literary gluttony

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️✨ 4.5 Stars

There are books that entertain, books that distract, and then there are books that reach straight into your ribcage, wrap a fist around your heart, and refuse to let go. The Last Letter is absolutely the latter—a raw, emotional gut-punch baked into a love story that tastes a little like grief, a little like hope, and entirely like something you’re going to remember long after the last page.

Rebecca Yarros doesn’t tiptoe around the heavy stuff—she dives in, eyes open, pen sharp. The story follows Beckett and Ella, two souls tethered long before they ever meet, pulled together by a letter that changes both of their lives. This book doesn’t just explore love; it excavates it. The kind built in the aftermath of loss, the kind shaped by trauma, the kind you cling to when everything else feels like smoke.

And Angel… this book wrecked me in the best, ugliest way. Tears? Yes. Multiple. The kind you blink hard to keep from dripping onto the page, because the emotional weight here is potent. Yarros crafts small moments that hit with the force of a meteor—quiet confessions, fierce protectiveness, the mistakes you don’t see until they blow up in your hands. Every chapter felt like it squeezed something inside my chest.

What stood out most is how honest it all felt. The military elements, the familial bonds, the love forged in the middle of chaos—none of it reads like fiction polished to a shine. It’s messy, complicated, deeply human. And that ending… I won’t spoil a thing, but you’ll need tissues. Honestly, you might need a whole box.

If you’re a reader who gravitates toward emotional depth, imperfect characters, and romances that feel carved from real life rather than fairy-dust perfection, this one belongs on your shelf. Maybe on a special shelf. One labeled Warning: Heartbreak Ahead.

Devour or Nibble?
Definitely devour—preferably in one sitting, with comfort snacks and emotional support nearby.