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A review by gallifreygirl42
Tourist Season by Brynne Weaver
5.0
Holy shit. I don’t even know where to start—because this book does not let you breathe. One minute I’m laughing at razor-sharp banter, the next I’m clutching my chest like I just got personally betrayed. The character development? Surgical. Weaver doesn’t just write characters—she builds living, breathing enigmas and then peels them open layer by twisted layer.
The plot? You think you’ve got it? Think again. This isn’t just a romance—it’s a damn murder mystery in stilettos, and the plot twists hit like a knife between the ribs. I gasped out loud. I swore.
And that ENDING?
That monstrous, perfect, soul-shattering ending?
I’m feral. I’m wrecked. I need therapy and a cigarette I don’t even smoke.
Brynne Weaver, you evil genius, you’ve officially ruined me for lesser books. “Tourist Season” isn’t just a book—it’s an experience. One that drags you in, ties you up in red string, and leaves you grinning in the dark.
Thank you to Brynne Weaver, NetGalley and Slowburn Publishing for the chance to devour this ARC.
The plot? You think you’ve got it? Think again. This isn’t just a romance—it’s a damn murder mystery in stilettos, and the plot twists hit like a knife between the ribs. I gasped out loud. I swore.
And that ENDING?
That monstrous, perfect, soul-shattering ending?
I’m feral. I’m wrecked. I need therapy and a cigarette I don’t even smoke.
Brynne Weaver, you evil genius, you’ve officially ruined me for lesser books. “Tourist Season” isn’t just a book—it’s an experience. One that drags you in, ties you up in red string, and leaves you grinning in the dark.
Thank you to Brynne Weaver, NetGalley and Slowburn Publishing for the chance to devour this ARC.