I received copies of all three books in this series directly from the author (a friend of my second cousin), and I devoured them all in one weekend. They’re fast-paced, emotionally intense, and packed with drama—definitely not light reading, but deeply engaging.
Like Sapphire Blue kicks off the series with a bang. The structure—alternating between past and present—initially threw me off, but I came to appreciate how it mirrors the protagonist Emma’s fractured and evolving understanding of her own life. The payoff is chilling and powerful: Emma, shaped by a lifetime of trauma, ends up mirroring the very violence that shaped her childhood.
Emma’s journey is harrowing. Raised in a trailer by her father and uncle after her mother’s mysterious disappearance, she endures relentless bullying, sexual harassment, and later, sexual assault. Despite it all, she excels academically and athletically, eventually becoming a lawyer. Her romantic relationship with another girl—who is dating Emma’s bully—adds another layer of tension, especially when that girlfriend is sent to conversion therapy. The emotional weight of these experiences is heavy, but the characters’ inner lives are well-developed and the dialogue feels authentic.
One thing that did pull me out of the story at times was the extensive description of interiors and furniture. I later learned from the author that this was intentional—she wants readers to see what she sees—but for me, it occasionally slowed the momentum.
Still, the sheer volume of adversity faced by Emma and nearly every other character is staggering. It borders on overwhelming, but it also underscores the resilience and complexity of these characters. Emma’s eventual imprisonment and her work helping fellow inmates with literacy and legal matters adds a redemptive arc that I found compelling.
If you’re looking for a story that doesn’t shy away from dark themes and moral ambiguity, this one’s for you. Just be prepared for a wild emotional ride.
REVIEW: Like Sapphire Blue by Marisa Billions
RATING: 4-stars
© Jennifer R Clark. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. You may share and adapt this content with proper attribution.
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