in this book is messy and exhausting, but also tender and full of grace. And while the trope of the “fake marriage” can often feel like a shortcut in romance, here it felt earned and deeply intentional. Luke and Dean marry not to justify the romantic arc, but because it’s the best decision for their family’s stability. It’s practical, it’s believable, and it actually adds emotional tension rather than resolving it.

💔 Dean Deserves the World

Let’s talk about Dean. Because while Luke’s emotional arc is front and center, Dean’s slow-burning heartbreak is what really hit me. He gives up everything—his home, his plans, his freedom—just to help Luke, and for a long stretch of the story, Luke doesn’t see it. He’s so focused on what Dean is giving up that he misses what Dean is gaining: a purpose, a home, and a real partner.

Their relationship builds slowly, unevenly. Luke is ready to move things forward before Dean is—and the moment when Dean finally snaps and lets out all the feelings he’s been burying was absolutely raw. That scene where everything comes to a head had me holding my breath. But then comes that soft, real conversation: “I wish we’d done this sooner.” And Luke’s quiet realization that rushing into romance would’ve destroyed their friendship—that was everything. It’s so rare to see a love story where the emotional bond is given more weight than the physical.

🧸 Tension, Levity, and a Whole Lot of Disney

Despite the heavy themes, the book never drowns in its own sadness. The girls bring light and humor into every scene they’re in. Luke and Dean might be dealing with custody issues, trauma, and unresolved feelings, but there’s still movie nights, snacks, chaotic bedtime routines. There’s joy in the everyday, and it keeps the story grounded and hopeful.

The writing flows beautifully, with a clear narrative and dual POVs that add richness and emotional nuance. Getting both Luke and Dean’s perspectives allowed me to connect with them equally—especially when they were seeing the same events so differently.

🌅 A Future We Can Believe In

By the time I reached the end, I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted to see how this family would grow, how the girls would flourish, how Luke and Dean would evolve as partners and parents. And yet, the way Shacklette ends the story—just a few weeks later, with their new life gently unfolding—felt just right. It’s not a “happily ever after” tied up with a bow, but a quiet, hopeful look toward the future.

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Final Thoughts

Everywhere You Look is a story about loss and healing, but also about showing up for the people you love, even when it’s hard. Even when it breaks you a little. It’s about choosing your family, again and again, and letting love grow at its own pace. I cried, I laughed, I underlined a dozen passages, and I will absolutely be rereading this one.

If you’re in the mood for something emotionally rich, deeply human, and profoundly comforting—this book belongs on your shelf.

More Than Fluff – A Heartfelt Journey in The Jackass in Class

 Every once in a while, you pick up a book expecting a few laughs, maybe some steam, and a cozy little distraction from the world—and instead, you get something that quietly, unexpectedly wraps itself around your heart. That’s exactly what happened when I read The Jackass in Class by Amy Award. I’ve read the previous books in the Kingman series, and while they all bring that signature mix of heart and humor, this one hit different. Here’s why.

I went into The Jackass in Class by Amy Award expecting a light, fun romance to brighten up a weekend. And yes, I got the chaos, the sass, the unexpected donkey, the hot jock, and the quirky supporting cast that I’ve come to love in this series. But what I didn’t expect was the emotional resonance that would stay with me long after the final page.

On the surface, the plot isn’t particularly groundbreaking—grumpy-sunshine, enemies-to-lovers, forced proximity via a tutoring program—but it’s comfortingly familiar in the best way. A cozy, low-stakes setup that disguises the emotional gut punches that come later.

Tempest Navarro is the heart of this book. A secret romance author, anxious and curvy, hiding a baby donkey and a thousand insecurities in her sorority house. She’s the kind of heroine we don’t get enough of—soft, smart, sharp-tongued, and battling demons most readers will recognize. Her journey isn’t just about falling for the campus heartthrob; it’s about learning to take up space, speak up for herself, and stop shrinking to fit others’ expectations.

And Flynn Kingman? He’s more than just the typical sports romance lead. Behind the charm and football stardom is a man who’s lived in fear of loss since he lost his mother as a child. His emotional arc—particularly a late scene with his father—hit me so hard I genuinely teared up. That conversation about grief and how it reshapes us was quietly devastating, but also incredibly healing. Flynn’s realization that safety and distance don’t equate to living fully is a truth so many need to hear.

The book is marketed as fluff, and while it’s certainly funny, sexy, and a joy to read, it’s so much more. It's a love letter to the girls who’ve been told they’re too much or not enough. To the women who have to fight to be heard, to be seen, to be loved as they are. Tempest’s voice, and the vulnerability behind her sass, make this a standout read.

And yes, there’s a donkey. And yes, the family chaos is top-tier. And yes, the spice is sizzling. But what elevates this from "fun romance" to "must-reread" is the way Amy Award threads real emotional depth through every laugh and kiss.

Also, there’s a small but powerful commentary on the value of romance and smut in our culture—how they’re often dismissed as trashy or indulgent, when in reality, they’re a lifeline for many readers. That conversation alone makes this book worth defending in every literary discussion.

If you’re already a fan of the Kingman siblings, you’ll love revisiting the world. But if this is your first entry, don’t worry—each book stands on its own. Just be ready to laugh, cry, and maybe hug your inner teen a little tighter.

Final Thoughts:
This isn’t just a feel-good romance—it’s a feel-seen story. I’ll be rereading it whenever I need to remind myself to take up space, fight for joy, and embrace softness as strength. Highly, highly recommended.

Review – Bite Marks and Broken Hearts by T. J. Rose

Bite Marks & Broken Hearts by T.J. Rose
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This MM paranormal romance absolutely sank its fangs into me from the first chapter and didn’t let go until the very end! Bite Marks and Broken Hearts is a gripping, emotional ride that delivers a perfect mix of mystery, romance, and spice—without ever feeling unbalanced.

One of the things I loved most was the banter. The dialogue between the characters was sharp, funny, and full of chemistry—it made the connection between the MCs feel all the more authentic. And it wasn’t just the leads who stood out: even the secondary characters were well-developed and memorable, adding real depth to the story world.

The plot kept me hooked with its steady build of tension and mystery. I was genuinely kept guessing until the final reveals, which is always a win in my book. At the same time, the romance had space to breathe—there were beautiful, slower moments woven into the fast-paced urgency of the plot, giving the emotional arc of the MMCs room to shine.

Speaking of the emotional journey—wow. The angst, the yearning, the vulnerability... it all felt so real. I appreciated how the author didn’t shy away from letting the characters be messy and raw. Their growth and the connection between them felt earned.

The double POV added another layer of richness, letting us see the story unfold from two very different perspectives, and highlighting the unique strengths and vulnerabilities of each protagonist. And the pacing? Spot on. It mirrored the characters’ growing sense of urgency while still taking the time to develop the romance.

T. J. Rose’s writing is fluid and compelling—it was easy to lose myself in the pages. Overall, this book hit all the right notes for me. I’m definitely looking forward to seeing where the next installment takes us!


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The Fake Dating Agreement by Ember L. Nicole

✨ A reverse harem hockey romance with heart, healing, and hard truths ✨

What starts as a delicious revenge plot quickly turns into a touching and deeply emotional journey in The Fake Dating Agreement by Ember L. Nicole. This reverse harem, hockey romance surprised me in all the best ways. Yes, it has the tropes we all love — fake dating, three swoony hockey players, and a woman reclaiming her power — but it also dives much deeper, exploring identity, growth, invisible struggles, and the real meaning of choosing happiness.

The story kicks off with the FMC discovering that her long-term boyfriend has been cheating on her — on their sixth anniversary, no less. Cue heartbreak... and then enter three ridiculously hot hockey players with a proposition to help her get some sweet, sweet revenge. Sounds like fun? It is. But that’s only the beginning.

What I loved most is how the author takes us beyond the trope and into something meaningful. The “fake” relationship morphs into a process of discovery, not just for the FMC but for each of the three MMCs as well. She doesn’t just fall into bed with them — she gets to know them. Each relationship unfolds at its own pace, reflecting their unique personalities, wounds, and hopes. And they, in turn, see her, support her, and remind her that she’s so much more than what her ex made her believe.

The hockey backdrop is just that — a backdrop. It’s not the central plot, but rather a lens into the lives of the MMCs. For them, hockey is more than a sport: it’s their whole world, their coping mechanism, their identity. But as the story evolves, so do they. They begin to see that life is more than a game, and that sometimes, choosing joy, connection, and vulnerability takes more strength than chasing a puck.

Another standout element is the representation of invisible disability. The FMC lives with Hashimoto’s disease — a chronic, often misunderstood condition. I really appreciated how the author handled this with care and realism. The FMC’s discomfort with sharing her illness felt incredibly authentic, and the sensitivity shown by the MMCs was genuinely heartwarming. Chronic fatigue and feeling "lazy" to others is such a common but painful part of invisible illnesses, and this story highlights that struggle in a way that will speak to many readers.

On the steam scale, I’d say this lands at about a 2.5/5 — nothing overly explicit or gratuitous, but enough to feel intimate and meaningful. In a college RH romance, you expect hormones, curiosity, and kink exploration — and this book gives you all of that, but with a focus on connection over shock value. Every scene felt like it served the emotional arc rather than simply trying to spice things up, which I really appreciated.

As for my own reading experience? I was hooked. Was everything 100% realistic? Maybe not. But I didn’t care. I found myself grinning like a fool at the tender moments, swept up in the emotional honesty and support these characters showed one another. I read it in a single day — it was one of those books where you just don’t want to stop turning the pages.

And if I had to choose a favorite? It would be Caleb. All three guys are sweet, caring, and sexy in their own ways, but Caleb was the one who took the longest to open up. He held on tightly to his pain, and watching him gradually let the FMC (and us!) in was incredibly satisfying. The moment that sealed it for me? The street hockey game, where Caleb convinces the whole team to skip practice just to cheer on a group of kids he randomly met. It was such a subtle but powerful act of kindness — one that showed his heart more clearly than any grand gesture ever could.

From a technical standpoint, the writing flows beautifully. The pacing is tight and purposeful, with smooth time jumps that let the story focus on key emotional beats without getting bogged down in the day-to-day.

Final thoughts:
The Fake Dating Agreement is more than a spicy RH romance — it’s a celebration of healing, growth, and letting go of what doesn’t serve you anymore. It’s about being brave enough to want more, and about finding love — not just in others, but within yourself. Add in thoughtful chronic illness rep and layered character development, and you’ve got a gem worth picking up.

🌟 Rating: 4.5/5
✏️ While some scenes may feel slightly heightened or idealized, the emotional core is so strong and sincere that I couldn’t put it down — a book that makes you feel good without losing depth.
❤️‍🔥 Tropes: Reverse harem, fake dating, found family, emotional healing, supportive MMCs
🏒 Content warnings: Cheating ex, chronic illness (Hashimoto’s), emotional abuse (past), mild on-page angst

Review – Crushing the Altar by Siena Trap

 I’ve been in the mood for something tender and grounded lately, and Crushing the Altar by Siena Trap delivered exactly that—and more. If you love friends-to-lovers, small-town vibes, and real emotional depth, keep reading (but beware: there are spoilers ahead!).

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⚠️ Spoiler Warning: This review includes major plot details.

Crushing the Altar is one of those rare stories that manages to blend spice, emotional depth, and real-life struggles into a warm, heartfelt romance. It follows Tripp and Penny—best friends since birth, secretly in love with each other for years, yet always dancing around the truth.

The plot kicks off in the most dramatic way: Penny is about to marry someone else, Jake, when Tripp finally confesses his feelings. In a bold, spontaneous moment, Penny walks away from the altar and marries Tripp that same day. It’s impulsive, messy, and deeply romantic—and it sets the tone for the rest of the book.

What follows is not just a steamy, feel-good friends-to-lovers tale, but a story about what comes after the fairy-tale decision. Penny soon discovers she’s pregnant, and what initially feels like a dream quickly turns into a potential nightmare: there’s a chance Jake could be the father. And that’s where this book truly shines.

Siena Trap doesn't take the easy way out. Instead of relying on drama, breakups, or mistrust, she gives us a hero who shows up. Tripp never once makes Penny feel guilty for her past, or for the speed with which they jumped into a new life together. His unwavering support, especially when he says that it doesn’t matter whether or not he’s the biological father—because the child is hers—was such a powerful moment. It really anchored the emotional weight of the story.

A miscarriage scare brings them even closer, becoming a turning point in their relationship as they’re forced to confront the reality of adult life, parenthood, and responsibility. Watching them grow—not just as a couple, but as individuals—was incredibly rewarding.

The ranch setting and small-town atmosphere give the whole book a cozy, familiar backdrop that perfectly suits the characters. It’s full of people who’ve known each other their whole lives, content with their way of life, and that grounding sense of place made everything feel more intimate and authentic.

Siena Trap’s writing has a gentle, almost lyrical quality, with moments of sharp emotional insight that sneak up on you. The pacing is steady and confident, letting us fully experience the relationship as it deepens without ever feeling slow or dragged out.

By the end, I was left with a deep sense of calm and hope. This isn’t a story about billionaires or enemies-to-lovers fireworks. It’s about real people facing real situations—messy, complicated, and beautiful in their normalcy. Crushing the Altar is a celebration of everyday love, the kind that gets you through tough times and makes you feel safe and seen.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ – A warm, spicy, and emotionally grounded romance that stayed with me long after the final page.

Review – The Midnight Voyeur by E.L. Koslo

⭐ 5/5 – Unforgettable, bold, and deeply emotional

🔥 Spice: 5/5 – Explicit, intense, and emotionally charged

The Midnight Voyeur is a bold, sensual exploration of grief, healing, and rediscovery. It’s unapologetically erotic, but beneath the surface, it’s the story of a woman finding her way back to life after devastating loss—of reclaiming her body, her desires, and her future.

Ginny, 46, is a widow who has spent almost a year in emotional isolation after the sudden death of her husband. They had married young, raised a daughter together, and were finally at a point in life where privacy, intimacy, and rediscovery as a couple felt within reach. But then everything changed in a moment. Ginny didn’t just lose her partner—she lost her sense of self. She withdrew from friends who either pitied her or didn’t notice her grief, and shut herself inside the house that had become a museum of her past.

The novel begins with Ginny as a silent observer of other people’s pleasure. When Austin, the young mechanic renting her pool house, brings home lovers at night, she watches—not out of perversion, but out of longing. Those moments of voyeurism become the first spark in her journey back to herself. Micha, her landscaper, joins the picture, and what follows is an unconventional, emotionally charged dynamic that shifts from lust to deep connection.

While nearly half the book is devoted to their intense sexual relationship, it never feels gratuitous. The erotic scenes are not just spice—they’re the medium through which Ginny rediscovers her body, her needs, and her right to pleasure. Micha, openly gay but uniquely drawn to Ginny, adds emotional complexity and sensitivity, while Austin brings unexpected warmth and care. Their threesome is more than just physical; it’s transformative.

Eventually, Micha makes the bittersweet decision to leave, wanting to pursue a more stable life and explore new possibilities. What could have been a breaking point becomes a moment of clarity for Ginny: she doesn’t want to settle for being someone’s occasional indulgence. She wants love again. Not just sex, not just companionship—but a real chance at building something lasting.

And what I especially loved? The story doesn’t end in heartbreak. All three characters find new partners and form connections that last. What could have become a source of tension or jealousy instead turns into a beautiful, chosen family. They remain friends, their lives intertwined in a way that feels natural and healing.

What struck me most is how E.L. Koslo captures the unpredictability of life—how everything can fall apart just when it was supposed to come together. Grief isn’t the centerpiece of this novel, but it’s the thread that runs through everything, quietly shaping Ginny’s choices, her fears, and her slow return to the world.

Her age isn’t a footnote—it’s a defining element, and it’s handled with honesty and care. This is a story about a woman over forty whose life didn't end with her husband’s death, even if it took her a while to believe that.

The entire story is told from Ginny’s point of view, which made it feel deeply personal and intimate. I loved how honest her inner voice was—conflicted, often self-deprecating, but also sharp and full of heart. There’s so much growth here, both emotional and sexual, and it’s portrayed without judgment. Even the steamiest scenes serve a purpose in showing how Ginny slowly comes back to life.

What really surprised me was the banter. The tension isn’t only in the sex—it’s also in the teasing, the innuendoes, the unexpected lightness that balances out the heavier themes of grief and identity. That mix made the story feel complete: messy and funny, tender and hot, serious and freeing.

This isn’t a book for everyone. It’s explicit, emotionally vulnerable, and unafraid to challenge expectations around age, sexuality, and what it means to start over. But for readers who appreciate erotica with substance and soul, The Midnight Voyeur is a beautiful, daring, and ultimately hopeful read.

Nightbane by E.D. Lee – Book 3 Review & Series Wrap-Up

Nightbane brings the Broken Kingdom trilogy to a close not with explosions or grand fanfare, but with a slow, inevitable unraveling of everything its characters once believed. True to E.D. Lee’s style, the tension is never built through flashy plot twists or constant action, but through the emotional weight of choices made, truths uncovered, and relationships tested to their breaking point. Nightbane doesn't just conclude the story, it breaks it open. E.D. Lee delivers a final installment that's emotioanlly raw, politically intricate and utterly unflinching. Where Nightingale was about survival, and Nightmare about power and trust, Nightbane dives headfirst into the cost of hope in a world built on violence.

This final installment focuses on the end of the war—and the beginning of a new world. Vrea and Castil, now fugitives from Niroula, return to Carylim. But this is not the Carylim we saw in Nightingale. With new context—particularly the revelation that Castil is the rightful heir, but not the biological son of the usurper king—everything feels different. The abuse Castil suffered at the hands of his "father" and the toxic dynamics with his siblings hit harder. The illusion of loyalty and lineage is shattered.

And Castil? He’s done playing games.

Where he was once the silent, watchful knight, now he’s a man with purpose—and nothing left to lose. Peace is no longer a dream; it’s a mission. And to achieve it, he’s willing to cut down anyone in his way. Including Rian.

Rian’s death is shocking not because it’s sudden, but because it’s justified. In Nightbane, we finally see Rian for who he really is. His actions in Nightingale, especially toward Vrea and her people, are reframed—not as noble sacrifices, but as cold calculations. He never loved Vrea. He loved the idea of winning. And for that, he falls.

What follows is not a triumphant victory, but a hard-earned reckoning. Both Vrea and Castil are forced to confront the people who raised them—the queens and kings who shaped them into weapons—and make impossible decisions. The contrast in their upbringings leads to very different resolutions: Castil’s father dies, while Vrea’s mother lives. And yet, in both outcomes, peace is born from blood.

What stood out most to me was how complete the ending feels—not just for the main characters, but for the world around them. The side characters aren’t forgotten. There's a sense of healing, of families merging rather than being destroyed. No one is left truly alone. It’s not a fairy tale ending, but it’s a hopeful one.

As Nightbane closes the trilogy, it becomes clear that this was never just a story about war or succession—it was about survival, transformation, and the cost of breaking the cycles we’re born into. Each book peels back another layer, revealing not just the truths behind political power, but the emotional scars and quiet strengths of those caught in its grip. With every shift in perspective, E.D. Lee deepens our understanding of these characters and the brutal world they inhabit. And now that the dust has settled, it's time to reflect on what this series truly accomplished.

A Trilogy That Redefines Power, Loyalty, and Love

Looking back on the Nightingale trilogy, what stands out most is how deliberately and unflinchingly E.D. Lee dismantles the traditional fantasy arc. There are no chosen ones destined for glory, no sweeping romances that save the world. Instead, this series gives us characters forged in fire—shaped by trauma, political games, and the impossible choices handed down by their bloodlines.

From Nightingale’s brutal introduction to a world where heirs are bred as weapons, to Nightmare’s nuanced exploration of power and perspective, and finally to Nightbane’s stark conclusion, this trilogy doesn’t shy away from moral ambiguity. It asks: What happens when those raised to kill choose to build instead? What does peace cost when your only education has been war?

Vrea and Castil’s journey is the emotional spine of this story, evolving from mutual hatred and mistrust to a love grounded in shared pain and hard-won understanding. They are not idealized heroes, but survivors who must confront not only their enemies but their families, their traumas, and their own identities. Their romance doesn’t save the world—but it gives them the strength to change it.

Secondary characters are treated with the same care, each given space to grow, heal, and find connection in a world where solitude has long been synonymous with survival. The final act doesn’t tie everything up with a bow—but it does offer hope, a rare and powerful gift in a story so steeped in violence and loss.

This trilogy won’t be for everyone. It’s slow, introspective, and emotionally intense. But for readers willing to sink into the layers—of character, of politics, of pain—it offers one of the most rewarding and thoughtful narratives I’ve read in dark fantasy. It’s not just a story about ending a war. It’s about building something new from the ruins—and deciding who gets to live in that future.

🧭 Series Wrap-Up: The Nightingale Trilogy

E.D. Lee’s trilogy is unlike anything I’ve read in fantasy romance. It’s a story where heirs are forged in fire, love is a dangerous rebellion, and survival is never guaranteed.

• Book 1 – Nightingale introduces us to Vrea, Rian, and Castil in a brutal world where trust is a liability. It’s tense, emotional, and layered with enemies-to-lovers and high-stakes politics.

• Book 2 – Nightmare deepens the emotional arcs, flipping roles and pushing characters to reckon with the systems that shaped them. The shift in perspective, especially toward Castil, is a masterstroke.

• Book 3 – Nightbane brings everything to a head—wrapping up complex relationships, long-burning questions, and the consequences of every choice made.

This series is perfect for readers who want:

• Dark fantasy without magic—but full of tension and sharp emotional stakes

• Morally gray characters navigating loyalty, love, and war

• Enemies-to-lovers dynamics that actually hurt (in the best way)

• Slow-burn romance with emotional payoff

• Thoughtful, character-driven world-building

Final Thoughts

If you’re tired of fantasy romances that wrap everything in neat bows, The Nightingale Trilogy offers something different. It’s hard, it’s human, and it’s unforgettable. I’ll be thinking about Vrea, Castil, and Rian long after the final page.

🏈 Book Review: End Game by Felice Stevens

 A bold, emotional sports romance grounded in reality

End Game by Felice Stevens is a powerful, emotionally driven romance set in the high-stakes world of professional football. While MM sports romances aren’t new, what sets this book apart is how it approaches its subject matter—with honesty, nuance, and an unflinching look at a world that still struggles to accept LGBTQ+ athletes.

This isn't a love story where everything magically falls into place. Quite the opposite. The book dares to ask: what does it take to keep a relationship alive when everything around you says you can't?

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🧡 A relationship tested from the start

When we meet Brody and Dev, they aren’t together yet—but by chapter two, sparks have flown, and their connection is undeniable. What follows isn't the classic falling-in-love arc, but the far more complex, layered challenge of staying together in a world that would rather they didn’t exist as a couple.

Set against the hyper-masculine backdrop of American pro football, End Game dives into the tension between public image and private truth. The stigma surrounding homosexuality in sports isn't a subplot here—it's the beating heart of the story. And Felice Stevens handles it with realism and care.

What I especially appreciated is that the book doesn't sugarcoat the environment. In contrast to other MM romances in sports settings, where "love conquers all" often feels a bit too convenient, End Game offers a more grounded picture of what queer athletes might actually face. It's messy. It's painful. But it’s also deeply human.

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⏳ An ambitious scope—15 years of love, pressure, and change

The story spans 15 years, which gives readers a broad lens on Brody and Dev’s evolution. We watch them grow as individuals and as partners, navigating challenges both personal and professional. This long timeline brings depth, but it also comes with trade-offs. There are significant time jumps, and many emotional milestones are told rather than shown. At times, I felt a bit adrift—wanting to linger longer in certain moments or feel more connected to the characters' inner lives.

That said, the ambition of the structure reflects the theme: love isn’t just about a single moment. It’s a commitment made again and again across time.

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💬 Character dynamics: Dev steals the show

The book is told in dual POV, and while both Dev and Brody are compelling in their own ways, Dev stood out more clearly for me. He’s fiery, driven, and deeply invested in carving out a space for their relationship—even when it's risky. Brody, in contrast, comes across as quieter and more passive. While likable, he often felt like he was along for the ride rather than steering it.

Their dynamic still works, though—it’s about balance. Dev brings the momentum, Brody brings the steadiness.

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🔥 On the spice and emotional intimacy

There’s a good amount of spice, particularly in the middle portion of the book. These scenes vary in function—some add genuine depth and intimacy, helping to reinforce the emotional connection between Dev and Brody. Others feel more like placeholders between plot beats, a way to maintain tension in the absence of stronger narrative transitions.

Still, fans of steamy romance will find plenty to appreciate here, especially since the emotional stakes are already high.

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🏁 Final thoughts

End Game is a thoughtful, mature romance that doesn’t take the easy route. It chooses truth over fantasy, and while that makes for a sometimes emotionally distant reading experience, it also leaves a stronger impression. The book doesn’t offer neat solutions or guaranteed happy endings—it offers a slice of reality, with all the love, risk, and heartbreak that comes with it.

If you’re looking for a romance that tackles real-world challenges with heart, grit, and emotional honesty, this one’s worth picking up.

Nightmare, by E. D. Lee

Nightmare is the gripping sequel to Nightingale, shifting the focus from Rian’s court in Carylim to Vrea’s home in Niroula. With Vrea back in a position of power, the tables have turned—this time, Castil is the one at her mercy. But survival in Niroula is just as treacherous as it was in Carylim, and with war looming, neither Vrea nor Castil can afford to trust the wrong person.

This book deepens everything that made Nightingale compelling: the complex relationships, the moral dilemmas, and the political intrigue. With a slower burn and higher stakes, Nightmare is a story of shifting loyalties, dangerous desires, and the fine line between love and betrayal.

The story doesn’t pick up exactly where we left off but instead takes a step back in time, offering new context for the characters before moving forward. This shift in perspective is especially impactful as Nightmare introduces Castil as Vrea’s counterpart, giving us a much-needed look at his past and his role in their story.

Where Nightingale was about survival in an enemy court, Nightmare is about reclaiming power—and realizing how little control anyone truly has. Vrea and Castil’s dynamic flips completely, but instead of simply mirroring their past, this book explores the complexities of their new reality. It’s not just a role reversal; it’s a deeper dive into what power, trust, and love really mean when everything is at stake.

The shift to Niroula also adds new depth to the worldbuilding, showcasing a court that, while brutal in its own ways, operates on entirely different rules. Seeing the political structures, the Queen’s influence, and the relationships between Vrea and her siblings gives us a more complete picture of the war that has shaped their lives. Unlike Carylim, where siblings were bred as weapons, Niroula’s royal family is trained to rule. That distinction changes everything—especially how the Queen and her children approach survival.

Reversed Roles, New Perspectives

One of the most compelling aspects of Nightmare is its role reversal. In Nightingale, Vrea was a prisoner in Carylim, at Rian’s mercy. Now, the story unfolds in Niroula, where Vrea is the princess and Castil is her slave. This shift doesn’t just alter their power dynamics—it redefines how we see both characters.

Vrea, despite having absolute power over Castil, remains considerate. Her decision to immediately assure him that he will not suffer sexual violence is a defining moment—not just in their relationship but in showing who she is. Having spent years fearing that very thing, especially from Castil, Vrea consciously breaks the cycle. This moment carries immense weight because, at this point in the story, she still hates him. If it had been Rian in Castil’s position, it wouldn’t have meant as much—but because Castil was once her captor, her choice highlights her strength and principles.

On the other hand, Castil’s journey is one of self-awareness and painful realizations. Unlike in the first book, where his actions could be seen as calculated or even cruel, Nightmare reveals just how deeply conflicted he was. We see how he fell in love with Vrea despite knowing she was the enemy, how he convinced himself he could protect her while still serving his people, and how, even now, he struggles with his own self-worth.

The Politics of Niroula – A Different Kind of War

The change in setting also brings a new political landscape. The Carylim court was brutal, with heirs treated as weapons rather than rulers. In contrast, Niroula’s Queen, while still encouraging competition among her children, feels more human. She has motivations beyond simple power, and for the first time, the reasoning behind the war feels almost justified. The contrast between the two courts is striking—Vrea’s siblings may still be rivals, but their relationships are more nuanced. Unlike Carylim’s constant bloodshed, Niroula’s heirs focus more on survival. Even the Queen’s insistence that all her children learn to rule, rather than simply fight, sets her apart.

Vrea’s relationship with her family is another highlight. In Nightingale, her primary connection was with Rian, but now we see her dynamics with her brothers, especially Teminos. Teminos is one of the first people to see Castil as something other than a pawn or an enemy, and his acceptance of Castil’s feelings for Vrea adds a layer of complexity. Instead of outright opposing the relationship, he supports it—not because he believes in romance, but because he recognizes how Castil’s presence impacts Vrea’s personal growth.

Intimacy, Control, and Trust

A major difference between Nightmare and Nightingale is the way sex and intimacy are portrayed. There isn’t necessarily more spice in this book, but discussions of sex as a tool—whether for power, manipulation, or emotional connection—are more prevalent. The book explores the fine line between desire and control, and what it means for intimacy to be freely given rather than taken.

The slow-burn romance between Vrea and Castil is handled exceptionally well. Though Castil’s love for Vrea is a constant, he is given time to see her as she truly is—not as the idealized version he once imagined. Likewise, Vrea’s realization of Rian’s repeated abandonment is crucial. In the first book, she focused on his return, but in Nightmare, she understands that he had to leave her in the first place. The contrast between Rian, who repeatedly walks away, and Castil, who never does—even when he has every reason to—is one of the most powerful aspects of the book.

One particularly emotional moment is Castil’s conversation with Vrea about slaves “performing” in intimate situations. Vrea, without ever intending to use Castil that way, still ensures that he understands he has a choice. The fact that she is concerned about his comfort—even in a situation where she holds all the power—speaks volumes about her character.

A Story That Takes Its Time

The pacing of Nightmare is slower, spanning several months rather than days or weeks. While some might find this pacing less urgent than the first book, I loved how it reflected the reality of their world. Even in a fantasy setting, life doesn’t pause for romance or war. There are still political meetings, training, and daily responsibilities. This slower approach makes the emotional moments feel earned rather than rushed.

Another element that stands out is the way twists are woven into the story. Instead of being heavily foreshadowed, events unfold naturally, making them feel more shocking and immediate. One moment, two characters are having an ordinary conversation—then suddenly, everything shifts. These moments hit hard, keeping the reader on edge.

Final Thoughts

Nightmare is a powerful sequel that doesn’t just continue the story—it recontextualizes everything we thought we knew about these characters. It takes everything that made the first book compelling—complex relationships, political intrigue, moral dilemmas—and pushes them even further. Vrea and Castil’s dynamic is one of the most fascinating aspects of the book, as their roles shift and they slowly come to understand each other. The romance is slower but far more rewarding, with every moment between them carrying weight.

With its intricate world, morally complex characters, and unpredictable twists, Nightmare cements this series as a must-read for fans of dark fantasy and slow-burn tension.

Why You Should Start the Fated Frenzy Series Now (Before Book 3 Drops!)

If you're looking for a reverse harem series that brings the heat and the heart, Gigi Zarbi’s Fated Frenzy series is the perfect pick. With a fast-paced plot, hilarious moments, and deep emotional arcs, these books offer more than your typical RH romance. Book one draws you in with a chaotic but lovable cast and a surprisingly wholesome core. Book two raises the stakes, expands the perspectives, and dives into themes of survival and trust—without losing the humor that makes the series so charming. It's the kind of story that sticks with you… and leaves you counting down the days until the next installment.

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I’ll be honest—I waited to pick up this series because I was expecting something silly and spicy, a classic “why choose” romp to make me laugh. So I saved it for one of those moments when all I wanted was some chaotic, steamy fun. And yes, both books delivered on that front… but they also gave me so much more. I’m a little mad at myself for not starting sooner.

From the very first pages of Fated Frenzy, I was pulled into a whirlwind of spicy chaos, unexpected depth, and sharp, laugh-out-loud humor. What I expected to be a high-heat romp turned out to be a beautifully balanced mix of smut and story—one where emotional connection and personal growth took center stage. Each of the four MMCs is well-developed and distinctive, and despite the limited POV (mostly from the FMC), I still felt like I knew them. Their differences—physical, emotional, even in communication styles—weren’t just noted, but celebrated. That core theme of acceptance runs through the entire book, and it’s what gave the story so much heart.

Splice and Sacrifice picks up just five days later, but the tone immediately shifts. The romance is still there, but it steps slightly to the side to make room for something bigger: survival, unity, and adapting to life in a group—not just as lovers, but as a found family. The emotional tone deepens, and what’s especially refreshing is how the story doesn’t gloss over the challenges of being in a multi-partner relationship. There’s growth, adjustment, and a genuine sense of evolving together.

A standout change in book two is the shift to multiple POVs. While I missed the constant presence of the FMC’s voice, I loved getting inside the MMCs' heads. It gave their backstories, emotional struggles, and reactions so much more weight—and made me care about them not just as love interests, but as individuals.

One thing I really enjoyed was the worldbuilding. Though technically set in current times, the story takes us to other planets—alternate realities where alien civilizations know about Earth but deliberately hide themselves from human discovery. It’s not sci-fi, but more like dimensional travel with clever, self-aware humor. Each planet is unique, complete with its own quirks, strengths, and downsides—often echoing exaggerated versions of human stereotypes. It was clever, fun, and never took itself too seriously, which fit the overall tone of the books perfectly.

Zarbi’s writing strikes a nice middle ground—it’s not overly plain or purple-prosy, but it shifts slightly to reflect each character’s background, especially the age differences. That subtle flexibility in tone adds realism without slowing the pace, and it really supports the dynamic group the story revolves around.

One scene that really stayed with me happens in Splice and Sacrifice, during the mating ceremony—a kind of formal bond acceptance in front of friends and family. It could’ve easily been rushed or overshadowed by the chaos happening in the background, but instead, it’s one of the most tender and memorable moments in the book. I loved how the FMC took her time to speak to each of the MMCs individually. She didn’t plan it, but still made sure that each of her partners felt seen, valued, and special. It was such a sweet and emotionally rich moment, especially coming right in the middle of danger and uncertainty. It really captured what this series does so well—balancing external tension with deep, character-driven connection.

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Final Thoughts

If you love found family stories, emotional depth with a healthy dose of spice, and a reverse harem that goes beyond the trope, this series is 100% worth your time. Start it now while the hype is still manageable—because once book 3 drops, you’ll want to be fully caught up. Trust me. 😉

Fated Frenzy is out now, and Splice and Sacrifice releases May 3rd.
Book 3? Already on my auto-buy list.

Big thanks to the author for the ARC and for bringing these chaotic sweethearts into the world. 🖤