just_one_more_paige's reviews
1511 reviews

 

 “You don’t have to be completely healed to be everything I want.” 

 

I was looking for an easy listen for a long road trip and this seemed to fit the bill. Shoutout to Libro.fm for the ALC. And to my partner who picked it off a shelf at a bookstore and joked "How to end a love story? Murrrdeerrrrrrr." (said a la Gus from Psych, iykyk) ...and then consented to stand and pose with the book when I told him I was planning to read it and would need a photo for the review. 

 

Quick synopsis for this one: Helen and Grant haven't seen each other once since the accident over ten years before that changed both their lives forever. But now, Grant is one of the lead screenwriters for the tv series adaptation of Helen's best-selling YA series. Their coworking starts (unstandable) rocky, but over time, the two grow close - supporting each other in ways they have rarely found from anyone else, through their shared (or at least tangential) experiences of trauma and grief and maybe even a little (finally) processing of it all. But there's no way, with a past like theirs, and no chance of Helen's parents ever forgiving Grant, that it can ever turn into anything permanent. It'll just hurt them more to force it, right? Or, can helping each other make peace with that past and move on only happen together? 

 

Well, I enjoyed this one. I didn't know what the accident was prior to starting reading, and it ended up being a much more intense (in general and emotionally, for me) situation than I'd been anticipating. Maybe you already know what it is, but if not, I don't want to spoil it. Though, I will say, please read content warnings for this, because there are a number of aspects of said accident and the aftermath that could be difficult to read, depending on your own life experiences. Anyways, as a romance novel, I was assuming it would be something reasonably minor, that could be "gotten over" quickly and then the focus would shift fully to the romance. But no: this accident was a huge deal, legitimately life-changing (really, potentially shattering) for both Helen and Grant. And it was woven in fully and completely throughout every part of this novel. As such, it was, I felt, incredibly nuanced. And made for a much more profound read. My emotional swings were all over the place while reading, as Grant and Helen's clearly were while living it, and that made for a really impactful literary experience. I am really impressed with the way Kuang balanced such breadth, while maintaining the quick, smooth pacing of a romance novel. And spice! Because while the slow tension build is genuine and sooooo good, when we finally get to them, the spicy scenes delivereddddd. 

 

One of the highlights of this book, for me, was the character development. Every aspect of Grant and Helen, individually and together, was thorough and felt real. There was so much low self-esteem and second-guessing and social self-consciousness and (absolutely opposite, but not particularly healthy) coping mechanisms... It did get to be a lot to read at a few points, but it also always made sense within the greater story. And its presence was also part of, and necessary for, the overall wonderful and complex emotional development. I know there is a chance that a relationship that grows out of shared trauma can be unhealthy, but also, I love the hope in the way that Kuang chose to write/see it. Maybe Grant and Helen found the one and single person with whom they could fully process their trauma alongside, but only within the framing of the distance of time....of course, none of this would have been possible in the same way when they were teens, in the immediate aftermath. And they did each get some space to heal separately as well - especially Helen. Deciding that the other was worth working through their own challenges, making the effort to finally process and come to terms (to forgive and/or be forgiven), was spurred specifically by the realization that wanting to be with the other, free from that shadow of that shared past, was worth it. They each may have continued to coast through life - fine and successful, but never a "best life" - but they gave each other a reason to want/grow towards more. And I wish that for everyone, however and with whoever they can find it. So yea, this was a more emotionally difficult romance than normal, but the finale meant more as a result. 

 

Helen's complicated relationship with her parents was also written spectacularly. Kuang layered generational differences, cultural pieces, overbearing presences (and the resulting passive aggressive distancing that results), immigrant/first gen narratives, and loss/grief together with a deft touch. It walked the same line as the rest of the story, as far as being genuine and affecting, but also straightforward/easy enough to fit the romance genre (similar to how The Verifiers walked that line as a mystery novel). 

 

I also really liked the framework of the YA novel adaptation and screenwriting storyline. It felt very salient to IRL books and tv right now. And, while I know nothing about this process, so it could be inaccurate AF, it gave some timelines and ultimatum dates and reasons for this "reunion" to be possible that felt absolutely natural and unforced (a sort of miracle, IMO, for romance novels). Plus, as a reader, I always have a soft spot for when readers/writers get to be MCs in ways that feel authentic. The multiple ways that writing and screen-writing made it into the style and storytelling was smooth and fun. 

 

 So yea, I felt like this novel was the perfect mix of hot and sweet, sexy and homey/comforting, and emotional ups and downs. On the more intense end of the romance spectrum, but still solidly in that genre. I would definitely recommend it. 

 

I read, and LOVED Sebastian's first novel in this "series," We Could Be So Good, last year. It was one of my favs of the year. So, while I thought I was done with baseball romances for a while after The Prospects (which was amazing, but just, baseball is not my preferred sport/pastime), the publication of this one said otherwise. And I'm glad I overcame my baseball hesitancy because Sebastian hit this one out of the park (see what I did there? *elbow, elbow*). 

 

It's 1960 and it's setting up to be a terrible baseball season for Eddie O’Leary. He's offended his new teammates and coaches, he can't settle in NYC because he's homesick for the midwest, and he's (maybe, probably) in a hitting slump. When the owner orders him to give a bunch of interviews to some snobby reporter, he’d rather do anything else, but it doesn't seem like he has much of a choice. Mark Bailey is not a sports reporter. In fact, these days, he's barely a writer at all. He’s had a difficult and lonely year, mourning the death of his partner (privately, since they were able to be public about their love). But maybe writing about the (terrible) New York Robin’s obnoxious new shortstop can both get the struggling newspaper more readers and distract him somewhat? Finding themselves mostly alone, but now together in that, Eddie and Mark slowly realize, and give in to, the attraction and connection growing between them. But with laws and society against them, can they find a way to be together - open enough for Mark and subtle enough for Eddie - that works for them both? 

 

Yes. Just, yes. I don't really have a lot of interest in this time period nor in the primary topics (probability/slumps, baseball as a metaphor for life), but Sebastian made me care.  First, it's the fantastic historical fiction setting development; NYC in the 60s comes alive in her hands. Second, it's the characters; at only like 40 pages in, I already had soft spots for both Mark and Eddie. How is it possible that Sebastian can do that? I didn’t even really know them yet! Then, as I got to know them better, their development was just as good as the setting. They were full and nuanced, sweet and spiky, wholesome and flawed, each in their own ways. And those ways, in particular Mark’s prickly fearful love and Eddie’s earnest openness, were the literal perfect match for each other. The push and pull between them was so good. Delicious, really. The growing care is tender AF and I could not get enough of it (this was a highlight of We Could Be So Good too, so that's apparently a vibe that Sebastian has on lock). And the fact that they have to be so careful to hide something so tender is heartbreaking. The bittersweetness of that tears me upppppp. And the fact that it's all so unnecessarily heartbreaking - like, just let people love! - makes it all that much more emotionally devastating. 

 

A few other aspects that stood out to me included a really nice acknowledgement of the ways that the queer community received support from allies in the time period. Things were different, yet the importance of those allies, how they communicated and made themselves known and offered what assistance/cover/misdirection they could, was touching. This was explored in conjunction/comparison with racial discrimination, the ways each population was oppressed similarly and differently, and how allyship looked similar and different between them. And while I obviously have no direct experience, nor done my own research, I felt like the picture Sebastian painted conveyed the frustrating and enraging aspects of each, while also highlighting the ways that the human spirit still found ways to rise past/around that. On the other hand,  oooof most of these teammates are so dang petty and dramatic...and people think that’s what (only) women are like. Please. Ugh. No wonder unaddressed mental health challenges and unhealthy coping mechanisms abounded. 

 

Against my expectations, I also did find the reflection on luck, and how sometimes bad things happen with no reason or not "within a bigger picture" - they just...are - but you can also still get past it, to be fascinating. Often, a higher power is used to explain these unexplainable bad things, but that has never worked for me (if someone could stop these bad things from happening, why wouldn't they just do that? Why do we have to learn resilience and recovery if we could ensure not needing it?) This consideration of it, using the most superstitious and statistical sport as a backdrop story for the discussion on the inevitability of failure (and coming to terms and being ok with that), was really high quality literary juxtaposition that appealed to my atheist self. 

 

Overall, another banger of a recent historical queer romance from Sebastian. I loved the pacing, the dialogue (oh goodness was the dialogue great), the setting, the cameos from Nick and Andy (my heart smiled big during those), the story development, and, especially, Eddie and Mark. Their ending got me, in all my feels. The heart-filling hope and warmth and affection. I could not love them more. 

“Sometimes when bad things happen to you, it’s just because the dice get rolled a certain way. He finds that almost impossible to believe about himself, but would fight anyone who even suggested that [other people] were anything but blameless.” (but for real tho…) 

 

“But maybe it was just a bad thing that happened […] But […] even after a disaster, there’s still tomorrow.” 

 

“I’m not saying things happen for a reason – I hate that. I’m saying that things happen. And it doesn’t have to mean anything except what it means to you. Nobody else gets to decide.” 

 

“He wants to believe in the possibility of a second act.” 

 

“He feels like every part of him is wrapped around Eddie, like they’re tangled up in something dangerous and lovely and terribly, terribly precious.” (anddddd there goes my heart, a puddle) 

 

“They both know you can be happy and afraid all at once; maybe that’s easier to do when you aren’t alone.” 

 

González's first book, Olga Dies Dreaming, was so good - I read it right after it came out a couple years ago and loved it. So I was really excited for this sophomore novel.
Goodreads does a great job with this blurb, so I'm just gonna copy it over here and save myself some effort: In 1985, Anita de Monte, a rising star in the art world, is found dead in New York City; her tragic death is the talk of the town. Until it isn’t. By 1998 Anita’s name has been all but forgotten—certainly by the time Raquel, a third-year art history student is preparing her final thesis. On College Hill, surrounded by privileged students whose futures are already paved out for them, Raquel feels like an outsider. Students of color, like her, are the minority there, and the pressure to work twice as hard for the same opportunities is no secret. But when Raquel becomes romantically involved with a well-connected older art student, she finds herself unexpectedly rising up the social ranks. As she attempts to straddle both worlds, she stumbles upon Anita’s story, raising questions about the dynamics of her own relationship, which eerily mirrors that of the forgotten artist.

First, I listened to the audiobook for this and it was one of the most dramatically narrated audiobooks I have ever experienced. These narrators gave it all their effort and acting, which was such an immersive experience (though did involve a lot of volume adjustments, as things got heated and voices raised...which happened quite often).
 
 As to the story as a whole, I am partial to Olga, if I'm being honest. However, this was still *really* good. I honestly think the primary reason is that the very real, as in emotionally intense, aspects of this one were harder hitting to me personally. Both novels do a fantastic job of creating an entertaining and enjoyable story, balanced with diverse and interesting plot, great  - and varied - character development (of note here: I love how some characters were exactly as bad as expected, and some were able to surprise you with their willingness to consider a challenged POV...that is a large part of what made this story and these characters more than just caricatures, what made it truly compelling), and a heavy dose of salient social (justice) commentary. This one though, had me mired in dread for about two thirds of the total reading experience. The train wrecks of these relationships, the patterns of manipulation and abuse and gaslighting are hard to read. Raquel’s sections were especially difficult, claustrophobic, to read. So, shout out to González for writing that was that palpable. But also, warning to other potential readers if that is content that is tough for you.

One of the major themes of this novel was the straddling of worlds, as it were: the parallel of being caught between the US and Cuba, for Anita, and between socioeconomic statuses, for Raquel. (Of particular note, Raquel’s difficulties with the social lines of respect and casual-ness with her professor, lines that seemed to come so easily to those from a different social background, was a quietly done but spectacular example of the intangibles of privilege. And in the end, as she finds that comfort for herself, we see that it's born out of self-confidence, with a strong and important commentary about how that self-confidence is harder to come by/maintain based on social messages about your worth that you receive as the norm.) Both were struggling to figure out how to follow their own passions and live their own lives, even when their past says that makes them traitors/“changed,” and the current day questions whether they deserve to be there or if following their interests/heart makes them “taking advantage of” the partner’s wealth/access. There is no winning, really. And if you aren’t steadfast in who you are/what you want, it’s so easy to lose yourself in that push-pull. Watching both Anita and Raquel live through this, even with a generation of change between them, is so frustrating and heartbreaking. Especially in light of another major theme of the novel: the power of visibility for art and artists - who is allowed to have access to that audience and who controls it and creates barriers to it. Perhaps, if Anita's name and work had been given space and allowed to stand in the public eye, then Raquel wouldn't have had to feel as alone as she did.

To start, I felt like these parallel women and stories as a stylistic device seemed obvious. But as the story unfolded, the depth of the women and their stories, the emotional intensity of their narratives, separately and in juxtaposition with each other, had me invested. So, obvious it may have been, but it was skillfully enough done that I was riveted. And there were elements that weren't anticipated, and they were enough for me to keep this story unique. In particular, the way González conveyed the power of loneliness and thinking/hoping things would be different next time, the need to matter to someone, thoroughly touched my heart. I also really enjoyed the messaging about the way our identity and culture and upbringing can influence both our art and the way we see others’ art. It's so important that we not dismiss or ignore or not consider that, for ourselves or others. Art and the artist - and the viewer - cannot be separated or considered in silos, not if we're being honest.   
 

Finally, I liked the little bonus of unexpected elements of the mystical. That was, as I said, not something I'd anticipated, but it was one of the unique aspects of this novel that gave it a little something extra. I'm very much now hoping to be able to come back as a bat and antagonize any haters. Lol. But seriously, this was a great read. Some relationship drama, some social commentary, some mystery/thriller, a lot of art and music, and a splash of the paranormal and well-deserved comeuppance (Anita really did get the last laugh). Page-turning all the way through. 

 

“…and remind herself that she was not the first to walk this path, nor would she be the last. Nor would either of them be forgotten.” 

 

As you may have noticed, I don't reward a lot of middle grade/chapter books. Every once in awhile I'll pick one up, and I'm usually impressed (see Other Words for Home), but it's just not a primary reading type for me. However, a few weeks ago, Erin Becker (who I met while at undergrad at UNC) reached out about her debut novel coming out shortly, this novel, and asked if I'd be willing to review it. Well, if you follow me at all, you'll know I just recently posted about Cleat Cute, which I picked up because it was sapphic and soccer-themed, two things very close to my heart. Well, this book had those same primary themes (plus a few others), so, naturally, I decided I had to give it a try. 

 

*An early e-version of this book was provided to me in exchange for a review. The thoughts/comments in this review are entirely my own honest opinions.* 

 

Quick synopsis: Mel and Tory used to be best friends, but a falling out last year changed that. Nw, even though they still play together on the same soccer team, and are in the same classes at school, things just aren't the same. And they could really use the support, with everything they're dealing with. Mel isn't sure she's cut out to be captain, is struggling with nerves over a class presentation, and isn't sure she has anyone she can tell (other than her anonymous text-friend) about the poetry she's been working on. Tory may be outwardly put together, but inside, she's falling apart, as her mother's focus on crafts and her new husband doesn't seem to leave any time for Tory, and she doesn't feel like she has anyone she can confide in (other than her secret text-friend) about liking girls. As the end of the school year looms, with soccer championships and school president elections on the line, Mel and Tory have to figure out how to deal with everything from family problems to friendship changes to soccer field dynamics to their feelings in a real life way, beyond their online conversations. 

 

To start, I was a little worried because, while the issues and internal understanding of themselves and social-emotional puberty changes are spot on for Mel and Tory's 8th grade selves, the narrative voice felt a bit young/childish for that. It was solid, but I wanted them to be in like, 6th grade, not 8th, based on the writing (and, though my own health education work with middle schoolers, how they usually sound to me). However, as I got farther into the novel, the writing got better and more mature. I think perhaps it was just the intro chapters, the "getting to know the characters" basics, that came across more childish. And once I settled into the writing and age, my reading experience smoothed out considerably. 

 

The story itself was tender and delightful. So many very real youth situations found their way into these pages - school and family and friends and sport and extracurricular pressure and expectation and sometimes forgetfulness/leaving behind - and I found it so easy to remember and empathize with Tory and Mel. Middle school is a time of so many changes, and trying to figure them all out, while also discovering yourself, is such a unique and complex journey for everyone. We saw two very different, individual realities for Tory and Mel as they went through this for themselves, but the universality of change was displayed so well. 

 

I particularly loved these relationship situations between/amongst friends (and maybe more than friends?): the complications of things getting more nuanced as one gets older, working to “hold two opposing ideas” at the same time (in their feelings for other people and in their understanding of themselves and the passions/interests they can have), is such a gorgeous message/lesson that all young people have to learn. It's explained in such a clear and relatable way for young readers here. Another highlight for me was the sibling relationships for both Mel and Tory. They both have that mix of exasperation and annoyance and support and mutual jealousy/sadness that comes out as meanness, but also the pure excitement when the other one does something brave. I am always a softie for great, realistic sibling relationships and Becker delivered that here. And of course, the relationship between Tori and Mel - both of them realizing how they actually feel about each other and taking a chance with honesty about it - is so brave and heartwarming. Their little ice cream date to close the book was simply adorbs. 

 

While the closing was, potentially, a bit overly sweet, the happy ending fits the vibe of the storytelling. Plus, it's middle grade, so, I'd want to leave my readers with hopes for a happy ending and positive future for themselves too. Overall, I really enjoyed this young coming of age story. And I think my own middle school self might really have benefitted, might have learned some things for/about myself, from something like it. I may not be a convert to this age-range of books, but I liked and would definitely recommend this one. 

 

“…sometimes I’m lonely and I don’t know why.” 

 

"Here's the thing. When you're little, you can be friends with anyone. And then when you're older, everything changes. One day you turn around and your friends feel like aliens to you, and you feel like an alien to them. Even worse, you're like an alien to yourself, too." 

 

"Messing up / and still trying again, / I'd say finally, That's / the most human thing I know" 

 

"I kind of can't believe this. I've never heard my mom say she did something wrong. I think her way of being the strong one also meant always being right." 

 

"Maybe being magic isn't about being perfect [ ...] Maybe it's taking all the imperfect moments and still making something great. And when things are tough, when something goes wrong, I don't want to choke or run away or give up, or pretend it's okay when it's not, or pretend that I'm someone I'm not, or shove all the stars into a jar. Instead, I want to say, I am who I am. it is what it is. And I get to decide what I'm gonna do next." 

 

"It's scary, letting people in. Maybe the scariest thing on the planet. But you know what? I want this goofy, messy girl to feel the way she makes me feel. And that's worth doing something scary." 

 

"I think I like being more questions than answers. I think I find the mystery delicious." 

 

Look. I’m sorry. Well, I’m not. But. I have alwaysssss had a soft spot for this romance fantasy stuff, even before it had a cool “romantasy” moniker and #booktok “discovered” it. Call me hipster emo about it. I accept. Anyhoo, pluses and minuses there. The popularity has made it easier to find lots of books in the genre, so there’s always a new one when I’m in the mood. Buttttt, the quality is definitely always a grab-bag situation. And this one definitely fell into the “pushed out too fast and not enough editing” category. Altogether too bad, both because I wanted something better, but also, I read another series from Armentrout years ago (the Lux series) and I remember it being much better written, so my hopes were higher. 

 

Basically, this couldn’t find the line of originality versus proven classics. It was halfway familiar names (people and places), paranormal creatures (werewolves and vampires), and the general chosen one bringing down an oppressive governmental situation. But it did it poorly. It was not nearly different enough, but wouldn’t just accept that it’s the same as everything else (and go with it because that’s what the people want). Plus, literally nothing was explained. I’m here for not starting with an info dump but like halfway through I still didn’t feel like I understood anything that was going on/building (even stuff that Poppy does know, tbh, as I realize she’s in the dark on some things so it makes sense that those are unclear to the reader too). 

 

Ok and then there is Poppy and Hawke. That main couple build is usually something I love, but it’s SO uneven. Their interactions seem anachronistic to the rest of the story unfolding around them. And I wanted to fall into them, but the way Hawke acts is just…too far bad, not respecting Poppy like at all (other than her “violence” being so “intriguing” to him), and it just never got to a point where I was comfortable enough with the “dark hero” figure he cut to get past it and actually fall. It’s an unhealthy trope to begin with, so I always feel a little bad liking it, but this just…was so bad that I never really could. 

 

And the plot development and Poppy’s story are just similarly, under-development, with no nuance, and just, also bad? Yikes. Some of the most confusing, uneven, poorly edited writing I’ve ever read. 

 

 

This book came at me from all sides - an early physical copy from the library and an audiobook ALC from Libro.fm - and honestly this summer has been so much busier than normal (which is to say, way busier than I have wanted it to be), so, a quirky queer zombie novel felt just right. The vibes from the cover and description had me in mind of a B-level horror flick and with that in mind, this novel delivered. 

 

A bit estranged from her family, recently broken up with her ex-girlfriend, and trying to find a new path and community in life after moving to San Lazaro, AZ, Wendy's life is a bit messy. When Pride events that should have been fun, celebratory escapes turn deadly as an infection that is turning people into mindless, violent husks seems to be spreading, Wendy's life gets even messier. What to do? Well, try to stop the zombie outbreak, I suppose. Together with a small group of other queers - "drag queen Logan, silver fox Beau, sword lesbian Aurelia and her wife Sam, mysterious pizza delivery stoner Sunshine, and, oh yeah, Wendy’s ex-girlfriend Leah" - she jumps into tracking the outbreak to its source and trying to save Pride, the community, and their lives.  

 

Oh this was messssssyyyyyyy, in all the ways: relationships, sex, life choices, blood and violence, drama. Big yes. That's what I was looking for. It was absurdist, but in a good way. There was so much gore and body horror and death, and all the apocalypse staples of homemade weapons and souped up cars and chaotic fight scenes. And the pizza van situation gave me real horror-humor s4 Stranger Things vibes and I didn't hate that at all. I also enjoyed, and got similar vibes from, the everyday things that still happened/needed to happen during a zombie apocalypse (like getting Plan B and making coffee). It was just wild the way that things ended up so out of control, and fairly quickly, and like, not a single single character acted more surprised by the descent into chaos and violence from regular people/people they know, definitely played into those absurdist vibes. I feel like IRL, I (or just people in general) would step back and be like, "this is abnormal and wtf is going on?!" much sooner. Then again, the world is kind of falling to pieces, so maybe not... 

 

Outside of the spot on horror-humor vibes, the plot was simple but held up. I guessed pretty early what the source of the outbreak was, but even with that it was entertaining to read through the "how" and "why" of it. Really, a solid, if ridiculous, commentary on capitalism and corporate greed and the blinders that those who have high ambitions can have. There were some basic, convenient aspects to the wrap up, but it was smooth, so it felt alright. And I actually did really appreciate the open-endedness of the ending (there is no way something this messy gets wrapped up quick and easy). That, and the fact that the author honestly acknowledged on-page that there wasn’t time to process the trauma, because it kept happening, were both well done and necessary for me to swallow the story (even bizarre as it was). I also want to mention the interesting, kind of off-the-wall, but also weirdly serious, moral questions about killing zombies, especially knowing there’s an antidote (while killing zombies). It presented a sort of ludicrous morality that really fit the vibe and also actually felt like it carried a real message. An unexpected and pleasant surprise.  

 

Overall, the dramatics of this novel were perfect. It was such a funny, weird, entertaining, offbeat, queer, character-driven, zombie-horror story.  

 

Alright, I read The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen a few months ago and had so much fun with it: the adventure, the romance, the smart dialogue. It was great. So when I was looking for a summer relaxing read for a beach weekend recently, this sequel felt like just the right thing. 

 

A Nobleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel is set some years after Country Gentleman and follows a favorite young character from that story: Luke. When Major Rufus d'Aumesty becomes the Earl of Oxney, now in charge of deeply mismanaged manor on the edge of the infamous Romney Marsh, a position hotly contested by his greedy uncle/extended family. Enter Luke Doomsday, a trained secretary and expert schemer (having grown up as part of the infamous Doomsday smuggling clan). While the two should be natural enemies, Luke is cocksure and engagingly competent, which is exactly what Rufus needs right now. And Rufus turns out to be the exact personality and support that Luke cannot resist...though that isn't quite enough to dissuade him from his private goals, the ulterior motive that drove him to work at Stone Manor to begin with. As the lies and family secrets grow, they threaten to destroy the budding relationship between Rufus and Luke, and the two must decide once and for all what is most important to them. 

 

This sequel had so many of the things (the adventure, the romance, the smart dialogue) that I loved about the first, but managed to present them in a completely separate and unique way. Let's see. First and foremost, I loved the writing, the banter especially. It's this short and choppy back and forth that is so smoooooooth and perfect for these characters. The bluster of the two, each in their own way, mixed with the smooth wordplay, is honestly a mix I’ve never experienced and maybe wouldn’t expect to like (Rufus’ vibe isn’t quite my personal romantic-interest style) but honestly I really enjoyed it. And on a more serious relationship note, this connection between Rufus and Luke, the similarity of family abandonment (but then being taken in by other/better family) and physical/educational disability, as it were, is making for some quite touching bonding before they even realize that’s what’s happening. My heart was so soft for it. 

 

Just in general, I was happy to see more from Luke, as he grew into his own and did the difficult work of coming to terms with his complicated and traumatic family history. While it was a really heartbreaking situation, it was also truly compelling character development. Luke’s plans to "show" everyone, and how it ended up being so convoluted and bound up in youthful trauma and conflicting and nigh on impossible to explain his motivations, is so very REAL...and a very good argument for why mental health care is so important and necessary and that it’s been that way forever only people didn’t recognize it as such (still don’t, in many cases). Watching the way Rufus handles Luke, helps him open up and figure a way to move on that works for him individually, and opens up his own self in vulnerability to let Luke in…I mean, oh my heart.  

 

As to other aspects of the novel, by just two chapters in, I had guffawed like four times (I would say giggled, as that’s likely more accurate to the sound I made, but guffaw fits the vibe of the book better) because Charles just has that way with her writing. And the setup and interactions lend themselves to hilarity; I always love when the stuffy gentry get shown up by their own rules/propriety and bullshit, so satisfying. (As the story went, and we saw Rufus' family get worse and worse in their actions, my satisfaction in their "losses" just got stronger and stronger.) Speaking of them, they were sooooo bad. Charles writes a fantastic IRL villain, a regular old person that just has no redeeming qualities, and that makes them worse than an overexaggerated-style "big bad." There were also some other great side characters, like Rufus' cousins(?) Odo and Berry, who had some of their own nuanced personalities and development throughout the novel. And it was lovely to revisit Gareth, too. Oh, and I can't forget to mention: the spice was verrrry nice. 

 

The greater plot around Luke's secret/ulterior motives, the drama of who actually is the Lord of Stone Manor, and the culminating treasure hunts and reveals and dramatic life-saving rescue of the finale, all just made for a truly entertaining story. And I loved the way it wrapped up! The difference between ethics and morals, the lawful right versus what’s right in reality, is a thing I love about the "outside the law characters" (the Doomsday’s in this case, and as seen in some other quality historical romance, like The Queer Principles of Kitt Webb and/or fantasy with a grey hero, like The Mask of Mirrors or the Six of Crows duology.) 

 

I just had so much fun reading this, just like I did with the first, and will absolutely be picking up more from K.J. Charles. 

 

“But even if you weren’t fully aware of what was happening at the time, it will have been there - the fear of power, and hostility. Knowing you have been abandoned and could be again. Feeling you should be a part of something but you aren't. [...] When people are frightening, you want to please them. [...] Certainly, it's harder to oppose them.” 

 

“It’s very hard to be out of your accustomed place.” 

 

“Tell me you’ve thought of oil. / In my pocket. / Absolutely engagingly competent.” (Idk, for some reason this exchange encapsulated Rufus and Luke and it got me, I loved it.) 

 

“He’s that way, Luke. Aunt Sybil says he's hard to love but it's not true. What's hard is making him see it when you do, because he's already decided you don’t.” 

 

I have read a few of Acevedo's YA novels (in verse and prose), The Poet X and With the Fire on High. And they were both phenomenal. And so, I was really excited to pick this, her first adult novel, up. 

 

Here's the blurb from Goodreads: "Flor has a gift: she can predict, to the day, when someone will die. So when she decides she wants a living wake--a party to bring her family and community together to celebrate the long life she's led--her sisters are surprised. Has Flor forseen her own death, or someone else's? Does she have other motives? She refuses to tell her sisters, Matilde, Pastora, and Camila. But Flor isn't the only person with secrets. Matilde has tried for decades to cover the extent of her husband's infidelity, but she must now confront the true state of her marriage. Pastora is typically the most reserved sister, but Flor's wake motivates this driven woman to solve her sibling's problems. Camila is the youngest sibling, and often the forgotten one, but she's decided she no longer wants to be taken for granted. And the next generation, cousins Ona and Yadi, face tumult of their own: Yadi is reuniting with her first love, who was imprisoned when they were both still kids; Ona is married for years and attempting to conceive. Ona must decide whether it's worth it to keep trying--to have a child, and the anthropology research that's begun to feel lackluster." 

 

There were a lot of narrative voices in this novel. We heard from Flor, and all her sisters, as well as her daughter Ona and niece Yadi. And normally I appreciate this style of storytelling, but in this case, I found it to be rather confusing. There was a lot of jumping around both in whose perspective we were in and what time period (look back/past or present-day). Plus, there were some snippets that were "interview" style, as Ona was working on her anthropological research and was conducting recorded conversations with her family members. And, in the time honored tradition of families everywhere (especially female family members and, not from personal experience but definitely what I've gleaned from literature, Latin(a) family members), there is quite a bit of talking about each other. All that to say, I really did struggle to follow who was who. and who was narrating. and what was happening to who, and when it was happening to them. I did eventually settle, mostly, into the narrations and characters connections, but this is definitely not a novel one can passively read (or listen to, in my case...of note here, the audiobook narrators were fantastic). 

 

One aspect I was really impressed by, and that should come as no surprise considering Acevedo's reputation, was the absolutely gorgeous writing. You can tell her background in poetry from the deftness of the wordplay and flow and the rhythm in the writing. So smooth, so good. I also am always here for a classic Spanish/Latin literature vibe of intergenerational family with abilities that border on magic (magical realism). In the vein of Like Water for Chocolate and anything from Garcia Marquez, this hits. But there was also an irreverence to it here that I loved. The thematic threads of this book were anchored in a unique and open and creative examination of female bodies/pleasure (mostly self), including menopause and fertility and breastfeeding and masturbation and many other aspects that everyone is afraid to talk about, and therefore never see enough light/normalization. It’s a beautiful conversation about something that should always be considered that beautiful, but instead is labeled vulgar and loose. That spoke to my soul and was an absolute highlight of the reading experience for me.  

   

On the whole though...I don't know. This novel had all the elements. I simply loved some trajectories - Yadi and Matilde in particular - and in general the way they all moved and wove together as a family, as women, and the overall message of how women support each other, but don’t always talk about the things that would actually be helpful. And yet, something was missing in the novel as a whole, some piece that would have made it great. Maybe the pacing (it felt a bit slow, surprising considering the number of characters we were following) or maybe how hard I had to work to piece everything together or maybe that the ending(s) felt a bit anticlimactic for me? But in the end, while this was a very solid overall read, it was not as special as I'd hoped. I definitely think she shines more in her YA work. 

 

 

“Some things take time to cure. Candles aren’t candles until they’ve hardened in the dark and can be turned on without the wax melting before the flame can consume it. Soap isn’t soap until the lye and lather binds. Rum takes weeks of adding honey and bay leaf and wine before it can be called or served as mama-juana. Cannabis even needs darkness, to shed itself of moisture, before becoming something that will burn, heal. You’re in a curing season.” 

 

“How do you learn to live with what will not be? How do you console yourself with the life that you have when the humans you love most are hopeful for more than you?” 

 

“I like to think there was a time, before our mothers, and theirs, and theirs and theirs, some great-great who knew her own pleasure. A time before we were wrapped in corsets, and courtships, and the approximation of proper. I like to think we were nations of women who undulated to a music all our own.” 

 

“We learned in the shadows, when boys who should not, did. When girls we loved loved us back, right? We learned in the big beds of other people’s parents, didn’t we? On a rare occasion, we might have even learned in the sunlight. We might have learned in the quiet. We learned as we listened to the still, to the loudness of our hearts. But not from our mothers.” 

 

“It amazes me how few questions I know to ask, or whom to ask them of, until it’s already too late for the answers to be useful. How do lineages of women from colonized places, where emphasis is put on silent enduring, learn when and where to confide in their own family if forbearance is the only attitude elevated and modeled?” 

 

“And I know the heart is a burial ground for memories that shame and hurt. You can visit and place flowers there and make it a tomb. Or let those things act as fertilizer and pay no homage.” 

 

“…all of us are magic wrapped in skin.” 

 

You know how, every once in a while, you come upon a book that is just perfect for you? The exact right story with the exact right characters at the exact right time? Well, other than the fact that I am pretty sure any time would have been the right time in this case, this was that book for me. I am going to say this here at the beginning and I'll probably repeat it a few times throughout this review, but I seriously cannot stress enough how much I will *never* be over this book. 

 

Truly is a bestselling romance novelist, but between the recent breakup with her fiance (he cheated) and her parents marriage - which she has always held up as an example of a perfect relationship - her belief in love and happily ever after is facing some real outside challenges. Colin is a bit more of a realist in his outlook on relationships; in his practice as a family lawyer, he deals with a lot of divorce cases. When the two meet as guests on a well-known podcast brought in to give relationship advice from opposite ends of the love spectrum, sparks fly. Colin's advice hits Truly in her recently-soft spots and even his hotness can't overcome her defensive responses. However, a few days later, Colin reaches out to ask for a restart and after some pushing from her bestie, Lulu, a legitimately heartfelt apology from Colin, and an internal pull that she's totally pretending isn't happening, Truly gives in. With more time spent together - and realizing that he is truly an amazing guy, one that she is happier spending time around than not - that internal pull towards Colin gets stronger and stronger, harder to ignore. Truly will have to decide if she's ready to risk her emotional safety for a chance at true love, despite all her recent life experiences that upended her original belief in the concept.   

 

Bellefleur is very much an auto-read author for me, as I have read every single contemporary romance she's published and they're all great. (See my previous reviews for Written in the Stars, Count Your Lucky Stars, Hang the Moon, and The Fiancée Farce.) Each one is uplifting and feel-good, funny and quirky, with great dialogue and wonderful steam/spice. And in particular, her fully rounded representations of bisexuality are, for me, everything. She is outspoken both in her novels and IRL on behalf of the bi community and in her efforts to bright light to bi erasure. As a bi person in a hetero-presenting relationship, that means so much. And in the case of Truly, Madly, Deeply - this was central to the plot in a way that made me feel *very* seen. The conversation Truly and Colin have coming out to each other hits soooooo hard. I love Bellefleur for giving it. And it's hard to separate that out from this review, and I don't think I want to anyways, as that's so much a part of the book's wonderfulness, but I do want to be transparent about it. 

 

 Anyways, oh my goodness this was magical! By only five chapters in, I was grinning ear to ear at this combative flirty dialogue, the sexual tension, and epic back and forth banter-arguing. I cannot with how much fun I had with it (as Lulu said, it was better than pay per view). For me, this book was entirely centered around Truly and Colin. I mean, I loved Lulu as a bestie and Caitlin as Colin's sister. Fantastic and fun side characters. And there were low key some other plot things happening, like Colin's shitty family and Truly's parents separation (and her plan to get them back together), which were fine (nothing special, but you know, a good story needs multiple aspects). But mostly, Truly and Colin were *it,* and those other pieces added just enough to see how perfect they were together in the ways they supported each other through moments they couldn't deal with alone.  

 

Let me break down all the things I loved. First of all, is anyone else picturing Colin as Steve from Stranger Things? I mean, look at the cover art. It cannot just be me. And the personalities fit...it's that saucy-irreverent, but still totally sweet/soft/sincere shit, and it really presses all my buttons. Love them both. Plus, here, the deep dives into random topics, spouting off like a wiki article, that’s what my IRL man is like and I roll my eyes, but I love it...so that's only making Colin hotter. And it's not just his genuine desire to be safe and respectful of Truly, nor his clear attraction to her physically, nor the perfect mix of heartfelt and [lightly] contentious verbal sparring throughout (though it's all those things too). But the spicy scenes hit exactly right for me too, tbh. I don’t usually like dirty talk, it often seems forced or awkward when I'm reading it, but Colin’s monologue about what he’d done thinking about Truly…I mean, PHEW. Which is then followed up by a raspy voice (I love a raw-rough-needy, struggling to maintain control, voice) and a “rough pull closer” to finally kiss and break the sexual tension: perfection. I SWOON. Later too, there's a small thing that comes up, possibly not something most readers will really register even. But for me? The hand at the neck (Colin's at Truly's neck) that would normally make one feel terrified because it’s so vulnerable, but the right hand, from someone you know treats you gently, is different, touching something deep and primal. I honestly don't know how Bellefleur is doing it, but she’s hitting ALL my notes, even the smaller ones, in a way I don't remember a romance doing before. Anyways, all that to say, Colin is basically the perfect man.  

 

Random final notes. First, this book also managed to include some lovely romance tropes, while avoiding my least favorites: miscommunication and the forced third-act breakup. Not having those two here was icing on an already pretty spectacular cookie cake. Second, as always, the oblique references to Bellefleur’s other books/characters (Fiancée Farce, for one, if I’m not mistaken) - a theme throughout all her Seattle-based novels, is something fun that I enjoy spotting while reading.    

 

Look y'all. I devoured this book. It was perfect for me and, to end where I began, oh my fucking god, I will NEVER be over this book. 

 

“But disagreements are natural. Normal. [...] But peace doesn't mean the absence of conflict. That's not realistic. It's about being able to have those inevitable disagreements without being contemptuous or defensive.” 

 

“With anyone else she might've considered the moment broken, but with him it just felt like turning to the next page in a book she'd never read. A book she;d left lingering on her nightstand for weeks, picking it up and putting it back down, her hopes for it so high she feared there was no earthly way the reality of it could live up to her expectations, too afraid she wouldn't like the ending.” (If that isn’t the most relatable book nerd romance shit I’ve ever read.) 

 

“Love launched ships and started wars and inspired sonnets and drove people to madness. Love was heaven and hell, sin and redemption. It was as real to her as any other force of nature, hurricanes and earthquakes and lightning storms and meteor strikes. It fascinated her as much as it terrified her as much as it humbled her and - [....] Love had to be enough. There was no point if it wasn’t.” (Like if there weren't enough signs and reasons that this book was everything for me, I literally have a tattoo that says "love is enough." UGH.) 

 

“I happen to be wildly in love with you. Isn't it obvious? You fucking own me, Truly.” 

 

I'm sorry, is it actually possible to see this title/cover combo and not want to give it a try? Is it? Coming from a bi millennial whose tastes run very stereotypically along the lines of "the entire cast of the 1999 The Mummy starring Brendan Fraser," I can tell you it's not. (In other news, having been inspired to rewatch Raiders of the Lost Ark during my reading of this novel, The Mummy the FAR superior movie in all ways. I don't even care how cute Harrison Ford's little smirk is, he's no Brendan Fraser. And that's not even getting into how much better the rest of the cast is, nor the much more even expertise split in the MCs nor the humor...I could go on, but you get it, I think.) Anyways back to me not being able to walk past this book on the "new" shelf at the library without taking it home with me. 

 

Alright, this book gets a lazy blurb...here's what Goodreads says: "It’s been Corrie’s life goal to lead an expedition deep into the Mexican jungle in search of the long-lost remains of her ancestor, Chimalli, an ancient warrior of the Aztec empire. But when she is invited to join an all-expenses-paid dig to do just that, Corrie is sure it’s too good to be true...and she’s right. As the world-renowned expert on Chimalli, by rights Corrie should be leading the expedition, not sharing the glory with her disgustingly handsome nemesis. But Dr. Ford Matthews has been finding new ways to best her since they were in grad school. Ford certainly isn’t thrilled either—with his life in shambles, the last thing he needs is a reminder of their rocky past. But as the dig begins, it becomes clear they’ll need to work together when they realize a thief is lurking around their campsite, forcing the pair to keep their discoveries—and lingering attraction—under wraps. With money-hungry artifact smugglers, the Mexican authorities, and the lies between them closing in, there’s only one way this all ends—explosively." 

 

Well, I'm falling solidly into the middle lane on this book. Some things I really enjoyed, some things fell a little short of expectation. But overall, a fairly enjoyable read. Starting with the plot, it delivered everything you'd want from a classic archeological adventure mixed with romance, but in a pretty unevenly paced way. This started pretty slowly, very interpersonal relationship focused, and it took a longgg time (or at least that's what it felt like) for the archeology pieces - digging and discovering and water rapids and a secret thief and caves behind waterfalls, etc. - to kick in. Though they were solid and fun once we got them. And the higher action items - the secret thief, a chase/knife scene, artifact smugglers and the Mexican government - were all super backloaded. Again, very fun, but a bit later in the game than I'd have liked for them to kick in. 

 

On the other hand, the romance pieces were always forefront. Corrie and Ford were *totally* obsessed with each other, if their constant internal monologues, focused on how unfairly attractive each other was, were anything to go by. Phew. It was clear the two had years of pent-up lust/interest that needed letting out. For a while at the beginning, I was wondering if we were going to get any archeology at all, or if it was gonna be all hate-pining and sniping because they were too into their own POVs to admit how they really felt. Thankful to their friend Ethan for sticking his nose in to get them past it, at least to start. (Even if how he managed it seemed a bit more meddling than I'd expected from how his character was written otherwise.) Anyhoo, as far as the romance itself: I do enjoy a “love and hate are two sides of the same coin” style. It sets the stage for fire and fireworks in a lot of ways, and this book did deliver there. Lots of (verbal) fights, lots of tension (sexual and otherwise), and when we got to it, some solid spice.     

 

I really liked the flip-script from the original (and more common) storyline, with Corrie being more of the adventurous Lara Croft type and Ford being a more follow-the-rules, buttoned-up character. And I was here for Corrie's confidence in her body and outward comfort/owning of her sexual life/preferences. It was refreshing and also I enjoyed how discomfited it made Ford. Lolz. However, I did really get annoyed with Ford as such a self-focused and unaware person. It's clearly a safety/comfort thing that middle class cis white men have, so in that respect Segura nailed the characterization. And as he got deeper into his mistakes and relationship with Corrie, he did spend a lot of time apologizing and learning hard lessons and working on being better, but you do kinda wish for more for Corrie than to have to be the person to walk him through shit that isn't her issue (other than her apparently unavoidable attraction to the man). Ah well, and isn't that an accurate reflection of life...  

 

The last thing I'm going to say is that I think some of the writing could have been tightened up a bit, with more time spent on the details in what I think was seen as filler text. There was so much seesawing with the “I am out of touch with him and never think about him and he’s been disappeared for two years” and the “he a good guy and my bestie and I have all these feels about him and can’t stop thinking about him” that bounce back and forth *so* fast for whatever is most convenient for the dialogue and story. And this wasn't just between Corrie and Ford, but between Corrie and Ethan/Ford and Ethan as well. Like, a decision needed to be made about how well they knew each other, how close they were, and stuck with. This is kind of an insignificant thing if done right, but the repetitive back and forth in the indecision in the narrative made the writing feel sloppy, which does kind of suck for the reader. Solid dialogue though, which I definitely appreciated.     

 

Overall, as I said to start, color me entertained, if not blown away, by this romance. Shout out to the Author's Note, where Segura mentions that this was born from a tweet she sent, wishing that there were more romcoms about archeologists. I agree, honestly, and love that she inspired herself to write the romance she wished to read. Slow clap for that energy.  

 

“Because being with her, even for a moment, was worth any and all devastation that might follow.”