December really snuck up on us this year, but we at THP are not letting the holidays slip by without giving you our second annual book gift guide! Here’s to another year of incredible book releases and recommendations.
If you know a fellow book lover like us, these boxed sets and holiday-themed books are the perfect gift. Once you have your cart filled, then get ready for our end-of-year book roundups, which we’ll be dropping very soon!
Content warning: The Honey POP encourages mindful reading and checking the author’s website for content warnings.
Jane Austen Gift Set
Image Source: Penguin Random House
She’s an icon, she’s a legend, and she’s put together into a lovely gift set just in time for the holidays. If you know a classic lit lover or any fan of Jane Austen (guilty!), then this three-book collection is perfect. It features the books Pride and Prejudice,Emma, and Sense and Sensibility. In case you haven’t heard, we’re celebrating more than the holidays this year—we’re celebrating 250 years of Jane Austen’s timeless novels!
Order the Jane Austen gift set here!
An Ember In The Ashes Box Set
Image Source: Penguin Random House
If you love epic fantasy series as much as we do, then take a look at the complete box set for An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir. This edition features all four books in the series: An Ember in the Ashes, A Torch Against the Night, A Reaper at the Gates, and A Sky Beyond the Storm. We all know at least one person who’s been putting off reading this series until now. And this box set is sure to convince them to pick it up!
The next recommendation on our holiday book gift guide is Mint to Be by Katie Cicatelli-Kuc! It’s a cozy winter romance with a special scratch & sniff cover that will have you feeling festive all the way into the new year. It follows Emma Sherman, who’s returning to her hometown for the holidays. She left for school in New York City without saying goodbye to her best friend Aiden. And Aiden never got the chance to confess his feelings before Emma left…
A Hogwarts Christmas: An Official Harry Potter Coloring Book
Image Source: Scholastic
We wouldn’t be in the holiday spirit without a themed coloring book! The Harry Potter series have become a staple to our holiday traditions. A Hogwarts Christmas by Dizzy Devil Designs calls to our inner child and features some of the most iconic winter and Christmas scenes. For all us Potterheads and coloring fanatics out there, we can think of nothing better to do while on our annual marathon of all eight movies!
Order the A Hogwarts Christmas coloring book here!
Sunrise On The Reaping: Collectors’ Gift Edition
Image Source: Scholastic
The bad news: we still have a year until the next Hunger Games movie comes out. The good news: Sunrise on the Reaping by Suzanne Collins is getting a gorgeous collector’s edition to tide us over. We all know dystopian fiction has been making the ultimate comeback. So on behalf of all the dystopian readers in your life, you don’t want to pass up on this gift edition with new cover art, stained edges, and more!
Order the Sunrise on the Reaping: Collectors’ Gift Edition here!
How did you like our 2025 book gift guide? Do any of these books and box sets speak out to you? Which ones are you giving your favorite bookworm this year? Let us know on Twitter! You can also find us over on Facebook and Instagram!
Want to hear some of our audiobook recommendations? Here’s the latest!
Summary: Thea has a secret. She can tell how long someone has left to live just by touching them. Not only that, but she can transfer life from one person to another—something she finds out the hard way when her best friend, Ruth, suffers a fatal head injury on a night out. Desperate to save her, Thea accidentally kills the man responsible and lets his life flow directly into Ruth.
Thea comes to understand that she has a godlike power, but how to use it quickly becomes a question of self-control. Is it really so wrong to take a little life from a bad person—say, a very annoying boss—and gift it to someone who’s truly good? Realizing she needs to harness her newfound skills, Thea creates an Ethical Guide to Murder. But as she embarks on her mission to punish the wicked and give the deserving more time, she finds good and bad aren’t as simple as she first thought.
How can she really know who deserves to live and die, and can she figure out her own rules before Ruth’s borrowed time runs out?
Image Source: Courtesy of HarperCollins
The premise sounds like something dreamed up after a late‑night crime podcast binge: what if you could see the exact moment someone will die just by touching them, and what if you could siphon off their remaining hours for someone else? That’s the hook of AN ETHICAL GUIDE TO MURDER, the debut novel by Jenny Morris. The story follows twenty‑six‑year‑old Londoner Thea, a self‑described flake who barely scraped through law school and now works in HR while living with her medical‑student best friend, Ruth. During a night out celebrating Ruth’s success, Thea brushes her roommate’s hand and suddenly knows she will die at precisely 11:44 p.m. When Thea later snatches life from the drunk man who knocks Ruth over, transferring his remaining years to save her friend, she realizes she’s stumbled into a power normally reserved for comic books and ancient myth. Those early pages set up the novel’s central dilemma: if you could decide who deserves to live and who deserves to die, what rules would guide you?
So, She Wrote An Ethical Rule Book
Faced with a godlike ability, most of us would panic. Thea makes a spreadsheet. Together with Sam, a high‑powered lawyer and former flame, she tries to codify her newfound talent into something altruistic. The result is the “ethical guide to murder,” a checklist of justifications she’ll use before taking someone’s life: the target must have caused excessive harm, shown no remorse, and be likely to hurt others again. Bonus points if they’ve already killed someone. These rules, borrowed from her own conscience rather than any legal code, sound simple until they collide with messy reality. A belligerent stranger at a club or a corrupt boss might seem like easy marks, but Thea quickly learns that people rarely fit neatly into columns of good and bad.
This tension between intent and action is where Morris has fun. When Thea lends extra years to a masseuse as a generous tip or takes a few months from an annoying colleague, you start to feel complicit. It’s disturbingly relatable to fantasize about redistributing time from the unpleasant to the deserving. The spreadsheet isn’t enough; morality leaks out around the edges, and Thea’s attempts to play judge and jury feel more like someone gamifying guilt than a righteous crusade.
Dark Humor In A Morality Play
One reason the novel might resonate with younger readers is its tonal agility. Morris is a behavioral scientist with a PhD in cognitive psychology. That background peeks through in the way she balances ethical debate with deadpan humor. Thea’s existential crisis is peppered with observational jokes about HR bureaucracy, London nightlife, and the absurdity of trying to quantify morality with bullet points. In one scene, she refers to her power as a “life‑hack” that would make productivity gurus blush. Thea may be saving lives, but she still complains about office politics and ends up planning kills during spin class. That juxtaposition feels very twenty‑first century: serious questions about justice delivered alongside memes about procrastination.
Morris never lets the humor undermine the stakes. Beneath the quips lies a grieving woman traumatized by her parents’ deaths in a hit‑and‑run. The accident left her with a constant need to right wrongs, and her vigilante streak is as much about revenge as altruism! As Thea’s body count rises and Sam’s influence grows, the tone shifts from quirky urban fantasy to thriller. Theirs is a relationship built on shared secrets and convenience; Sam pushes Thea to kill for his own vision of justice, and we’re left wondering whether she’s fallen for him or for the ease of having someone else make the hard decisions.
Characters You Love To Side‑Eye
Readers expecting a plucky heroine may be surprised. Thea is messy. She flunked her bar exams, half‑heartedly chases a career she doesn’t really want, and uses her supernatural gift as both a coping mechanism and a power trip. Her best friend Ruth is grounded and earnest, a doctor who believes in the Hippocratic oath even when it clashes with Thea’s vigilantism. Sam, with his endless legal connections and questionable ethics, oscillates between ally and antagonist. He sees Thea’s talent as a business opportunity, a way to remove obstacles and curry favor, and his moral compass points wherever the money flows. Even Thea’s crusty grandfather, who raised her after her parents’ accident, brings complexity; he embodies the traditional values Thea flouts yet quietly approves of her loyalty to Ruth.
This cast makes Thea’s world feel like a dysfunctional found family. Their dynamics lean into the blurred lines between friendship and co‑dependence: who hasn’t kept a toxic ex around because they feel like there’s unfinished business? Thea’s loyalty to Ruth is the novel’s beating heart; their bond, forged through childhood illness and shared trauma, anchors the narrative. When Thea’s actions threaten that friendship, the story’s moral stakes become personal.
When The Fantasy Gets Uncomfortably Real
The novel’s high concept might sound fantastical, but many of the themes mirror contemporary debates: restorative justice, cancel culture, and who gets to decide what accountability looks like. Morris asks you to confront your own biases. Would you shave years off a murderer’s life to save an innocent? If a corrupt CEO loses a few months of retirement, is that justice or vengeance? And what about smaller, pettier infractions; the commuter who pushes past you on the train, the politician who lies on television? Thea’s internal monologue touches on all of these, and it’s hard not to imagine one’s own ethical spreadsheet.
The book also critiques the allure of vigilantism. It’s seductive to believe in personal retribution, yet the plot shows how quickly righteous action becomes self‑serving. As the story progresses, Thea becomes addicted to the rush of playing god and justifying her choices by cherry‑picking examples of bad behavior. This slippery slope is dramatized when her and Sam’s schemes veer into financial crimes and personal vendettas. The once‑clear lines blur until she’s unsure whether she’s acting to protect others or to soothe her own unresolved anger.
Tempo, Twists, And The Payoff
Pacing can make or break high‑concept fiction, and AN ETHICAL GUIDE TO MURDER mostly delivers. The first half feels like an episodic series of vignettes in which Thea tests out her rules and stumbles through moral messes. Some readers may find these chapters repetitive; the thrill of discovering a new superpower gives way to a rhythm of identification, judgment, and redistribution of time. However, the back half accelerates as Thea and Sam’s enterprises unravel. A financial scandal, an investigation into Ruth’s extended lifespan, and Thea’s hunt for her parents’ killer converge in a taut finale that justifies the slow burn! The climax forces Thea to confront the very question she’s been avoiding: can one ever balance the scales when playing with life itself?
Why It Clicks With Younger Readers
There’s a reason this book has been popping up on BookTok feeds and in DMs between friends. The central premise, a woman with an Excel file deciding who deserves more time, speaks to a generation raised on side hustles and moral complexity. For an audience that grew up watching superheroes dismantle systems but also wrestles with the consequences of “canceling” someone, Thea’s story feels like an allegory. It asks whether individual action can substitute for institutional justice, a question that resonates when trust in systems is low.
The novel’s mix of gallows humor and genuine philosophical inquiry also reflects the way many young adults process trauma: through memes, sarcasm, and earnest conversation in equal measure. Thea’s penchant for witty asides while discussing murder invites the kind of darkly comic commentary that thrives on social media threads. Even the ethics spreadsheet has inspired readers to create their own “life‑swap bingo cards” online. The book’s cultural footprint shows that high‑concept crime fiction can be both thought‑provoking and wildly entertaining!
The Verdict
AN ETHICAL GUIDE TO MURDER is messy, provocative, and undeniably fun. Its central conceit will stretch your suspension of disbelief, but its characters and the questions it raises about justice and self‑interest will keep you up at night. Young readers will appreciate the mix of dark comedy and serious introspection, and even those who find Thea unlikable may still be captivated by her journey. Ultimately, the book succeeds not because it tells us who should live or die, but because it forces us to confront why we feel qualified to make that call. It’s a novel that invites you to argue with yourself, jot down rules, cross them out, and then throw the list away! If you’re craving a fresh voice in crime fiction that doubles as a philosophical thought experiment, this one’s worth your time.
Maybe the real crime isn’t the kill, but how casually we assume we’re the ones who should decide who gets to live!
Content Warnings: death (including parental death), car accident, drowning, violence, psychological manipulation, grief
Summary: A dead teacher at an elite boarding school. Four students who had every reason to want her gone. Who is the monster?
At an elite New England boarding school, eight students are selected for an exclusive storytelling workshop with the one and only Meredith Graffam—an enigmatic writer, director, and actress. For sixteen days, they will live in the isolated estate of the school’s founder, surrounded by snowy woods and a storm-tossed seas. Only one of the chosen will walk away with a lifechanging opportunity to realize their creative dreams.
Everyone, including Graffam, has a compelling reason to be there—Effy, the orphan, Isaac, the legacy, Ness, the wallflower, Ramon, the outsider, and Arlo, whose unexpected arrival leaves Effy spiraling—but only the most ambitious will last the term. Graffam’s unorthodox methods push the students past the breaking point, revealing their darkest secrets, taking unthinkable risks, and slowly starting to turn on one another. But Graffam never expected they would turn on her . . .
Image Source: Courtesy of Penguin Random House
Ever wondered what secrets lurk behind ivy-covered boarding school walls? Jennifer Niven’s latest novel When We Were Monsters invites readers into an elite world where ambition runs high, creativity is a blood sport, and not everyone makes it out alive. In this engaging new YA thriller, Niven, best known for heartfelt favorites like All the Bright Places, trades small-town angst for a dark academia setting dripping with suspense and stormy New England atmosphere. The result is a story as dynamic and fresh as it is chilling!
Let’s break down why When We Were Monsters is capturing attention and imaginations, especially among younger readers. From its killer premise (literally) to the relatable fears it taps into, here are the key takeaways from this conversational yet polished review of Niven’s newest page-turner.
1. A Killer Premise That Hooks You Early
Niven doesn’t waste time drawing us in; the novel opens with a line that practically dares you not to read on: “The day before we kill Meredith Graffam is calm and blue. Like Massachusetts in summer after rain.” With that evocative sentence, we’re immediately thrust into a murder plot at an elite New England boarding school. The victim? Meredith Graffam, a charismatic yet feared teacher running an exclusive 16-day storytelling workshop for eight hand-picked students. The twist? Each of those students has a motive, and each had every reason to want her gone. It’s a classic whodunit setup, a dead mentor, a locked-room (or rather, locked-mansion) mystery, but given a contemporary spin that feels anything but dated.
This killer premise hooks you early by combining the glittering upper echelons of society with the creeping suspicion that monsters walk among us. The phrase “Who is the monster?” becomes the novel’s haunting refrain. Is the monster one of the ambitious teens vying for their big break? Is it Meredith herself, whose teaching methods verge on psychological warfare? Or is it something more metaphorical: the darkness lurking in each of them? By posing these questions up front, Niven crafts an irresistible hook. You find yourself playing detective from page one, looking for clues in every tense interaction and snowy corridor. The hook is set, and trust us, you won’t escape it easily!
2. Dark Academia Vibes With A Gothic Twist
If you’re a fan of dark academia aesthetics, think old manor houses, secretive seminars, and stormy nights, this book delivers in spades. The setting is an isolated estate on the New England coast, complete with “snowy woods and storm-tossed seas” as a backdrop. That remote mansion might as well be a character itself: its halls bristle with decades of secrets, and its walls seem to whisper dread. There’s even a dangerous cliffside nearby, upping the stakes (and the gothic drama) as the story progresses. It’s easy to imagine candlelight flickering against wood-paneled walls while a nor’easter howls outside; a perfect stage for things to go very, very wrong.
Seasoned readers might catch homages to classic gothic thrillers. The atmosphere is drenched in unease, wrapping around you like a thick fog. Yet, Niven keeps it fresh for a younger generation. This isn’t a dusty old haunted house tale; it’s more like The Secret History meets Pretty Little Liars. The students wear contemporary school uniforms and trade barbed comments and furtive glances in the age of Instagram (though phones aren’t much help when you’re snowed in at a remote estate). The result is a vibe that’s both classic and cutting-edge; as if the Brontë sisters got a TikTok account and a taste for murder mysteries. It’s atmospheric, yes, but never boring. You can practically smell the old library books and feel the chill in the air as you read, completely immersed in Niven’s wintry scholastic nightmare.
3. Characters With Secrets (And Scars) To Spare
Any good thriller needs a compelling cast of suspects, and here we get eight teenage creatives who are anything but cookie-cutter. Each student arrives at the workshop with baggage and burning ambitions:
Effy: the orphan determined to turn her tragic past into story gold. She’s piecing together a tale about the betrayal that led to her mother’s death, and that personal quest makes her equal parts vulnerable and fierce.
Arlo: the outsider who wasn’t originally invited. He hopes to publish a novel and maybe win back Effy’s heart after ghosting her three years ago. (Yes, there’s history there, and it’s juicy!) His unexpected arrival immediately puts everyone on edge, especially Effy.
Isaac: the legacy student under pressure to live up to his family name.
Ness: the wallflower who observes more than she lets on.
Ramon: the wild card from a different background, fighting for his place among these elites.
And that’s just to name a few. Everyone, including Graffam herself, has a compelling reason to be there. They’re competing for a life-changing prize, only one will win this coveted mentorship opportunity, so jealousy and drive are dialed up to ten. It’s a recipe for drama even before anything sinister happens.
What’s also intriguing is how Niven peels back each character’s layers through the intense workshop challenges. Dark secrets? Check. One by one, under Graffam’s demanding eye, the students reveal things they’d rather keep hidden. The novel alternates between Effy’s and Arlo’s perspectives, giving us intimate access to their thoughts. We feel Effy’s anxiety as old wounds resurface, and we ride along with Arlo’s determination to prove himself; not just to Graffam but to the girl whose heart he broke. The dual POV adds a relatable depth: one moment you’re in Effy’s head, wrestling with grief and attraction, the next you’re with Arlo, balancing guilt and ambition. It’s an effective one-two punch that keeps the narrative personal even as the external stakes (you know, little things like murder accusations) escalate.
You will likely find pieces of yourself in these characters. Who hasn’t felt like the outsider at some point, or yearned to redeem a past mistake? The students’ vulnerabilities make them more than potential killers; they feel real and flawed, like people you might know…if your friend group was comprised of aspiring novelists and filmmakers with a possible murderer among them.
4. A Mentor From Your Nightmares
At the center of this storm stands Meredith Graffam, the famed writer-director-actress who runs the workshop. Imagine the intimidating aura of your most challenging teacher, then crank it up to eleven. Graffam is enigmatic, brilliant, and more than a little unorthodox. She’s the kind of mentor who might quote Shakespeare one minute and set a near-impossible creative task the next, all with a serene smile that says, “Trust me.” Under her tutelage, the teens are pushed past their breaking point. She has them confront their fears, spill their secrets, and push their art to extremes. It’s the sort of high-pressure, borderline cruel mentorship that breeds both geniuses and, well, monsters!
You will love to hate Meredith Graffam. She’s a charismatic genius with a cruel streak, a character so larger-than-life that everyone’s drawn to her despite the fear she instills. At times, you catch glimpses of a more human side, hints of regret, or empathy, but just when you think you’ve got her figured out, she reminds you who’s in charge. This dynamic creates a delicious tension: Graffam is ostensibly there to help these kids achieve their dreams, but her methods and motives are suspect from day one. Is she a villain, a victim, or something in between? That ambiguity makes every interaction with her crackle. And it makes the question of “who turned on whom” all the more compelling when she ends up dead.
One can’t help but think Niven had fun crafting this character. In a recent interview, she revealed that Graffam was partly inspired by a real professor who wronged her in college. That real-life bitterness adds an authentic bite to Graffam’s scenes. She’s the embodiment of every authority figure who ever abused their power, and seeing students push back (or plot back) is oddly satisfying. By the end, Meredith Graffam stands as one of the more memorable YA mentors in recent memory; not entirely a monster, but far from innocent!
5. Thrills, Twists, And A Slow-Burn Suspense
Though When We Were Monsters involves a murder, don’t expect a typical breakneck thriller with jump scares at every turn. Niven opts for a slow-burn suspense that simmers from start to finish. The tension in this story is like a low, eerie hum in the background; you might not notice it at first, but before long, it’s under your skin. From the moment the students step into that isolated mansion, an impending sense of doom blankets the narrative. Little conflicts and strange occurrences keep stacking up: a rivalry here, a betrayal there, an unexplained midnight scream down the hall. Each chapter leaves you with that unsettled feeling, wondering what fresh drama the next day will bring.
The payoff for this steady build is a climax that feels both shocking and earned. No spoilers here, but let’s just say that by the time the big reveal comes, you’ll be clutching the book with clammy hands. Some savvy readers might guess the culprit before it’s revealed. The novel plays fair with its clues, but even if you do, the journey is the real thrill. Niven keeps the twists coming in the interpersonal dynamics as much as the murder mystery itself. Alliances form and fracture among the teens. First kisses happen at decidedly inconvenient moments. Secret alliances and lies complicate what could have been straightforward investigations. It’s messy and human in the best way!
One standout aspect is how Niven maintains suspense without relying on gore or cheap tricks. The dread is psychological. Much of the fear comes from watching characters we care about make potentially catastrophic choices. The students are asked to do some truly alarming things in the name of “art” (there were moments we thought, “Nope, couldn’t be us…” We would’ve bolted from that mansion on day two). This creates a different kind of horror: not jump-out-of-your-seat scares, but the creeping realization of how far people will go for success or validation. By the end, you might find yourself questioning what you would be willing to do in their shoes. It’s a thriller that makes you think, even as it keeps you entertained.
6. Emotional Depth And A Sizzling Undercurrent Of Romance
Despite the spooky setting and deadly stakes, this novel beats with a lot of emotion at its heart. Jennifer Niven made her name writing about teen feelings, love, loss, mental health, and those themes haven’t gone away just because there’s a murder afoot. In fact, the emotional arcs give the story its soul. Effy’s journey through grief (she’s still haunted by her mother’s death and the unanswered questions around it) adds a surreal layer to the narrative. Her writing project for the workshop forces her to confront that tragedy head-on, which is both cathartic and painful to witness. Arlo, for his part, carries guilt not just about how he left things with Effy but something more secret, too. When these two share scenes, the pages practically spark with unresolved feelings and tension.
Yes, there’s a romance subplot here, and it’s a good one. Niven weaves in a “sizzling romance between two stubborn, wounded people” (hello again, Effy and Arlo) that doesn’t overwhelm the thriller but complements it. Their chemistry offers a ray of light in an otherwise dark tale. It’s the kind of push-and-pull romance where a heated argument might suddenly turn into a surprise kiss, or a midnight collaboration on a story becomes an excuse to be close. Fans of Niven’s earlier love stories will be happy to know she hasn’t abandoned heartfelt moments; she’s just set them against a backdrop of danger this time. And because the novel is third-person and written with a bit of journalistic polish, the romance avoids sappy territory. Instead, it feels earnest and earned, a natural outcome of two people thrown together under extreme circumstances.
By the final chapters, don’t be surprised if you’re not only eager to learn whodunit but also genuinely invested in whether these characters heal their hearts. In the midst of lies and accusations, there are scenes of genuine connection, friends confiding fears, a wistful midnight dance in the snow, perhaps, reminding us that even in a story about “monsters,” humanity shines through. This blend of thrills and feels is classic Niven. It’s what makes the book resonate on a deeper level. You come for the murder mystery, you stay because you actually care about these people making it out okay (or as okay as possible).
7. Why When We Were Monsters Stands Out
Jennifer Niven has taken a bold step outside the expected with When We Were Monsters, and it pays off. The book manages to be edgy and poetic at the same time, much like an adrenaline rush with a soul. It combines the suspense of a psychological thriller with the heart of a coming-of-age story. In other words, she’s serving up something new that still feels like Niven; fiercely emotional and compulsively readable.
This novel also taps into the current YA zeitgeist. Dark academia is having a moment, and Niven’s take offers a fresh perspective by centering creative competition and the pressure to succeed. It asks timely questions: What do young people sacrifice for ambition? How do trauma and talent intersect? And who do we become when we’re pushed to the brink? The story doesn’t preach answers, but it gives you plenty to chew on between thriller beats.
Stylistically, the narrative flows with a clear, conversational tone that will appeal to younger audiences without ever talking down to them. There’s an almost cinematic quality to the prose, no surprise given Niven’s screenwriting chops, that makes you feel like you’re watching the drama unfold in real time. The dialogue snaps, the descriptions transport you, and the pacing keeps you turning pages late into the night.
Ultimately, When We Were Monsters is more than just a murder mystery at boarding school. It’s a tale of creativity and corruption, of young love and old grudges, of what it means to confront the monsters around us; and those within us. By the final chapter, one thing is clear: Jennifer Niven isn’t afraid to venture into darker territory, and she does so while keeping that empathetic touch that made readers fall in love with her work in the first place. The result is a book that feels at once eerily haunting and achingly human. Only the monstrous will survive; and in Niven’s capable hands, that makes for one heck of an engaging read!
A taut, atmospheric thriller that balances chills with emotional depth; When We Were Monsters is Jennifer Niven like you’ve never seen her before!
