Not gonna lie, Ali Hazelwood is my guilty pleasure. And Two Can Play is the perfect little escapist read to take me away from it all.

What is there to say that I haven't said a thousand times before? I love Ali Hazelwood, and this story is the perfect example why. Her writing is so spunky and vivacious, it never fails to engage me and put a smile on my face. Even when she uses her signature miscommunication trope, I'm still there for the ride, and that says something.

Speaking of miscommunication, that is the crux of this story. But before you go and throw this book out the window, know that it wasn't too bad here. The novella length saved it from the excessive and extravagant treatment that Ali is known to give her full length novels. Instead, we get just the right dosage and then it's all quickly resolved.

I'm not much of a video game player, so I did go into this with a bit of hesitation. But no worries, Ali has a penchant for writing smart, loveable characters, and I immediately fell in love with both Viola and Jesse. If ever there was a romance trope I adore, it's pining, and this had it in spades. In fact, both of our main characters were partaking, so the sizzle was high.

If I had one quibble, it's that the spicy scenes take up too much of the book, especially considering that this is a short novella to begin with. I wanted less of the sexed-up Viola and Jesse, and more of the regular version. But that's my problem. Every time I read one of Ali's novellas, I end up wanting more. But then I complain that the full length novels are too much. Sorry, Ali, it seems you just can't win with me.

I understand this first came out on audiobook format a few years, and it's only recently that it has been published to written form. That's interesting, and it might be the first time I've ever heard of such a thing. But I didn't listen to the audio, I've only read the book, so all my thoughts are solely for the latter.

Also, someone needs to write The Limerence Saga ASAP. Ali, I hope that's you?

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

Who can know what will come? Today, a kingdom. A life where you eat and drink from dreams. Tomorrow, the dirt of the grave to rub on your mouth.

Talk about a powerful, compelling, utterly riveting story. When people say reading is an exercise in empathy, surely this is the consummate example of that.

Some books really get to you. And I knew from the very first page that Good People would get to me. How could I not read a story about immigrants who gave up their home, their language, their culture, everything they knew and loved, all to move somewhere foreign and build a new life for their family, and not feel something stirring in my immigrant heart?

Rahmat and Maryam remind me of my parents, working so hard to give their children the opportunity of a better life. And Omer and Zorah remind me of myself, with all that intense pressure to succeed and the constant push and pull between the old and new. And if this book was just about the immigrant experience, I would've loved it already. But it was so much more.

It's written like a mystery, and bit by bit, we learned what happened to Zorah and her family. I feel like my heart was pounding the whole time, wanting to know more, yet afraid of what I will learn.

As is every great book ever written, it's not about the plot, it's about the characters. And the ones in here are so flawed and so real, it was almost too much to take at times. I felt for every single person in here as their human nature (and so ours too) was laid bare on the pages.

The format added to the appeal. It's written like a documentary, told via interview transcripts with the different friends and acquittances of the family. You would think with so many different viewpoints and narrators, it would get confusing. But it wasn't. The focus was always solidly on the family, and they remain the center of our story.

The unusual structure paved the way for the goal of this story, which was to provide a composite, often disparate view of the family. Are they the good immigrants, working hard to achieve the American Dream? Or are they old and stubborn, unable to change and assimilate in a new country? Are they humble in their achievements? Or do they allow their children to spoil and run wild?

As the story progressed, I didn't know what to think. Every new page was another color in the kaleidoscope, but how did they all fit together? I've seen mysteries done a lot of different ways, but this was such a unique and bold take on the genre, and the journey and resolution were altogether nothing short of striking.

We touch upon so many worthwhile topics along the way. Everything was seamlessly woven in and done with such a subtle and deft hand, that it never felt forced or preachy. There is no black or white, only so many shades of grey in between. And I nodded along to every insightful morsel, gobbling it up and storing it in my mind to mull over in the days and weeks to come.

For how thought provoking this book was, it was also eminently readable. I know there's been a recent trend to bill every vaguely interesting book as a one-sit read, but it's no exaggeration here. Once you start, you won't want to stop. This was such a fast, engrossing read, the hours will fly by until you've reached the very last page.

This story worked on every single level—riveting and unputdownable, a terrific mystery, but also underneath, many many layers to think about and digest. It's one of those books that indelibility changes who you are, and the version of you after will forever be slightly altered from the version before.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

When it comes to fairytale reimaginings, there are two aspects that really matter. One, does the story bring something new to the table when viewed through the lens of the original fairy tale? And two, does it stand on its own as fresh and compelling? I’m sorry to say that Lady Tremaine didn’t really succeed on either front for me.

When you think about it, the evil stepmother in the original Cinderella had a distinct but abbreviated role. She was the gatekeeper to all of her stepdaughter's dreams, preventing her from living a life of love and dignity. But what did she really do from scene to scene? Well, not much. And so right off the bat, with such meager inspirations, the reimagining started to flounder.

What is there for our Lady Tremaine to do in this narrative? Well, she schemes for her daughters to get invited to the ball, then she prepares for the ball, then she attends the ball, and then she laments the wretchedness of her plans not coming to fruition after the ball. If that all seems rather bland, then yeah, that’s almost the whole tale.

The other major problem is that Lady Tremaine is not evil in this version. If that is the sound of your jaw dropping, you and me both. I know it’s not easy to write a compelling villain as your main character, and so I can see the urge to smooth away the bad and turn on the good. But to eliminate every bit of evil in its entirety is to also exorcise all that was fascinating about the character in the first place.

In fact, the evil isn’t just removed from Lady Tremaine, it is instead transferred to other characters. And so of course every scene with those characters—few though there were—felt fascinating and striking, and they were the origin stories I wanted and was quite frankly promised.

It wasn't until near the end that this reimagining deviated from the original and gained even a modicum of interest. But not only did the changes seem to come out of nowhere and bear no resemblance to Cinderella, they didn't even make much sense. I was honestly left a bit baffled.

I wish Rachel Hochhauser had just gone ahead and wrote a whole new story instead of deciding to follow in the limited footsteps of Cinderella. But as it stands, the parts that remained faithful to the original were bland and lackluster, while the parts that deviated (strange and perplexing though they might've been) were the only parts that held my interest at all.

I also have to mention the writing. It was ornate, often using ruminations and fancy language to give meaning to mundane happenings. It constantly pulled me out of an already glacial narrative, and it didn't do anything for me. I like complex messages as much as the next reader, but the overwrought writing here didn't match the thin plot or the lack of substance underneath.

So this was a pretty thorough disappointment for me from beginning to end. I kept waiting and waiting for the story to grab me, but it never really did. I signed up to read the origin story of a villain and instead got some uninspired and watered down version of a goody two-shoes.

Readaroo Rating: 2.5 stars

Perhaps a day will come when I can resist a reference to my favorite Agatha Christie, but it's not this day. And so from the moment I saw the title to this book, I knew I had to read it.

Let's start by setting the correct expectations though. Any similarities to Agatha Christie or And Then There Were None really begins and ends with the fact that both books contain quite a few dead bodies and one title is a pun of the other. But that's it. On every other front, you should really think of this story as not at all related to its namesake.

What this is though is a blend of murder mystery and romance, all set to the coziest of atmospheres and quaintest of villages.

The mystery itself was quite fun and interesting. Georgie's beloved Buncombe-upon-Woolly is gripped in the throes of crime. As more and more residents pop up dead, Georgie can't help but be concerned. Surely five suspicious deaths in a year seems a bit much. And so she has no choice but to stick her nose where it doesn't belong and sleuth out what's really going on.

I liked the mystery. I thought it had clever twists and turns and red herrings of the sort that every mystery reader would approve of. There were quite a few moments throughout when it took me by surprise, and even though the investigation was conducted in the bumbling way this sort of story usually is, it all came together in the end with much satisfaction.

But when it came to the romance, I was less certain. To be fair, I think this is in large part due to the fact that I'm just not crazy about the cozy genre. The writing and the characters ooze a sort of preciousness and by golly jolliness that feels distinctly inauthentic. And so when two of its characters come together, it feels even more fake.

With Georgie especially, although she is so smart in other respects, she exhibits a sort of cluelessness with Sebastian that is immensely grating. There are only so many demure "you can't possibly like me" a reader can take before having had enough.

I'm a little surprise because Martha Waters comes from a romance background and this was her first mystery, But go figure, I wasn't that into the romance and my vote goes solidly to the mystery side of things.

By the way, could this be the start to a mystery series? Now that the ridiculous romance has been all sorted out, I wouldn't mind reading more of Georgie and Sebastian's adventures.

"Why should I need to read about a fictional cozy village full of homicidal maniacs when I am already inhabiting one?"

Readaroo Rating: 3.5 stars

For a fictional biography to work, it's almost entirely hinged on its characters. They really have to shine, convincing us that people who have never existed are in fact real. But the ones in The Future Saints are so bland, they never truly came alive. They lacked personality, clinging to the sort of superficiality that hobbled them the entire time.

Who is Hannah other than someone who loves and misses her sister? How do I tell the other two members of the band apart? What does Theo even see in Hannah? The book never adequately addressed these crucial questions, and so my feelings toward the characters remained fuzzy and ambivalent.

Character depth matter, never more so than when it's a character-driven story. And so here, it was an uphill climb almost the whole way to try to differentiate and connect with these rather lackluster ones.

But perhaps the blame lies with me. All the comparisons to Daisy Jones had me thinking this was a fictional rock 'n' roll biography. But it was less that and more written in the style of women's fiction, with explorations of grief and addiction and a love story embedded in, and the rock 'n' roll provided the setting rather than the focus.

About halfway through, I finally started getting into the story. But even then, I didn't feel much for the band. My favorite character was Theo, whose earnestness and sobriety and desire to help others finally won me over.

This was fine. But I think I just expected more. The writing, the characters, even the events in the story, all felt more generic than memorable, which just doesn't line up with my expectations of what a fictional biography, let alone a rock 'n' roll one, should be.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

Across the board, my top complaint when it comes to stories featuring royal characters is that they just don't dig deep enough. Admittedly, it's hard to capture all the nuances of giving up one's life and anonymity in exchange for dubious fame and lifelong duty. And so when presented with such a situation, most stories tend to settle for frivolity and superficiality. Of course the crown is shiny, the crowds adoring, the love interest handsome and dashing. What else is there?

So I went into The Heir Apparent with the same sort of low expectations. But I'll tell you what, this book impressed me from almost the very first page. Finally, here is the royal story I have been waiting for.

Lexi left the British royal life behind and is now working her way through her medical residency in Australia. And even though the hours are brutal and the pay nonexistent, she's living her best life. But when a helicopter appears on New Year's day bearing news of her family, that life is over. Now she must come to terms with what it means to be first in line to the throne and what she must sacrifice to be queen.

I feel like Rebecca Armitage was really smart here. Instead of trying to build out an entire British royal family and its inevitable dysfunctions from scratch, she borrowed heavily from the existing one. And so everywhere we look in here, we see characters and situations we recognize—a beautiful and beloved mother who died too young; an absent father who was emotionally unavailable; two siblings, one who stayed and toed the family line, the other who escaped and tried to lead a normal life; and surrounding it all, an institution that sells out one another to make the monarchy look good.

In the midst of all this dysfunction is Lexi. She's a likable and relatable main character, and she very much anchors the story. The writing has enough depth while at the same time retaining all the spark and fun you'd expect from a tale like this, so I couldn't help but want to read more.

I like that the romance never became the center of this story. A lot of books would misstep here and devolve into the sort of sappy happily ever after that bares no resemblance to reality. Instead, while we get some scenes with our hopeful couple, the focus remains where it should be, on Lexi's choice.

This story boils down to a dysfunctional family drama, albeit one played out on a grander, more royal stage. And it did such a good job, seamlessly weaving in tidbits from the real British royal family that it managed to feel both fresh and familiar.

This was quite a compelling debut. I'm curious if Rebecca Armitage will try to carve out a niche for herself as a writer of fictional royal drama or if she's going to veer more in the dysfunctional family/coming of age direction. Time will tell.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

The first book in a historical murder mystery series, A Gentleman's Murder has a lot of potential, but not all of it is fully realized.

Let's start with what I enjoyed. The mystery itself was an interesting one, done in the style of the Golden Age that I'm a huge fan of. Because the murder takes place in a location with limited access, we immediately have a finite list of suspects and the feel of a locked room mystery. As the investigation proceeds, there are clues and red herrings aplenty, and it was fun to see it all unfold.

Eric Peterkin, our main character and residential amateur sleuth, is a sympathetic and likable lead. He is half-Chinese at a time and place where diversity is not an asset, and the exploration of the difficulties and bigotry that he faces is done with complexity and deftness. He is also a war veteran and suffers from PTSD, which is very much a focal point of this story.

Here, though, is where I think my personal preferences kept me from enjoying the story more. I don't tend to gravitate towards war historical fiction, and this is very much that. Even though we are post The Great War, Eric and every major player in this mystery is a war veteran, and their trauma shapes the bulk of the narrative.

I also found the first half to be quite slow in pace and rather grueling to get through. We are introduced to all the characters in one go, and they all blended into each other in my mind. I had a hard time keeping them apart, which became especially problematic since they are the main suspects in our murder.

The other thing that made it feel slow is that what starts out as a murder in the present quickly becomes an investigation into another murder in the past. And so now, not only am I having trouble keeping straight who is who in the present, but also how they all related to each other in the past.

Fortunately, somewhere around the halfway point, I found myself settling into the story and starting to enjoy it more. What began as an introduction to all the characters and their backgrounds had coalesced into a more plot-driven mystery, and I was finally able to what I do best in a story like this—and that's to don my detective cap and armchair detect away to my satisfaction.

To be fair, I think my lukewarm experience here isn't that uncommon when it comes to first books of murder mystery series, even among ones that eventually go on to become my favorites. There's something about needing to establish setting and atmosphere and the main characters that just drags it down a bit. And more often than not, it's the author's debut or their first attempt at the murder mystery, and so there's some growing pains to work through as well.

All in all, now that I've gotten acquainted with Eric Peterkin and his sister Penny, I wouldn't be opposed to reading a second book. I'd be curious to see where this series goes.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars