100 Books Like Unbreakable

You can’t go wrong with any Rebekah Weatherspoon book frankly, but Xeni has a special place in my heart because of the leads: Xeni, a witchy bi lead with a very complicated family bumping into a favourite romantic trope: the marriage of convenience (only, it’s very much not convenient, thank you); and Mason, a burly, bearded, bi bear who, I cannot express this clearly enough, is so instantly cuddle-worthy. That these bisexual characters are thrown into this marriage by someone they both loved as part of her will just adds to the trope joy. Beyond that, there’s so much steamy sex-positivity in this book, alongside Weatherspoon’s always brilliant supportive friend groups and mix of chosen and biological family that I found myself taking the dog for extra walks just to keep listening. 

The way Rey handles butch-femme relationships never fail to impress me, and I think so much of it comes down to how expertly she manages to make her butch characters so non-toxic in their masculinity. They support without taking over, lead without diminishing, and her characters are so often imperfectly doing their best that you root for them even when you know they’re about to do something they’ll regret. Twice Shy puts two women together who’ve both divorced their exes, and listening to Kiera Grace perform Quinn and Amanda tentatively finding their way to each other was as sweet as Amanda’s bakery’s cupcakes. Oh, I should warn you, though: any Rey book will make you hungry. Bring snacks.

Visiting London at its most coal-caked and financially stratified, The Affair of the Porcelain Dog was Holmes-like in its execution, and pulled me into its mystery from the opening so steeped in the time and place and culture, and then never let go. Ira Adler is so charming a character that even when he was being selfish or spoiled I was smitten. An orphan, street thief, pickpocket, and former rent boy now living in luxury at the beck and call of a crime lord, Ira ends up tasked to recover the titular “dog” statue, which contains a secret that could ruin everything, and bring Ira's comfortable new life to an end. Philip Battley’s narration was so completely immersive, and had me there with Ira, hoping he’d somehow pull it off.

You can actually get this novella as part of a four-pack of audio novellas by Cole, which I’d also recommend, but this sapphic historical novella is set against the backdrop of American History—any fans of Hamilton reading this should take note—and manages to be both hopeful and unblinking in the face of reality of what Black queer women face in the time and place in this perfect balance I cannot praise enough. These two women couldn’t be more different: one is a maid to Eliza Hamilton and devoted to as simple a life as possible, the other is a dressmaker who refuses to be anything but audacious, and the result is brilliant. Also, Karen Chilton’s performance is just fantastic.

I love queer romance when it shows slices of queer life that we don’t see anywhere near as often as we do when we’re glimpsed in the mainstream, and that includes stocky, cuddly bear-type dudes like Will, who have such heart and is so genuinely well-written as a big gentle, shy dude I just melted for him at step one.

The snow, the holiday, the crush, and the passing of secret notes to his singer/songwriter crush are icing on the already wonderful gingerbread cookie that is this story, and it’s one of the first I revisit every year to get myself in the mood for the holidays. Also, the singer crush is written swoon-worthy, so you’re crushing out on him right there with Will.

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.

It’s hard to pick just one of Jim Colucci’s books to put on this list, but this one is probably my favorite. (He’s also written excellent books about The Golden Girls and Will & Grace, among other topics.)

It’s an incredible insider’s look at the making of one of the most important television programs ever made, with lots of original documents, interviews with creators, and insights that yield an even greater appreciation for this groundbreaking show.

As a fan of epic fantasy, swoon-worthy romance, and political intrigue, I fell so hard for this book—and it’s the first in a series of four books, so there was more than enough to feed my desire for all the action.

The series follows Robin, a seemingly ordinary boy whose kidnapping leads him to discover that he’s anything but. His journey of self-discovery and self—acceptance truly spoke to me as a reader, and the kick-ass family he gathers around him along the way cemented the Realm of Fey series as one of my favorite found family fantasies.  

This book is a gripping story that reads like a thrilling noir caper.

I felt drawn into the main character’s story, both as she navigated the mystery and in her stirring relationship with her family. The intersection of her identity as a queer woman from a Chinese-American family provided so much of the story’s heart and stakes—I found myself reading to see how these tensions would resolve as much as to figure out whodunnit.

Although this book is about film, rather than television, it’s impossible to understand the TV landscape without also understanding what was happening at the movies.

And then there’s Vito Russo’s incredible research and activism, which made this book possible – an inspiration for anyone interested in how media can make the world a better place.