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  Seventeen years ago, the coastal town of Heron Bay, Washington, was wrecked by tragedy. While her parents and others in the community indulged in one of the season's many parties, young Nina Johansen vanished and drowned--in a reflecting pool at the edge of the property.  Nearly two decades later, Astrid has yet to fill the void left by her younger sister's mysterious death. When an unexpected and cryptic call from her Aunt Maude summons her back to Heron Bay after all this time, it becomes clear to Astrid that the truth of that night seventeen years ago refuses to stay buried. And the secrets of Nina's death are closer than she realizes.  "Dreaming of Water" is an absolutely gorgeously-written story of mystery, loss, and suspense. Similar to "In Another Light," Banner's writing is descriptive, transportive, and maintains an impressive veil of intrigue over the entire story without sacrificing pacing or plot details. To reveal too many more details

  June Farrow is living on borrowed time. Well, so history has told her. Even before June's mother Susanna's mysterious disappearance from their small hometown of Jasper, North Carolina, something has been odd about the Farrow women. But trying to put your finger on the Farrow women is like trying to catch smoke in your bare hands.  As June tries to set the murky past behind her and live a normal life, she's haunted by visions--things she's never seen but feel unnervingly familiar; voices she's never heard but stir something deep within her; a red door that seems to beckon her through its passageway. And so June makes a choice one fateful day in the wake of her grandmother's passing.  She opens the door, and she goes. And what awaits her on the other side defies comprehension.  "The Unmaking of June Farrow" is made of the same wondrous, magical, and poignant stuff that "Spells for Forgetting" is, but somehow even more. This is the book, dear

  Ashley Smith is content to spend Christmas alone. With an ocean between her and her home back in the States, her choices for company--aside from her art studies--are few and far between. When out of the blue, the alluring Emma Chapman invites Ashley to her family's grand estate for the holidays, things seem almost too good to be true.  From the Cotswold Manor House to her quarters in Starvehood Hall, Ashley couldn't be more enamored with how her London Christmas has panned out. Until, that is, she meets Emma's handsome brother Adam, and the holidays grow more interesting (and sinister) by the night.  "The Christmas Guest" is a perfectly atmospheric, mysterious novella written to be devoured in a single setting. In its own, dark way, it boasts the kind of coziness readers seek out for wintertime while maintaining both strong plot and prose throughout. Coming in at just over 100 pages, to say much more in this review would be to spoil Peter Swanson's giftednes

  In the small Pennsylvania town of Harrow, something sinister is stirring in Dan Paxson's apple orchard. With autumn upon him, Dan more than ever needs an apple harvest that will set him apart from other farmers; one that'll get him out from underneath the overdue bills and the looming cost of Calla's college tuition.  Almost like magic, an apple so red it's nearly black appears on Dan Paxson's apple trees. As the town slowly but surely gives the "Ruby Slipper" apple a try, something dark begins to surface within it. People are changing in Harrow, something lurks within the orchard. You see, these are far from ordinary apples--these apples will make you different.  Chuck Wendig has an uncanny ability to deliver a horror novel unlike anything I've ever read: first with his epic masterpiece "Wanderers" then later with the fall book of the season "The Book of Accidents." Not unlike its predecessors, "Black River Orchard" mak

  Dawn Schiff and Natalie Farrell couldn't be more different from one another. Dawn is orderly, perhaps a little too orderly; social graces don't come easily to her, and she finds the company she enjoys most of all is her own. Natalie is, for all intents and purposes, the reigning queen of their office--every bit as glamorous as she is successful.  And both women have a secret.  What starts out as an ordinary day at work ends in turmoil as Dawn fails to show up for her prompt 8:45am start time. Natalie thinks nothing of it as Dawn's cubicle phone continues to ring in her absence, but when she finally answers one of the calls, a faint voice answers her on the other end of the line, "Help me."  And just like that, Freida McFadden--otherwise known as the sensation who gave us "The Housemaid" and "The Housemaid's Secret" is back--but unfortunately, she is far from better than ever. From first to final page, "The Coworker" read like an

  In my time chasing after the inimitable after-effects of novels like "Babel," "The Secret History," and "If We Were Villains," I've found that true dark academia is both commonly-attempted and commonly-fumbled. As so many short story collections tend to be, "In These Hallowed Halls" is an intriguing package of both the noteworthy and the (mostly) unexceptional. As such, I find it best to review its parts rather than its whole and worthwhile to mention that its noteworthy dark academia names (Rio, Fargo, and especially Blake) fell utterly flat for me, while names I didn't hold high hopes for soared to new heights.  Beguiling and sinister not so much, "In These Hallowed Halls" is further testament to the fact that I simply might not be the right audience for short stories. I always find them, dare I say it, too short, and I long for a connection to their characters that they simply can't offer.  1000 Ships, Kate Weinberg, 3

  In the wake of his wife Pippa's death, Alfie is doing everything he can to make life carry on as normal for their twin girls Sylvie and Cassia. Tucked away in their family home of Hart House in London, there isn't much to break the monotony of grief or to fill the Pippa-shaped void now left in their lives. Before long, Sylvie and Cassia struggle to sleep. "Daddy, there's a man in our room," they say. What Alfie dismisses initially as the girls harmlessly processing their loss through the form of an imaginary friend soon becomes something more unsettling. "Daddy, he said he's going to take us away," the girls report pleasantly. Black Mamba, he's called. He wants a seat at the dinner table, he protects the girls at night. He whispers things to them. Things that grow darker in the night. As the days pass, it's clear that something sinister walks the halls of Hart House. Cassia and Sylvie become silhouettes of their former, vibrant selves