86 books like Taming the Wolf

I literally could not stop reading this book. To this day, it’s my favorite book by Kennedy Ryan.

It is an achy, angst-ridden novel that I couldn’t put down. Both Iris and August were compelling characters, and when they first met at the bar, their chemistry was undeniable. But Iris was in a relationship, and each time she and August met in the story, I could feel the longing. 

The book covers tough subject matter involving domestic violence, and it’s quite graphic. I skipped over the parts that were “too much” and focused on the burgeoning relationship between Iris and August. He showed her in so many ways how much he loved her, and I spent the entire novel rooting for the happily ever after they both deserved. 

This book was my first Beverly Jenkins novel, and it made me fall in love with her historical romance novels. Before I read it, all the historicals I’d read were Regencies. I was thrilled to find a historical romance with black characters in the United States, which opened my eyes to a part of history I didn’t know much about.

But, the historical aspects were not the only thing that captured my attention. Galen, the Creole hero and free Black man who worked as a conductor on the Underground Railroad, is the reason I recommend this book. There is plenty of chemistry and sensuality between the couple, but his gentleness and love for Hester, a former slave, is unmatched. Galen is one of the best kinds of heroes, and Hester deserves all the love he showers her with. 

This book has everything I love about the billionaire trope—a filthy rich alpha male used to controlling every aspect of his life falling hard for one woman. 

Dante and Vivian were forced into a marriage of convenience because Vivian’s father blackmailed Dante—unbeknownst to her. In the beginning, Dante is rude and unkind, but as the story progresses, Vivian gets under his skin—in a good way.

I got a kick out of watching him slowly fall in love with her and the way that love manifested in acts of kindness—big and small. Dante softened toward Vivian and became willing to do anything to make her happy. His transformation from a hateful brute to a loving future spouse was not only enjoyable to watch, there were times when I actually sighed because Vivian was a lucky chica indeed. 

Diego is so very bad, which makes him swoon-worthy good. This book is a combination of two books which I read years ago (Mi Cariño and Mi Cariña), long before dark romance was an official subgenre in romance. 

Diego is wealthy, uber-alpha, and obsessed with Marcella. He’s so obsessed he kidnaps her and won’t let her go. Despite his outrageous behavior, he’s good to her and wants to build a life with her.

I set aside my reservations about his behavior, which I’d never tolerate in real life, and allowed myself to be entertained by a story with a hero who will stop at nothing to hold on to the woman he loves. 

This trilogy about a girl who leaves a small New England town to work at a glossy magazine in Manhattan in the 1950s helped me understand the roots of the 1960s feminist culture. Men, including the man she ultimately marries, are simply seen as the authority based on their gender.

I’ll never forget the scene where the protagonist is trying desperately to have a baby, goes to a replacement doctor during summer vacation, and finds out that her primary doctor has been giving her birth control pills disguised as other prescription medicine. “I didn’t think you were ready to be a mother,” the primary doctor tells her later. 

I recommend this series because it was the first that I read where there were intelligent zombies. I also found it fascinating that this series realized that humans could be the monsters, even in a zombie outbreak. There are a lot of people who continue to get excited at the thought of a zombie outbreak, but I am not excited because I worry that the human monsters will be more frightening. 

The book is an engaging memoir about what it was like in the 1950s for a single woman just out of college to balance life and relationships while starting a career in magazine publishing in the Big Apple and follows her career and family relationships through to the 1970s.

Though things like finding an apartment in a trendy neighborhood back then were significantly easier than they are in modern day, the hilarious accounts about the challenges of adapting to small living conditions still ring true.

It’s an entertaining glimpse into the golden age of the print magazine industry, but it’s also a brutally honest account of women’s mental health issues, and what it’s like to seemingly have it all but still feel the constraints imposed by choosing to live in NYC. Any aspiring writer should read this book. 

And now the year is 2007, and here’s the big-ass Korean-American book we’ve all been waiting for – Free Food for Millionaires. In baseball terms: while the rest of us first-time novelists choked up our bats and hit our singles and doubles, Min Jin swung for the fences. At the center of the novel is Casey Kim and her quest to find her passion, never mind the consequences of being basically disowned by her parents, but make no mistake: the scope of this book is like that of Casey’s favorite authors, George Eliot, the Brontë sisters, and Anthony Trollope. There are multiple generations of Koreans at work and play here. It’s exactly the type of book I love to read and never even consider writing, because I just don’t have that kind of ambition. Thank goodness some do!

The night before September 11, 2001, I was in New York City, and my now-husband proposed to me. We woke up the next morning to a whole new world. Any book set in Manhattan that relates to September 11th instantly speaks to me. This romance story is one you will never see coming, and I can’t recommend it more highly.

Pamela Kelley makes historical fiction come to life on the page in this rags-to-riches story that empowers women during an unheard-of time, as Eliza Chapman, a lady’s maid, learns her father is actually one of the richest men in NYC, and this changes her whole world.