Damn I absolutely loved this book. The writing is incredible and the story had me hooked from the very first page! I love how perfectly Anna weaves the story and the world building together, I didn’t want to put it down and I need another 200 books in this world right now!

In the forests of Ixachipan, nation after nation has fallen to the Empire of Songs—their endless, magical music undefeated for generations long. What remains of the free tribes, Tokoban and Yalotlan, remain in Ixachipan facing threats from both the Empire’s impending domination and the threat of the Drowned—monstrous and scaled predators with a magical music of their own.

From the get-go, I knew The Stone Knife was going to be different from Godblind. This was evident in Stephens’s use of ominous interludes between chapters, and the more character-focused narrative she employs throughout the book. The Stone Knife starts out with such a dangerous opening enough to unsettle but spends most of its earlier pages laying down the Ixachipan and its beating hearts. Sure, it took a while for me to navigate the semantics and mechanics in Ixachipan but Stephens’s prose weaves those details to the narrative seamlessly and her world is refreshingly vast with wonder. I was also able to take in all the various main point of views and where they are rooted in the world. As if trained, I foresaw the lines for all the pieces of the narrative and the general trajectories they might intersect with each other. Ill-fated as it may be, the process is so indulgent I could not help but keep going through the pages, driven by thirst for more. Both the gritty and the tranquil are laid down in The Stone Knife, whereas Godblind opted for a blood-first approach; and I think this approach appeals to me a lot more. After opening with a mostly tranquil status quo with sprinkles of horror here and there, The Stone Knife injects one with a poisonous fear that everything is going to go horribly wrong; and per the rules of Anna Stephens-verse, go bloody wrong they do indeed.

Aside from her infamous “hammer” scene in Godblind, Stephens had also made quite a name for herself for her quick, adrenaline-pumping, and visceral action sequences. The Stone Knife drives up the violence to full-throttle, reasonably spreading out in sparse rations the first half of the book. Once the pieces on the board clash together though? The stage descends to utter insanity. The set pieces in The Stone Knife are utterly merciless and especially decadent, layered with overflowing emotions and tension that have stewed for so long in (relative) peacetime conflict its release is both cathartic and terrifying to witness.

Stephens also particularly excels in her ability to simultaneously draw the clear line between the protagonists and the antagonists in her stories, yet also blurring said line. Stephens’s execution was something else I had regarded it one of her trademark crafts, and I was incredibly pleased to see this aspect return stronger – which I attribute to her masterful characterization. While we still witness the clear division between the “good” and the “bad” in the larger picture, the lines get blurry real fast when the perspective switches back and forth between the Empire and the free tribes. On both sides we see people simply existing with firm beliefs in their faith and relationships. Some are more likable than others, but everyone has something that makes their emotions palpable: love, fear for loved ones, guilt, ambition. These blurred lines soon introduce many riveting moments where beliefs are challenged and loyalties are tested. Regardless of loyalty, everyone paints a well-realized picture of the various shades of humanity. Context is a luxury that only us readers have in this story, and Stephens excellently integrates this fact as a hallmark of her writing.

The Stone Knife promptly takes this strength to highlight a key theme to its story: colonisation. Relatable and human as the characters in the Empire are, Stephens pulls no punches in exposing the devious workings of the Empire’s violent erasure of indigenous cultures in their so-called “assimilation programs.” Much of the conflict between the free tribes and the Empire of Songs hinges on the fact that the Empire forcibly uproots indigenous peoples from their ancestral lands—often by military invasion and subjugation—and converts them to a belief of their own. What little freedom and faith they have left are then restricted and molded to fit the Empire’s own picture. Aside from the survival horror the Drowned provide, Stephens injects plenty doses of social thriller/horror in exploring the illusion of choice life in the Empire offers – especially as a person “brought under the song.” Slavery is framed as a chance to properly assimilate and “earn” the right to enter the Empire’s mainstream culture, and any dissent is swiftly threatened with death in the hands of the Drowned that the Empire worships as the divine entity “holy Setatmeh.” What loyalty forms once someone “assimilates” is one based on fear, ambition, or greed. The Empire may pat its back by singing praises of how they foster equality, peace, and harmony but Stephens makes sure to let readers know of its true nature: it takes, takes, and only takes.

Reading The Stone Knife, I’d made a lot of comparisons to Stephens’s first grimdark novel Godblind and I think it’s fair enough to say that The Stone Knife is a mark of Stephens’s vast growth as a writer. She retains her core strengths: visceral prose, bloody carnages, violent clash of beliefs, and masterful character work; and sets them in an ambitiously complex world to explore her equally ambitious themes. There is much violence, pain, and gore abound amidst the twists and turns, but so are love, hope, ambition, and desires (dark and/or otherwise). Beautifully woven and executed, The Stone Knife is sure to be a breathtaking read.

The Stone Knife has a lot of heart, and is as brutally bloody as the fantasy scene has come to expect from Anna Stephens’s works. The Stone Knife, however, also raises her personal bar to new heights as she explores colonialism with her own blood-soaked take. Never has music sounded more terrifying in The Stone Knife, where colonisation is as unapologetically bloody as it is devious. It is indisputably one of the most impressively insidious entries in the fantasy genre I’ve read in 2020. A violent, dark, and beautiful song, The Stone Knife is a powerful start to Stephens’s new series The Songs of the Drowned.

Anna Stephens is back; and don’t you worry, fans. She is bloodier, grittier, and better than ever.

My many thanks to NetGalley, and HarperVoyager for providing an e-ARC of this book for an honest review!

ANNA STEPHENS IS BACK! This is the first in a brand-new trilogy, in a brand-new world, and I loved every single moment of this book from the very first word until the last.
The Stone Knife, as might be expected to anyone familiar with Stephens’ first trilogy, is brutal, although not so much in the ‘grimdark’ way that Godblind was often characterised as being. But, still brutal and bloody, and written with such vividness that you can’t help but have a visceral reaction to what is happening on the pages. Not for the faint at heart, but it is so beautifully executed that it has you reeling even as you need to keep reading, need more of the intensity. The best thing is that it never overwhelms the plot or the characters, even as it is an essential part of the narrative, and it has different notes – there are the moments of loud, chaotic violence and brutality, and then there are the quieter moments that have you holding your breath, and praying that the characters will survive.
Because, the characters – and there are multiple POV characters – are so well-realised and individual, that you can’t help but become heavily invested in each and every one of them (as well as all the secondary characters) and I am absolutely terrified for what might happen to them in future books. Xessa was an almost instant favourite, and remains up there and will most likely be one of my favourites for the entire series, while Lilla and Tayan completely stole my heart, but there was not one single character that I wasn’t invested in. Every one of the characters, regardless of which side of the ‘conflict’ they are on, have their own voices and motivations, and what I have always loved about Stephens’ characterisation, is that there is never any black and white between the sides. Every character is a person, complex and living within their own world, their view of the world around them and their actions and faith, all shaped by context and interactions with other characters, and not only does that make for a much richer world, but it also breathes life into them and the narrative and feels so wonderfully, painfully human even when we are different from them and even when they are at their core unlikeable characters.
I don’t want to call it representation because here it is so much part of the world, that you couldn’t imagine the characters or the book without it, but it is excellent. Xessa, one of the main POV characters is deaf, and it is univocally part of her character, and it is there in the little details – from feeling vibrations to being partnered with a dog – realistically depicted in a fantastical world, and it is just one facet of who she is just as it shapes her, and is an integral part of the world, of her society, and that is how it should be. Similarly, gender and sexuality are just there, part of the world, as natural as breathing – people are just who they are, love who they love – and I need to read more books where it feels like this.
The world-building was spectacular and intricate, and while it took me a little while to acclimatise to this very different world, it was so refreshing and well-written that it was worth that patience because this is a world I want to live in more and more (even with the terrifying monsters). Inspired by Central American Civilisations, this world was new and had such breadth and depth from the start, that you can’t help but be pulled in even while trying to find your feet, and there is such a variety of faith and cultures and experiences, while still leaving that tantalising feeling of so much more to come. The threat of the ‘Drowned’ was imminent and palpable from the very beginning, and they are deliciously creepy, and it was fascinating to see them so irrevocably entangled with the characters and cultures, a threat that had to be adapted to rather than outright avoided.
The Stone Knife feels like the song that is so integral to the plot, it weaves around you from the beginning, and it feels like the book has a voice of its own that wraps around your heart. There is a lot of information, an entire world to be built, and yet there is never any feeling of there being info dumps or being strong-armed into the world because the story is woven around us word by word, page by page, character voice by character voice. The multiple POVs builds into this, offering us so many different viewpoints and experiences, built up with longer chapters and slightly slower pacing before the blood starts to cover the pages.

This was one of my most anticipated reads for this year, and now probably my favourite read of 2020. Brutal, beautiful, and I have already lost my heart to this new cast of characters and will live in fear and love for them until the end of this series. I cannot recommend The Stone Knife highly enough; it has everything I want from my fantasy and more (with added bloodshed).

Usually, I think I’m pretty good at picking books I know I’ll like. Or rather, I don’t pick books I know I’ll actively dislike. So, I thought, with The Stone Knife, I had a shoo-in.

I did not have a shoo-in.

It’s hard to say exactly why I didn’t like this one. On the face of it, a slowburning adult fantasy with depth to its worldbuilding, I should have loved it. And it wasn’t really a mood thing, because I started this at the same time as another book I could thus describe.

I think the primary reason for me not getting along with this was the fact it’s 600 pages long and not a whole lot happens. I mean, things do happen, but nothing Happens. There was never any point where I thought oh shit and was, from then on, fully engaged. None of what happened in the plot grabbed me, none of it made me urgently want to read more. There weren’t really any questions that I had of the plot, if that makes sense. The events that happened in the book felt somewhat superficial, as if they had no underlying significance. Of course, this could well be just me. But I just felt that the narrative didn’t throw up any questions.

It’s entirely possible this is what bored me. It’s entirely possible I was bored well before that. Either way, it wasn’t really a gradual decline into boredom - it only took about the first 100 pages, really, for me to be able to tell it wouldn’t be for me. I think, actually, that length played a role too. Six hundred pages is a pretty big book, and there were at least seven POVs, so the story felt stretched out in a way that I didn’t enjoy. The plot slowed down (not that it was massively fast to begin with) and I - you guessed it! - got bored.

And there wasn’t anything like a final act holy fuck moment. Everything just went to shit, without any sort of hopeful twist to it. In all honesty, it felt like 600 pages of build up to a big event that never happened.

On top of this, it was also pretty gorey, and that’s not something I particularly like my fantasy to be.

None of this is not to say it’s a bad book, however; it just wasn’t a book for me. The worldbuilding was immersive and thorough (and had no homophobia!), and I did, somewhat, like the characters in the sense I didn’t want bad things to happen to them (and, predictably, bad things did happen). And, overall, I wish I had enjoyed it!

So, really, if this book sounds like something you would enjoy, just ignore my review.

This is an impressive bit of world building, and once I got into it, quite a compulsive start to a big canvas tale of empires, colonialism and tyranny. The setting feels broadly based on Mexican / South American cultural furnishings, we have pyramids, we have consolidation of empires over tribes and water gods who can entrap with a song. The story bounces between a number of characters (possibly too many) between the encroaching Empire and one of the few tribes left free. The aim of the Empire is the bring everyone in the world under the power of "The Song" - a subtle mood altering communal piece of much spread across the entirety of its land (via handwavy pyramids). The book tries, at least in part, to make its Empire look as attractive as the free life - the free tribe has a pretty miserable lot having to deal with swamp monsters regularly. But The Singer - the spiritual leader of the Empire - slowly gets corrupted so that even if you thing having an enitre population swayed by a mood altering song was a good thing, you might question it when the song gets corrupted with violence.

Stephens has built a pretty grim world here, and yet it is one that sadly feels surprisingly relevant with the political machinations going on behind the scenes. The book really clicked for me when the peace negotiations start about a third in, where one side negotiates in good faith, the other (with the power) with contempt. Latterly in the book our scheming adviser start to question exactly what she has done, trapped in a cycle that she knows now will doom them all. This is a chunky book and we do get into the heads of a lot of protagonists, Love is held as firm driver for much action here, and the desperation of love during warfare leads to a lot of the more weighty sequences in the book.

The Stone Knife has a novel, well drawn setting and has the depth and robustness in its characters to be not just a solidly told story but feel like it is actually about something. It is however very much the first part of a longer tale, and while where it ends feels like a natural break in the story, there is nothing that resembles a conclusion. And whilst there are hints of where it might be going, there are also hints that it will continue on a dark path before anything gets better. Its good but not for the feint at heart.

[NetGalley ARC]

After loving the Godblind trilogy, I was very excited to see what Anna Stephens came out with next and I was not disappointed. I very much enjoyed the story and the characters.

The Stone Knife is set in a fantasy world inspired by pre-conquest Central America which, I have to admit, I have never read any fantasy novels based on that particular area so this felt very fresh and something new to me. The novel follows multiple characters and, like Godblind, it has viewpoints from both sides of the fight, so to speak. There are characters you will sympathise with, characters you dislike and characters who make such idiotic choices it messes with the whole balance of the world (yes, Enet, I’m looking at you). All of the POV characters are interesting in their own way, even the ones I want to end up dying painful deaths.

I know other reviews will talk a lot about the representation in The Stone Knife, so I will keep it brief but Stephens does something I like in novels where it is completely normalised. I love reading diverse stories but I don’t like it when the characters are shoved into a spotlight so everyone can praise the author for including them (see The Toll by Neal Shusterman). In The Stone Knife, it feels normal, the characters aren’t just their representation, they are characters in their own right and they have more to their personalities. I like that Lilla and Tayan are married. So often, you spend whole books series watching two characters fall in love but you never get to see their relationship afterwards so it makes a nice change to have two characters at a different point and reading how that gives a different dynamic to their relationship. I also like that Xessa is deaf. I’m only partially deaf myself but it feels good to read a character who has a disability but she is still able to function as an integral part of the society and is not treated as an outcast. I hope I’m not coming across as ignorant about matters as important as diversity in books. I know what I’m trying to say but I don’t know if I’m making myself clear.

The Stone Knife has everything I have come to expect from an Anna Stephens novel. Morally grey characters who are doing what they think is best, either for their own interests or for the interests of the society they live in. It’s violent and bloody, but if you’ve read Godblind then that’s just par for the course at this point. The world is richly created and it feels different to anything I have ever read before in a fantasy novel. The characters are interesting and I enjoyed reading their stories. I did think the novel ended in a slightly strange place, it was a sort of cliff hanger but I think it could have ended slightly earlier and saved the ending for the next book. Other than that I don’t have any complaints about the story and I’m looking forward to what happens next.

ARC provided by the publisher—Harper Voyager—in exchange for an honest review.

4.5/5 stars

This was amazing. Great characters, lethal actions, and so much bloodbath; a vampire reading this book would probably find their thirst satiated.

This is one of the biggest surprises of the year for me; I am thoroughly impressed by what Stephens has crafted here. Her debut, Godblind, was a good grimdark novel that I liked, but The Stone Knife? Oh boy, it was absolutely bloody and magnificent. I personally think that Stephens’ skill as a storyteller has improved significantly since the release of her debut. That said, I've heard from many readers that the rest of the Godblind Trilogy has indeed displayed Stephens' growth as a storyteller already, so it could just be that I’m missing on that actions. And honestly speaking, after reading The Stone Knife, I would be crazy to disregard that notion.

The Stone Knife is the first book in The Songs of the Drowned trilogy by Anna Stephens, and the story takes place in the forests of Ixachipan. For generations, nation after nation has fallen to the Empire of Songs—their endless, magical music undefeated. And now, only two free tribes—Tokoban and Yalotlan—remain in Ixachipan, and they won’t submit to the Empire’s total domination. To make the struggle even worse for the tribes, the Empire has the Drowned—monstrous and scaled predators with their own magical music—at their side. I loved this book; it’s a different sort of beast from Godblind, and I am so damn pleased that Stephens has decided to write this rather than continue writing in the Godblind world. Don’t get me wrong here, I’m sure if she has decided to write more books that takes place in the same world as her previous series, it would be great as well, but there’s something about authors writing a new series in a new world that always excites me. This is a vicious tale about gods, monsters, love, loyalty, friendship, faith, and freedom.

“That’s what it sounded like. It sounded like the sunset looks. It sounded like all the world is there just to make you gasp with wonder, to open your heart so wide that it can absorb all that beauty and hold it and be it and never lose it, no matter what. That’s what the songs of the Drowned sound like.”


To me, one of the most noticeable differences between Godblind and The Stone Knife is the longevity of their chapters. In Godblind, Stephens uses very short chapters to prioritized fast-pacing, actions, and dialogue. The Stone Knife, however, is the other way around; chapters are longer, and Stephens focuses on characterizations and world-building first before filling the pages with blood. My preferences are definitely lean towards what she did in The Stone Knife. Although it took me around a quarter of the book to navigate and acclimate myself to the names and terms, I never felt bored because I found the setting and the intricate world-building—inspired by ancient Central American civilization—to be so refreshing. Also, there’s no info-dump; the majority of the unique names and terminologies are understood/learned through the context of the narrative, and she did it so well. Most importantly, the characters and their characterizations was terrifically written.

“ “I don’t ever want to be like that, she thought suddenly. I don’t want to have killed so many that it means nothing. I don’t want to be dead behind the eyes or in the heart.”


The story in The Stone Knife is told through the perspectives of seven characters—Xessa, Tayan, Etne, Lilla, Pilos, Ilandeh, and The Singer. Guess what? I’m so invested in all of them. Excluding the fact that there’s already a goodest boy named Ossa aside, I think Stephens has successfully nailed a great job of personifying her many characters here. Either faith, love, or both drives the motivation of these main characters; I personally found them all to be well-realized. It’s not often I praise romance subplots, and there were two or three romance subplots here, but I have to give my praises to Stephens on this aspect; the character’s love and fear for their loved ones were so palpable. Additionally, the disability and LGBT representation in the characters also felt totally genuine. Simply put, I loved reading all the character’s POV. But please do not let these lead you into thinking this is a romance book; oh god, this violent book will color your imagination red.

“You’ve broken the song and doomed us all, Great Octave. All that comes next, you have caused. All of it.”


Stephens has outdone herself on the creation of characters of Etne and the Singer. Yes, my favorite POV characters to read were Etne, The Singer, and Tayan. If you’ve read this book, or about to, before you call me deprave of sanity for claiming Etne as my favorite POV to read, let me first clarify that I don’t love her character; I doubt she was ever created to be likable anyway. However, her POV chapters were unputdownable, crucial, fierce, and engaging; I consider it a sign of a great storyteller when they’re able to make me THIS compelled to read an unlikable character’s storyline, and that’s what Stephens effectively did with Etne and her development with The Singer. The gradual changes in the tone of The Singer’s introspection were just spectacular.

As I mentioned, this is a pretty brutal book; this isn’t really grimdark, in my opinion, but the violence enacted is full-throttle. If you’re averse to reading much blood and gore, I suggest you read a different book or wait until you’re in the right mood for it. Stephens’ actions are merciless, and she unquestionably excels at keeping the intensity and emotions of each scene intact. Peace negotiations and dialogues ended up being some of the most pulse-pounding scenes in the book. I sometimes find that the loudest volume can be found in the sound of silence, and there were many moments in the book where that voiceless moments amplified the tension so much. The battle scenes were mostly spread out here and there throughout the entire book, but in the final 15%, Stephens totally pull out all the stops; the unleashed insane chaos were impossible to untamed (haha), and I can’t help but found myself intoxicated by the power of the blood song.

“My song will drive them to ruin. Those who live will do so in the agony of their wrongdoing. I am the song and it is bloody. I am the song and it is war.”


The crimson macabre sequences demonstrated by Stephens in The Stone Knife will stay with its readers for a long time. Whether it’s peaceful tranquility or ruthless bloodshed, the scarlet claw in the narrative had a visceral grip on the reader’s emotions and attention. I highly urge readers of epic fantasy with a darker tone and grey morality to join the rank of the violent Melody with me. I utterly look forward to the next Chorus in the series. Harper Voyager, if you’re reading this, promote this book; you have something special in your catalog here.

Official release date: 26th November 2020

You can pre-order the book from: Amazon UK | Amazon US | Book Depository (Free shipping)

The quotes in this review were taken from an ARC and are subject to change upon publication.

You can find this and the rest of my reviews at Novel Notions

The Stone Knife, book one of The Songs of the Drowned, takes place in a whole new world that is inspired by ancient South American civilisations. It is the story of the Tokob tribe as they try to survive in the face of a relentless enemy hell-bent on colonising their world, and the monsters that live in their water-sources and sing people to their bloody deaths. It is also the story of the Pechaqueh as they try to bring the magic of their leader's Song to the tribes around them, whilst those tribes murder their gods... As one should come to expect from Stephens' writing, things are never black or white.

The opening to this story of siren-like song magic lulls you in - it's exposition, but it doesn't feel like a dump as it's a tale being woven. Natural additions of the voice's world filter through with no background information, which gives the narrative a sense of authenticity, that this voice is rooted in its place and sings with authority. Just when we feel at peace within this tale, the voice takes a sharp juxtapositional twist in tone and it's a strong indication of the character's personality. And what a character she'll turn out to be; Xessa quickly insinuated herself into my heart and is now up there with the likes of Tara and Fell Noon as one of my all-time favourite characters. Stephens brings her monsters into play promptly, we certainly do not have to wait long for the trilogy's eponymous creatures. And they are CREEPY. And violent.

'Mottled brown and green like the riverbed, thin ribbons of hair on its head like weed, it stretched a clawed hand towards Xessa...'

I found myself immediately convinced of their threat. Our protagonist appears adept and experienced, and yet proves to be human and vulnerable. It is a dark and dangerous opening to a story, setting the scene for what seems a desperate, eat-or-be-eaten world. It's softened by our protagonist's canine companion, and her reflections on her society of historians and teachers, of people with specific and individual roles to play. And so in just a few short pages, Stephens introduces us to her new world in a succinct and impactful manner.

Water was life and breath and plenty, and water was death and pain and fear, held in a balance like day and night, sun and moon. Xessa was a thief, stealing from the balance without offering anything in return except her sweat, her fear, her blood. One day, perhaps, her life.

As with the Godblind trilogy, Stephens treats us to more multiple points of views in this new trilogy - seven in total, and from either side of the conflict. Stephens is relentless in her ability to tell every side of the story and blur the distinctions between the 'good guys' and the 'bad guys', certainly more so here than with Godblind. The first three chapters, excluding the brief opener, are all from the same tribe, so when we enter into the perspective of someone who up until that point we'd been told was the enemy, I found myself thinking ah, classic Stephens... There is no right or wrong. No good or bad. We simply have people existing as themselves in their world, firm in their belief that they are in the right, that they follow the true faith. Context, as ever, is key and that is a gift for us, a step removed. This is such an accurate portrayal of humanity - that of the 'bad guys' not seeing themselves as being the 'bad guys' - and one that seems safe to say is Stephens modus operandi.

Speaking of representation, I had expected to come across diversity in The Stone Knife, knowing its importance to Stephens. However, I wasn't prepared for just how perfectly Stephens embraces it here. Xessa is deaf, and Stephens shows us so many little ways in which the character processes details instead that it comes across as a very different perspective, already showing me things I would not normally have considered.

Xessa eased herself onto her feet to approach the river when a double thump like a heartbeat shivered up through the soles of her bare feet... The dog jumped again, landing back feet, front feet... his throat rippling as he barked and barked.

Treated with equal subtlety and nuance, Stephens' approach to gender and sexuality is seamless - there are no labels used. We don't get told the sex of a person until personal pronouns are used; no awkward, assumption-based statements like "the female warrior". Likewise with sexuality, there is quite simply the person the character loves or is attracted to - no mention of whether they are 'gay', or 'lesbian' or 'bisexual', or 'straight'. No mention of only being interested in the one or the other. No judgement. It felt so natural to read characters in this way, so refreshing. We can imagine worlds bursting with magic and fantastic creatures, or worlds lightyears away from our own, and I felt like finally I am reading a world in which love is love.

I guess what's important to take from everything I've said so far is that Stephens has created a world which feels so real. So obviously a secondary, fantasy world, and yet so obviously authentic and grounded. Stephens' writing style of threading her worldbuilding through references that are unfamiliar but obvious in their context makes for a subtle means of creating an utterly believable world.

There are a number of similarities between this world and story and that of the Godblind trilogy. Stephens' magic system is again heavily linked to belief, faith, and ancestors. Magic is gifted through gods and spirits. As well as this, Stephens' writing still has that visceral quality that became something of a hallmark in Godblind. You can expect violence and gore from The Stone Knife, but again, it doesn't overpower the story. The characters are very much what drives this story, and although there may be pain awaiting them, and plenty of twists, there is still hope and love that abounds.

These similarities make this story recognisably Stephens' handiwork, and yet this story is a clear progression of her growth and evolution as a writer. The Stone Knife is a story that you will lose yourself in, breathless in its heady depths. So many times I found myself scared to read on, fearful for what Stephens, a notorious heart-breaker, would do to these new, innocent, utterly relatable characters. So many moments, despite knowing this author's treachery, I found myself reeling from a new revelation. This is a powerful, dark, and beautiful song, that's left me open-armed and ready for the next.

This book is SO GOOD! Really well written and I was hooked from the start. Cant wait to get my signed edition from Goldsboro