Snowstorm. Blood on her hands. A knock at the door from the police. Do Not Disturb starts with the kind of gripping tension that makes you want to cancel your plans and read straight through. We meet Quinn in the middle of a nightmare — she’s desperately trying to clean up a crime scene before a police officer on her doorstep can become suspicious. She’s on the run, trying to escape, when a snowstorm forces her to take shelter in a remote, rundown motel with a chilling past. The motel itself is a character — weather-beaten, the restaurant boarded up, and a strange figure watching from an upstairs window. It’s the perfect setup for a locked-room style thriller, with snow trapping the characters inside and secrets simmering just under the surface. Freida McFadden’s pacing is quick and addictive, with enough suspense to keep you turning pages late into the night. The atmosphere is tense and eerie, and the premise promises a high-stakes unraveling.
Some books entertain. Some books teach. And then, every once in a while, a book comes along that quietly rewires something inside you. Theo of Golden is one of those rare, luminous stories. Told in third person — which usually isn’t my preference — Theo of Golden surprised me from the very first chapter. Despite the narrative distance, I felt deeply connected to Theo himself: gentle, luminous, quietly changing every life he touched. This is not a story you rush through. It’s one you walk alongside — with every cup of coffee, every quiet riverbank stroll, every moment of connection with the people in his town. Through Theo’s interactions, the book becomes a gentle meditation on empathy, listening, and finding beauty in life’s smallest details. Allen Levi’s writing carries a weight and a grace that asks you to slow down. It’s both comforting and challenging, offering lessons about grief, gratitude, and the sacredness of anonymity. This is a novel that doesn’t just tell a story — ...
Just a few short months ago, on April 25, 2025, I said goodbye to my 12 year old husky hybrid, McCloud. He was 12 years, 4 months, and 17 days to be exact. The thing about it is... it's not getting easier. I have constant flashbacks to that day, to his last few days and those final moments. I still cry when I think about it and him. I want nothing more than to hold him again, bury my face in his neck and just stay like that. It's really not fair how we get these animals to bring light and comfort and friendship into our lives, and then it's all gone in a matter of a few moments. McCloud was my pride and joy. He got the craziest zoomies, he was very intuitive, and I'll never forget our howls together when I could tell he had something to say. His favorite treat of all was (you guessed it) steak. Other than human treats like steak or chicken, he never was a fan of them. He wasn't food motivated I guess I could say. He was, however, a lover. Once McCloud accept...