By Colleen Hoover
I have always known Colleen Hoover to write gut-wrenching, emotional books that will tear me apart before putting me, cracked, back together. I don’t know what I was expecting from Verity, her 2019 self-published book that was billed as a romantic suspense.
It was not a romance. I know that for sure. In fact, the love story in this book made me sick to my stomach.
Lowen is an author who has been commissioned by the family of Verity Crawford, a famous author, to complete a beloved and complicated series that Verity is unable to finish. Lowen moves into the Crawford family home and quickly realizes that things aren’t right.
She discovers a horrifying autobiographical manuscript that goes into terrible details about Verity’s life, her husband Jeremy, and their three children. And it is through this manuscript that the reader puts together the tragic pieces of the Crawfords’ lives before Lowen entered their home.
There were so many pieces of this book that troubled me. How could I root for Jeremy and Lowen’s love to succeed when they were carrying on their flirtation in the very house that Verity was living and presumably recovering in? Their young son, Crew, was also in the house. The trust that Lowen put into that manuscript, how all consuming it became for her, I just could not understand the decisions she made.
This book left me with chills and a deep unsettling feeling. The twist was a surprising relief to me in some ways, but deranged and nonsensical in others.
Review by Michele W.