2025 was such a good reading year for me. I read a lot of great books, but these were the ones that really stood out. The five-star reads. The ones I couldn’t stop thinking about after I finished, the ones I kept recommending to friends, the ones that made me slow down and just sit with them for a bit.

This post is a little roundup of those favorites. Some were emotional, some were immersive, some completely surprised me, but all of them earned that five-star rating. If you’re looking for a new read to add to your list, these are the books I loved most in 2025.

The Frozen River — by Ariel Lawhon

Martha Ballard is everything. I absolutely loved her as a character—she was brave, determined, and completely fearless in standing up to power. I never realized how much influence midwives had during this time, and it was fascinating to see the role they played in both medicine and justice.

The themes of justice, gender roles, and community really stood out. Martha wasn’t just a healer—she was a force, proving that strength doesn’t always come from status but from conviction and resilience. Watching her challenge authority without hesitation was so inspiring.

Malibu Rising — by Taylor Jenkins Reid

This book made me feel. Taylor Jenkins Reid has a way of crafting characters that feel so deeply real, and the Riva siblings absolutely stole my heart. I especially connected with Nina (the oldest sibling) and her journey of carrying the weight of her mother’s traumas, only to finally learn to let go. The themes of family and resilience hit hard—especially the idea of wanting more from the people who are supposed to love you most.

The dual timeline structure? Absolute perfection. TJR is a master at weaving past and present together in a way that feels seamless, and seeing the story unfold through the perspectives of the siblings, their absent father, and the chaotic, fateful night of the party made it all the more immersive. The ending felt just right, though I’d love to know where these characters are now.

The Silent Patient — by Alex Michaelides

I devoured this. I love a thriller that doesn’t rely on chaos or nonstop action, and this one really worked for me. I was hooked by the atmosphere and the slow build, and I genuinely didn’t see where it was going. Beyond the twist, what stayed with me was how much it focused on silence and what people choose not to say. It made me want to go back and reread it just to catch all the little details I missed the first time.

The Four Winds — by Kristin Hannah

This book wrecked me—but in the best way. It made me reflect on my own life, my privilege, and just how much resilience it takes to survive in the hardest of circumstances. I had never known much about the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression beyond the basics, and reading about it in such a raw, emotional way was eye-opening. It’s a powerful reminder of how strong we are as people, especially in the face of unimaginable hardship.

Elsa was a force. Misunderstood by her own family, she had to pave her own way in life, constantly searching for bravery—and in the end, she became one of the bravest people I’ve ever read about. The way she stood up for workers' rights, despite everything stacked against her, was unforgettable. The themes of motherhood and sacrifice hit the hardest, especially in how her daughter finally saw Elsa’s strength for what it truly was.

I was not prepared for the ending. It was devastating yet beautiful in a way that made me sit with my emotions long after I turned the last page

Carrie Soto is Back — by Taylor Jenkins Reid

I know almost nothing about tennis, but I loved being in this world. There’s something so compelling about elite athletes, their drive, their discipline, their heart, and Carrie Soto embodies all of it. She’s fierce, competitive, and unapologetically determined, but what really made this book special was her transformation. It starts as a story about winning and legacy, but by the end, it’s about so much more.

The father-daughter relationship? Easily my favorite I’ve ever read. Javier Soto was everything: supportive, loving, tough when he needed to be, but always in her corner. Their bond made this book so emotional, and I loved how much they depended on each other, even when he was gone. It made the story so much deeper than just a sports novel.

The themes of legacy and proving yourself really stood out. Carrie was always seen as an underdog, despite her greatness, and watching her fight to reclaim her place while also learning when she was beyond the trophies was so satisfying. And the ending? Perfect. But I wouldn’t complain if we got a sequel — I need more Carrie Soto in my life.

The Favorites — by Layne Fargo

This book hooked me, and a big part of that was the structure. The way it wove together newscast segments and interviews made the story so immersive—it felt like I was right in the middle of the drama. I could definitely see Taylor Jenkins Reid’s influence here, and I loved it!

The relationship dynamics were so well done. Every character felt fully developed, and even the ones with flaws had something about them that made them likable (or at least understandable). It’s one of those books where you truly feel like you know the characters by the end.

The storytelling style made this such a fun, fast-paced read, and I couldn’t get enough.

The Many Lives of Mama Love — by Laura Love Hardin

This memoir reads like a novel, and I absolutely loved that. It had total Orange Is the New Black vibes but with a deeply personal, retrospective feel. The stakes were high, the tension was real, and I found myself reading it like a fiction book—worried about what would happen next, even though I knew it was a true story.

Lara’s transformation was so powerful. I loved seeing who she truly was come through, even in her darkest moments. She wasn’t just her addiction or her past mistakes—she was a person who fought for a second chance and actually grasped it. That’s what made this story so inspiring. So many people don’t get that kind of redemption, and it was refreshing to see someone who deserved it actually get it.

Maybe in Another Life — by Taylor Jenkins Reid

The concept and structure of this book were masterful. Writing a story that plays out in two possible timelines based on a single decision could have been a disaster, but Taylor Jenkins Reid pulled it off flawlessly—like she always does. It felt like reading two novels in one, and I was completely invested in both versions of Hannah’s life.

I especially loved the friendship between Hannah and Gabby—it was such a strong, grounding force throughout the book. The theme of fate vs. choice really stood out, and the way the ending tied everything together in such a philosophical way was so refreshing. Instead of saying there’s only one right path, it showed that life is what we make of it—there’s beauty and meaning in every choice.

This book left me thinking long after I turned the last page, and I loved its message about embracing the life we build, no matter which direction we take.

Wayward Pines (book 1) — by Blake Crouch

This book was a total mind-fck*—and I loved every second of it. I’m always looking for a book that can truly keep me on my toes, and Pines delivered. The eerie, unsettling vibe was everything, and I had no clue what was coming next. When the big reveal finally hit, it was wild—completely unexpected but so fascinating that I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It had everything I want in both a sci-fi and a thriller—psychological tension, mystery, and that creeping feeling that something is very wrong. The writing put me inside Ethan’s head so well that I felt ever moment of confusion, fear, and determination right alongside him.

Recursion — by Blake Crouch

This book was at 100% intensity the entire time. At one point, I checked and realized I was only halfway through—but it already felt like I’d hit multiple climaxes. The pacing, the twists, the mind-bending turns—it never let up.

I love stories about alternate timelines, parallel universes, and changing the past, and Blake Crouch handled these themes in such a unique way. The way he wove a love story into all the chaos made it even more powerful. The theme of trying to undo suffering, only to realize the consequences may be worse, really stuck with me.

The Women — by Kristin Hannah

I never really learned much about the Vietnam War in school, so this book was eye-opening for me. I had no idea about the role women played in the war, and it made me so curious to learn more. The emotional impact of this story was huge—especially seeing the sacrifices both men and women made, only to come home to protests and hatred. Regardless of how people felt about the war itself, the way these veterans were treated was devastating, and that really stuck with me.

I loved Frankie. Her growth throughout the novel was incredible—starting out naive and idealistic, then being forced to face the brutal realities of war. And then there was the aftermath, dealing with PTSD and struggling to find her place back home. Women’s PTSD is something we don’t hear about nearly enough, and this book handled it so well.

What stood out the most to me was the sheer bravery of these women. The resilience it takes to endure something no one else can understand and still find a way forward? That was both heartbreaking and inspiring. This book not only made me want to learn more about the Vietnam War but also gave me a renewed admiration for strong, fearless women.

Lessons in Chemistry — by Bonnie Garmus

The way this book blends humor, feminism, and serious topics is masterful. It tackles the sexism of the 1960s, the struggles women faced in the workplace, and the fight to be taken seriously—but it never feels heavy. It’s light, smart, and often hilarious, while still making me so angry at what Elizabeth had to endure. The themes of independence and refusing to conform were so empowering, especially in a world that constantly tells women who they should be.

I also loved how the book used Elizabeth’s role as a cooking show host to redefine what it meant to be a homemaker. Instead of reinforcing outdated gender roles, she turned it into something radical—teaching women that cooking is science, that their work is valuable, and that they matter. I know this is fiction, but if someone like Elizabeth Zott had existed at the time, it would have been incredibly inspiring to so many women.

And side note: the dog’s POV? Iconic. At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it was done so well that I am 100% on board. More books should give animals a voice!

This book was impactful, empowering, and completely delightful. I was giddy reading it, and I’m so glad I picked it up.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo — by Taylor Jenkins Reid

I didn’t expect to connect with this book as deeply as I did, but wow, did it pull me in. The love story between Evelyn and Celia was one of the most beautiful I’ve ever read—heartfelt, complicated, and made even more powerful by the time period they lived in. Their love had to exist in secrecy, which added so much emotional depth.

Evelyn was flawed but unforgettable, and I loved how well-written she was. Even when I didn’t agree with her choices, I understood them, which is the mark of an incredible character. The book explores identity and sacrifice, and how sometimes those two things are at odds with each other. It made me think about how unfair it is that people have to give up parts of themselves just to exist in the world, and that theme was woven so beautifully throughout Evelyn’s story.

And that reveal? Jaw-dropping. The whole time, I kept wondering why Evelyn wanted Monique to write this book, and when the truth finally hit, I was shook. It wasn’t just a shocking twist—it tied into the story’s themes in such a profound way and pushed Monique’s character forward. The way Taylor Jenkins Reid structured this novel, alternating between Evelyn’s past and Monique’s present, was masterful. She’s truly one of the best storytellers out there.

Fast Girls — by Elise Hooper

If you had told me a year ago that I’d be obsessed with sports fiction, I would’ve laughed—but here we are, and Fast Girls absolutely delivered. This novel isn’t just about running; it’s about resilience, ambition, and breaking barriers, all set against the fascinating (and often unsettling) backdrop of the 1936 Olympics in Nazi Germany.

The historical setting was compelling, especially that eerie time before America fully grasped the horrors of the Nazi regime. Seeing Hitler appear in the story added a chilling layer, and the newspaper excerpts helped immerse me in the era.

The characters made this book shine. Betty Robinson’s determination to run again after her accident was inspiring. Louise Stokes’ struggles highlighted the extra barriers faced by Black female athletes. Helen Stephens, who always felt like an outsider, had a coach who saw her potential and helped her thrive. Her triumph, especially after her past trauma, was incredibly rewarding.

Despite being historical fiction, Fast Girls never felt slow. The tension, stakes, and triumphs kept me hooked. It beautifully captured the struggles and victories of women in sports, a topic I hadn’t considered before. If you love historical fiction or stories of strong, determined women, this is a must-read.

The Diamond Eye — by Kate Quinn

The thought of a female sniper from Russia in WWII is wild—I didn’t even know that was a thing! But The Diamond Eye completely opened my eyes to how involved women were in the war, especially in Russia. I loved learning about their fierce patriotism and the incredible roles they played on the front lines.

Mila was everything. Her strength, her resilience, and—most of all—her devotion to her son made her such a compelling protagonist. I admired how she faced sexism head-on, worked relentlessly to prove herself, and ultimately earned the recognition she deserved. Watching her go from a young woman struggling for control in her life to a confident, skilled sniper was so satisfying.

Some scenes had me holding my breath, especially that intense three-day stakeout to take out the German sniper. I felt like I was right there in the trenches with her. Kate Quinn’s writing made every moment feel vivid and real.

One of my favorite parts of the book was Mila’s visit to America and her unexpected bond with Eleanor Roosevelt. I loved their relationship—two strong, intelligent women from completely different worlds who somehow saw pieces of themselves in each other. Their friendship felt so genuine, and I loved how Eleanor supported and believed in Mila when so many others underestimated her. It was such a powerful addition to the story.

And can we talk about the love story? I didn’t expect to get so invested, but it was epic. It added so much emotional depth to an already powerful story.

Overall, The Diamond Eye was gripping, emotional, and eye-opening. If you love historical fiction with strong female leads, high stakes, and a perfect blend of action and heart, this is the book for you.

Jackie and Maria — by Gill Paul

I’ve always been captivated by the Kennedys—I love reading about JFK—but this book was different. Instead of focusing on him, Jackie and Maria dives into the lives of Jackie Kennedy and Maria Callas, two extraordinary women whose paths I never expected to cross. I actually didn’t know much about Maria Callas before reading this, so I went in completely blind, unsure of how their stories would intertwine.

And wow, was I hooked! I absolutely loved the feel of this book—the glamour, the drama, the scandal. The Kennedy family was so much more dramatic than I ever realized, and I could not get enough.

For me, Maria was the star of this story. I was rooting for her so hard, and my heart ached for her throughout the book. Her love story, her struggles, and her sacrifices felt so raw and emotional. While Jackie’s journey was fascinating in its own right, it was Maria’s story that really pulled me in.

This book had everything I love—history, romance, betrayal, and a deep dive into an era that continues to fascinate me. If you love historical fiction that blends real-life glamour with heartbreak and scandal, Jackie and Maria is definitely worth the read.

You Deserve to Know — by Aggie Blum Thompson

This book had major Desperate Housewives energy—gossip, secrets, and simmering tension in a picture-perfect neighborhood. I’ve always loved domestic thrillers because they take the most familiar spaces—homes, friendships, marriages—and twist them into something dark and unsettling. This book nailed that.

I pride myself on being able to spot plot twists, but this one caught me completely off guard. If you're into twisty, emotional thrillers where the drama simmers just under the surface, this one deserves a spot on your shelf.

Temper — by Layne Fargo

I love books where the main character is a performer, so my 5 star review might be a bit biased. There’s something about the emotion and intensity of a creative person—the way they feel everything so deeply, the constant push and pull between control and chaos—that makes for such a complex, compelling character. Temper taps into that brilliantly.

This story had an eerie, dark, seductive vibe that pulled me in right away. The tension simmers just beneath the surface, and you’re never quite sure who to trust—or how far things will go. It’s the kind of book you should go into blind—don’t read too many reviews or even the summary. Just let it take over. Worth it.

Fagin the Thief — by Allison Epstein

This book had me fangirling the entire time. I was in Oliver! the musical as a kid, so the story holds a special place in my heart—and Fagin was always my favorite character. I thought he was the best, so getting a whole book told from his perspective? YES PLEASE.

The author puts her own brilliant spin on the tale but still pays homage to Dickens in all the right ways. I truly felt like I was back among familiar friends and old acquaintances. It’s an ambitious thing to take on Oliver Twist, but this pulled it off so perfectly. The tone, the pacing, the writing—it all just worked.

Fagin isn’t a “Good Guy,” but he’s a good guy. I found myself rooting for him, aching for him, hoping things would finally go his way. His tragic origins and his hopeful spirit made him feel so real. The way he understood how others saw him—with antisemitism, pity, and disgust—was heartbreaking, but I had so much respect for how he carried himself through it all.

This story was tragic, yes—but it was also beautiful. Beautifully written. Beautifully nuanced. Wholly relatable. A great read.

Remarkably Bright Creatures — by Shelby Van Pelt

Marcellus is one of my favorite characters of all time—and yes, he’s an octopus. This book sounds strange on paper: an elderly woman grieving her son’s death finds unexpected connection with a highly intelligent (and snarky) giant Pacific octopus at the aquarium where she works. But it’s not weird. At all.

I’ve always been fascinated by octopuses, and this book just deepened that love. It’s emotional, heartwarming, and quietly profound. Every character—human or otherwise—goes on a journey of growth, healing, and self-discovery, and I adored them all.

Even with its sad premise and moments of grief, this book felt like a comfort read. I don’t think I’ll ever come across another story quite like this again.

Fairy Tale — by Stephen King

Stephen King is truly one of the greatest storytellers of our time. I’ve read a lot of his books (starting with 11/22/63, which is still my all-time favorite), and Fairy Tale gave me that same feeling—that rare, completely immersive, emotionally rich reading experience that sticks with you long after the final page.

This isn’t a scary book. It’s not about horror or jump scares. It’s about a teenage boy named Charlie who stumbles into another world hidden beneath an old house in his hometown. But this isn’t a world of fairies and dragons—it’s more like a fractured, forgotten fairytale kingdom. It’s dark in tone, but not frightening—more mysterious and emotional than anything else.
If you liked Once Upon a Time (the show!), you’ll probably love this. The fantasy here is grounded—you’re learning about this strange world with Charlie, so it never feels confusing or over-the-top. It’s full of wonder, heart, and a quiet kind of magic that feels earned, not flashy.

And the characters? Incredible. Charlie, Radar (the most lovable dog), and Mr. Bowditch all feel so real. It’s a story about loyalty, courage, grief, and hope—and it completely pulled me in. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The Great Alone — by Kristin Hannah

I felt so many things reading this book. Heartbreak. Anger. Empathy. Hope. It’s one of those stories that doesn’t just stay with you—it sits with you.

I felt for Leni, growing up in the shadow of something so unpredictable and unsafe, yet still finding her voice and her strength. I felt for her mother, Cora, loving someone who no longer existed—the way she kept saying, “I wish you had known him before,” broke my heart. She was in love with a memory, holding on to the ghost of a man who had been broken by war and never put back together.

And yes, even though he became the villain, I felt for Ernt, too. A POW who came home to a country that didn’t know what to do with him, and a family he didn’t know how to love anymore. It doesn’t excuse what he became, but it made me understand the depth of his damage.

The love story in this book is devastating—in that slow, aching way Kristin Hannah does so well. There were moments that made me want to throw the book across the room, moments that broke me, and moments that stitched me back together.

And the setting—Alaska in the 1970s—is so vivid and wild. I’ve never thought much about that place in that time period, but KH makes it feel both beautiful and brutal, like it’s its own character in the story.

This book is about survival—physical, emotional, generational. It’s painful and powerful, and I’ll be thinking about these characters for a long, long time.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow — by Gabrielle Zevin

I knew this book was about video games, but I didn’t expect it to be about everything else too.

Friendship, grief, ego, creativity, ambition, love... it’s all here, and it’s all messy and beautiful. Watching Sam and Sadie’s relationship evolve over decades felt so real—sometimes warm, sometimes frustrating, always honest.

The way the story moved through different points in their lives—jumping ahead, circling back—felt so human. Like how in life, you don’t always get a clean “restart,” but you do get another chance. That idea really stuck with me.

And that little game-within-the-book? I absolutely loved it. It was such a clever, emotional way to show where the characters were without having to say it out loud. One of my favorite parts by far.

I loved how this book honored the creativity behind building something—whether that’s a game, a friendship, or a future. It captured how complicated collaboration can be, especially when you’re creating with people you love.

Quietly devastating. Completely brilliant. One of my favorites I’ve read in a long time.

Jackie — by Dawn Tripp

I am now fully in my Jackie era.

I always thought of her as the elegant First Lady standing beside JFK—but this book made me see how much he leaned on her. She was smart, strategic, and seriously well-read. She shaped how he thought, how he spoke, how he showed up in the world.

I admired her so much while reading this. The way she handled his infidelity, the constant spotlight, the grief after his death—it was heartbreaking. But she also came across as incredibly composed, sharp, and quietly powerful.

This book gave me a fuller picture of a woman who’s often reduced to image. Jackie shaped history, endured it, and carved out a path that was entirely her own.

Reading this made me see her not just as a style icon, but as a woman of real influence, depth, and resilience. It left me with so much respect and a deeper fascination for who she really was.

The Briar Club — by Kate Quinn

I’m a big fan of Kate Quinn. I loved The Huntress and The Diamond Eye, so I was excited to read this one. The Briar Club still takes place in the mid-20th century, but it focuses more on domestic life and mystery than her typical war-front stories. That shift felt fresh and really worked for me.

At first, I was a little overwhelmed by all the POVs—it took me a bit to settle into who was who—but once I got into it, I was hooked. The different storylines come together in a really satisfying way.

One thing I didn’t expect (but ended up loving) was that the house itself has a point of view. It sounds odd, but it worked. The house feels like this quiet observer, almost like a character, watching over the women - holding their secrets, and carrying the weight of everything they’ve been through. It added this cozy but eerie layer to the whole story.

I also really appreciated the focus on friendship. These women come from totally different backgrounds but slowly build trust over shared meals and hard conversations. The recipes sprinkled throughout were a fun bonus.

The ending was intense and emotional, and I liked how the book touched on the aftershocks of WWII without making it the main focus. Everyone’s arc felt complete by the last page.

If you like historical fiction with strong women, a little mystery, and a story centered on chosen family, I definitely recommend this one.

The Nightingale — by Kristin Hannah

On the surface, it’s historical fiction—WWII, two sisters, occupied France. But underneath, it’s a story about what women carry, what they survive, and what they keep buried.

The moment that hit hardest for me was Vianne explaining to a little boy that his mother isn’t coming back. She tells him gently, compares it to a bird dying, gives him a new name... and then just keeps going. Like bombs weren’t falling, neighbors weren’t disappearing, and her own family hadn’t already been torn apart. It made me think about what it means to survive something unthinkable—and how easy it is to take peace, safety, and everyday life for granted.

The ending hit me in a really personal way. As a mother, I felt every bit of what Vianne had carried. I cried for her—for what she lost, what she held in, and what she finally let go of.

This is the kind of story that reminds you what it means to endure, to protect your children, to keep going even when it feels impossible... It left me thinking about the kind of strength that doesn’t get talked about enough—the kind that lives in everyday decisions, in silence, and in survival.

The Lincoln Highway — by Amor Towles

The storytelling in this was so good. It actually reminded me of a Stephen King novel, not in tone or genre, but in how immersive it felt. The character work, the world-building, the way each scene unfolded with intention and detail.

Every single character was vivid and memorable. I loved them all. Billy’s perspective was such a standout—his curiosity, innocence, and quiet intelligence moved the story forward in such a meaningful way.

The road trip structure really worked—it gave the story this big, sweeping feel while still staying rooted in the characters. And I loved the multiple perspectives. It made everything feel more layered, especially when it came to understanding someone like Duchess.

There’s this constant pull between who the characters have been and who they’re trying to become—and watching that unfold felt really powerful.

The ending had this slow build that suddenly turned sharp and tense. I was on the edge of my seat. It felt earned because everything that happened was built so carefully throughout the story. The choices, the tension, the emotion—it all landed in a way that made sense, even if it surprised me.

I loved every second of this book.

Without a Doubt — by Marcia Clark

This book gave me so much insight into the O.J. Simpson case. I’ve always been fascinated by it—I grew up hearing about it, but I was just a baby when the trial aired. As a self-proclaimed law nerd (I love how lawyers think, argue, and dissect everything), I found this absolutely gripping.

Yes, it’s written by the lead prosecutor, so it naturally comes with her perspective—and at times, you can feel her frustration, her heartbreak, and her need to set the record straight. But even setting aside the infamous glove moment—this single, dramatic image that the defense used to plant doubt—there was so much more. The blood evidence, the DNA, the timeline… it was overwhelming. And yet, somehow, most of it never really landed with the jury.

What struck me most was how the defense tapped into the racial tensions in L.A. after the Rodney King beating—and used that atmosphere to shift the entire narrative of the O.J. trial. They planted the idea that this was about race and police corruption, even though the core of the case was something else entirely: the brutal murder of Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman, and O.J.'s long-documented history of abuse.

Marcia Clark doesn’t just make the case, she tells the story. She’s a skilled litigator and a great writer. The book is a bit lengthy (over 500 pages), but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even when I wasn’t reading, I was replaying parts in my head, trying to wrap my mind around how it all unfolded. I just kept wanting to get back to it.

If you're even remotely interested in the O.J. case or how legal strategy and public opinion collide in a courtroom, this is such a compelling, worthwhile read.

Project Hail Mary — by Andy Weir

Andy Weir’s writing cracks me up. I love how he blends real science with this casual, approachable tone—like we’re talking about mind-bending astrophysics, but somehow it all makes sense. It helps that the main character is a middle school science teacher, so he explains things like he would to a class. And it works.

From the very first page, I was in. I had to know what was going on. The pacing, the mystery, the survival element—it was unputdownable.

Without spoiling anything, the themes of friendship and sacrifice really hit me. There’s so much heart beneath the problem-solving. And yes, I loved the science and survival stuff (so much!), but what stuck with me most was the unexpected connection that forms at the center of it all.

Rocky is the true hero of this entire story. Iconic. Give him his own spin-off.

My Dear Hamilton — by Stephanie Dray

As a full-blown Hamilton head, this book was everything. It felt like experiencing the musical all over again—but with way more emotional weight and historical nuance.

We get to see Eliza not just as “Hamilton’s wife,” but as a full, complicated woman navigating revolution, betrayal, politics, motherhood, and public scrutiny. And what really hit me? The story doesn’t end with Alexander’s death—it keeps going. The book explores what it meant for Eliza to survive him, and how she kept building a life out of everything she had lost.

And can we talk about the scandal for a second?? Damn, Hamilton. The way the book unpacked the Reynolds affair—and how Eliza endured it—was wild. Also… why are we not talking more about his relationship with John Laurens? I’m just saying...

If you love the musical, or you're just into rich, layered historical fiction that centers powerful women, this is one worth sinking into. Eliza deserves more space on the page—and this gave it to her.

Catch Me If You Can: The True Story of a Real Fake — by Frank W. Abagnale

I cannot believe this is a true story. Frank Abagnale’s confidence, audacity, and sheer nerve make this read feel more like a movie than a memoir. This was fast, clever, and completely unhinged in the best way. Also a fascinating look at how confidence, class, and appearance can open doors long before competence ever does.

Becoming Madam Secretary — by Stephanie Dray

I went into this knowing almost nothing about Frances Perkins, and finished it wondering how her name isn’t as widely known as the policies she helped create. This book was both eye-opening and deeply human. Such a powerful reminder of how much quiet determination it took to build the labor protections and social safety nets we now take for granted.

Once There Were Wolves — by Charlotte McConaghy

I’ve never read a book quite like this. It blends ecological rewilding with psychological trauma and moral ambiguity, forcing you to sit with violence, empathy, and the thin line between human and animal instinct. This was raw, atmospheric, and deeply unsettling in the best way.

The Giver — by Lois Lowry

This book holds a special place in my heart. I remember being in fourth grade, when all the “smart kids” got to read this one, and I wasn’t in that group. I wanted to read it so badly, but instead I carried around this quiet resentment, like it was a story I wasn’t good enough to earn.

I’m honestly glad I waited to read it as an adult, because wow. Wow wow wow.

What hit me most was how quietly devastating the world in this book is. A society built on sameness, on the elimination of pain, choice, color, and memory... all at the cost of love, depth, and humanity. It asks unsettling questions about safety versus freedom, comfort versus truth, and what we lose when we try to engineer away suffering.

Reading it now, I felt the weight of memory, the ache of loneliness, and the radical idea that pain and joy are inseparable—that to feel deeply is the price of truly living. It’s a deceptively simple story that lingers long after the last page, and one I finally understand why people never stop talking about.

Home Front — by Kristin Hannah

Kristin Hannah continues to write stories that break me in the quietest, most lingering way. Home Front may be about war, but it’s also about what distance, fear, and trauma can do to a marriage and a family. I loved witnessing the strength of these characters—the way they endure, unravel, and still find ways to push through when everything feels impossible.

We Used to Live Here — by Marcus Kliewer

This book was unsettling in a slow, creeping way. Nothing feels wrong at first, and then suddenly everything does. It plays with politeness, perception, and the terror of doubting your own reality, blurring the line between what’s real and what’s imagined. I didn’t stop questioning what I was seeing until the very last page, and even now, I’m not sure what was real and what wasn’

Sunrise on the Reaping — by Suzanne Collins

Reading this felt like being dropped straight back into Panem in the best possible way. I’ve always wondered about Haymitch and the story behind his Games, and finally getting to see it unfold was both heartbreaking and strangely comforting. It brought back all the feelings I had when I first fell in love with this series years ago, while adding new layers to a character I thought I already understood

American Princess — by Stephanie Marie Thornton

I loved this book. Alice Roosevelt was so bold, unapologetic, and completely herself, and it made her such a fun person to read about. She takes up space in a world that clearly didn’t want women to do that, and I admired her for it the entire way through.

This story was also incredibly immersive. I felt fully dropped into Washington society and politics, and I loved experiencing everything through Alice’s eyes. The historical details never felt heavy. Instead, they made the world feel alive and easy to sink into.

One of my favorite parts was all the callouts to real historical figures. I loved recognizing names and learning more about them naturally as Alice interacted with them. It made history feel personal and interesting instead of distant.

Bold women, rich history, and a main character I won’t forget. Easy five stars for me.

My Five-Star Reads of 2025