Book Review: Butcher & Blackbird by Brynne Weaver

Peaches’ Spice Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️.5 — Call the Fire Brigade, because I am unwell.
Tropes: Enemies-to-lovers, rivals, morally grey obsession, serial killers who flirt with knives.
Trigger warnings: Graphic violence, gore, blood play, knife kink, dark humour around trauma.

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Okay. Let’s talk about the absolute chaos gremlin that was Butcher & Blackbird, one of our Smut Girl Summer picks that had the group chat collectively screaming: “what the actual fuck — but also yes??”

Here’s the set-up: Sloane and Rowan are rival serial killers, which already makes this the most deranged meet-cute I’ve ever read. She’s manic-pixie-murder-girl energy, all sunshine, glitter, and stabby one-liners. He’s broody, obsessive, and a little too calm about dismembering people. They should hate each other. They do hate each other. And yet… every snarky exchange drips with foreplay. Their banter? Top tier. Their sexual tension? Sharp enough to slit a throat. Their love story? Twisted, bloody, and somehow tender enough to make you ache.

What’s so intoxicating about this book is the way it constantly wrong-foots you. One moment you’re cackling because Sloane has roasted Rowan into oblivion, the next you’re clutching your Kindle like “oh no, why is this incredibly hot?” It’s dark romance at its most playful — yes, there’s murder and mayhem, but there’s also a genuinely swoony love story buried under the bloodstains. Brynne Weaver knows exactly when to turn the knife and when to twist your heart.

And the spice. Oh, darling, the spice. Knife kink. Blood. Filth that makes you check over your shoulder like your Kindle’s been caught misbehaving. These scenes aren’t just hot, they’re unhinged — yet written with such confidence you don’t even question why you’re sweating over a psychopath.

If your love language is chaos, carnage, and morally bankrupt devotion, this book is your soulmate.

Peaches’ verdict: She brought banter, he brought body bags, and together they brought me to my knees.