As soon as Emily feels a tingle between her legs while looking at the statue of Sir Griffin de Beauford, I knew I should have put this book down. And I probably should have put it down again when Griffin declared, “[...] and at your temple, I shall worship.”

I knew this story was going to be silly—and that wasn’t necessarily the problem. I promise I went into it with an open mind, ready to embrace the absurdity. I can appreciate a playful, campy vibe, but this ended up being far cornier than I expected.

Emily, a conservator at the Art Institute of Chicago, unexpectedly brings a statue to life—a statue that was once human in 1428 but cursed into stone. There’s plenty of humour as Griffin adjusts to modern times, and I found it sweet how much he cared for Emily and wanted to do right by her, but the insta-love and the oddly rampant sexual tension just weren’t for me.

(heat level: a few open-door scenes, explicit details)