Community Reviews
Texas. Land of barbecue, big hair, and—apparently—corpse management as a family business. Another Fine Mess delivers exactly what the title promises: a mess of biblical proportions, where the dead refuse to stay put, family therapy is replaced with emergency grave-digging, and generational trauma takes a whole new form (as in, it literally climbs out of the ground to haunt you).
The Evans women have spent generations keeping the undead exactly where they belong—six feet under. You’d think after a century of experience, they’d have a system down. But no, things go sideways in the worst way possible, leaving Luna and her grandmother, Lenore, as the last women standing in their, uh, very specific line of work. And because life has a truly twisted sense of humor, the dead don’t seem to care that the Evans family is short-staffed.
But when the local body count starts to rise (and then, you know, rise again), it becomes painfully clear that something bigger and badder than their usual brand of undead nonsense is at play. Bodies keep piling up, things that should not be moving start moving, and suddenly, “rest in peace” is just a suggestion.
Throw in a sheriff who actually believes them (a rarity in horror novels, honestly), some deep-dive family secrets, and a town that just cannot catch a break, and you've got the perfect mix of horror, humor, and just enough heartfelt moments to make you care before everything goes spectacularly to hell.
This book is fast-paced, darkly funny, and brimming with creepy Southern gothic charm. The Evans women are the kind of characters you want to root for while also staying a very safe distance from, and the story balances eerie tension with laugh-out-loud moments that make you wonder if you should be concerned about your own sense of humor.
The Evans women have spent generations keeping the undead exactly where they belong—six feet under. You’d think after a century of experience, they’d have a system down. But no, things go sideways in the worst way possible, leaving Luna and her grandmother, Lenore, as the last women standing in their, uh, very specific line of work. And because life has a truly twisted sense of humor, the dead don’t seem to care that the Evans family is short-staffed.
But when the local body count starts to rise (and then, you know, rise again), it becomes painfully clear that something bigger and badder than their usual brand of undead nonsense is at play. Bodies keep piling up, things that should not be moving start moving, and suddenly, “rest in peace” is just a suggestion.
Throw in a sheriff who actually believes them (a rarity in horror novels, honestly), some deep-dive family secrets, and a town that just cannot catch a break, and you've got the perfect mix of horror, humor, and just enough heartfelt moments to make you care before everything goes spectacularly to hell.
This book is fast-paced, darkly funny, and brimming with creepy Southern gothic charm. The Evans women are the kind of characters you want to root for while also staying a very safe distance from, and the story balances eerie tension with laugh-out-loud moments that make you wonder if you should be concerned about your own sense of humor.
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