Itchy creepy thrills
Oh, you really aren’t going to want to read this at home in bed; in fact, no matter how sunny and clean a reading spot you pick, the sensation will come. Something is crawling on you. What is that? And really, who needs monsters, zombies and vampires when Mother Nature has produced some darned efficient little blood suckers and placed them right between your own sheets? This horror-thriller from Edgar-winner Ben H. Winters is, for lack of a better word, creepy. Susan, her husband and little girl move into their dream apartment. Despite the slightly odd landlady (think Ruth Gordon in Rosemary’s Baby), it’s a great place and a great deal. But before long, there’s financial and marital strain, and Susan starts seeing—and feeling—bedbugs that don’t bother anyone else. It gets worse from there. Bedbugs is one disgusting, fascinating novel. Be warned, and put the exterminator’s number on speed-dial.