The Guest Room: An utterly unputdownable psychological thriller (Totally gripping thrillers by Rona Halsall)

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For a lot of the book, I had no idea where it was going, but I really enjoyed the entertaining journey. Steph was a good character, even when you want to shake her to her senses because she’s acting like a cliché helpless woman in a horror movie. Towards the end, I had several ideas about where the story was headed, but then I got to the big twist and it surprised me. Then, there were several more surprises before a fantastic ending. I was originally going to give this 3.5 stars rounded up, but that ending was so good, it deserves to be a solid four star book. This was a really fun one to read! A gripping story about suburban American lives ripped apart. . . . Hard to put down, or ever forget.”— Minneapolis Star-Tribune For me, it’s the fact that she spent hours in these rooms, her footsteps on the floors, rubbing her finger along her right cheekbone, just near the hint of blue eyeliner. She wore it almost every day, a subtle line on her lower lids. Until those last few months when she wore no makeup at all. Some days, I wanted to beg her to put that eyeliner on again.

THE AUTHOR: Rona loves a puzzle to solve, so now she writes them... her challenge is to find domestic storylines with twists that keep her readers guessing right to the end. With their house now a crime scene, Kristin's and Richard’s life spirals into nightmare. Kristin is unable to forgive her husband for his lapses in judgement, or for the moment he shared with a dark-haired girl in the guest room. But for the dark-haired girl, Alexandra, the danger is just beginning. I look at her, at her dark blue nails, cigarette perched between them, a strange feeling coming on. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want to talk about Arran.I cut off a corner of the egg white and pop it in my mouth, the greasy texture burning my tongue. The sear of heat feels good. A sharp stimulant against the numbness that blunts my body every morning. I can’t remember the last time I had a dream. For the past few months my sleep has been stagnant, hollow, and sometimes when I open my eyes it feels like my mind’s been wiped blank. Specifics are important. That’s what he said to me in the first few weeks, repeating it each time we talked, sinking it into me. Steph's home has not felt like a refuge or happy place since her husband of thirty years has left her. He wants to sell their shared home; she wants to stay. But things have been going bump in the night. There are strange sounds, when she tells others, her daughter, Bea thinks her mother is imagining things. The suspense holds quite well till about 75% of the book. The pace and build-up are good and is to the credit of the book. The plot is far fetched in many aspects around the characters’ behaviours though. DISCLOSURE: Thank you to Bookouture via Netgalley for providing both a digital and audio ARC of The Guest Room by Rona Halsall for review. All opinions expressed in this review are entirely my own personal opinions.

I have no destination in mind. But my feet have mechanically walked; I know where I’m going to end up. A pull I can’t avoid. Flowers also bring life, color, and texture to a space - try to incorporate a couple of scented stems too depending on the time of year. There’s nothing lovelier than walking into a feminine bedroom idea that’s naturally scented with seasonal blooms. What should you have in your guest room? Put a vase of fresh flowers in the room. This will add a touch of elegance and make your guests feel welcome. It was a mechanical thing. A reflex. One morning, without clear thought, I applied for a job. When I came for the interview, the manager stared at me, his pale eyebrows knitting.

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I am excited to be taking part in the #BooksOnTour #BlogTour for Rona Halsall's latest compelling thriller #TheGuestRoom. Not a question. Is he laughing at me? I search for the humor in his eyes, but it’s warm, not belittling. I eye the white flakes before biting. The salt melts into the apricot, making the sweetness pop. “Wow,” I say. “Who knew?”