Book Review: The Ruinous Love Trilogy

 Since the COVID-19 pandemic, a wave of interest in true crime rose. The isolation also made thousands, possibly millions, desperate for human connection. In the last five years, dark romance and fantasy romance has become a popular genre. 

TikTok is a big contributor to the popularity of certain books and genres. Walking into a Barnes and Noble, you'll find a "#BookTok" table in the main walking areas of each store. One book that is racing to the top is Butcher and Blackbird by Brynne Weaver, which lead to the sequels in the trilogy, Leather and Lark and Scythe and Sparrow.

Butcher and Blackbird

The introduction to the synopsis of this book (pictured right) begins with "The viral TikTok friends-to-lovers dark romantic comedy full of murder, chaos, and sizzling chemistry — unlike anything you've read before."

This is one of many books that gained popularity thanks to social media, like TikTok. Although not everyone found it thanks to social media, this book exploded on the bookish side of media. 

One reviewer on Goodreads, an older book reviewing site, called the book, "Mr and Mrs. Smith plus Dexter with a little Silence of the Lambs thrown in for extra seasoning."

This is a half-cheesy, half-lightly grotesque read, so be sure to check the trigger warnings at the beginning of the book before any of the story content. It's a dark strangers-to-friends-to-lovers type romance.

Leather and Lark

This sequel is equally as high paced as the first book in the series, following two characters introduced in the first book. 

The synopsis ends with noting the type of romance this book is. "As Lachlan and Lark navigate the dark world that binds them together, it becomes impossible to discern their fake marriage from a real one. But it’s not just familiar dangers that haunt them. There’s another phantom lurking on their doorstep. 

"And this one has come for blood."

This forced-proximity/marriage of convenience  romance is unique as the trigger warnings are as bizarre as the first book with some warnings garnering a little more cautious from certain readers.

Scythe and Sparrow

The final book in the trilogy only recently came out at the start of February 2025. 

Another reviewer from Goodreads found that this Brynne Weaver series got her to enjoy the genre of "dark rom-com" while having "a great time" reading this final installment. 

This book is more of a slow-burn romance, moving a little too slow for some, as it follows another two characters introduced in a previous book of the series. 

"The problem is, not every broken heart can be sewn back together," the synopsis says, alluding to the slower pace of the book, "and the longer you stay in one place, the more likely your ghosts will catch up."

The Ruinous Love Trilogy overall

Brynne Weaver

If you'd like a bit of an emotional rollercoaster series with a medium length to each of the three books (each about 370 pages), while also adding elements of different kinds of romance and crime, this is a fun series to read.

Each book touches on a different romance genre (strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, marriage of convenience, forced proximity and slow burn) while connecting each book to each other and through a certain group of characters. 

Be sure to read the content warnings of each. Some are funny, some are bizarre, some are worth caution, some allude to the wild ride that the book will be.

Even your partners can read along and spark a bookish conversation about the general absurdity of some parts of the books.

Overall, I give this series a 8.5 out of 10. 

Obituary of Family Member

Djordjo Krajisnik died Thursday, February 27, 2025, afternoon in his Kernersville home due to impacted health from a series of strokes in previous years. He was born in 1949. His funeral service was held at St. Basil of Ostrog Serbian Orthodox Church on Monday, March 3, 2025, and his internment in the church's Cemetery of St. Vasilije Ostroski. 

Djordjo was born in Bosnia and Herzegovina. He was married to Bosilika Krajisnik and they had three sons and one daughter together. He later fought for the Serbian forces during the Yugoslav War during the early 90s. On immigration to the United States of America in 1997, he found work as a bus cleaner until his retirement. 

He is survived by his wife, Bosilika Krajisnik, and their four children: sons Zeljko (wife, Stana), Radenko (divorced), and Dajan Krajisnik, daughter Gospava (husband, Cesar). He is also survived by his granddaughters Casandra and Anna M. Krajisnik (through son, Radenko. Both reside with their mother.) and grandson Boris Simouchi Krajisnik (through daughter, Gospava. Resides with her).

Major Figure Opinion in 500

Imagine never belonging. You've done everything to belong your entire life but one or another thing about you is enough to deny you belong.

Imagine knowing you can never truly fit it. You deny it your whole life but your gut tells you to stop hoping for the impossible.

Imagine your superpower is something mundane. Something that masks your greatest failure but it's not the same thing between the groups you're trying to fit into.

Imagine being the greatest disappointment to the world only until you're useful. Then, when your usefulness is all used up, you're nothing again.

That's my life. 

That's my fear.

That's my reality.

Again. 

In 2016, I realized how much my country hated me. Not me individually, but as a general statistic in a sick plan to minimize my identity. 

Then I realized how much my country despised me in 2024. This time, it was all aspects of my identity: Hispanic/Latino, a woman, first-generation American with immigrant parents, first-generation college student, low income.

"For the People" has been erased under the leadership of Donald J. Trump, a man with no political background before his first wreck of a presidential term and little independent success in his business dealings. "For the People" has been quietly rewritten as "For the (top 1% of) People."

In a nutshell, President Trump is a man convicted on 34 felony counts, a known racist and xenophobe, a failed businessman that filed multiple times for bankruptcy but hid it, a liar, the face of a country widely seen as a disappointment and, frankly, a despicable human being who has never made sense even when I tried.

I am not his enemy. I don't see myself as the enemy. I see myself as part of what the American Dream was supposed to be.

The American Dream is now synonymous with what's convenient to the white rich men in the 1% at the top want... and it's plainly obvious, they want a White America.

Trump and his horde make me his enemy. He sees me as a false representation of the American Dream, as a criminal despite my having no record. I fear that being white-passing would make him detest me more than my being a woman or of Hispanic/Latino descent. 

White-passing means I'm just covering up my heritage, not that I can control it.

I'm unwanted by his government in whatever way you look at it.

In journalism, I am able to be unbiased when the work requires it. Sometimes it hurts. I always must understand that the work isn't to be of service to my emotions. 

Journalism is to be of service to the masses regardless of if they like it or not.

Politics was supposed to be that way, to serve the People and not your own pockets. 

Journalism is dying and politics is rotten.

The worst part of it? Dirty politics became especially expected under President Trump and biased journalism became the unfortunate norm.

The American Dream, where immigrants are supposed to be welcome and growth and movement between the classes was to be expected, is dead and rotted.

Journalism, which upholds truth and justice in reporting for the people, is hanging on by a thread. It serves either end of a severely extreme spectrum.

Politics is in its worst rot due to the infestation of hatred, self-service and sheer ridiculousness that Trump and his goons brought.  

Trump is not for the People. Trump is not for his party. Trump is a joke. 

I will never be wanted in the Neo-Nazi America that Trump's position in power is bringing. I will never be accepted by my people at face because I don't look like them. I am unwanted and erased because media says my people are copper-toned and not light skinned.

I have no place in Trump's America because his America is white and submissive and afraid of change. 

The sad part isn't that I know or live that.

The sad part is that I expect that.

The worst part is that the world knows we're doomed.

And the world can't do anything to help.

Trump ruined the United States of America, her government, and her government's purpose. 

All to serve his already-too-rich 1% buddies.

Me in 500 Words

When you grow up without your own voice, learning how to use it is a challenge. 

I feared speaking. Saying something wrong meant being corrected. Saying too little becomes expected. Saying too much becomes a chore. Staying quiet was my safety.

Staying quiet meant no one would correct my English, no one would correct my Spanish and no one would correct the concoction of a middle ground I resorted to when I did speak. Silence was safety when I had to be around family members that didn't speak the languages I spoke.

For years, even now, it's my fault I don't know Serbian. Old ladies that claim they love seeing So-and-So's daughter (me) turn their backs on you in the most literal and insulting way. People speak in the language you don't know thinking that the message is only understandable in the language.

News flash, I understood. I was the outsider. Unwanted. Unappreciated. Unneeded. 

By the time I reached high school, I found spite. I didn't want to care about people's opinion. I didn't want to be lose my voice completely. But I had to fill that silence now. 

How could I fill it? How could I find my voice? 

Drama club gave me words to say in an auditorium with dozens of people. Drama club gave me equally-awkward peers to interact with and to learn how to use my voice in a casual setting. I was able to catch up socially. I was able to be a kid playing pretend openly. 

This was only the first shock to my mother. She never expected me to throw myself into the theater realm, much less see me thrive in something I grew up being so obviously adverse to. 

Speaking wasn't my strong suit. Following words on a page and seeing how to put new meaning in them was new. It was something I could learn to do and do well. 

In journalism, it wasn't much different. 

My mother was shocked again that I wanted to pursue journalism. It following words with meaning but, finally, it was my words. At 18, I finally got to choose my words and use them well. I could use my voice for myself. I can use it for the little me that never dreamed of my current position or ambitions. 

I don't use my voice for myself of today. I use my voice for myself as a child, for who couldn't use it, for who wouldn't use it. My voice will bring justice for myself, righting the wrongs that life gave me. And one day, I'll be able to use my voice for others.