Best Books I Read This Year and The Stories That Stayed with Me

There’s something about reading that feels like a ritual. A softening. A way of taking stock without making it a task.

It was interesting to look back on my year through the books I read — almost like a quiet little map of where I was, what I needed and the worlds I escaped into.

This year, my reading mirrored my internal world: slower, more intentional and more nourishing than it’s been in a long time.

Here’s a roundup of the stories that stayed with me — the books I read on planes and in baths, the ones that kept me up at night, the ones that offered comfort, the ones that challenged me, and the one that changed me.

I hope one of them finds its way to you at the perfect time.

This book felt like being ushered into another era. Elizabeth Gilbert has a way of making the past feel textured, alive and impossibly vivid — every detail lovingly researched and woven into a world you can almost smell and touch. But what struck me most was how deeply I resonated with the main character, Vivian Morris, who refuses to fit neatly into anyone’s expectations. The feeling of being the “black sheep,” of not being understood, of wanting to carve out a life that doesn’t fit the family script. And the beauty of finding people who do get you.

This book is lush, vibrant and strangely affirming.

I read this while recently on holiday and on my nine-hour flight from New Zealand to Bali and I absolutely devoured it. It’s addictive, warm, romantic and beautifully paced. Again, I found myself drawn to another “black sheep” character, Alice Storm — another woman cast out for choosing herself and her own path. I loved her stubbornness, her softness, and the way she creates a life on her own terms — it was beautiful.

This book came recommended by Coley from Life Goals and it might be one of my favourite reads of the year.

Atmospheric, gentle and richly layered with a dual timeline, this one carried me into a story full of family secrets and quiet emotional undercurrents, a mystery with enough twists to keep you hooked but not so many that your brain hurts. It’s moody, atmospheric and perfect if you love a story that unravels slowly and lands in a satisfying way.

It was the perfect curl-up-with-a-cup-of-tea novel — immersive without being heavy.

This is one of those books that feels like sitting on the deck with a cold drink as the sun goes down, while listening as someone you adore tells you their best stories — the ones that made them who they are.

I loved the dual timelines – the way we get a ringside seat as Lara Nelson shares the stories of her former life, love and success with her daughters. Being witness as her daughters hear about their mother’s experiences, as if she were a foreign creature, someone unknown to them because she was someone else entirely before she was their mother, was easily my favourite aspect of this book.

It’s tender, beautifully written and full of soft reminders you’ve already lived entire lifetimes before motherhood ever arrived. If These summer Storms was my favourite read of 2025, then Tom Lake was my second.

This was another richly atmospheric, character-driven story that unfolded with the kind of slow, immersive detail I love. Jenny Ashcroft has such a talent for weaving history, place and emotion together in a way that feels both gentle and gripping.

The story carries a quiet tension — old secrets, emotional tension and the kind of setting that almost becomes its own character.

It’s gentle but still gripping — one of those books you slowly settle into and then suddenly realise you’ve devoured half of without meaning to.

This is not a book to pick up lightly. It asks for presence and space and emotional readiness — and it deserves all of it.

The writing is exquisite.
The cadence is masterful.
The storytelling is brave.

As someone living in the safety and privilege of New Zealand, this book cracked something open in me. While the story is fictional, the themes echo real experiences — censorship, families being torn apart, the policing of truth, conformity over humanity. It forced me to look at realities I don’t have to face in my own life.

I was especially moved by the structure: how the full picture doesn’t reveal itself until we’re brought into the mother’s world in the second half. Her rebellion, creativity and audacity were breathtaking. The author herself feels like a revolutionary — the concept she imagined as a form of resistance is genius.

It was intense, yes. And utterly unforgettable.

This was a gentle, delightful, heart-softening read — perfect if you want something easy that still has heart. I loved the dynamic between the characters, Hannah Brooks and Jack Stapleton — how her over-independence, her hardened edges (the flavours so many of us overdevelop as women) slowly softened in the presence of Jack, someone playful, goofy and open-hearted.

It reminded me how tenderness can coax us back into our feminine essence, even when we’ve forgotten how to let ourselves be held. It has that lovely feminine-softening arc without being cheesy.

This book is like a warm cup of tea. A gentle, heartwarming story about community, synchronicity and belonging. I loved how these characters — who seemed to share nothing in common — slowly revealed the invisible threads connecting their lives.

It’s sweet, cosy and feels like proof of how the right people find us at the right time and how quietly the universe arranges the meeting points that change everything.

Looking back, what ties these books together isn’t genre or storyline — it’s the way they all met me where I was.
Books that held me.
Books that stretched me.
Books that reminded me of who I am and who I’m becoming.

If you add any of these to your own summer reading list, I hope they land gently and beautifully in your world, too.

Rhi xx