100 Books Like A Suitable Consort (For the King and His Husband)

Deep space can be scary, but I consider deep caves to be much more terrifying.

The Luminous Dead has an eerie mission to the depths of a cave on a distant exoplanet—the worst of both worlds! This book follows a non-regulation diver on a dangerous job shrouded in secrets and the enigmatic, untrustworthy voice in her helmet guiding her through the darkness.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long for the characters to descend into antagonism and uncertainty about whether the other things lurking in the cave are figments of paranoia or dangerously real. If you like feeling queasy, secondhand claustrophobia, The Luminous Dead is for you.

Another great book rife with tension and terror, about a team who go in search of what killed their friends and loved ones, a nightmare recorded on video but hard to believe, a terror buried in the depths of the Marianas Trench. I love this fascinating take on mermaids, how the book keeps you on tenterhooks the whole time, waiting to see what will happen, who is next, and what sort of monsters we haven't even seen yet.

This is one of the best books of redemption I've ever read, about a man who did some truly horrible, some would say unforgivable things, and has been working hard the past several years to make amends for his wrongs, a journey he continues even as he meets the man who just might be the love of his life. All this in a beautifully built fantasy world, and while it is book two in the series it stands on its own just fine. When it comes to tales of redemption and forgiveness, though, of facing a sordid past and working to overcome it, this book continues to set the bar for me.

A story with magic and mystery, like my first book, Daughter of the Burning City is unlike any book I have read. The magic system within the book is called “Jynx-work” and the users of the magic often inhabit the traveling city circus of Gomorrah Festival, a place of vice and sin shunned by the more pious world around them. 

Sorina is the first illusion worker in years. She creates tangible illusions, ones with personalities and free will to exist outside of her control. But when they start dying like real people would in a series of gruesome murders, there appears more to Sorina’s magic than meets the eye. I love magic mysteries because they keep readers engaged and wanting to unravel the questions left behind during shocking twists.

I re-listen to this one on audiobook every year while I bake my Christmas cookies and walk the dog, and every year, it helps conjure joy via the two men realizing they’re right for each other despite some missteps. Thanks to some dire events, the main character, Toby, learns how to both stand up for himself and finally declare what it is he wants out of life—which happens to be Mr. Miggles, the town librarian (and also his boss).

Tristan Wright takes an already wonderful story and makes it entirely engrossing via his performance, and I have multiple “Yes!” fist-pumping moments throughout (which, if I’m walking the dog, makes people stare at me on the street). Also, Toby and his love interest, Mr. Miggles, are librarians, and this story has so much library love in it I felt like I was getting a warm hug.

I found this book through TikTok after a surge of booktokers started to recommend it.

I was instantly intrigued by the premise: presumed dead at Waterloo, a soldier decides to live as herself—trans woman Viola loses her wealth, her title, and her childhood friend Gracewood. But years later, fate draws them together again, and they must contend with their desires and their past together.

This book! I cried, I laughed, I had so many emotions reading this tale. Against all odds, they find each other, they communicate through the unique challenge of attraction after years and Viola’s new womanhood.

There are some incredibly hot scenes which feel all the more tantalizing for the novel’s historical setting. I’ve lent this book to several friends just hoping they experience the same joy I did. 

The first time Rowan and the Huntress kissed, I half expected Rowan’s lips to stick to the Huntress’ face like a tongue on a light pole in winter.

Luckily, Rowan—the Belle in this Beauty and the Beast retelling—is a thawing influence, and the kiss progresses as kisses should. And thank goodness, as the Huntress desperately needs to be kissed. Isolated, cursed, and haunted by her own callousness, the lonely Huntress is separated from the world by her own past and a literal mile of frozen water.

But in the Huntress’ fortress of ice, love grows like the petals of a winter rose, and little kisses, like hope, spring eternal.

Set in a London congregation at the height of the AIDS crisis, this is a powerful novel that packs a lot into one Easter weekend. Its ingenious triptych structure underlines the fact that there’s often more going on than a superficial understanding of either faith or sexuality would like to believe. The oldest book on this list by a couple of decades, this is one of the first novels to engage seriously with what it means to be queer in an institution that prefers to ignore that fact, and it was both a challenge and a comfort in my own coming-out years.

This is the story of two young men, one rich, one homeless but it’s not a simple rescue me type story. Laurie and Sasha reach out desperately to one another from their different worlds, and against all odds begin an affair, hidden in the attics of Laurie’s sumptuous home and on the bleak moorland of a Romani encampment. For Laurie, it’s a delicious sexual awakening, and Sasha returns his affections, opening up to him a whole new world of freedom. But Sasha has secrets, and a murky, violent past. 

I’ve reread this book countless times. Harper Fox’s writing is breathtaking and it’s so comforting to read characters you can’t help but adore falling in love and finding their way through conflict to a safe and happy ending.

It’s a queer re-telling of The Gift of the Magi, both adorable and melodramatic—and I loved it! Yin and Ari celebrate their own space they’ve carved out with help from supportive friends and family and their own hard work, which fits Herrera’s Dreamers/refugee theme and is handled with trust, compassion, and love—but isn’t sugar-coated, either.

They’ve both got instincts and baggage around things falling apart or not working out and a hesitancy to think they can do enough for each other. This brilliantly written psychology leads to a series of good (yet terrible) choices. Watching them try to do something truly special for each other—even though they’re breaking their own rules for the gift exchange—had this wonderful bittersweet edge to it that ultimately ended on a note of joy I really loved, even if it got a little bumpy along the way.