White as Frost

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first—*another* stepsister story? But *White as Frost* disarmed me within chapters. The protagonist’s voice (whose name we don’t even learn immediately, a brilliant narrative choice) is so refreshingly *normal* in a genre stuffed with Chosen Ones. She’s not plucky or rebellious; she’s exhausted, resentful, and painfully aware of her own mediocrity beside Neeve’s effortless magic. That raw honesty makes their rivalry compelling rather than cartoonish. Sharp writes their interactions like a slow-burn fencing match, where every “kind” gesture from Neeve feels like a feint. Amy Landon’s performance is stellar, though I’ll dock half a point for her occasional over-emphasis on the protagonist’s sarcasm—some lines land as eye-rolls when they’d hit harder with weary delivery. Still, her Neeve is *chef’s kiss*: all silken menace, the kind of voice that makes you lean in, even as you distrust every word. The pacing stumbles slightly in the midsection, where Darkwood lore dumps threaten to bog down the momentum, but the final act’s twist—telegraphed just enough to feel earned, not cheap—more than makes up for it. This isn’t a book about magic; it’s about the magic *we invent* to survive being powerless. If you’ve ever loved a fairy tale but wished it had more bite, this is your audiobook. Just don’t expect a happy ending—expect a *satisfying* one.