Anne Bonny #BookReview Resin by @AuthorAneRiel #NewRelease #Literary #Thriller @TransworldBooks Protected Treasured Trapped . . .

Resin by Ane Riel
Review Copy

The multi-award-winning international bestseller.
Suspenseful and heart-breaking, Resin is the story of what can happen when you love someone too much – when your desire to keep them safe becomes the thing that could irrevocably harm them.
Liv died when she was just six years old. At least, that’s what the authorities think.
Her father knew he was the only one who could keep her safe in this world. So one evening he left the isolated house his little family called home, he pushed their boat out to sea and watched it ruin on the rocks. Then he walked the long way into town to report his only child missing.
But behind the boxes and the baskets crowding her Dad’s workshop, Liv was hiding. This way her Dad had said, she’d never have to go to school; this way, she’d never have to leave her parents.
This way, Liv would be safe.

My Review:

WOW! Where to start with this one!!!!!!
The whole novel can be summarised with one word: disturbing!
Which I do not mean in a derogatory manner. The novel focuses around one of possibly the most disturbing families I have ever read! Straight from the opening sentence, you know you’re in for a treat with this one. . . .

‘The white room was completely dark when my dad killed my granny’ – Liv

Meet Liv, your strange, awkward child protagonist. She tells us about the home-made Christmas presents and family hoarding. Even her granny being smothered, set alight and buried is all too nonchalant for Liv. . .
‘After all, none of us is meant to suffer’

The family live on ‘The Head’ a small isolated island, which is linked to the larger island Korsted. But the family are the only occupants at The Head. They steal what they need from others and this is a routine father/daughter night time activity.

‘In time I learned we weren’t like other people’ – Liv

Throughout the novel there are a series of letters from Liv’s mother written to Liv. To be completely honest, they only add to the whole strange/weirdo vibe of the whole family. . .
‘I don’t know whether to call our life a family story or horror story’ – Mum
Even further alarming with words like. . . ‘He may kill me’

This is a family in desperate need of some social services involvement. Immediately!

Liv’s father is Jen Horder and through the novel we learn his backstory and family history. Prepare yourselves!
We also learn how he met and fell in love with Liv’s mother. His mother Else wasn’t too keen on the union between the pair and considering she dies in the opening scenes, I don’t think she was far from wrong!

When Granny Else plans to take Liv away to the mainland for schooling. A premeditated plan is hatched.
One that will see Liv disappear!

‘Live knew that not being seen was a mater of life and death’

This novel is dark, disturbing and yet I could NOT look away from the pages. The scene for which the title gets its name, is beyond my understanding. The last 20/30 pages make for intense reading! I am absolutely HOOKED!

Brilliantly disturbing 4.5*

Ane Riel

Anne Bonny #BlogTour #Extract Fishnet by Kirstin Innes #ContemporaryFiction @bwpublishing

Fishnet by Kirstin Innes

Rona Leonard walks out of her sister Fiona’s flat and disappears.

Six years on, worn down by work, child care and the aching absence in her life, Fiona’s existence is blown apart by the revelation that, before she disappeared, Rona had been working as a prostitute.

Bittersweet, sensual and rich, Fishnet is a story of love and grief, interwoven with an empathetic, controversial take on the sex industry and its workers. An outstanding novel, it challenges assumptions about power, vulnerability and choice.


I’d vomited so hard that I’d made myself cry great fat smudges of mascara, dripping down onto the cheap burnished metal trough that deputised for sinks here. The toilets were designed for female friendship in 1999; two pans to a cubicle, no lids. I suppose that made it harder to do drugs on. I heard three songs morph into different sets of beats while I was in there, carefully washing my face, scouring off every streak, squinting at myself in the crappy tin mirror, and starting again. None of my group came in to check I was okay, although I did get a motherly hug off a Slosher, gin on her breath and a smothering floral scent as she pulled my face in to her big soft bosom, rocked me, told me aw, darlin, it’ll be all right. You’ll be all right. We’ve all been there, eh?
I don’t think we have.
Three henz and Heather were still on the floor when I resurfaced, repeating the invisible pole dance endlessly for a room that had moved on, to a song where a robot’s voice had an orgasm: ooh-ooh-ooh-OOHYEAH. The others were clustered around the bar, around those boys in boxy shirts who seemed to have bred four more boxy friends. Samira was there, holding herself apart, stately, and of course attracting far more attention than the rest of the pack together.
The man who’d caught my sleeve materialised out of the darkness in front of me again.
‘So, you not remember your old friends, eh doll? You too good for us now, eh?’
I made for the bar. He followed.
‘Aye, well we remember you, though, darlin. We all remember you round here.’
He laughed. It wasn’t an unpleasant laugh, but it ended in the long slow hack of a life-and-death smoker.
‘There’s precious few as talented as you around these days.’
I turned round. He wasn’t so old, really, quite possibly still in his forties, although the drink had taken its toll, etched its years into his face.
‘Oh aye. No forgetting you, hen.’ I looked straight at him.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, over the music. ‘I really think you must have confused me with someone else.’

Kirstin Innes

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