The Sceptic is the first book in a new series by Lily Morton. The Arcana Books series is a spin-off of her Black and Blue series. That is a great series but you can read The Sceptic without reading the Black and Blue books first.

I listened to both books in the Black and Blue series and loved them so I was excited when I got the opportunity to listen to and review The Sceptic. The story has all of the great humor, wit and snark that I expect from Lily Morton. Joel Leslie’s performance kept my headphones glued to my ears from the time I started listening until I finished.

I can’t do a better job of describing the book than the excellent blurb does. Be prepared for scary, creepy encounters and sweet, sexy time for Will and Jem. The epilogue is generously long and I loved finding out how Will and Jem are doing one year later.

Reviews for Lily Morton

Reviews for Joel Leslie

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“What a ridiculous question. Do I look like I have a book on how to reanimate a cadaver? I have enough problems with the living customers without adding dead ones. Go next door.”

I set my pen down on the counter and sigh as Tom’s stertorous tones echo through the building. I’m currently working in an occult bookshop that connects to Tom’s bookshop. The divider between the two stores is a curtain, but even if we had walls the thickness of Fort Knox, it still wouldn’t stop me hearing Tom.

A few seconds later, the curtain lifts, and three startled goths scoot into the room as if their backsides are on fire. I offer them a smile and point to the stairs. “First floor. Shelf by the window.”

Their footsteps echo on the treads, and silence descends again. I pick up my pen and then pause, looking around. The room is full of the scent of old paper and leather, along with a whiff of fresh paint and new carpet. Sun streams through the Georgian window, laying stripes over the shelves of books and painting my skin with warmth. It’s incredibly peaceful in here, notwithstanding the grumpy bookshop owner next door.

As if on cue, the old man’s voice rises through the divider again, muttering something about the problems associated with zombies becoming customers.

I look up as the shop’s front door opens and the bell jingles cheerfully, heralding the arrival of my current boss. Viscount Ingram.

“Dear boy,” he booms, his face lit up. He’s the exact opposite of Tom, being eternally cheerful. The glass isn’t half full of wine with this one. He’s got a whole fucking vineyard in there. “You will never guess what I found at the house sale.”

I open my mouth to respond, but Tom forestalls me. “Not in here,” he booms from the other room. “The death books are all next door in the occult bookshop. No, not there. There. Through that curtain.”

A young man in a long duster coat and a trilby hat sidles through the curtain. He gives us a haunted look and then legs it up the stairs to join the goths, who are probably cowering in a corner.

The viscount sighs. “Oh, dear. Tom is a trifle rusty on customer service, isn’t he?”

“He was probably rusty sixty years ago,” I confidently state. I’ve known Tom for many years. He’s an established figure in York and someone my best friend Blue and I have known since we were young and homeless. Tom is now Blue’s boss, psychic mentor, and a possible glimpse at how Blue will be in fifty years.

“Oh dear,” the viscount says again. He looks towards the table in the corner of the room. “And where is Madame Hecate? I thought she was reading the tarot cards for our customers today.”

“Probably at the pub. She came in, turned over one card, gave a scream that Tom’s still complaining about, and then left.”

“Poor woman. I wonder what the problem is.”

“Gin,” I offer helpfully. “It does seem to influence most of her tarot choices.”