A young woman in need of a transformation finds herself in touch with the animal inside in this gripping, incisive novel from the author of Cackle and The Return.

Rory Morris isn’t thrilled to be moving back to her hometown, even if it is temporary. There are bad memories there. But her twin sister, Scarlett, is pregnant, estranged from the baby’s father, and needs support, so Rory returns to the place she thought she’d put in her rearview. After a night out at a bar where she runs into an old almost-flame, she hits a large animal with her car. And when she gets out to investigate, she’s attacked.

Rory survives, miraculously, but life begins to look and feel different. She’s unnaturally strong, with an aversion to silver–and suddenly the moon has her in its thrall. She’s changing into someone else–something else, maybe even a monster. But does that mean she’s putting those close to her in danger? Or is embracing the wildness inside of her the key to acceptance?

This darkly comedic love story is a brilliantly layered portrait of trauma, rage, and vulnerability.

Over the last couple of years I have devoured all of Rachel Harrison’s books. They are fun, sharp, a little bloody, but always human at their core. With this one in the bag, I can officially say I’ve now read all of her novels (short story collection still on the TBR), and this one sits right up there among my favorites.

I love a good werewolf story, and this one hit all the right notes. It’s not about the mythology so much as the person living inside it. Rory, our FMC, is smart, sarcastic, and rough around the edges, but her messiness makes her all the more real. She’s not some shiny heroine stepping into a supernatural destiny. She’s just a woman trying to help her sister, have a drink at the local bar, and not lose her mind after being attacked by something big and wild in the woods. Her voice carries the book, balancing horror with biting humor and raw honesty.

While the setup feels familiar—the MC returning home to face past wounds, she gets attacked and finds herself dealing with an unexpected transformation while rekindling an old romance—Harrison keeps it fresh. The pacing is airtight and the writing is strong (as expected). The “reveal” of who turned Rory was particularly satisfying. I had my own theory early on of who it was and was completely wrong, which I loved. That’s the kind of twist that I love and it didn’t feel cheap.

What really makes Harrison’s books stand out for me are her characters. They’re flawed and often messy. Even side characters have depth. Scarlett, Rory’s twin, is juggling pregnancy and estrangement. Ian, the almost-flame, is caught between small-town loyalty and figuring out who he is in the world. Harrison gives them space to breathe, and it pays off. I found myself rooting for Rory not just to figure out her new life as a werewolf, but to figure out how to be at peace with herself.

Another thing I love about Harrison’s work is that the horror is always grounded in something painfully human. The heart of the story is about transformation, but it’s also about trauma and rage, about family bonds that sometimes heal and sometimes sting. Rory’s bite isn’t just a supernatural infection, it’s the embodiment of years of trying to find her place and figure out who she is finally coming to the surface.

And let’s be honest: werewolves deserve more love in horror. Vampires tend to get the most love, zombies dominate pop culture, but the werewolf often gets reduced to side character status. Harrison gives them center stage without leaning too hard on cliché. Rory isn’t cursed in the traditional sense—she’s empowered, terrified, confused, and trying to reconcile what this new body means. It’s a fresh, layered take and I loved it.

If you’re worried this is going to be pure nightmare fuel, it’s not. Harrison’s books live in that “horror-light” space. They’re dark, but accessible. You’ll find blood and claws here, but you’ll also laugh, and maybe even swoon a little. The romance subplot works because it doesn’t overshadow the rest. It’s tender and believable.

Rachel Harrison keeps proving she knows how to sink her teeth into horror and still make you care about the people at its center. This one is no different. It hit that perfect October sweet spot: spooky but not paralyzing, fresh yet familiar, and thoughtful without getting bogged down in stereotypes. If you’re building a Halloween TBR and you haven’t read this one yet, bump it to the top of the stack.

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