As a neo-noir author, blogger, and a goth girl at heart, Rebecca Jones-Howe always couldn’t help herself from picking up her first V.C. Andrews book in her teens. All the other girls were reading them. However, after reading the entirety of the Landry series, My Sweet Audrina, and that weird Broken Wings book where the one character is forced to wear a diaper for some reason, Rebecca realized one thing — V.C. Andrews books had a formula, and that formula didn’t sit right with her. So she put them down, and went on to read authors like Sylvia Plath and Chuck Palahniuk. She read A Clockwork Orange and other things considered “cool” by early aughts standards.

But those cheap paperback books and their keyhole covers always watched her from the thrift store bookshelves. They wanted her, needed her to glance upon their pages again, and so, as a “grown-ass woman”, Rebecca embarked in the endeavor to read and snarkily review every book penned under V.C. Andrews’ name. Even the vile and awful ones penned by Andrews’ posthumous ghostwriter, Andrew Neiderman, for only trashy gothic nostalgia could keep her anxiety-ridden soul from falling apart in modern times…