If you love thrillers that keep you guessing until the very last line—literally the last sentence—you need to read Alice Feeney.
I’ve read three of her books now, and here’s the thing: people tend to be divided. You’ll either love how twisty they are, or you’ll think she goes too far. Personally? I’m a fan of twists that don’t quit, the kind that make you slap the book shut in shock.
I actually discovered her during one of the worst reading slumps of my life. Her books reminded me why I love reading—and writing—so much. They’re smart, meticulously crafted, and full of those sneaky clues you only see in hindsight. Rock Paper Scissors, in particular, blew me away. The twist was right there in plain sight, and yet I missed it completely.
It’s agony not being able to tell you exactly why, because… spoilers. But seriously—if you want thrillers that genuinely surprise you, go pick up an Alice Feeney book.
Case #132: Rock Paper Scissors by Alice Feeney
Timeline of the Crime Scene (my reading night):
- 10:23 PM: “Oh, this is interesting.” Optimistic. Naïve.
- 11:47 PM: “I should sleep.” Famous last words.
- 12:36 AM: “Excuse me, WHAT?” My eyebrows leave my face.
- 1:10 AM: “I have questions.” Existential crisis intensifies.
- 1:53 AM: “I have trust issues.” Side-eyeing everyone I know.
- 2:17 AM: Book closed. Life shattered. Staring at the ceiling, reconsidering every plot twist I thought I’d ever seen coming.
Suspect:
One unassuming paperback capable of psychological warfare.
- Modus operandi: Outwitting the reader with a polite grin and perfect pacing.
- Profile: Looks harmless on your nightstand. Actually a trap.
- Known aliases: “Domestic thriller,” “psychological suspense,” “relationship drama.” Don’t be fooled.
I went in smug—I’m good at guessing twists. By 2 AM, the book had me on my knees, begging for answers it had cleverly concealed in plain sight.
Evidence Collected:
1️⃣ On reading the final pages: I had to put the book down. Stared at the wall like it owed me rent. Internal monologue: “Ma’am. Respectfully. What the hell??????”
2️⃣ Emotional combustion documented after the wordplay reveal. When I uncovered [REDACTED], I felt spiritually deceived. Betrayal Level: Biblical.
3️⃣ Newfound rage toward my non-reader friends who won’t experience this. Have downgraded them to acquaintances.
Case Notes (for the curious):
Here’s what you can know without me spoiling it (I’m so tempted):
It’s about a couple on a weekend trip to the remote Scottish Highlands to fix their failing marriage. Charming, right? WRONG. What begins as a retreat turns into a claustrophobic nightmare of secrets, lies, and revelations you will not see coming.
Ten years together. You think you know your spouse? Think again.
Meet Adam Wright: a screenwriter with face blindness. He literally can’t recognise anyone’s face—including his wife’s. How do you spot the truth when everyone is a stranger, including the person you sleep beside?
Final Notes (Reader Advisory):
This book is haunting, unsettling, eerie, disturbing, macabre, and spectral. It is gripping, unputdownable, riveting, electric, utterly consuming, and ferociously twisty.
In short: you won’t be the same once you close this book.
Read it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.
As if I hadn’t already been psychologically manhandled by Rock Paper Scissors, I went ahead and picked up His & Hers.
And all I have to say is:
“???????????????????????”
Sorry, my brain is fried. Scrambled. Boiled. Possibly served over toast.
You’re telling me—
- the officer investigating a brutal murder might be involved,
- the journalist covering the story is said officer’s ex-wife,
- and the murder scenes? Oh, they’ve been staged to resemble something even more chilling and calculated. Like, serial-killer-with-a-flair-for-drama levels of staged.
Dear reader, I’m not being dramatic (okay maybe a little), but this book practically kicked down the door, dragged me in by the collar, and whispered, “Trust no one. Not even the narrator.”
I will not tell you anything more about the plot. I refuse. You will visit the crime scene yourself. You will arrive clueless, and you will leave with trust issues, wide eyes, and probably a sudden urge to reread every single chapter backwards.
And when I found out who the killer was?
No. I need a moment.
I stared at the wall. For ten. Full. Minutes. Just me and my thoughts. Which were basically just a high-pitched internal screaming loop.
I genuinely believe His & Hers has the most shocking twist of all Alice Feeney’s books I’ve read so far. It’s bold. It’s insane. It’s brilliant. If I ever woke up with amnesia and had to pick one thriller to re-experience for the first time? This one. No hesitation.
Quick dossier, no spoilers (but read between the lines):
Set in the quaint, quiet village of Blackdown (you know, the kind where murder shouldn’t happen—but of course does), His & Hers follows newsreader Anna Andrews and detective Jack Harper, two people who really shouldn’t be crossing paths again… and yet fate, or a particularly savage killer, has other plans.
Two perspectives. Two versions of the truth.
His.
Hers.
And somewhere in between? Lies. Secrets. And blood.
Someone’s lying. Someone’s hiding something. And someone will kill to keep it buried.
Feeney doesn’t just give you a mystery. She gives you mind games. You’ll question everything—motives, memories, narration itself. And that ending? She doesn’t pull punches. She goes for the jugular.
You’ve been warned.
Next on my Alice Feeney reading spree was Beautiful Ugly.
I’m giving this one a solid 3.5 stars. It was good. Genuinely. I enjoyed reading it—it’s just that it didn’t linger in my mind the way Rock Paper Scissors or His & Hers did. You know that feeling when you close a book and immediately want to text all your friends YOU NEED TO READ THIS? This wasn’t quite that for me.
But here’s the thing: it is worth picking up, especially if you love that isolated, moody, windswept island vibe. If you want atmosphere, Feeney delivers. The Scottish setting feels like a character in its own right—cold, remote, and full of secrets you can almost hear whispering through the fog.
The premise itself is undeniably compelling:
Grady calls his wife Abby to share some exciting news while she’s driving. He hears her slam the brakes, get out of the car—and then silence. When he finds her car abandoned by the cliff’s edge, headlights on, driver’s door open, her phone left behind… she’s just gone.
A year later, Grady is still stuck in that moment. Grief-stricken, unable to write, unable to move forward. So he travels to this tiny Scottish island, hoping the isolation will help him heal. Instead, he sees something impossible: a woman who looks exactly like Abby.
There’s something so chilling and sad about that hook. It’s not only about mystery—it’s about how you never really know the people you love, and how loss can warp reality in desperate, terrible ways.
One line that really stayed with me is this:
“Wives think their husbands will change but they don’t. Husbands think their wives won’t change but they do.”
It’s such a simple, devastating truth.
While Beautiful Ugly didn’t blow my mind with its twists the way her other books did, it still has that classic Feeney signature: the quiet dread, the fraught relationships, the sense that no one is telling the full truth.
If you want something haunting yet grounded, set on a remote island that practically breathes secrets—this one is for you.
Reading Alice Feeney feels like being blindfolded on a rollercoaster built by someone who definitely has a vendetta against predictable plots. And yet—I keep getting back in line for the next ride.
From the gasp-out-loud genius of Rock Paper Scissors, to the psychological whiplash that is His & Hers, to the quieter, more atmospheric pull of Beautiful Ugly, her books have become a kind of safe space for me to feel utterly unsafe. Twists. Betrayals. Complex relationships. Secrets hiding in plain sight. It’s all there—and it’s addictive.
Not every book hit the same emotional pitch, but even when she doesn’t completely wreck me (which, honestly, is rare), I still walk away thinking about what I didn’t see coming.
If you’re in a reading slump, craving unpredictability, or just want a book that reminds you what clever storytelling looks like—pick up an Alice Feeney. And prepare to question everything.
Including yourself.
And maybe your spouse.
Possibly your bookshelf.
Just… read the books.