Brittney Warf

Reading Trading Prisons didn’t just move me, it completely dismantled me. Anxiety, fear, overthinking, and the suffocating weight of past regrets don't just capture Jessie’s story; they bled straight off the page and into my own heart. Jessie has been caged her entire life in prisons built by men, by her childhood, and by her own mind.

Alicia Dawn, I was physically sick reading this. My heart was racing, my palms were sweating, and my chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. I found myself practically screaming at the pages, “Get out, Jessie! Just get out!”

I didn't think I could hate a name so deeply, but I will never hear the name 'Colt' again without feeling a wave of nausea. And that ending? The sheer audacity. My jaw was on the floor, my hands were shaking, and my soul just…shattered. I wanted so desperately for Jessie and Kieran to have a beautiful, clean, happy ending. Maybe you could argue they got one, but it left me completely broken, sobbing as I looked at my own daughter.

God, this was painful. I wanted to hate this book. I wanted to hurl my Kindle across the room and never look back. But it forces you to face the brutal, devastating reality of domestic violence. It’s a cage with an open door where the victim is convinced they hold the lock. Jesse finally opened it...but the cost absolutely ruined me.

Strength, resilience, and healing—the perfect representation of Myla’s hometown, Cedarwood.

In this atmospheric debut novel, we follow Myla as she is forced to return to the hometown she fled sixteen years ago following her mother’s death. As a crime podcaster, Myla is uniquely equipped to dig into the mysteries of the past, but she must first confront the very childhood trauma she was forced to forget at just eight years old.

The author does a fantastic job of establishing a palpable mood. The story is wonderfully eerie and somber, beautifully capturing the heavy stages of grief and the agonizing process of reclaiming lost memories. Cedarwood itself feels like a living character, mirroring Myla's internal struggle between pain and healing. As a premise, the storyline is incredibly strong and hooks you from the start.

While I genuinely enjoyed the book, I found myself wishing for a bit more substance regarding character development. There was a emotional barrier that kept me from feeling completely, deeply invested in Myla’s journey.

Additionally, the narrative relied heavily on repetition. It was difficult to tell if this cyclical storytelling was a deliberate choice to establish Myla as an unreliable narrator, or if it was a baseline meant to set up a larger character arc for a future sequel.

Despite the repetitive pacing, this is a highly commendable debut. It is a poignant exploration of what it means to remember, and it will certainly resonate with readers who enjoy slow-burn, atmospheric mystery.