Butcher & Blackbird: The Ruinous Love Trilogy (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, 1) by Brynne Weaver
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Butcher & Blackbird: The Ruinous Love Trilogy (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, 1)

by

Brynne Weaver

(Author)

4.4

-

35,854 ratings


#1 New York Times bestselling series and USA TODAY Bestseller

“I want to ruin her so that she’s mine, my beautiful disaster. My wild creature. My goddess of chaos.”

The viral TikTok friends-to-lovers dark romantic comedy full of murder, chaos, and sizzling chemistry—unlike anything you’ve read before—now available in all bookstores

When a chance encounter sparks an unlikely bond between rival murderers Sloane and Rowan, they find something elusive—the friendship of two like-minded, pitch-black souls who just happen to enjoy killing other serial killers.

From small-town West Virginia to upscale California, and from downtown Boston to rural Texas, the two hunters collide in an annual game of blood and suffering, one that pits them against the most dangerous monsters in the country.

But as their friendship develops into something more, the restless ghosts left in their wake are only a few steps behind, ready to claim more than just their newfound love.

Can Rowan and Sloane dig themselves out of a game of graves? Or have they finally met their match?

Tropes:

  • Golden retriever x black cat
  • He falls first
  • Touch him/her and die
  • Friends to lovers
  • Forced proximity
  • One bed

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ISBN-10

1638931739

ISBN-13

978-1638931737

Print length

368 pages

Language

English

Publisher

Zando – Slowburn

Publication date

December 11, 2023

Dimensions

5.5 x 0.92 x 8.25 inches

Item weight

13.6 ounces


Popular Highlights in this book

  • You’re all the best things to me, Sloane. No matter how many bruises are in your heart or on your skin.

    Highlighted by 5,340 Kindle readers

  • That woman you were watching …? My fingers tighten around his throat as he desperately nods. She is mine.

    Highlighted by 4,013 Kindle readers

  • I didn’t gouge them out, Butcher. I plucked them. Delicately. Like a lady.

    Highlighted by 2,901 Kindle readers


Product details

ASIN :

B0CL1C4PM4

File size :

3424 KB

Text-to-speech :

Enabled

Screen reader :

Supported

Enhanced typesetting :

Enabled

X-Ray :

Enabled

Word wise :

Enabled


Editorial Reviews

“This is so fresh and different. It’s like a funny, irreverent version of Dexter―only there’s two of them and sexual tension.” ―Abby Jimenez, New York Times bestselling author of Yours Truly

"Brynne is a master weaver of words in this dark, decadent and delicious story of serial killers, sexy spice, and sensational fun! Butcher & Blackbird is one of my favorite reads of the year!" ―RuNyx, USA Today bestselling author of the Dark Verse series

"Hilarious, heartwarming, sexy . . . and gory. The perfect cocktail that will have you swooning and laughing. The funnest read of the year!" ―H. D. Carlton, international and USA Today bestselling author of Haunting Adeline


Sample

ICHI-GO, ICHI-E

Sloane

Being a serial killer who kills serial killers is a great hobby …

Until you find yourself locked in a cage.

For three days.

With a dead body.

In the Louisiana summer.

With no air conditioning.

I glare at the fly-riddled corpse lying beyond the locked door of my cage. The buttons of Albert Briscoe’s shirt strain against the bloat of his distended, green-gray stomach. His moving stomach, the thin skin undulating over the gasses and maggots that chew through the flesh beneath. The stench of decay, the buzz of insects, the smell of shit and piss that have vacated his body, it’s fucking revolting. And I’m not squeamish. But I have standards. I prefer my corpses fresh. I just want to take my trophies and stage my scene and go, not hang around and watch as they liquefy.

As if on cue, there’s a quiet tearing sound, like wet paper ripping apart.

“No …”

I can almost hear Albert from beyond the grave: Yes.

“Oh no, no, no …”

It’s happening. This is for killing me, you fucking bitch.

The skin splits open and a white mass of maggots tumbles out, like little orzo pastas. Except a significant number of those pastas is crawling toward me at a glacial pace, looking for a quiet place to complete the next stage of their maggoty life cycle.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” I scooch on my bum across the grimy stone floor of my cage to curl myself into a ball. My forehead presses to my knees until my brain aches. I start to hum in the hope I’ll drown out the sounds that are suddenly too loud around me. My melody grows louder, and louder, until my chapped lips start to form the occasional word. No one here can love or understand me … Blackbird, bye, bye … I hum and sing until the words fade away, and the melody too.

“I renounce my wicked ways,” I say after the song disintegrates among the dust motes and the hum of opalescent insect wings.

“That’s a shame. I bet I would like your wicked ways.”

I startle at the sound of a man’s deep, smooth voice, the cadence of a faint Irish accent warming every note. My curses cut the humid air when my head smashes against an iron crossbar of my small cell as I scurry out of reach of the man who saunters into the thin thread of light from the narrow window, the glass opaque with fly shit.

“You seem to be in a predicament,” he says. A lopsided grin sneaks across his face, the rest of his features sheathed in shadow. He takes a few steps into the room to stare down at the corpse, bending to get a closer look. “What’s your name?” I’m on day three of no coffee. No food. My stomach has probably imploded and sucked other organs into the void. A loud chorus of desperately hungry internal monologue is trying to convince me that those are, in fact, little orzo pastas marching toward me, and they might just be edible.

I can’t deal with this shit.

“I don’t think he’s going to answer you,” I say.

The man chuckles. “No shit. I already know who he is anyway. Albert Briscoe, the Beast of the Bayou.” The man’s gaze lingers on the corpse for a long moment before he shifts his attention to me. “But who are you?”

I don’t answer, remaining still as the man takes careful, measured steps around the corner of the cage to get a better look at me where I’m huddled in the shadows. When he’s as close as the bars will allow, he crouches down. I try to hide beneath my tangled hair and folded limbs, giving him only my eyes.

And because my luck is the worst, he, of course, is stunning.

Short brown hair, artfully disheveled. Strong features, but not severe. A sly smile with perfect teeth and a straight scar that cuts through his top lip, lips that are far too inviting given my current state of captivity, the bottom one a little fuller than the top. I shouldn’t be thinking about how I would like to bite it. Not at all.

But I am.

And for my part, I’m fucking disgusting.

Knotted hair. Stained, bloodied clothes. The worst breath ever to be breathed in the history of breathing.

“You’re not Albert’s usual type,” he says.

“What do you know about his usual type?”

“That you’re too old to be it.”

He’s right. Not that I’m old, at a mere twenty-three. But this guy knows it as much as I do, that I’m far too old for Albert’s tastes.

“And how would you know that, exactly?”

The man’s gaze slides to the corpse as a faint look of disgust passes over his shadowed features. “Because I’ve made it my business to know.” He looks at me once more and smiles. “I’m guessing you made it your business too, judging by the quality of the hunting knife stuck in his throat. Handmade Damascus steel. Where’d you get it?”

I sigh. My gaze lingers on the body and my favorite blade before I press my cheeks to my drawn-up knees. “Etsy.”

The guy chuckles and I pick up a little pebble in my enclosure just to drop it on the floor.

“I’m Rowan,” he says as he extends a hand into the cage. I look at it and toss another pebble, and though I make no move to accept his gesture, he keeps his hand lifted toward me. “You might know me as the Boston Butcher.”

I shake my head.

“The Massacre of Mass …?”

I shake my head again.

“The Ghost of the East Coast …?”

I sigh.

I’ve totally heard of all those names, even though I’m not telling him that.

But on the inside, my heart hammers my blood through my veins. I’m just glad he can’t see it ignite my cheeks with crimson flame. I know exactly the names he’s called by, and that he’s not all that different from me—a hunter who favors the worst that society can dredge up from the pits of hell.

Rowan finally removes his hand from my cage, his smile taking on a dejected quality. “Shame, I thought you might recognize my little nicknames.” He slaps his hands to his knees and rises. “Well, I’d best be going. Pleasure to almost meet you, nameless captive. Best of luck.”

With a final, fleeting smile, Rowan turns and strides toward the door.

“Wait! Wait. Please.” I clamor to my feet to grip the cold bars just as he reaches the threshold. “Sloane. My name is Sloane. The Orb Weaver.”

There’s a moment of stillness between us. The only sound to fill the space is the buzz of flies and the steady work of maggots as they consume decaying flesh.

Rowan turns his head, casting a single eye over his shoulder.

And in a heartbeat he’s there, right in front of me, his motion so fast it startles me back from the bars but not before he grabs my hand to shake it vigorously.

“Oh my God. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong. It had to be a woman. The Orb Weaver! Such a cool name. The intricate fishing line, the fucking eyeballs. Amazing. I’m such a huge fan.”

“Uhh …” Rowan continues to shake my hand despite my effort to pull it away. “Thanks … I guess …?”

“Did you come up with that name? The Orb Weaver?”

“Yeah …” I snatch my hand free so I can step away from this strangely enthusiastic Irishman. He grins at me as though awestruck, and if I wasn’t wearing sixty layers of grime on my skin, I’m sure he’d be able to see the blush flame in my cheeks for the second time. “You don’t think it’s dumb?”

“No, it’s so great. The Massacre of Mass is dumb. The Orb Weaver is pretty kickass.”

I shrug. “I kind of think it sounds like a lame superhero.”

“Better that than the authorities making something up for you. Trust me.” Rowan’s gaze shifts to the corpse and back again, his head tilting as he regards me. He jerks a nod once in Albert’s direction. “He must have been really acting the maggot. Get it?”

There’s a long pause, the silence between us punctuated by the hum of insect wings.

“No. I don’t.”

Rowan waves a hand. “Irish saying, meaning he was up to mischief. But it was a pretty clever joke, given the circumstances,” he says, his chest puffed with pride as he hooks a thumb toward the corpse. “Begs the question, though—how’d you wind up in the cage while he’s dead with your blade out there? Did you knife him through the bars?”

I glance down at my formerly white shirt and the dirty boot print that hides beneath the splash of blood. “I guess you could say it was a moment of bad timing.”

“Hmm,” Rowan says with a sage nod. “I might have had one or two of those myself in the past.”

“You mean you’ve been locked in a cage with a dead body and a little infantry of orzo pastas marching your way?”

Rowan looks down across the space around us and frowns. “No. Can’t say that I have.”

“Didn’t think so,” I mutter with a weary sigh. I dust off my hands on my grimy denim shorts and take a final step back as I cock a hip. I’m starting to become annoyed at this interloper who seems to be doing nothing more than delaying my slow death by starvation. I’m pretty sure he’s a bit nuts and I don’t get the impression he’s that keen on actually letting me out of here.

Might as well just get on with it.

“Well …?”

“They’re making decent progress, the little orzos,” Rowan says, more to himself than to me as his gaze remains trapped on the trail of tiny white worms heading my way. When his eyes lift from the floor, they meet mine with an eager smile. “Want to get lunch?”

I level this stranger with a flat glare as I motion to my bloody, boot-printed shirt. “Unless you want to send us both to jail immediately … no …?”

“Right,” he says with a frown before striding toward Albert’s corpse. He rifles through the pockets, coming up empty. When he looks up to the bloated neck, he lets out a little sound of triumph, pulling my blade free before he yanks on a silver chain, the links snapping with the swift assault of his strong grip. He turns his smile toward me as he rises, his fingers unfurling around the key that rests in his palm.

“Have a shower. I’ll find you some clothes. Then we’ll burn the house down.”

Rowan unlocks the door and extends a hand into the shadows of my cage.

“Come on, Blackbird. I’m in the mood for barbecue. What do you say?”

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About the authors

Brynne Weaver

Brynne Weaver

Brynne is a fan of velociraptors, the Alien movies (well, most of them), red wine, and wild adventures. She can relate nearly anything you say to a line from the movie Hot Fuzz. She has been trying unsuccessfully for years to convince her husband that they should acquire a pet mink to add to their menagerie of animals (what could possibly go wrong with that plan?!). When not busy writing, Brynne can be found with her husband and son on their family farm in NS, Canada, or enjoying her other passions which include riding horses, reading, motorcycling, and spending time with family and friends around a raclette and a bottle of wine.

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Reviews

Customer reviews

4.4 out of 5

35,854 global ratings

Meagan

Meagan

5

Obsessed

Reviewed in the United States on July 19, 2024

Verified Purchase

I loved this book so much, it was a really fun read despite the dark subject! It has about 3-4 spicy scenes so I wouldn’t call it super high on a spice meter, but they were all very well written. The characters were compelling and interesting and I enjoyed their dynamic. I do wish there had been a little more foreshadowing or buildup to the ending, as it did feel like there was much of an overarching plot for quite a bit of the book. I still loved it though!

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Amazon Customer

Amazon Customer

5

Serial Killer Romance Pulls No Punches!

Reviewed in the United States on April 21, 2024

Verified Purchase

Right upon release, the cover of this book came crashing onto my radar—it felt like it was everywhere! And while I liked the cover, with its Monster High vibes and I would normally snag it right up just based on that, I didn’t; in fact, I actively avoided and dodged. Any book with that much hype scares me more than a family meal with the Manson clan. For months, I'd pick it up, feel a tug, and put it back everytime I entered a store with books.

Even if the cover wasn’t enough, the plot should have had me taking whatever train, plane, or automobile necessary to get to the closet bookseller and purchase two copies just for good measure: Butcher & Blackbird follows two main characters who are everything we shouldn’t want to be—serial killers, with prolific body counts and depravity alongside ritual. After a chance meeting between the two over “orzo pasta” in a cage next to a dead body, they take things a step furthet and head for some food. Over some breakfast post-kill, the two agree to compete a year later against each other to see who can kill a mark known only to Butcher’s brother, Lachlan. In a book following just one, but two serial killers whose senses of humor are as sharp and dark and dangerous as their Damascus knives and web constructions, one would expect a cautionary tale or two main characters who are impossible to identify with in a world such as a serial killer’s and who are, at best, morally gray and partly likeable as people. Two strikes for me: hype and horror with heroes I hate. I resisted for months. Until yesterday, when I decided the orzo-shaped bug up my butt about this book needed removal. I went in with high hopes but low, low expectations.

Those expectations are wrong. So, very, wrong. All of them. Wrong.

Somehow, Weaver weaves a web of narrative that strikes the perfect blend between tender humanity, traumatic terror, humor so black and bleak it returns to hilarity, and the most human of moments felt by characters who should be the least human of any narrative work. As Weaver develops the friendship between the work’s two MC, Rowan and Sloane, everything about it feels relatable and just so darn sweet—it’s couples goals whether Rowan and Sloane are eating in 3 in Coach or killing in what can only be described as a Texas Chainsaw inspired locale. Across the 350+ pages, I fell deeper and deeper in love with both the individual characters of Rowan and Sloane, and with their love itself. This is the equivalent of a horror hug from the snuggliest of scary-seeming-monsters. If Legends and Lattes had serial killers in modern day with a lot more snark and smut and serial slays and a splash of gore added, you’d have Butcher & Blackbird. Who knew horror could be so cozy, and serial slaying so safe and snuggly? I am now eagerly awaiting the June 4th release of part two, Leather and Lark.

On a final note, this is my 3 dark romantisty read, and I'm seeing a trend that's fascinating me. In both the Cat and Mouse (Haunting Adeline and Hunting Adeline, by HD Carlton) and in Butcher & Blackbird, we get strong, vulnerable, and resilient women who take the abuses and transgressions of life and channel them to move on and become these bada%$ warrior women who fight for the voiceless victimized who cannot speak not stand for themselves. While viewed by many as just smut, these types of books have the potential to do incredible collective trauma healing work surround women's issues of SA, assault, and violence. So read all the smut you love , because you may be healing the traumas of yourself, your community, and your ancestors!

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3 people found this helpful

Kate

Kate

5

I never thought I'd find 2 serial killeres so relatable, but here we are.

Reviewed in the United States on April 11, 2024

Verified Purchase

"'For a methodical, reclusive seria killer, you're pretty fecken brazen." (344)

Book 1 in the Ruinous Love Trilogy

I never would have thought that I would have loved a serial killer romance book so much - but here we are... I never thought I'd find 2 serial killeres so relatable, but here we are... Wow! This book was something else. It might not have been the best book I've ever read (not every book has to be!) but it was great. It had some of the most relatable characters that I've read in months - and they're serial killers! (What does that say about me?) It had some of the raunchiest sex scenes, gruesome murder scenes, and yet it was perfect for the story. It was a great, entertaining, gut wrenching book.

CAWPILE Breakdown:

Characters: 9.5 - Weaver's character work was her best work in this book. All of her characters were full and life-life and relatable and real. I found myself relating to (and rooting for) 2 serial killers!

Atmosphere/Setting: 8.5 - The setting was incredible. So detailed that I felt like I was there. Especially the scenes in the restaurant. I never had a hard time visualizing the setting. The atmosphere was there when it mattered the most, but I wanted more. Then again, I almost always want more.

Writing Style: 10 - Weaver has a way of writing that drew me in from chapter 1 and never let up; it kept bringing me back in. I did not want to stop reading this.

Plot: 7 - The plot - when you peeled back all the layers - was a basic slow burn enemy to lovers trope. Sure, it was a bit predictable as to the eventual outcome, but I expect that going into a romance book, and I'm okay with that.

Intrigue: 10 - Despite the predictable plot, my intrigue was dialed all the way from the beginning and never decreased. I HAD TO KNOW EVERYTHING!

Logic/Relationships: 9 - Weaver's relationships in this book were top knotch. So So good! The logic, surprisingly for a serial killer romance, made perfect sense.

Enjoyment: 10 - If you can't already tell, I loved this book. I truly enjoyed Butcher & Blackbird and can't wait for book 2!

CAWPILE Total: 64/7 = 9.14 = 5/5 stars!

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6 people found this helpful

Jeeves Reads Romance

Jeeves Reads Romance

5

Darkly funny

Reviewed in the United States on October 19, 2023

Verified Purchase

When I'm already cackling before I've made it past the CW and dedication, I know I'm in for a good time. This was an unexpected delight, mixing humor, gore, and spice for an extremely bingeable read. It took no time at all to hook me in, and I ended up devouring it in one sitting. I loved that the (anti)hero was a cinnamon roll sweetheart/boy obsessed who was also intense and very, very dangerous. I loved that the (anti)heroine was all fire and competence, taking her dark past and turning it into something that worked for her. They saw pieces of themselves reflected in each other, and bonded in a way they wouldn't with anyone else. There's a ton of dark, gruesome content, but there's also an incredibly playful feel and tons of lighthearted banter. The banter! Yeah, the chemistry was immediate and palpable. This deliciously dark romance won't be for everyone, but it's certainly a one-of-a-kind, entertaining experience.

The story follows Sloane, a serial killer who goes after bad guys. Her life experiences have lead her to this place, and it works for her. After running into some trouble on her latest mission, Sloane encounters Rowan. He's also a killer with a similar mindset, and the two find themselves developing an unexpected friendship. Though they're both attracted right away, neither wants to make any missteps - the results could be deadly. So they form a friendship and competitive dynamic, staying connected over the course of several years. Until something shifts.

I've seen this book all over the place and I enjoy a dark rom com once in awhile, so I went into this knowing very little about the story. I recommend doing just that. At its heart, this is a great slow burn to SIZZLE, friends to lovers romance with plenty of darker elements. You'll know within a few pages if the story is too dark for you, and you'll also get a feel for Weaver's sense of humor. I loved it! Not sure what that says about me, lol, but this was quite the ride. I loved that it played up some of the traditional romance tropes (particularly the "he falls first" vibes), while also being wholly unique. It works because of the romance at the center of it, and the fact that both characters are just so easy to like. Rowan was adorable with his pining for Sloane, and it was easy to see all the ways they were perfect together. If I've got one complaint (is it a complaint, really?), it'd be that I actually wouldn't have minded a longer length. There are a lot of quick time jumps, and I'd have loved seeing more of their connection during those times. It was such a fast and fun read though, and the bingeable quality is a major part of the appeal. I can't wait for the next two installments, which revolve around Rowan's brothers. This was a fantastic introduction to this new-to-me author's work!

Audio note: Duet narration alert! I actually didn't realize it was duet-style when I started listening, so imagine my glee when that kicked in. The narration brought the story to life, and was absolutely an enhancement to the reading experience. Lucy Rivers always does a great job, and she is quickly becoming one of my favorites. But Joe Arden steals the show here - he does an Irish accent for Rowan that gives the character so much personality. He also delivers several outstanding moments of internal spiraling from Rowan that really impressed me. The runtime (about 9 hours) was perfect for bingeing in a single day, which is exactly what I did. I can't recommend this one for the office - not only are there many dark moments, but the spice is pretty intense. It's a slower burn that turns into a full-on sizzle, so the back half is filled with heated scenes. Definitely recommended in the format though!

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45 people found this helpful

C*L*Borjo

C*L*Borjo

5

Darkly hilarious. Great relationship build.

Reviewed in the United States on June 28, 2024

Verified Purchase

Well that was certainly way better than I was expecting. Very funny in a VERY dark humor way. I mean, sick dark humor. Loved it. Though it was a dark setting (they are serial killers after all) it was very light and didn’t delve too deeply into the grit of what made them into who they are. There were vague mentions of their pasts and it was left at that. I actually appreciated that the author wanted to keep the book on the comical side and not make it an emotional roller coaster by addressing all of the details. The writing was put together well, clear and easy to read. The love story was well laid out with lots of angst (my favorite) and foundation building. I loved the relationship between these two and that there was no conflict that needed to be hashed out. They understood each other because of all of that build beforehand. The banter and inside jokes throughout the book was perfect. It was all a perfect combination of dark, hilarious and exciting.

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3 people found this helpful

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