Come On, Google, You Know What Book I Mean

I think everyone who loves books has done it. You're screwing around on some blog/website and you come across a book that looks kind of interesting. You think "Oh, that sounds different but I'm more looking for a (insert genre or trope here) story". For some reason you don't write down the title of this intriguing book, you don't add it to your TBR list anywhere, no, you just click on by it. Like an idiot.

 

Months later you're looking for something to read and you remember that book. Well, you sort of remember it, and you really want to read it now. You don't know the title, you don't know the author, you don't know the publisher. You remember two or three things that have you dying to read this book but those two or three things are useless in the face of the sheer number of books in existence.

 

This is where I'm at right now.

 

I thought Google would be my buddy and help me out. I mean, Google knows everything. Yes, when I so much as cough it consistently convinces me that I'm dying or having a heart attack or both simultaneously. That's not cool, Google, but I forgive you because how did I find recipes or my way around town before you existed? So, I thought my buddy would be helpful. I typed in something along the lines of "recent horror or thriller novel maybe having to do with the Bible or something Christian and black magic or maybe witchcraft also goth maybe".

 

My buddy responded with "Trick, you playin', right?"

 

I'd given my buddy a lot to work with but it wasn't enough. For the last thirty minutes I've been rearranging words and trying to come up with alternate words, all while wanting to punch my buddy in the pixels. How is this search engine not figuring out what I need to be reading. Right. This. Second?! Frustrated is not even the word. This is my own fault, though, because I should have known better than to fail to record a book that I was even slightly interested in. Like I said before; idiot.