Well, I definitely didn’t have recommending a book with “accidental cannibalism” in the list of trigger warnings on my bingo card, but here we are…

While I definitely was icked out at some of the descriptions of decaying dead bodies and um, some of the descriptions of the murdery activities in this novel, it was not so bad that I had to stop reading. It in no way affected how unbelievably hot the spicy scenes were.

Both Sloane and Rowan are very relatable people, despite their hobby of choice. Anxiety, feelings of worthlessness, depression, and at the bottom of it all, a desire to make the world a better place while finding love. The rapport these two build, their own little shorthand, is written beautifully on the page. The snark is fantastic, the banter between the two – and even with their friends and family – is hilarious.

I’m not sure why, but I was expecting despicable serial killers, not serial killers with a heart. Both Rowan and Sloane have trauma in their childhood that make them want to make the world better. They are, in essence, serial killer vigilantes, and I want to read more. If I wasn’t reading this trilogy with Stephanie, then I would probably have already gotten Leather & Lark to read next. I will be reading more of Brynne Weaver’s writing, for sure.