REVIEW: All That We Burn by Marisa Billions (4.5-stars)

 All That We Burn — A  (Sapphic) Thriller for Readers Who Don’t Usually Read Thrillers

I don’t usually read thrillers. My default genre is science fiction, where suspension of disbelief comes easily because the world isn’t meant to resemble my own. When a story takes place on another planet, in a future society, or in a reality with different rules, I don’t expect the worldbuilding to match my lived experience. I’m willing to accept the unfamiliar as long as the internal logic holds. Contemporary thrillers, on the other hand, often ask me to believe that ordinary people behave in extraordinary ways without giving me the psychological scaffolding to buy into it. That’s usually where the genre loses me.

But Marisa Billions keeps pulling me in anyway. All That We Burn is the clearest example of why her work is growing on me. It’s marketed as a thriller, but what makes it compelling isn’t the danger or the twists. It’s the way she writes about people who are desperate to be seen and equally desperate to hide the parts of themselves they fear will be rejected. That emotional architecture is what makes the story believable, even when the plot takes sharp turns. She builds her world from the inside out, through psychology rather than geography, and that’s a kind of worldbuilding I can trust.

The three central women in this story are all performing versions of themselves. Parker, the hyper‑competent lawyer with the trademark pompadour and bespoke suits, projects absolute control. She wins every case, commands every room, and maintains a polished exterior that leaves no room for doubt. Underneath, though, she’s terrified of vulnerability. Her competence is a shield, and the moment someone threatens her emotional equilibrium, she collapses in ways she never would professionally.

Calypso, with her dark hair and distinct golden eyes, is a Katrina refugee who rebuilt her life into something curated and artistic. She owns a tattoo shop, lives in a loft that feels like an artist's sanctuary, and has created a world where she can finally breathe. But her stability is built on escape. She’s reinvented herself so thoroughly that the past feels like a ghost she can outrun, until it catches up with her in the form of Macy.

Macy is the redheaded cop who is always fumbling, always dropping the ball, always trying to be someone she isn’t. Off duty, she dresses in boho and hippie clothing, projecting a softness and free‑spirited ease that she can’t sustain. She’s petite, fiery, and emotionally volatile, and she’s been carrying a torch for Parker for years. That unrequited longing becomes the fuse that ignites the entire story. Macy’s jealousy, insecurity, and desperation drive her to fabricate a New Orleans case file accusing Calypso of crimes she never committed. It’s a lie built on Parker’s deepest fears, and Parker falls for it instantly. The woman who never loses a case doesn’t even fact‑check the file. Her emotional blind spots undo her in a way no opposing counsel ever could.

The unraveling that follows is messy and human. Calypso flees. Macy attacks her in a remote Washington cabin. No body is found. Parker spirals between guilt and denial. Javier, one of Calypso’s clients, steps in with a kind of ambiguous menace that Billions handles beautifully. Javier is always performing a version of himself too. Maybe he’s involved in sex trafficking. Maybe he’s killed someone. Maybe he hasn’t. The point is that he plays the role of the dangerous man so convincingly that when the moment comes, he delivers exactly the version of himself he’s been selling all along.

Around these three women orbit characters who add texture and grounding. Xander and Xochitl are the stable straight couple, the emotionally functional pair who quietly support Calypso without needing to perform anything. They’re the ballast in a story full of people who are constantly shape‑shifting to survive. Parker’s assistants, too, become crucial; they’re the ones who finally uncover Macy’s lies and force Parker to confront the truth she was too afraid to see.

What makes the book work isn’t just the plot, though the twists are well‑timed and satisfying. It’s the worldbuilding—not in the sci‑fi sense of constructing a new reality, but in the psychological sense of making the characters’ choices feel inevitable. Calypso’s tattoo shop feels lived‑in. Parker’s legal world is crisp and sterile, mirroring her emotional defenses. Macy’s police work is chaotic and full of self‑inflicted wounds. Even the intimacy scenes are handled with restraint and emotional intelligence. They’re sensual without being anatomical, grounded in tension and proximity rather than explicit detail. It’s adult without being clinical, which is rare in queer thrillers.

By the time I finished the book, I found myself wanting to Google “Calypso Boudreaux” to see if she had a backstory website. That’s how vivid she is. And that’s ultimately why Marisa Billions’ work is growing on me. She writes thrillers that feel like character studies with a pulse. Her stories are about the cost of vulnerability, the masks we wear, and the danger of being truly known. Even if thrillers aren’t your usual genre, All That We Burn has the depth, tension, and psychological nuance to pull you in.

REVIEW: All That We Burn by Marisa Billions

RATING: 4.5-stars

REVIEW: My Dumpling, Your Dumpling by KE Bartlet (4-stars)

  A Distinctive Debut: Competence, Youth, and a New Lens on Military Fiction

I picked up My Dumpling, Your Dumpling because I wanted a challenge. I think it’s important to read outside my usual genre preferences — not for escapism, but because good fiction offers a particular worldview. When an author succeeds, you’re not just reading a story; you’re trying on a different cognitive framework. That’s the part I find interesting.

My academic background is in Spanish and Sociology, and most of my undergraduate literary training was in the Boom period — Cortázar, García Márquez, Borges, Vargas Llosa. Those writers taught me to treat fiction as a tool for exploring how minds work. Rayuela forces you to construct the narrative yourself. Cien años de soledad operates on cyclical time and mythic logic. Borges turns stories into philosophical puzzles. That training shaped how I read: I look for the worldview behind the text.

Later, when I finally read Jane Austen and Edith Wharton, I was struck by their observational precision — the way they capture interior life, social nuance, and micro‑interactions with almost anthropological clarity. I spent years catching up on 19th‑ and early‑20th‑century English literature because it represented a completely different cognitive tradition. None of this is my entire reading history, of course, but it illustrates the pattern: I read fiction to understand how people think.

K.E. Bartlet’s debut fits into that pattern in a surprising way. My Dumpling, Your Dumpling presents a worldview shaped by military and intelligence environments: procedural, compartmentalized, time‑stamped, emotionally masked, and mission‑driven. Each chapter opens with a location/time/character header — essentially a SITREP. The action is often procedural and easy to miss if you don’t have that background. Operators will fill in the blanks; civilian readers may need a film adaptation to visualize certain sequences. That’s not a flaw — it’s a structural choice that protects both the reader and the author. It keeps the violence non‑graphic and keeps the operational details appropriately abstract.

What I appreciated most is how confidently Bartlet writes smart, competent young people, especially young women. There’s no gendered commentary, no harassment, no “woman in a man’s world” framing. It’s a parallel universe where women can operate at full capacity without misogyny as background radiation. That alone makes the book refreshing.

The interpersonal dynamics are subtle, especially the slow‑burn trust arc between Eliza and Melody. Bartlet writes emotional connection the way it forms in high‑risk environments: quietly, professionally, and under layers of structure. It’s not a romance that interrupts the plot; it’s a bond that grows inside it. Eliza’s pep talks and her ability to read her team under pressure show a level of empathy and leadership that makes her a compelling protagonist.

As a debut from a 28‑year‑old author, this is impressive work. The voice is distinctive, the worldbuilding is grounded in real strategic thinking, and the characters feel like people who could exist in the modern intelligence community. I’m curious to see how Bartlet’s craft evolves — and how these characters develop — in the rest of the series.

REVIEW: Till Death Do You Part: A dark LGBTQ romantic thriller by Marisa Billions (3-stars)

 Another page-turner from Marisa Billions, opening with a gripping scene before diving into flashbacks. This suspenseful thriller is rich in detail about middle-class Southern California life and romance. I especially enjoyed the New Orleans references, which added depth to the setting, and appreciated that the romantic scenes were subtle rather than explicit.

I would’ve liked more insight into the protagonist’s emotional journey—particularly her sense of being underappreciated and losing her identity. Some of the marital arguments felt a bit stilted, while the chemistry with the new love interest was compelling, though it made me reflect on the line between genuine attraction and limerence.

After reading four of Billions’ books, I have to ask: where can I find a successful lesbian who’s emotionally available and not prone to jealous rage?

REVIEW: Till Death Do You Part: A dark LGBTQ romantic thriller  by Marisa Billions 

RATING: 3-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.

REVIEW: Out of the Blue: A dark sapphic romantic thriller by Marisa Billions (3-stars)

 The final book in Marisa Billions’ trilogy, Out of the Blue, takes a sharp turn into thriller territory—and it’s a wild ride. This time, the spotlight shifts to Sophie, who has left her manipulative husband behind (with a hefty divorce settlement) and relocated to the Pacific Northwest to start fresh. She opens a yoga studio, makes quirky new friends, and begins to build a peaceful life. But peace doesn’t last long.

Soon, Sophie starts receiving threats, and women’s bodies begin washing up on the shore. The town is gripped by fear, and Sophie suspects her ex-husband is behind it all. Her new partner—who also happens to be the town mortician—adds a macabre layer to the story, offering detailed insights into the victims and their gruesome deaths.

The plot thickens with cults, kidnappings, and a murder spree that seems to be orchestrated by Sophie’s ex’s new love interest, who has started a cult of her own. The motive? Revenge for Sophie’s divorce settlement—though the logic is murky, the tension is real. Emma and Morgan return to help Sophie, and the story barrels toward a violent, chaotic climax. 

<spoiler>Emma ends up killing one of the attackers in the same way her first wife Bailey was killed—a chilling full-circle moment that ties back to the first book.</spoiler>

This final installment is twisty, dark, and at times over-the-top, but it delivers on drama and emotional payoff. Sophie’s arc—from manipulated cult member to survivor and business owner—is satisfying, and the return of Emma and Morgan gives the trilogy a sense of closure. It’s not a neat ending, but it’s a cathartic one.

REVIEW: Out of the Blue: A dark sapphic romantic thriller by Marisa Billions 

RATING: 3-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.

REVIEW: Into the Blue Again by Marisa Billions (3-stars)

 After the intense and twisty "Like Sapphire Blue," I jumped straight into "Into the Blue Again," which shifts gears into a more introspective, emotionally layered story. Emma is released from prison early and begins the difficult process of rebuilding her life. This book is less about external conflict and more about healing, trauma, and the messy, nonlinear path to redemption.

A major focus is Emma’s relationship with Morgan, a woman she met while on the run in the first book. Their connection deepens through letters and Morgan’s handwritten journal, which Emma reads while incarcerated. Morgan’s story is deeply unsettling—she’s haunted by the ghost (or guilt) of her fiancé Jonathan, who died by suicide in a way designed to punish her emotionally. The ghost is cruel, manipulative, and clearly a manifestation of her unresolved trauma.

But Morgan’s past goes even deeper. She was part of a disturbing cult-like community where she was emotionally manipulated into marrying into a hetero couple. She was drawn to the wife, Sophie, but not the husband—who ultimately forces himself on her. This part of the story is handled with a raw, unflinching honesty that adds to the emotional gravity of the book.

Despite all this, Emma continues to show Morgan compassion and patience. She offers her multiple chances, even sending her airfare to help them reconnect. Their eventual reconciliation feels hard-won and emotionally satisfying, though the road there is anything but smooth.

This book is quieter than the first, but no less intense. It’s a deep dive into guilt, forgiveness, and the long shadows of trauma. If you’re already invested in Emma’s journey, this is a powerful continuation that rewards your emotional commitment.

REVIEW: Into the Blue Again by Marisa Billions 

RATING: 3-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.

REVIEW: Like Sapphire Blue by Marisa Billions (4-stars)

 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.