Category Archives: Audiobooks

BEACH READ by Emily Henry

I am pretty new to the romance genre. I read a few of them last year – both Sally Thorne books (The Hating Game and 99 Percent Mine), which I enjoyed. I just read a third – Beach Read by Emily Henry – and the ones I’ve read have followed a pattern: 1) take a pair who have historically hated each other or had some other impediment to a civil relationship; 2) throw them into a situation requiring sustained contact; 3) reveal her to be stubbornly protective yet emotionally vulnerable and him to be quiet but deeply passionate; 4) build up the physical tension until it snaps; 5) give them a week or two of bliss; 6) throw a major wrench into the budding relationship; then 7) quickly remove the wrench and allow them to move on happily ever after. It’s a fun pattern, but definitely a pattern (at least gleaned from my admittedly small sample size).

Why I picked it up: Beach Read was an April 2020 Book Of The Month pick and got good buzz when it came out, so when I was invited by Berkley to join a blog tour for it, I thought I’d take a chance on another romance.

January Andrews is a romance novelist who finds herself broken and jaded about love after her father dies, leaving behind a secret mistress and a heretofore unknown beach house in Lake Michigan. January retreats to the beach house to try to finish her latest book, due to her publisher in a few months, and try to get over the loss of both her father and her trust in him. At the house, she discovers that her next door neighbor is her college rival Gus Everett, a literary fiction writer who is also plagued with writer’s block after his own emotional trauma. Gus and January were not exactly friends in college, so finding him living in the house next door is not a welcome discovery.

The two writers eventually learn that they are in the same predicament, and challenge each other to swap genres and see who produces the better work. Meanwhile, January will force Gus to take romantic outings with her on Saturday nights – all for the sake of research, of course – while Gus will bring January along on interviews he is conducting about mass deaths at a remote cult camp in order to expose her to grittier fodder for her literary fiction novel. (See steps 3-7 for the rest.)

Beach Read is a fun, light read that will likely please most romance fans. Henry does a nice job with the physical buildup between the Gus and January and simultaneous breakdown of the protective walls they’ve each erected. Despite (or perhaps because of) the incongruity between its subject and tone and the reality happening on TV and literally one mile from my house, I flew through this book. I don’t think I will ever become a romance fan – I like my books to surprise me more – but Beach Read provided a nice respite this month. The genre swap subplot felt a little forced at times and I’m not sure that either writer was truly pushed into unfamiliar ground, but it provided a nice pretext for put these two into some interesting situations. The banter between Gus and January was also sexy, smart and funny.

I listened to Beach Read on audio. It is performed by narrator extraordinaire Julia Whelan, which I found to be an interesting choice for January because she has a serious tone to her voice that didn’t necessarily match that of the book. (She’ll always be Tara Westover to me.) Nevertheless, it was a good audiobook and certainly kept me interested.

Beach Read was Book #23 of 2020. Thank you to Berkley for inviting me to participate in this book tour.

RODHAM by Curtis Sittenfeld

Hillary Rodham Clinton is one of the most scrutinized, analyzed and discussed public figures in the world. Most of us are pretty familiar with her narrative at this point, from her Yale Law School days through her years in Arkansas when Bill Clinton was governor, her 8 years as First Lady, and then her post-White House career as senator from New York, Secretary of State, and candidate for U.S. President. But what if that narrative had taken a very different turn? What if Hillary had turned down Bill’s multiple marriage proposals? How would her career have turned out? Would she have run for office, and would she have won? This is the subject of Curtis Sittenfeld’s latest novel, Rodham.

Why I picked it up: I am a big fan of both women – Sittenfeld and Clinton – so this was a no-brainer for me. (I am also a Sittenfeld completist.)

[A confession upfront: I love Hillary. I voted for her, I wish (hourly) that she were our president. My husband worked for her at the State Department, so I’ve met her and know (through him) what she was like to work for. I also feel a little protective of her, so I approached Rodham with a little trepidation too.]

I liked Rodham and found it engaging and thought-provoking. Sittenfeld is a master storyteller, and she doesn’t disappoint in this latest book. There’s a lot to unpack here – Hillary’s relationship with Bill, the origins of her public service career, the misogyny she has faced from the beginning of her professional life. The book is very sympathetic to Hillary, offering her perspective on some of the statements that have dogged her for years (remember the “home baking cookies” comment?) and expressing her own confusion over why she often provoked such enmity. And of course, it’s interesting to think about the ways in which our history would have changed if Hillary hadn’t taken the path she had: the elections she would have fun for, the offices she could have held, the presidencies (ahem!) she could have prevented. I had to remind myself often of Sittenfeld’s timeline, replacing history in my mind with this new fact pattern.

I did have a few issues with Rodham First, I am not sure Sittenfeld sufficiently made the case for why Hillary was so polarizing beyond just being an accomplished, smart woman. Without Whitewater, her failed health care reform and the scandal of Bill’s presidency, the foundation for why she was so hated by the time she ran for president was a little shaky. Second, I think Bill gets a raw deal here. (This Bill is pretty awful.) I mean, the man has flaws, but there were some great things about Bill Clinton. And finally, Trump plays a role here too – not the one he’s in now, thank god, but one that felt inconsistent with the rest of the book. (Sittenfeld does portray him pretty accurately, though.)

Overall, Rodham was a very good read. It kept my attention and I’ve been thinking about it a lot since I finished it. I will read anything Sittenfeld writes, but I did seek this one out and was particularly excited to read it. It’s well-researched and never boring. And it will certainly get you riled up by the end, angry at the way women are treated in politics, the double standards and the extra hoops women jump through that men don’t even think about.

I listened to Rodham on audio and the narrator Carrington MacDuffie did an excellent job. She sounded kind of like Hillary – articulate, precise and rational. This was a take-the-phone-in-the-shower listen for me.

Rodham was Book #22 of 2020.

SING, UNBURIED, SING by Jesmyn Ward

Jesmyn Ward’s Sing, Unburied, Sing came out to great acclaim in 2017, and even though I picked up an ARC at Book Expo that year, I just never got to it. Perhaps I was daunted by what I expected to be a difficult topic? It sat on my shelf until a few weeks ago, when I decided to try it in an audio/print tandem read. It helped that Ron Charles discussed how good the audiobook was when he came on The Readerly Report, and that Nicole also spoke highly of the book when she, too, finally got to it earlier this year.

Why I picked it up: I was way overdue.

Sing, Unburied, Sing is about a family living in Mississippi. Mam and Pop live with their grown daughter Leonie (their son Given is dead) and their grandchildren Jojo and Kayla. The kids’ father, Michael, is in prison but soon to be released. Leonie is black and Michael is white. Michael’s parents have never accepted Leonie as their son’s partner nor sought any relationship with their grandchildren, while Mam and Pop have basically raised Jojo and Kayla while Leonie is often off getting high. Jojo, 13, takes care of Kayla too, filling a parental void left by Leonie’s frequent absences.

When Michael’s release date approaches, Leonie decides to drive to get him from prison, along with their kids and a friend she knows from work. The road trip to and from the prison takes up much of the book. Along the way, the distance between Jojo and Leonie gets more pronounced, with Jojo increasingly frustrated at his mother’s failures as a parent and Leonie’s resentment of her children’s closeness and lack of need for her. Meanwhile, Jojo, on the precipice between boy- and adulthood, gains a clearer picture of his mother – her limitations and also the tenderness she shows to Michael.

The ride also provides Ward a vehicle to explore racism – the group gets pulled over by the police en route back from the prison, and an unannounced visit to Michael’s parents does not go well. Meanwhile, both Jojo and Leonie are haunted by ghosts along the way, with Leonie seeing her dead brother Given every time she gets high and Jojo being accompanied by the ghost of boy his age named Ritchie who served time in the same prison as Pop decades earlier. These ghosts serve as a painful reminder of the legacy of racism in Mississippi and are a grim foreboding of what Jojo will face in his life as a black man.

Ward’s writing is lyrical and sensuous. I felt like I was in the back of that hot car with the kids, experiencing their mixture of dread, curiosity, anger and the yearning for a family unit that could buffer some of the pain of growing up amidst racism and inequality. There is a lot of pain here: guilty characters trying to redeem themselves and disappointed characters trying to forgive and rebuild. The ghosts – victims of horrific acts of violence – add another layer of unease to the story. So while this is not an easy read – and arguably not the best choice for a pandemic – I am so glad I picked it up.

I listened to Sing, Unburied, Sing on audio and also read the print, probably a 50/50 split. The audio is fantastic. It is performed by Kelvin Harrison Jr., Chris Chalk and Rutina Weley, and they make the prose sound like poetry. Ron Charles (or was it his wife?) was exactly right – it’s a superb audiobook. I recommend having the print available too because there are times, especially those involving the ghosts, when it’s helpful to reinforce the audio with the print just to make sure you’re following what’s going on.

Sing, Unburied, Sing was Book #21 of 2020 and it satisfies the “Book That’s Been On My Shelf For 2+ Years” category of the 2020 EDIWTB Reading Challenge.

INSIDE OUT by Demi Moore

One book genre that has unexpectedly been holding my attention during quarantine is what I call pop culture nonfiction. The Office was an engaging audiobook, one of the few books I finished in April, and after finishing it I turned to Demi Moore’s memoir, Inside Out. It turned out to be surprisingly interesting, and was a book I returned to eagerly whenever I had the chance. (I know I’m into a book when I bring my iPhone in the shower to get a few extra minutes of listening in. Weird?)

Inside Out is the story of Demi Moore’s chaotic childhood, entry into acting, rise to superstardom and experience as a wife and mother. As a child of the 80s, my Demi Moore consciousness was shaped by movies like St. Elmo’s Fire and About Last Night, but her bigger hits – movies like Striptease and G.I. Jane – and celebrity marriages propelled her into the echelon of highest-paid actresses and cemented her place on Hollywood’s A-list. In recent decades Moore has perhaps been best known as the mother to her three daughters with Bruce Willis, as Ashton Kutcher’s wife – and ex-wife, and for her well-publicized struggle with drugs, topics she covers with honesty in Inside Out.

Moore was born to two alcoholic parents who provided their daughter with an extremely unstable home life punctuated by frequent moves and school changes, separations and reconciliations, exposure to drugs and alcohol and a complete lack of parenting and guidance. Moore’s crazy childhood and adolescence, coupled with her complicated relationship with her troubled mother (her father committed suicide in 1980), formed the root of problems that would follow her throughout her life – alcoholism and drug addiction, lack of self-confidence, disordered eating and issues with intimacy and reliance on others. Moore is very honest in the book about her doubts about her acting ability and her attitudes about her body, exercise and dieting. She also goes deep into her relationships with the men in her life – Emilio Estevez, Willis and Kutcher, explaining what attracted her to them, what worked, and what eventually broke them up.

I found the sections about being a mother to her three daughters especially poignant, as Moore identifies parenting as the one activity and accomplishment in her life that she is most proud of. After a drug overdose in the early 2010s, she endured three years of her family not speaking to her, a very painful time for Moore. After reconciling with her daughters, she embarked on the book project, publishing Inside Out in 2019.

Moore does like to play the blame game, shifting responsibility for some of her poor decisions onto her parents, her exes, her critics, Hollywood’s expectations, etc. That got a little tiresome. But I liked a lot of what she had to say about pay equity, balancing motherhood with career and not losing your identity in your relationships.

I listened to Inside Out on audio, narrated by Moore. I couldn’t imagine hearing these words in anything other than Moore’s signature raspy voice. Great audiobook (and pretty short too, at 6.5 hours).

Inside Out was Book #20 of 2020 and satisfies the Celebrity Memoir category of the 2020 EDIWTB Reading Challenge.

THE OFFICE by Andy Greene

I am reading in fits and starts these days. Most books don’t stick very well, which means that I end up slowly getting through them while wishing I was reading something else. Such is life during pandemic. One book that stuck, though, was The Office: The Untold Story Of The Greatest Sitcom Of The 2000s by Andy Greene. This oral history of one of my favorite sitcoms was entertaining all the way through.

The Office was a sitcom on NBC that aired from 2005 to 2013. Set in the Scranton branch office of a failing paper company, its motley crew of characters combined with single camera setup and a documentary-style production to create must-see-TV in an era when most people time-shifted or ultimately downloaded shows. I watched it when it aired, and then watched it again when my daughters discovered it a few years ago on Netflix, just as many of their Gen Z friends have. It’s a very, very funny show that made Steve Carell, John Krasinski and Rainn Wilson, among others, household names and earned trademarks like “That’s what she said”, The Dundies and Jim and Pam’s first kiss well-deserved spots in TV history.

The Office (the book) is an oral history of the show, told through the perspectives of its creator, Greg Daniels and many of the show’s writers, cast and crew. Starting with the ill-advised decision to recreate the hit British version of the show in the U.S., The Office chronicles the show’s early days when ratings and budgets were low and runs through the nine seasons in which it aired. Greene devotes individual chapters to a few seminal episodes as well, sprinkling in the backstory behind “Diversity Day”, “Casino Night”, “Dinner Party”, “Niagara” and others of The Office‘s most memorable episodes. You’ll learn a lot about the creative process behind the show, the history of its brilliant casting and the legacy it left on television.

You probably already know whether you want to read this book. If you’ve never seen the show, or watched only a few episodes, The Office shouldn’t be on your TBR. But if you watched the whole run (even the dreadful James Spader era), cried when the wedding guests danced down the aisle to “Forever” at Jim and Pam’s wedding, gasped when Michael Scott reappeared in the finale and can’t resist your own well-placed “That’s what she said,” then this is the book for you. Things are pretty dark right now, but The Office provided 14 hours, 20 minutes of escapist entertainment for me at a time I really needed it.

I listened to The Office on audio, which I think is the way to do it. It’s an oral history (the people reading the parts aren’t actually the actual cast and crew) and I liked that I could recognize the different contributors by the narrators’ voices. Plus, Therese Plummer performs the Jenna Fischer sections – score! So if you’re thinking about picking up The Office, give strong consideration to the audiobook.

I’ll finish this post with a list of my favorite Office episodes:

  1. Niagara
  2. The Injury
  3. Basketball
  4. Casino Night
  5. Stress Relief

The Office was Book #17 of 2020.

FOLLOWERS by Megan Angelo

Followers, Megan Angelo’s new novel, is split between the late 2010s and 2050. In late 2010s, Floss and Orla are roommates in New York City who test the limits of influencer culture and social media, leaving destruction in their wake as America faces a reckoning over its dependence on devices and oversharing of private, personal information. In 2050, Floss’ daughter Marlow lives in a Truman Show-esque community in California where her entire life is watched by millions of followers while an entertainment network, motivated solely by sponsor dollars, choreographs her every move.

Why I Picked It Up: I was intrigued by the storyline and suggested Followers for my book club. I got it from the library in both print and audio and listened to almost the whole book on audio.

There’s a lot of good in Followers. Angelo has written a creative, interesting dystopian story, imagining two worlds that don’t feel too far from where we are now. The cost of fame can be steep, as can the cost of pouring attention onto undeserving reality stars and relying on phones for connection and fulfillment. I didn’t love it in the end, though. It’s longer than it needed to be, and it really slowed through the middle (though it picked up in the last third). It could definitely have been shorter and tighter. Also, Angelo jumped right into the story with little explanation, which I found disorienting. It took me a while to figure out what was going on, who was who, etc. Followers is not an uplifting book; it’s dark and angry, without a lot of joy.

There is also the issue of timing, which isn’t the author’s fault. Followers is a cautionary tale about the price of ambition and fame and the dangers of dependence on technology and social media. It was a timely book… until about a month ago. I am not in a social media-bashing mood at the moment. Social media has become a lifeline for so many, a source of information and connection in a time of isolation and loneliness. Perhaps if I have read this earlier it would have lended on more receptive ears, but it didn’t rile me up at this difficult time.

I listened to Followers on audio. The narrator, Jayme Mattler, did a nice job with these characters, from vapid Aston to Kardashian-esque Floss and ambitious Orla. Her delivery was precise and urgent, a perfect fit for the tone of the book.

Followers was Book #15 of 2020.

LONG BRIGHT RIVER by Liz Moore

Long Bright River by Liz Moore is a hybrid domestic fiction/police procedural about two sisters in Philadelphia: Mickey, a police officer, and Kacey, a drug addict who has been in and out of rehab. When the book opens, Mickey is trying to locate her sister amid a series of unsolved murders of young women in the Kensington area of Philadelphia.

Why I picked it up: I’d read very good reviews of Long Bright River since it came out in January and it was a December 2019 BOTM pick. But Sarah’s interview of Liz Moore on Sarah’s Bookshelves Live sealed the deal. I started it in audio, but brought it on a business trip this week and finished it in print.

This was a good one! In Long Bright River, Moore expertly teases out two stories – the Then and the Now. Then covers Mickey and Kacey’s childhoods and how they ended up taking such different paths in life. The daughters of an addict, they were raised by their grandmother after their mother’s death and father’s disappearance. They were given very little support as kids, and while Mickey studied hard and did well in school and Kacey turned to drugs as a teenager, their upbringing had deep ramifications for both women. In Now, Mickey, troubled by the rash of murders of similarly situated women, embarks on a desperate search to find her sister, often ignoring police protocol and putting her own career at risk.

Mickey is also the single mother of a young boy, Thomas, struggling to provide him with security and consistency but without the means to pay for proper daycare or private pre-school. She cobbles together childcare, often leaving him under less than ideal conditions while trying to find her sister. (This added a layer of tension to the book.)

Despite its 470 pages, I flew through Long Bright River. It’s incredibly suspenseful, and Moore masterfully teases out both timelines, revealing what happened little by little and and throwing in a few curveballs along the way. It’s a deeply sad book; Mickey’s loneliness and estrangement from what remains of her family and the details of Philadelphia’s opioid crisis combine for some pretty bleak reading. She made some bad decisions, but I had a lot of empathy for her (and ultimately for her sister).

The ending took the book down a notch for me, as I felt it wrapped up hastily and implausibly. Moore raced through some key scenes where I wanted a bit more dialogue and explanation, which left me a little unsatisfied. But overall I really enjoyed Long Bright River and am so glad I picked it up.

I listened to the first quarter of Long Bright River on audio before I turned to the print. It was narrated by Allyson Ryan, who was mostly businesslike and firm in her performance, like Mickey. I thought she did a good job with it. I realized early on that her voice was familiar – she was the narrator of Fleishman Is In Trouble, a very different book. Warning: if you listen to Long Bright River on audio, have the print available too, because you’re going to want to read ahead. Trust me.

Long Bright River was Book #9 of 2020. It satisfies the Recommended On A Podcast category, though I already have The Cactus League in that slot.

WHEN WE WERE VIKINGS by Andrew David MacDonald

When We Were Vikings by Andrew David MacDonald is a novel about siblings trying to make their way through life despite a lot of adversity. Zelda and Gert’s parents are gone – their mother, an alcoholic, died of cancer and their father disappeared when they were young. Zelda was born with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder, compromising her mental development and limiting her independence. She is obsessed with Vikings, and turns to Viking culture and rules to guide her throughout life.

Why I picked it up: I got When We Were Vikings as an ARC at Book Expo last year and recently started seeing reviews as its January publication day approached. I’ve seen comparisons to Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine, which I enjoyed a lot.

Zelda and Gert have a lot going against them. They’re young and living on their own, having moved out of their uncle’s apartment after he started sexually abusing Zelda. Gert has dropped out of college and now deals drugs in order to support them, and Zelda, who spends her days either at the community center or seeing a therapist or hanging out at home, is dependent on Gert for everything.

When Zelda discovers that Gert is no longer attending classes, she draws inspiration from her beloved Vikings to try turn his life around while contributing more substantially to their home. She gets a job, experiments with having a boyfriend, and tries to repel the shady characters who have started invading their already fragile household, thanks to Gert’s new livelihood.

Zelda is an interesting narrator: she is articulate, engaged and compelling, but she is also naive and has poor judgment. MacDonald walks a fine line here – he has to make Zelda complex enough to feel invested in, but if she comes across as too smart, she’s not plausible as a character. For the most part, I think he did a good job achieving this balance. There were a few times when she seemed too sophisticated and used words that she wouldn’t have known, but in general MacDonald did a good job creating a consistent character.

Gert and Zelda are flawed but fundamentally good people who have been dealt some tough cards. I felt a sense of dread as the book went on, worrying about what was going to happen to them and how they would get through it. (Hint: it’s never good when a gun appears in a book.) When We Were Vikings is a touching novel and Zelda a winning protagonist. I also learned a lot about Vikings. It could have used a little more editing and the end is a bit abrupt (and unrealistic), but for a debut novel, When We Were Vikings was pretty impressive. And Macdonald did a very nice of getting into a woman’s head.

I listened to When We Were Vikings on audio. The narrator, Phoebe Strole, had a perky, upbeat delivery that at times was incongruous with what was happening in the book, but her narration gave Zelda a naivete and optimism that was entirely consistent with her character. I recommend the audio version.

When We Were Vikings was Book #6 of 2020 and satisfies the Debut Novel category of the 2020 EDIWTB Reading Challenge.

DEAR EDWARD by Ann Napolitano

Dear Edward has one of those storylines that makes you want to pick the book up: a plane from New York to Los Angeles crashes over Colorado, killing everyone on board except for one person, a twelve year-old boy named Edward who was flying with his parents and older brother. Dear Edward follows Edward’s life after the crash, when he moves in with his aunt and uncle, and also flashes back to the hours leading up to the crash and the lives of some of the other people on the plane.

Why I picked it up: I fell for this irresistible premise once I started seeing buzz about this book everywhere. It was Read With Jenna‘s January pick as well as a BOTM selection from December. Dear Edward had also been sitting on my shelf since May, when I got it at Book Expo 2019.

I have mixed feelings about Dear Edward. On the one hand, it’s an interesting story, and there were elements that I found particularly compelling. Edward received letters from families of the people who died – hundreds of them – and I could understand that being a realistic response by their authors. After all, Edward was the last person alive to see the other passengers before they died. His sense of dislocation and emotional paralysis after the crash also made a lot of sense and was depicted well by Napolitano.

But I had a hard time connecting to Dear Edward. Napolitano glossed over huge parts of the story, simplifying them down to a conversation or even a few sentences. Edward’s grief – as well as his aunt’s – was superficially plumbed, leaving little sense of the true depth of their loss. Edward’s relationship with Shay, the girl next door who befriends him immediately upon his arrival in his new home, forms the backbone of Dear Edward, but how realistic is it that he would sleep on her bedroom floor for three years straight and not make a single other friend? For every element that rang true, there was one that left me shaking my head. In the end, I had trouble connecting emotionally to this book and found it more simplistic than its topic warranted.

I listened to Dear Edward on audio, and I wonder if that had something to do with my feelings about it. I found that when I read it in print (which I did from time to time), I liked it better. There was something about Cassandra Campbell’s narration that didn’t work for me here. I’ve listened to a lot of her books and maybe she just sounds too familiar to me at this point? When I read the book in print, I found it more substantive.

In the end, this was a 3.5 star read for me. Enough there to make it memorable but not, in the end, one of my favorites so far this year.

Dear Edward was Book #5 of 2020 and satisfies the Book With A Blue Cover category of the 2020 EDIWTB Reading Challenge.

YOU WERE THERE TOO by Colleen Oakley

Mia is a thirtysomething artist living in suburban Pennsylvania with her husband Harrison. When she meets a man by chance named Oliver who has also appeared in her dreams since she was young, she starts to question everything – her marriage, what she wants out of life, and whether she and Oliver are destined for a deeper relationship.

Why I picked it: Random House/Berkley Publishing invited me to participate in a blog tour supporting You Were There Too’s January 2020 release.

You Were There Too has an interesting premise. What role do, and should, our dreams play in our lives? Can they predict the future? These questions intrigued me. I also liked the setup of the book. Mia and Harrison have had a number of miscarriages which have put a strain on their marriage, and Harrison is now unsure about whether he wants kids at all. Mia, who has paused her career as an artist to start a family, is understandably upset about Harrison’s change of heart, and is confused about how to resolve her disappointment in his decision along with the feelings she’s developing for Oliver.

Oakley builds suspense throughout the You Were There Too, and I definitely wanted to know how it would resolve and who Mia would choose. Mia is a complicated character, and I liked that the people in the book defied stereotypes and felt real. But I did find that the story dragged and got repetitive at times. Mia was inconsistent in a way that weakened the story by making her feelings less believable. The ending was abrupt and tied together a number of threads in a confluence of events that actually confused me more than it explained.

I see on Goodreads that a lot of people adored this book and found it gut-wrenching and heartbreaking. There were definitely parts of it that I found touching – especially the treatment of infertility – but I wasn’t nearly as affected by it as many other readers have been.

I listened to You Were There Too on audio. It was narrated by Sophie Amoss and Dan Bittner, and they did a nice job with the performances. Amoss made Mia relatable, and she has a very memorable voice that I can still hear in my head days after I finished it (in a good way). Bittner’s chapters are told in third person, so they don’t leave as much of a mark as Amoss’, but they provided a nice contrast with and break to the Mia chapters.

You Were There Too was Book #3 of 2020. Thank you to Berkley/Random House for inviting me to participate in the blog tour.