No One Aboard

No One Aboard

by Emy McGuire

Graydon House, 2025. 368 pages. Thriller.

At the start of summer, billionaire couple Francis and Lila Cameron set off on their private luxury sailboat to celebrate the high school graduation of their two beloved children. Three weeks later, the Camerons have not been heard from, the captain hasn’t responded to radio calls, and the sailboat is found floating off the coast of Florida. Empty. Where are the Camerons? What happened on their trip? And what secrets does the beautiful boat hold? Set over the course of their vacation and in the aftermath of the sailboat’s discovery, No One Aboard is a delicious domestic mystery that asks who is more dangerous to a family: a stormy ocean or each other?

I was not privileged to grow up in a household where sailing was commonplace. I remember sailing a few times at Scout camp to get a merit badge, but that took place in a reservoir in central Utah rather than the illustrious world of the Rich and Famous™. That said, I enjoyed this glimpse into this foreign world of excess, with its toxic family relationships and manipulative, deceitful secrets. There was a fair amount of the kind of family drama that makes so many reality TV so binge-worthy. The intensifying pace (which admittedly begins a tad slow) and not quite definable sense of unease and foreboding made for an eye-opening closed-room who-dun-it thriller; I honestly thought that it could have been just about anyone because they all were awful humans who, being candid, I don't think deserved to survive this story. They all should've been held accountable for their crimes, but maybe that makes this work all the more relatable to us plebeians. Be ready for multiple timelines and POVs, but not the jarring kind that fragments a story.

Hearts in Circulation

Hearts in Circulation

by Sarah Monzon

Bethany House, 2025. 304 pages. Romance.

Book #2 in the "Checking Out Love" series

Circulation librarian Haley Holt is afraid that the ramshackle Little Creek bookmobile is going to careen down a mountainside with her in it. Her fears come true when the bookmobile breaks down and a rockslide traps her in the small hollow of Turkey Grove. Reclusive mechanic Levi Redding lives there to get away from people. He can handle getting the bookmobile running again, but the endless chatter and unsettling touch from the vibrant librarian leaves him overstimulated. When forced proximity leads to a misunderstanding, a note of apology begins an epistolary friendship, proving that sometimes the happiest of endings aren't contained within the bindings of a book. 

Given my line of work, I'm a bit biased toward stories that favorably depict librarians. This lighthearted romance brings awareness of sensory issues and other forms of neurodivergence, as well as discussing mental health topics like grief and fear, and the importance of libraries to communities. Monzon deftly weaves in these topics into the narrative without becoming preachy or dry. While the chemistry did seem a bit contrived and unrealistically instant, the literary references and cute kittens sold me on this sweet, fluffy romcom read, just in time for upcoming Valentine festivities.

This work is marketed by Bethany House as a "Christian romance" (as are all of their publications), but there is very little reference to religion or God beyond mealtime prayer. The eleventh hour mention of faith came across as almost abrupt, as if an editor hastily crammed it in last minute to meet a benchmark or quota. Readers used to this subgenre may be uncomfortable with the spice level, which admittedly does not rise much above (abundant and passionate) on-page kissing; heaven forbid delicate sensibilities are offended by the thought of a couple cohabitating outside of wedlock (gasp!).

Bury Your Gays

Bury Your Gays

by Chuck Tingle

Tor Nightfire, 2024. 295 pages. Horror.

Misha knows that chasing success in Hollywood can be hell. But finally, after years of trying to make it, his big moment is here: an Oscar nomination. And the executives at the studio for his long-running streaming series know just the thing to kick his career to the next level: kill off the gay characters, "for the algorithm," in the upcoming season finale. Misha refuses, but he soon realizes that he’s just put a target on his back. And what’s worse, monsters from his horror movie days are stalking him and his friends through the hills above Los Angeles. Haunted by his past, Misha must risk his entire future—before the horrors from the silver screen find a way to bury him for good.

I'll be the first to admit that horror isn't my first go-to genre. But I've been trying to appreciate the genre more. Tingle strikes a good chord here with a clever storyline that evoked discomfort with its gory, graphic, upsetting descriptions of body horror. I was surprised by the undertones (or overtones?) that spoke to corporate greed and queer erasure in media, and I didn't expect to be that deeply touched by this work. Plus, these topics are handled in a way that doesn't come across as heavy-handed or pedantic, nor does it detract from the storytelling. While the pacing lagged a touch in the middle, I was strangely uplifted by the value of honoring all parts of yourself and refusing to hide your identity. It's fair to say that I didn't foresee any of this, given Tingle's enormous self-published œuvre which largely comprises satire and what one might call performance art in prose (and what is technically gay monster erotica).