Joel Leslie has done it again! I absolutely loved his performance of this story. His voices for the characters are easy to understand and are easily distinguishable.

The love between Blue and Levi comes through so strong in this story but so do the relationships they have with all of their close friends, several of whom were instrumental in solving the mystery.

Just when I thought I might have an inkling of who the serial killer is, Lily Morton threw another suspect at us. This story is pretty gruesome in places, because what the serial killer does to his victims isn’t pretty, but I never felt like the details were there just for the shock value.

It wasn’t until nearly the very end that I finally got a feeling of who the real killer was – and I think by that time the author wanted us to know because it was revealed soon after in the story.

I’ve enjoyed all of the books in this series (they should be read in order) but this one really grabbed me and didn’t let go. Lily Morton is quite the story teller; she writes all kinds of books from sweet and sexy to this thrilling series and I love her writing.

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Reviews for Joel Leslie

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I relax as I see my Crow—or Bernard, as I’ve christened him. He’s dressed in the black funeral clothes that make him look like a Victorian undertaker. He stands glumly staring up at the house, his body language clearly screaming that if he were wearing a sandwich board, it would state that the end of the world is nigh.

“Evening, Bernard,” I say cheerfully, and he turns to look at me. After a year of seeing him, his empty eye sockets no longer freak me out, but his utter stillness still does. It isn’t normal to be so still. Well, not in this world.

“Any message?” I ask, twirling my house keys around my finger. “Speak now or forever hold your peace, because Levi’s waiting for me.”

He hesitates, and for a wild second, I think he’s going to actually say something.

I hold my breath, as his mouth opens and closes.

My breath leaves me in a shocked grunt as black blood suddenly begins to ooze from his eye sockets. It drips down his wrinkled cheeks in gruesome streams as his mouth opens in a silent scream.

“What the fuck?” I gasp, stumbling back. My ankle turns awkwardly, and I narrowly avoid jettisoning into the wall. I right myself, taking in great gulps of air.

I glance at Bernard and discover he’s himself again, staring silently up at the house.

“Bernard, that’s naughty. Warn a bloke, will you?” My words are light, but I’d bit down hard on my tongue when I’d stumbled, and there’s a lingering grittiness in my mouth that tastes like fear. He’s never shown me that side of himself before. “I really wish you could talk,” I add. “You’re like the world’s creepiest non-singing telegram.”

Black and Blue Series

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