Active Ingredients: Collagener, Volufiline, Commipheroline, and Glycerin.
Verdict: I absolutely love Rodial as a brand, and have been very satisfied with their skincare products in the past. The same can be said for this product. First of all, let me say how much I adore the packaging. The serum inside can stay germ-free because you pump the cream out, super easily by pressing down. I liked this feature very much. Now for the product itself, let’s just say that it truly delivers in a way that other serums do not. It does hydrate and it does plump your skin. It’s light enough to use under foundation if that’s your thing, but I use it at night. The texture is lightweight and completely absorbs into the skin allowing you to wake up to plump, and firmer skin. I really love it and I know this is on the pricier side, however, you only need one pump to cover your face and neck so it’ll last for a long time, so I see it as a good skincare investment, especially since it does help the skin look and feel better.
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What It Is: A luxurious moisturizer that intensely hydrates, smooths, and reduces the look of lines and wrinkles for dewy and plumper-looking skin.
What It Does: Hydrates and plumps skin.
Active Ingredients: Hyaluronic acid, peptides, and olive oil.
Verdict: This cream is intensely hydrating, but the consistency feels a bit off. It’s kinda blocky and not whipped as you would expect from the look of it. But when you dip your fingers to take a scoop, the olive oil in it makes it oily and therefore you’re better off using a little spatula in trying to gather this up from the pot. Now, I have oily skin, so I felt like applying this cream was going to head me toward acne-ville. And although it didn’t break me out, it also didn’t feel refreshing. I think this cream is best suited for those that have dry skin and will find the olive oil to be hydrating, and not simply stay on the surface like it did with me. I recommend this cream if you have dry skin and are looking for deep hydration. If you have oily or combination skin, this cream probably won’t be the best for you. I would suggest the Tatcha Water Cream instead.
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Her brother’s words echo in Sam Montgomery’s ear as she turns onto the quiet North Carolina street where their mother lives alone.
She brushes the thought away as she climbs the front steps. Sam’s excited for this rare extended visit, and looking forward to nights with just the two of them, drinking boxed wine, watching murder mystery shows, and guessing who the killer is long before the characters figure it out.
But stepping inside, she quickly realizes home isn’t what it used to be. Gone is the warm, cluttered charm her mom is known for; now the walls are painted a sterile white. Her mom jumps at the smallest noises and looks over her shoulder even when she’s the only person in the room. And when Sam steps out back to clear her head, she finds a jar of teeth hidden beneath the magazine-worthy rose bushes, and vultures are circling the garden from above.
To find out what’s got her mom so frightened in her own home, Sam will go digging for the truth. But some secrets are better left buried.
GRADE: A
REVIEW:
This is the second book I’ve read from Kingfisher and I absolutely loved it. The protagonist Sam Montgomery is hilarious, so although the novel has very creepy and terrifying moments, her humor lightens the darkness. I love that the book explored generational trauma in ways that were very unexpected and new. Sam stays with her mother during a time when she’s currently not working and soon discovers that her mother’s actions and words are off from how she recalls her. In fact, she’s reminded more and more of her deceased Gran Mae. As Sam tries to make sense of what is happening to her mother, she soon discovers very dark family secrets and how those may also be the answer to saving her mother. I don’t want to say much else about the plot as it’ll be a treat for you to discover all the twists and turns, but rest assured that this is one hella fun novel that you can absolutely read at the beach or by the pool as it moves very quickly and the humor is very amusing.
I recommend this book to anyone that loves ghost-adjacent books and family secrets.
*Thank you so much to NetGalley and Tor Nightfire for the digital copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
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Magdalena once told me she knew how to cure sadness. She read on that little phone of hers that we all need fifteen minutes of sun every day and without it, depression could set in. Those of us here on the peninsula barely get fifteen minutes a week. The fog comes in over the cliffs in the morning, creeping through town, shrouding all neighborhoods with a thick graveyard effect. We don’t have an actual graveyard, but the landslide all those years ago took enough lives and left enough ghosts behind to bring on that kind of fog. If it does lift around midmorning, a heavy cloud cover still stays most of the day, keeping things gray. I’d always thought my sadness came from the unfortunate things that happened in my life, but according to Magdalena, my gloom might simply be a lack of vitamin D.
From the day she got the phone, she stared into it constantly, seeking answers to all of her questions and even finding new questions she would have never thought of on her own. She fed on its information like meat.
“Mushrooms,” Magdalena said. “We need to eat mushrooms.” The girl was my only visitor. When she spoke, I hung onto her every word. “If we eat enough of them, we’ll get the vitamin D we’re missing from the sun.”
I didn’t question her. For weeks, I based all my meals around mushrooms. I made mushroom casseroles, salads, risotto, soups, but I’m not sure it changed me. I’m not sure it changed her. How many mushrooms would it take to replace the sun? I wish I could ask the girl, but she’s gone. Three weeks ago, I lost her for good.
I pull up my sleeves and roll up my pants. My arms and legs are so pale in this light. They look like white maps with long blue roads leading to nowhere. The lighting in my house is soft enough to disguise my pallor, but here in the rest home, the deficiency is glaring. I quickly lower my sleeves and pants again.
“Focus, Dottie.” My command is quiet.
I swallow down one of the tiny white pills and sit up straight in my chair. Pen in hand, I look around the dismal room I currently share with Mario. It is a holding cell for the dying. We aren’t dying like the old people in this nursing home. But our town is small. They had nowhere else to put my husband after the accident a decade ago. And they had nowhere else to put me after the devastating incident at my house last week. So now we live together again in room eleven with the beige walls, the brown and yellow floral comforters on our beds, and the slim, dark wood secretary desk beside the bathroom door. The old desk is where I currently sit as I tap my pen on the blank page, trying to gather my thoughts.
Now the cold distracts me. I pull a blanket from the bed and wrap it around me. The air conditioner is dreadfully high. They say it’s to keep germs down, but I sometimes wonder if they’re trying to weed out the weakest of us.
“Focus, Dottie, focus,” I say a little louder, closing my eyes.
“What do you need to focus on?” someone asks.
Startled, I tighten the blanket around me and turn toward the voice. There is a white-haired lady in a wheelchair at my door. Her face is all wrinkled up like fingertips after a long bath, and her lips seem to be growing inward around her teeth. Thick bifocals, wrapped around her head like goggles, magnify her wet and cloudy eyes. There are some really old people here, but she has to be the oldest.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she says, her ancient voice slowly rattling out the words. “I heard you from the hall.”
I wasn’t trying to be heard. I place my hand over my mouth to show her I’ve no interest in a conversation. I’m hoping my hand gesture will make her leave, but it doesn’t. Instead, she wheels through the small space between the two beds and parks next to me at the desk. Her nightgown is purple and far too big on her. She smells like leftover broccoli.
“I’m curious. What do you need to focus on?” she asks again.
It’s going to take some time getting used to this place. I’m not in the habit of answering to anyone, having lived alone for so long. “A letter,” I finally say. She’s so close now, there’s no escaping her. “I’m writing a letter. A story really. The rumors are terrible and—” I catch myself before it all comes flooding back. Their ugly words. All the lies. “I need to tell my story. It’s the only way to get the truth out.”
Her face lights up. “You must be Dottie,” she whispers. I nod. “I should have known.” Her eyes travel the length of me. “I heard about you, the young woman living in the old people’s home.” It sounds strange out loud but worse things have been said about me. “How old are you, dear?”
“Forty-three.”
“So young.” She shakes her head. “It’s just awful what happened to you. How long will you be staying with us?”
“Well.” I look over at Mario in his bed. His eyes are open, but there’s no telling what he’s thinking as he stares at the ceiling tiles. “The Sisters say I can stay with my husband as long as I need. I’ve nowhere else to go.” She leans over the side of her chair to get a closer look at him.
“Does he even remember who you are?” “I haven’t let a day go by without coming to see him.” “But with what happened to him, do you think he can remember?”
“Oh, he remembers me.” I won’t let anyone convince me otherwise.
“That’s nice.” Her smile is kind. “Sometimes I think I remember too much,” she says. “Some things I wish I could forget, but the pictures are there in my mind, clear as day.” She sets her bony hands in her lap, and the veins bulge like soft worms. She smiles. Her demeanor is pleasant; it’s just the broccoli smell that’s bothersome.
I notice a pin on her nightgown. It’s gold with blue letters spelling out centenarian. I point to it. “You’re a hundred?”
“A hundred and two.”
“That’s incredible,” I say, feeling a new respect for her. She’s not just an old lady—she’s National Geographic material.
“It’s a curse, old age. The lucky ones die young. Freed from these bodies, they can move on. Or, of course, they can stick around.” She raises the few hairs left of her eyebrows, as if I know something about this. I feel her words in my stomach. I don’t respond. She whispers, “The ghosts of Sam’s Town are persistent, aren’t they, Dottie?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to my letter.”
“But we haven’t talked about what happened to the girl yet.” She laces her fingers together under her chin. “We need to talk about what really happened to Magdalena.”
Hearing her name almost makes me lose my breath. I close my eyes and indiscriminate memories resurface—her blue nail polish, those stolen sunglasses on her head, lemon juice dripping from her fingers, her blood on the linoleum.
“Do you know what happened?” the old woman asks. “I mean what really happened to her?” She’s staring at me, waiting for an answer. I reach for my pen, gripping it like a weapon. “Until I write it all down, I’m not talking about it to anyone.”
“You can trust me, Dottie.” She wheels closer.
“I don’t even know you,” I say.
She smiles. It’s a sad smile. “Then let’s get to know one another.” She glances toward my husband before leaning forward. The smell is strong, her voice is soft. “Is it true that the man,” she asks, “who started it all was your lover?”
I close my eyes again, to escape her question, but now there he is behind my eyelids—Benjamin. His hand creeps under my dress and he’s massaging my leg. I squeeze my eyes tighter.
“Go away!” I shout. “Go away!” I am talking to Benjamin, but when I open my eyes, the old lady in the wheelchair is hunched over, wheeling away as fast as her bony arms will take her. I should explain that I was not yelling at her. But I don’t. I stay quiet.
While I feel a bit guilty, I’m relieved to see her go. The poor woman looks so frail heading for the door, like her arms might snap. That’s the other effect of vitamin D deficiency—frail bones. This town is killing all of us.
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From celebrated author Agustina Bazterrica, this collection of nineteen brutal, darkly funny short stories takes into our deepest fears and through our most disturbing fantasies. Through stories about violence, alienation, and dystopia, Bazterrica’s vision of the human experience emerges in complex, unexpected ways—often unsettling, sometimes thrilling, and always profound. In “Roberto,” a girl claims to have a rabbit between her legs. A woman’s neighbor jumps to his death in “A Light, Swift, and Monstrous Sound,” and in “Candy Pink,” a woman fails to contend with a difficult breakup in five easy steps.
Written in Bazterrica’s signature clever, vivid style, these stories question love, friendship, family relationships, and unspeakable desires.
GRADE: A-
REVIEW:
Let me preface this by stating that I was absolutely blown away by Bazterrica’s novel Tender is the Flesh, so of course I was beyond excited when I received an ARC for this. I love short stories, but it’s also hard for me to read a whole collection in one go, so I took a break midway through it and then picked it back up recently. Now, as all short story collections, there are always going to be hit or miss ones, because that’s just the nature of short story collections, but overall, I really enjoyed this collection.
What I enjoyed the most is that with almost all of the stories, I didn’t quite know how they were going to end so that was a pleasant surprise.
One of my fave stories was A Light, Swift, and Monstrous Sound. I know some people don’t like the second person, but I really love the second person POV (maybe because a lot of Italian authors use this POV too?). It’s so descriptive and evocative in all its monstrous ways.
Another of my faves was Candy Pink (also in second person POV), but I love a good breakup story cause that’s when things get really unhinged.
The Solitary Ones is also in second-person POV, but it’s a story that sort of stuck with me, as it’s very creepy and atmospheric, and just the idea of being stuck in tunnels in the dark is very terrifying.
Overall, these twenty short stories range from different genres and POV’s. Some of them have stuck longer than others, but I would recommend this collection if you too love short stories and want to read a genre-bending author. I will say that I did enjoy the fact that these were indeed short stories and not mini-novellas disguised as short stories. This is the perfect beach read since you can finish a story and pick up the book again whenever you want.
*Thank you so much to NetGalley and Scribner for the digital copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
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What lives in dark woods What emerges from depths What creeps within alleyways.
PLOT SUMMARY:
Cynthia Pelayo sings a song for the least of us, the victim we want to forget as soon as possible, the one who disappeared before ever really appearing. With a fairy tale gaze and a heart bigger than the world, her siren song insinuates itself past our defenses, past the hardened calluses and apathy we’ve erected to protect ourselves from the everyday horror of another missing girl.
Pelayo relates the familiar story, poem by poem; a body is found, a brutal crime investigated, clues take us in circles, and lead us nowhere. We are on an epic journey, the hero’s journey, and it must play out to the end in all its painful, ticking moments. Pelayo imbues her hero, Agent K, with the entirety of our dedication and that crumb of hope we’ve been hiding, saving for later. We will need to save for years, for decades, if we want to come out the other side. The job takes its toll, the answers are never complete and whys fracture, crack and spread. Still there is no turning away. We must bear witness, though it changes and contorts us.
GRADE: A+
REVIEW:
This poetry collection recently won the Bram Stoker for best poetry collection of 2022 and with good reason. But this isn’t your typical collection, as it reads more like an epic poem in the way one would read Homer’s classics like The Illiad or Gilgamesh. This collection opens with a horrific discovery of a body, and soon Agent K is tasked with trying to find the killer of the victim, and it’s a race against time. Each poem is titled as police report numbers, which packs a punch as a reminder that this isn’t just a story, this is real life. As we learn more about Agent K, we know that she had her own tragedy that sparked her reasoning to become a detective. Pelayo paints such detailed, dark imagery that stays with you long after you’ve reached the end. This is an excellent, heartbreaking tale, that sadly feels very close to many of the true crime stories we see time and time again, adding to the tragedy of how no matter how many victims there are, there never seems to be an end to this kind of story.
I absolutely recommend this if you love horror, true crime, and lyrical poetry with dark imagery.
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A reunion between two estranged sisters gets cut short by the rise of flesh-possessing demons, thrusting them into a primal battle for survival as they face the most nightmarish version of family imaginable.
Now streaming on MAX.
CLOCK
A woman enrolls in a clinical trial to try and fix her seemingly broken biological clock after friends, family, and society pressures her to have children.
Now streaming on Hulu.
WATCHER
As a serial killer stalks the city, a young actress who just moved to town with her boyfriend notices a mysterious stranger watching her from across the street.
Now streaming on Shudder.
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If I told you it wouldn’t be a secret, now would it?
PLOT SUMMARY:
For as long as she can remember, Belle has been insidiously obsessed with her skin and skincare videos. When her estranged mother Noelle mysteriously dies, Belle finds herself back in Southern California, dealing with her mother’s considerable debts and grappling with lingering questions about her death. The stakes escalate when a strange woman in red appears at the funeral, offering a tantalizing clue about her mother’s demise, followed by a cryptic video about a transformative spa experience. With the help of a pair of red shoes, Belle is lured into the barbed embrace of La Maison de Méduse, the same lavish, culty spa to which her mother was devoted. There, Belle discovers the frightening secret behind her (and her mother’s) obsession with the mirror—and the great shimmering depths (and demons) that lurk on the other side of the glass.
Snow White meets Eyes Wide Shut in this surreal descent into the dark side of beauty, envy, grief, and the complicated love between mothers and daughters. With black humor and seductive horror, Rouge explores the cult-like nature of the beauty industry—as well as the danger of internalizing its pitiless gaze. Brimming with California sunshine and blood-red rose petals, Rouge holds up a warped mirror to our relationship with mortality, our collective fixation with the surface, and the wondrous, deep longing that might lie beneath.
GRADE: A
REVIEW:
A fever dream, a fairytale, a nightmare. This book is all those things and more. As someone who is as skincare obsessed as Mirabelle, this novel resonated a lot with me. Awad writes some of the best mad, unhinged women in literature, and I’m absolutely here for it. When her mother unexpectedly dies in a tragic accident, and Mirabelle leaves Montreal for So-Cal, her descent to madness doesn’t take that long. Much like her previous books, Awad manages to capture the protagonist’s slip from reality in a way that is both poetic and terrifying. This novel is steeped with silent rage, mommy issues, and the color red. Often, as the reader, you can’t tell what is real and what is madness, a bit of an Alice in Wonderland moment, if you will. But one thing is certain, you can’t look away, and you continue down the proverbial rabbit hole along with Mirabelle, trying to make sense of the craziness as best as you can. This is one wild ride that explores our obsession with beauty and youth and to what lengths one might go to be beautiful.
*Thank you so much to NetGalley and S&S/Marysue Rucci Books for the digital copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
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Verdict: First things first, the packaging is incredibly adorable, and why I selected it as one of my items for my June Ipsy bag. When you first apply this lipstick, it smells heavenly – like actual ice cream. The lipstick feels lightweight and the colour is really pretty, a berry shade. Now, the issue I had with this lipstick was that after four hours it began to BLEED/FEATHER (what this means is that it began to run over the natural lipline, into the skin). By the time it was 6pm, the lipstick looked like the Harley Quinn smudged lipstick. Usually, all the liquid lipsticks I’ve used from Urban Decay or Maybelline have lasted me from 7am-9pm sans bleeding/feathering, or smudging. So to have this one start to bleed after only four hours, it was such a letdown. So I can’t really recommend this lipstick if you’re looking for longevity, because it’ll turn messy and I’m not a fan of messy lipstick AT ALL.
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Skin cycling may sound complicated, but it’s actually based on a less-is-more approach that helps you achieve healthy-looking skin and protect your skin’s barrier. To start, you’ll follow a four-day evening routine with one key type of product designated for each night.
The rotation begins with exfoliation on the first night, followed by retinol on the second night. The third and fourth nights are dedicated to recovery skin barrier-protecting serums and moisturizers. Then, the cycle repeats.
Every Day & Night: Some products are too essential to skip out on and should be used every day of your routine. This includes serums and moisturizers.
Night One: Exfoliation
Kick off your cycle with an exfoliating formula to help minimize the look of your pores, buff away dull or rough skin, and prep your face to receive the benefits from the rest of your products throughout the cycle. First, cleanse your face and make sure it’s 100% dry. Then, apply your chosen exfoliating product. For this step, some of my favorite exfoliating creams are Dr. Brandt Microdermabrasion Age Defying Exfoliator or Glam Glow Brightmud Dual-Action Exfoliating Treatment.
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The Inkblotters 