Psychological Thriller Books Novels & Stories

I leaned in a fraction of an inch, a teasing glint in my eyes, "I prefer classic literature. Russian realism, psychological thrillers. Dostoyevsky, Fitzgerald, Hemingway. I like substance." "Substance?!" Ruby mocked, completely offended. "Are you implying my romance novels don't have substance? Excuse you, but enemies-to-lovers tropes require intense psychological maneuvering! The angst! The tension! It's art, Alexander. Your little Russian thrillers have nothing on a slow-burn romance."

She was already there when he arrived, which meant she also went there for that reason, or possibly for no reason at all, or possibly because the east reading room was exactly the kind of place someone like her would choose. She had three books open on the desk in front of her, stacked in a configuration that suggested ongoing comparison rather than sequential reading. He glanced at the titles as he settled at the desk diagonal from hers: one was a clinical text on forensic psychology; one was something on urban disappearances and cold case methodology; one was a philosophical text whose title he couldn't read from his angle. She looked up. Her eyes were dark and unhurried. She looked at him