I came across the story of Jeremy Williams because he is scheduled to be executed, but the more I read about this case, the less his execution was the part that stuck with me.

In 2001, a mother reported her 5-year-old daughter missing from her bed. That little girl, Kamarie Holland, was later found dead in an abandoned house in Alabama. She had been beaten and strangled.

As horrific as that is, somehow the story gets even worse.

Kamarie’s mother, Kristy Siple, had agreed to allow Jeremy Williams to sexually assault her daughter in exchange for $2,500.

I had to sit with that for a minute because…what?

How does that conversation even happen? How does someone approach you about sexually abusing your 5-year-old child and you agree to it? And then my mind immediately went somewhere even darker: What had already happened to this baby before this?

Because I have a hard time believing that someone goes from being a loving, protective mother one day to agreeing to something this horrific the next. It makes me wonder what Kamarie’s life looked like before the night she died. What had she already endured that nobody knew about?

Those are questions we may never have answers to.

What we do know is that Kamarie deserved to be protected by the person who was supposed to protect her more than anyone else in this world.

Siple received 20 years for her role in Kamarie’s death. And I’m sorry, but 20 years does not sit right with me. At all.

I’ve seen people have the book thrown at them for far less. In my opinion, if Williams deserved the death penalty for what happened to Kamarie, then her mother deserved the same fate. She didn’t simply fail to protect her daughter. According to the case against her, she actively participated in creating the circumstances that put her child in the hands of a predator.

Twenty years will never feel like enough for that.

The part that hurts the most is thinking about Kamarie’s final moments. She was only five years old. I cannot imagine how confused and terrified she must have been. A child that young should have been worried about toys, cartoons, snacks and whether she could stay up a little later—not fighting for her life because the adults around her failed her in the worst possible way.

As for Williams, I have no sympathy for him. I will give him credit for one thing: he apparently understood the gravity of what he had done. He admitted that he was a sick person and did not spend years fighting his sentence.

But even that leaves me with another disturbing question.

What else had he done before Kamarie?

People capable of something this horrific make me wonder whether this was really the first time he had harmed someone, or simply the crime that finally exposed him.

I have no sympathy for Williams, and I have none for Siple. My sympathy is reserved for the little girl whose name should be remembered more than either of theirs.

Kamarie Holland was five years old.

She deserved a mother who protected her.

She deserved adults who kept her safe.

She deserved the opportunity to grow up.

She deserved so much better.

Rest in peace, Kamarie.

 

A Kaleidoscope of Life, Love, and Family in Who Asked You? by Terry McMillan

I recently experienced Who Asked You? by Terry McMillan through both the audiobook and the physical book, listening while I followed along with the text. This was definitely a treat because the talented Phylicia Rashad was one of the narrators. Her performance added even more depth and emotion to an already powerful story.

This book made me feel so many different emotions. It truly was a kaleidoscope of experiences, with each character offering a unique perspective on family, love, responsibility, disappointment, and survival. The different voices allowed the story to explore how members of the same family can experience the same situations in completely different ways.

Of all the characters, I found myself especially loving Betty Jean. She was the epitome of a Black woman pushing through and doing what needed to be done for everyone else, even when she did not have the energy to keep going. She carried responsibilities that were not always hers to carry, but she continued to show up for the people she loved. Her strength was inspiring, but it was also heartbreaking because her strength was often expected rather than appreciated.

The novel beautifully captured the complexity of family relationships. It showed the obstacles that arrive both expectedly and unexpectedly, as well as the ways people hurt, disappoint, support, and ultimately forgive one another. There was one tragic ending that stayed with me, but overall, I appreciated how the characters’ stories concluded. By the end, many of them seemed to have reached a better place emotionally, even if their lives were not perfect.

Who Asked You? was emotional, layered, and deeply human. It reminded me that families can be complicated, exhausting, loving, and frustrating all at the same time. I would definitely recommend this book, especially as an audiobook experience. Listening to the narrators while reading along made the characters feel even more real and made an already memorable story even more enjoyable.

 This book was genuinely entertaining, and the biggest win was that it gave me a main character I did not hate. Lulu made a few questionable decisions, but not so many that I wanted to bang my head against the wall. Progress!

It also helped that she was dealing with the effects of a brain injury, so her quirks and occasional missteps actually made sense. That is much easier to accept than a perfectly healthy character who keeps making the same terrible decisions over and over as if common sense is a limited resource.

Of course, the story still had the usual mystery-book mishaps. There were several moments when the police absolutely should have been called, but apparently that would have made things too easy. Lulu also had an attorney whose intentions were difficult to read. I am still not sure whether he would have ultimately done the right thing or found a way to screw her over if given the opportunity. Since this is a series, I would not be surprised if he shows up again. I am also wondering whether Lulu might eventually find herself caught between the detective and her crush.

This book also introduced me to something I had never heard of before: energy vortexes. A quick Google search revealed that Arizona has four primary vortex sites, and the one you visit may depend on whether you are looking for calmness, strength, balance, or some other type of spiritual reset. Lulu uses the vortexes to help ground herself after her accident, and honestly, now I want to visit one just to see whether there is any merit to it.

Overall, I would recommend this book. Someone is actively trying to kill Lulu, but the story still manages to feel light and entertaining. She is quirky without being irritating, and her personality adds a subtle humor that makes the book even more enjoyable.

This book took me on a wild ride, complete with sharp turns, suspicious characters, and enough possible suspects to make me side-eye everybody. The actual culprit was mentioned so briefly that I didn’t even think twice about her. Of course, hindsight is 20/20, and now I’m sitting here like, “Ma’am, the clues were right there. Please pay attention next time.”

Let’s get into these characters.        

The story centers around 9-year-old Avery, who goes missing after a brief altercation with her father. Now listen, I know she was a child, and I know I was supposed to feel worried and heartbroken…but Avery made that extremely difficult. Never have I felt less sympathy for a missing child in a book. She was a tiny menace, and at a certain point, I wasn’t even concerned about whether they found her. I just wanted her family to be released from the emotional hostage situation she had them living in.

Then there’s William. William, William, William. Sir. You made your situation so much worse than it had to be. My issue with him wasn’t that I thought he was guilty, because I honestly never suspected him. My issue was that he was weak, cowardly, and allergic to making a good decision. He didn’t stand up to his wife, and he was so terrified of being implicated that he backed himself into a corner that probably could have been avoided with just a little bit of backbone and common sense.

His wife, Erin, was the catalyst for the nightmare that was Avery. She made it her personal mission to ignore every red flag Avery waved directly in her face. She was embarrassed by Avery’s behavior, but apparently not embarrassed enough to give that child a consequence. Erin seemed convinced that gentle parenting was going to magically stop Avery from becoming a sociopath. Spoiler alert: it did not. Epic fail. Zero stars for the parenting plan.

Overall, this was a good read. I enjoyed seeing all the different intricacies of the characters and how their secrets, choices, and messy little lives connected. But I have to admit, this book had my morals completely off kilter. I wanted the affair partners to end up together because, honestly, their respective spouses were exhausting. I didn’t particularly want them to find the little girl. And I wanted the mother to be the culprit just because I was tired of her blaming everybody else while taking absolutely no responsibility for the chaos she helped create.

My main grievance is the abrupt ending. This is the second book I’ve read by this author, and both endings felt like she got tired, closed the laptop, and said, “That’s enough.” Ma’am, no. I need closure. I need resolution. I need at least a small bow, even if it’s from the clearance section.

I’m still deciding whether the endings annoy me enough to stop reading Shari Lapena's books altogether. The stories are good, the characters are layered, and the drama definitely keeps me turning the pages. But these sudden endings? They are testing my patience and my commitment.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to find a good urban romance because the balance can be tricky. Some are so hood that I feel like I need to duck while reading, and others pile on so much struggle that I end up depressed instead of entertained. I need a nice mix: real-life challenges, a solid plot, and romance that feels believable without making me roll my eyes.

This book by Karalynne K hit the mark for me.

Syxe had her issues, but I appreciated that the author didn’t turn her into a weak female character who needed saving every other chapter. We knew what her kryptonite was, but the story didn’t revolve around her sitting in self-pity and unpacking trauma like it was a full-time job. Her emotions felt real and relatable, but she still had strength.

Montana was also an interesting character because he wanted something better for himself, even though he couldn’t completely let go of the street life. He made mistakes, but not the kind that make you want to close the book and stare at the wall in frustration. His mistakes felt more like bad decisions made with good intentions. He was trying to shield people from consequences, thinking it would help in the long run, even when it clearly made things messier.

The supporting characters were just as interesting and seemed positioned for growth. Jackie, Syxe’s best friend, comes across loud and bold at first, but underneath all of that are some of the same insecurities everyone else is carrying. Her character shows how single moms often feel like they have to hide their vulnerabilities just to survive.

The next book in the series focuses on Jackie, and surprisingly, I’m actually looking forward to reading it. That says a lot, because I don’t always trust a series to keep my attention. But this one gave me just enough drama, growth, and romance to make me want to see what happens next.

I take pride in reading books by different authors. I enjoy a cute romance every now and then, but let’s be honest: most of them follow the same GPS route. Two people fall in love, break up over a misunderstanding that could have been solved with one honest conversation and a glass of water, then reunite just in time for their happily ever after.

Hot Single Dad by Claire Kingsley checks all of those boxes, but it also adds a few details that made the story a little unsettling for me.

Caleb is an ER doctor and a single father. After having issues with unreliable nannies, his in-laws—who apparently despise him but still want to help with childcare logistics—decide to send their younger daughter, Linnea, to care for his daughter, Charlotte.

Now let’s start with the obvious: Caleb’s love interest is his deceased wife’s sister. That alone made me pause. Then the book repeatedly points out that Linnea is only 22 and possibly too young to take on the responsibility of caring for a child. So now we have a widowed father, his much younger sister-in-law, and a child caught in the middle. I’m sorry, but my romance radar immediately started making a warning sound.

Age gaps in books already make me uncomfortable, especially when one character knew the other when they were growing up. How exactly do you fall in love with someone you watched become an adult? That feels less like romance and more like something that needs a family meeting and possibly a PowerPoint presentation.

Linnea also frustrated me. She was so afraid of her mother that she could barely ignore a phone call while being hundreds of miles away. Not answer the phone? Apparently impossible. Set a boundary? Absolutely not. And that made it hard for me to believe she was ready to step into any kind of parental role. If you cannot stand up to your mother, how are you going to help raise a child?

In the end, I could not celebrate the happy ending. The book had the usual romance formula, but the details around the relationship made the entire story feel more cringeworthy than heartwarming.

 A Twisted Faith by Gregg Olsen left me disappointed in more ways than I expected. I have often wondered how difficult it really is to brainwash people, but if this book is any indication, apparently the bar is somewhere near ankle level. I kept waiting for more background on the women involved because I needed to understand how so many people were pulled into this chaos. We know one woman went to college, and maybe she was the exception, but based on some of the decision-making in this book, I have to believe a few IEP meetings were missed along the way.

Sandy, in many ways, seemed to be the blueprint. Nick had given her so much spiritual Kool-Aid that she not only felt honored to be one of his exploits, but also privileged to know about the others. He promised her they would eventually be together, and she clung to that fantasy while he was busy building a full-blown harem with church lighting. Even worse, he used Sandy as a counselor of sorts for the other women he was manipulating. That is not romance. That is a pyramid scheme with scriptures.

To me, Sandy was not simply a victim. She was an accomplice. I believe she benefited from telling her version of the story first and securing immunity. Nick told her everything, and I have a hard time believing she did not know more than she admitted. I would not be surprised if she helped him plan Dawn’s death, or at the very least, knew enough to stop it and chose not to.

Dawn, his wife, was perhaps the saddest example of what it looks like when a woman slowly shrinks herself to survive a man. She seemed to become smaller and smaller in her own life while Nick took up all the space. He did not want her seen, heard, or centered. He kept her on the sidelines, and I believe she became his first prototype. Dawn was the woman who taught him just how much he could diminish someone and still keep control. Once he saw that he could do it to her, I think it became a challenge for him to see how far he could cast his net.

His real superpower was not charm, faith, or leadership. His real superpower was identifying broken women and knowing exactly how to exploit their wounds. He understood insecurity, loneliness, guilt, and spiritual confusion, and he used all of it like a toolbox. It felt like a game to him: how far could he go, how much could he get away with, and how many people could he convince to look the other way?

Annette was another frustrating part of the story. She wanted to be seen as a victim, but I struggled with that. She knew having an affair with him was wrong. I find it hard to believe that she truly believed God wanted her to cheat on her husband. At some point, she had to see herself deteriorating. If God had really been in it, the results would have looked very different. I think “God told me” became a convenient excuse so she would not have to face the truth about her own choices.

Nicole was equally difficult for me to understand. After everything that came out, she still married him. I cannot fully call her a victim in this situation either. Surely, she knew about the women who had come forward and the inappropriate behavior he had been accused of. I believe she knew enough to make a different choice, and yet she stayed. I sincerely hope she does not become another statistic after his prison release. I would also be very interested to know what her children think about all of this now that they are older. What is their relationship with him like? How do they process everything that happened?

One of the most disturbing parts of the book was how many people refused to believe what was painfully obvious. There were so many disappointing and complicit people circling this situation. Pastor Bob, in particular, was not as ignorant as he pretended to be. He was simply weak, and weak men do not belong in leadership. He managed to speak up briefly when it involved his daughter, but then went right back to cowering. Personally, I could not follow a man who cannot address obvious problems directly. If you cannot confront the mess in front of you, you have no business trying to lead a church.

Overall, this book was frustrating because it showed how manipulation, weak leadership, spiritual language, and willful ignorance can create the perfect storm. Nick may have been the central villain, but he was not operating in a vacuum. Too many people made excuses, looked away, or chose comfort over truth. By the end, I was not just disappointed in him. I was disappointed in almost everyone around him.