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heddas_bookgems's Reviews (490)
Godsgrave, follows Mia Corvere as she continues her quest for vengeance against those who destroyed her family. With her blade, her courage, and the shadow cat Mr. Kindly by her side, Mia infiltrates the gladiatorial arena, where she fights for both survival and the chance to exact her revenge.
While the novel delivers dark, intricate world-building and complex characters, some elements push boundaries with explicit content that at times seems designed more for shock value than narrative enhancement. This can be jarring but doesn't overshadow the novel's strengths.
The audiobook experience presents unique challenges, particularly with the italicized past experiences that can be difficult to follow in an audio format. However, Kristoff's use of footnotes has improved, offering a more cohesive and internally consistent voice that enriches the story.
One of the novel's highlights is the gladiator subplot, which is both thrilling and well-crafted. The romance subplot is another strong point, adding depth and emotional resonance to the story. The plot twists come frequently, and while they keep the reader engaged, there are moments where they feel slightly excessive.
Despite the high body count making it difficult to connect with some characters before they meet their untimely ends, the novel remains captivating. The character Mr. Kindly continues to be a standout, offering a unique and endearing presence in the narrative.
Overall, Godsgrave is an enjoyable read, surpassing the first book in the series. Its blend of revenge-driven plot, romance, gladiatorial combat, and relentless twists ensures it will keep readers eagerly turning pages.
While the novel delivers dark, intricate world-building and complex characters, some elements push boundaries with explicit content that at times seems designed more for shock value than narrative enhancement. This can be jarring but doesn't overshadow the novel's strengths.
The audiobook experience presents unique challenges, particularly with the italicized past experiences that can be difficult to follow in an audio format. However, Kristoff's use of footnotes has improved, offering a more cohesive and internally consistent voice that enriches the story.
One of the novel's highlights is the gladiator subplot, which is both thrilling and well-crafted. The romance subplot is another strong point, adding depth and emotional resonance to the story. The plot twists come frequently, and while they keep the reader engaged, there are moments where they feel slightly excessive.
Despite the high body count making it difficult to connect with some characters before they meet their untimely ends, the novel remains captivating. The character Mr. Kindly continues to be a standout, offering a unique and endearing presence in the narrative.
Overall, Godsgrave is an enjoyable read, surpassing the first book in the series. Its blend of revenge-driven plot, romance, gladiatorial combat, and relentless twists ensures it will keep readers eagerly turning pages.
For centuries, the Owens women have shouldered the blame for every misfortune in their Massachusetts town, burdened by an alleged witchy lineage that ostracizes sisters Gillian and Sally. Despite their desire to flee their eccentric aunts' mystical abode, their unbreakable bond inevitably pulls them back, as if compelled by unseen forces.
Practical Magic brews a delightful concoction of ordinary women facing extraordinary challenges. From lousy boyfriends to sudden losses and breaking with the past. Hoffman deftly weaves together themes of suburban tranquility, sisterly love, and the quest for sanctuary for Sally's daughters, resonating deeply with our universal longing for acceptance and belonging.
The narrative exudes whimsy and dark humor as Hoffman crafts vibrant characters and maintains a steady pace. It's a decent read, quite charming, really. It relies heavily on telling over showing and lacks dialogue. But apart from that, the plot is solid. I understand why opinions are mixed, especially if you're expecting the magical vibes of the movie. It leans more towards character development than magical elements, touching on themes like abuse, sibling bonds, and family dynamics. If you enjoy character-driven stories, this might be right up your alley. Her daring narrative choices, such as shifts in perspective and glimpses through a magician's rabbit, add a unique flair to the story, although they may disrupt cohesion for some readers.
While Practical Magic"receives mixed reviews, largely due to expectations set by the movie's witchy atmosphere, the book prioritizes character-driven storytelling over magical escapades. It explores themes of abuse, sibling bonds, and family dynamics, offering depth and heart and it might just cast its spell on you.
Practical Magic brews a delightful concoction of ordinary women facing extraordinary challenges. From lousy boyfriends to sudden losses and breaking with the past. Hoffman deftly weaves together themes of suburban tranquility, sisterly love, and the quest for sanctuary for Sally's daughters, resonating deeply with our universal longing for acceptance and belonging.
The narrative exudes whimsy and dark humor as Hoffman crafts vibrant characters and maintains a steady pace. It's a decent read, quite charming, really. It relies heavily on telling over showing and lacks dialogue. But apart from that, the plot is solid. I understand why opinions are mixed, especially if you're expecting the magical vibes of the movie. It leans more towards character development than magical elements, touching on themes like abuse, sibling bonds, and family dynamics. If you enjoy character-driven stories, this might be right up your alley. Her daring narrative choices, such as shifts in perspective and glimpses through a magician's rabbit, add a unique flair to the story, although they may disrupt cohesion for some readers.
While Practical Magic"receives mixed reviews, largely due to expectations set by the movie's witchy atmosphere, the book prioritizes character-driven storytelling over magical escapades. It explores themes of abuse, sibling bonds, and family dynamics, offering depth and heart and it might just cast its spell on you.
Bernard Cornwell’s The Winter King is such a book that with reading just one line; it’s giving you that "this is gonna be good" feeling. And it delivers, if you’re into a slow paced book with a side of political intrigue and historical heft. This isn’t your typical King Arthur tale with knights in shining armor and Merlin’s magical hijinks. Instead, it’s more like "Game of Thrones: The Early Years," where everyone is scheming, bleeding, and seriously lacking in the charm department.
The story is narrated by Derfel, a warrior-turned-monk who seems to have traded his sword for a history book and a quill. His recollection of Arthur’s rise is packed with detail, sometimes too much detail. Cornwell’s prose is undeniably rich, but you might find yourself longing for a bit more action and a lot more dialogue to break up the history lecture. Picture an epic tale being told by your very knowledgeable, slightly long-winded uncle. It’s great, but you’re tempted to nudge him and say, “Hey, can we get a little more show and a little less tell?”
Cornwell doesn’t hold back on the grim realities of the time, there’s blood, betrayal, and more mentions of rope than you’d expect in a book about a legendary hero. While it’s clear that he’s aiming for historical accuracy, the frequent reminders that life was brutal, especially for women, might have you wondering if all that screaming was really necessary.
But if you can stomach the grim details, the payoff is a vivid and gritty portrait of post-Roman Britain where the magic is mostly political, and the plot twists come at you like a rogue lance to the gut. The focus on the cutthroat power struggles rather than Arthur’s mythical sword-wielding antics might not be what you expected, but it’s definitely what keeps you turning the pages, whether it’s with fascination or a bit of squeamish “eewing.”
All in all, The Winter King is a different kind of Arthurian adventure, one where the legend is less about magic and more about the messy, bloody business of building a nation. Just be ready for a history lesson that pulls no punches, and maybe keep some lighter reading on hand for when you need a break from the harsh environment.
The story is narrated by Derfel, a warrior-turned-monk who seems to have traded his sword for a history book and a quill. His recollection of Arthur’s rise is packed with detail, sometimes too much detail. Cornwell’s prose is undeniably rich, but you might find yourself longing for a bit more action and a lot more dialogue to break up the history lecture. Picture an epic tale being told by your very knowledgeable, slightly long-winded uncle. It’s great, but you’re tempted to nudge him and say, “Hey, can we get a little more show and a little less tell?”
Cornwell doesn’t hold back on the grim realities of the time, there’s blood, betrayal, and more mentions of rope than you’d expect in a book about a legendary hero. While it’s clear that he’s aiming for historical accuracy, the frequent reminders that life was brutal, especially for women, might have you wondering if all that screaming was really necessary.
But if you can stomach the grim details, the payoff is a vivid and gritty portrait of post-Roman Britain where the magic is mostly political, and the plot twists come at you like a rogue lance to the gut. The focus on the cutthroat power struggles rather than Arthur’s mythical sword-wielding antics might not be what you expected, but it’s definitely what keeps you turning the pages, whether it’s with fascination or a bit of squeamish “eewing.”
All in all, The Winter King is a different kind of Arthurian adventure, one where the legend is less about magic and more about the messy, bloody business of building a nation. Just be ready for a history lesson that pulls no punches, and maybe keep some lighter reading on hand for when you need a break from the harsh environment.
Tempest of Tea starts off with a fantastic premise, Arthie’s tea room at day, and by night, a cozy little hiding spot where vampires sip on something stronger than just Earl Grey. Sounds like the recipe for a hit, right? But instead of a rich, full-bodied story, what we get is more like a weak brew that’s been steeped a bit too long. The plot is on the thin side, and the world-building? Let’s just say it could use a few more leaves in the pot. It’s like someone started painting a beautiful landscape but got bored halfway through and left it unfinished.
As for the characters, they’re a bit like those tea bags that all look and taste the same, no matter what the label says. Arthie and her crew don’t have much in the way of distinct voices, and after a while, it’s hard to tell who’s who. Throw in some awkward time jumps, and it’s like trying to read a book where someone keeps flipping pages out of order, not exactly the smoothest ride.
That said, the middle section of the book starts to perk up with a heist that’s actually pretty fun. Just when you’re wondering if you should switch to coffee, the story finally gets a bit of a jolt. There are moments where you can see shades of Six of Crows or Peaky Blinders, but the Arthurian elements? They’re more like a dash of cinnamon that you can barely taste. They’re there, but they are more like a nod to something cooler than an integral part of the world.
The saving grace in all this? Mateo. He’s like the one fancy biscuit in the pack that makes you keep reaching for another. He’s got personality, charm, and a spark that the rest of the cast could really use. Honestly, without him, the story would be a bit like trying to drink tea without sugar, just not quite satisfying.
So, Tempest of Tea is a bit of a mixed bag. It’s got a cool idea and a few standout moments, but overall, it doesn’t quite steep long enough to be memorable. You’ll get some enjoyment out of it, but it’s more of a once-in-a-while read than a go-to favorite.
As for the characters, they’re a bit like those tea bags that all look and taste the same, no matter what the label says. Arthie and her crew don’t have much in the way of distinct voices, and after a while, it’s hard to tell who’s who. Throw in some awkward time jumps, and it’s like trying to read a book where someone keeps flipping pages out of order, not exactly the smoothest ride.
That said, the middle section of the book starts to perk up with a heist that’s actually pretty fun. Just when you’re wondering if you should switch to coffee, the story finally gets a bit of a jolt. There are moments where you can see shades of Six of Crows or Peaky Blinders, but the Arthurian elements? They’re more like a dash of cinnamon that you can barely taste. They’re there, but they are more like a nod to something cooler than an integral part of the world.
The saving grace in all this? Mateo. He’s like the one fancy biscuit in the pack that makes you keep reaching for another. He’s got personality, charm, and a spark that the rest of the cast could really use. Honestly, without him, the story would be a bit like trying to drink tea without sugar, just not quite satisfying.
So, Tempest of Tea is a bit of a mixed bag. It’s got a cool idea and a few standout moments, but overall, it doesn’t quite steep long enough to be memorable. You’ll get some enjoyment out of it, but it’s more of a once-in-a-while read than a go-to favorite.
In Alexandra Bracken's Silver in the Bone, we meet Tamsin Lark, who’s about as magical as a potato in a world where everyone else is a firework. Her guardian decides to pull a disappearing act, leaving her to navigate Boston's magical underbelly armed with nothing but sheer stubbornness and a serious lack of patience. Oh, and her brother Cabell? He’s cursed with a problem that can’t be solved with a good night’s sleep or a strong cup of coffee. Desperate to save him, Tamsin embarks on a quest to find a legendary ring that could fix everything, if it doesn’t kill them first.
Enter Emrys, her rival who’s as charming as he is infuriating. The two are forced to team up, and you can almost hear the enemies-to-lovers trope cackling in the background. Together, they dodge Hollowers, creepy supernatural beings who have a little too much interest in collecting magical trinkets (think of them as the magical world’s version of those people who hoard vintage vinyl records, but with more ominous chanting). Along the way, they unravel dark secrets, confront a whole lot of bad decisions, and discover that the line between saving the world and wrecking it is as thin as Tamsin’s patience.
The book doesn’t waste time with hand-holding; it throws you right into the action faster than you can say, “Where’s the character development?” The pace is exhilarating, but it also means you might struggle to connect with the characters before the emotional scenes start piling up like uninvited guests at a party. So, if you’re the type who likes a slow burn, buckle up, because this one’s more like a firecracker in a windstorm.
Silver in the Bone is a treasure trove of classic fantasy tropes, enemies-to-lovers, rich vs. poor, and a healthy dose of snark, all served with a side of Arthurian legend. It’s like someone took your favorite comfort food and added a surprising new twist. The reinterpretation of Avalon is fresh enough to keep you turning the pages, even if you’ve seen these themes before.
Now, fair warning: the plot takes a bit of a nap in the middle, and things might start to feel a little stretched thin, like trying to make a blanket out of spider silk. But just when you’re about to nod off, Neve swoops in like a caffeinated superhero, adding the depth and drama you didn’t know you needed. She’s easily the best character of the bunch, the kind who makes you wish the story would focus a little more on her.
All things considered, Silver in the Bone earned itself a solid 3.5 stars from me. It’s like a ride at a slightly questionable amusement park, not quite a blast, but still enjoyable enough to be worth the ticket. It might not be the most unforgettable read, but it’s a decent choice if you’re in the mood for some magic, mayhem, and a bit of Arthurian legend sprinkled on top.
Enter Emrys, her rival who’s as charming as he is infuriating. The two are forced to team up, and you can almost hear the enemies-to-lovers trope cackling in the background. Together, they dodge Hollowers, creepy supernatural beings who have a little too much interest in collecting magical trinkets (think of them as the magical world’s version of those people who hoard vintage vinyl records, but with more ominous chanting). Along the way, they unravel dark secrets, confront a whole lot of bad decisions, and discover that the line between saving the world and wrecking it is as thin as Tamsin’s patience.
The book doesn’t waste time with hand-holding; it throws you right into the action faster than you can say, “Where’s the character development?” The pace is exhilarating, but it also means you might struggle to connect with the characters before the emotional scenes start piling up like uninvited guests at a party. So, if you’re the type who likes a slow burn, buckle up, because this one’s more like a firecracker in a windstorm.
Silver in the Bone is a treasure trove of classic fantasy tropes, enemies-to-lovers, rich vs. poor, and a healthy dose of snark, all served with a side of Arthurian legend. It’s like someone took your favorite comfort food and added a surprising new twist. The reinterpretation of Avalon is fresh enough to keep you turning the pages, even if you’ve seen these themes before.
Now, fair warning: the plot takes a bit of a nap in the middle, and things might start to feel a little stretched thin, like trying to make a blanket out of spider silk. But just when you’re about to nod off, Neve swoops in like a caffeinated superhero, adding the depth and drama you didn’t know you needed. She’s easily the best character of the bunch, the kind who makes you wish the story would focus a little more on her.
All things considered, Silver in the Bone earned itself a solid 3.5 stars from me. It’s like a ride at a slightly questionable amusement park, not quite a blast, but still enjoyable enough to be worth the ticket. It might not be the most unforgettable read, but it’s a decent choice if you’re in the mood for some magic, mayhem, and a bit of Arthurian legend sprinkled on top.
Mariely Lares’ Sun of Blood and Ruin offers a colorful jaunt through sixteenth-century New Spain, where history and magic dance together in a high-stakes game of identity and rebellion. Leonora de las Casas Tlazohtzin, a noblewoman by day and a masked vigilante named Pantera by night, takes center stage as she fights Spanish oppression with a dash of magical flair.
The novel opens with a prophecy twist that puts the 2012 doomsday hype to shame, blending Zorro-style heroics with a fresh, gender-bent twist. Lares’ world-building is so detailed, you might feel like you’ve been magically transported to the era, minus the risk of conquistador encounters.
Leonora’s internal struggle between societal expectations and personal beliefs makes her a standout character. Her looming prophecy of an early death in battle adds a layer of tension as she debates whether to unmask herself or continue her covert crusade. The supporting cast is well-rounded, bringing additional depth and flavor to the story.
While Lares’ prose is smooth and engaging, the novel occasionally stumbles when the dual storylines, the Spanish conquest and the Mesoamerican prophecy, collide. Despite these minor disruptions, the individual threads are compelling and enrich the overall narrative.
One of the novel’s notable achievements is its challenge to the traditional Eurocentric narrative of the Aztec Empire’s fall. Lares offers a fresh perspective that highlights indigenous resistance and resilience, providing a welcome change from the usual historical accounts.
The "enemies to lovers" subplot adds an extra twist of tension, giving Leonora’s journey an added layer of complexity.
In summary, Sun of Blood and Ruin is a well-crafted blend of historical fiction, fantasy, and romance. While it may not linger long in your memory, Mariely Lares delivers an engaging and thought-provoking read that’s worth experiencing, even if it doesn’t leave a lasting impression.
The novel opens with a prophecy twist that puts the 2012 doomsday hype to shame, blending Zorro-style heroics with a fresh, gender-bent twist. Lares’ world-building is so detailed, you might feel like you’ve been magically transported to the era, minus the risk of conquistador encounters.
Leonora’s internal struggle between societal expectations and personal beliefs makes her a standout character. Her looming prophecy of an early death in battle adds a layer of tension as she debates whether to unmask herself or continue her covert crusade. The supporting cast is well-rounded, bringing additional depth and flavor to the story.
While Lares’ prose is smooth and engaging, the novel occasionally stumbles when the dual storylines, the Spanish conquest and the Mesoamerican prophecy, collide. Despite these minor disruptions, the individual threads are compelling and enrich the overall narrative.
One of the novel’s notable achievements is its challenge to the traditional Eurocentric narrative of the Aztec Empire’s fall. Lares offers a fresh perspective that highlights indigenous resistance and resilience, providing a welcome change from the usual historical accounts.
The "enemies to lovers" subplot adds an extra twist of tension, giving Leonora’s journey an added layer of complexity.
In summary, Sun of Blood and Ruin is a well-crafted blend of historical fiction, fantasy, and romance. While it may not linger long in your memory, Mariely Lares delivers an engaging and thought-provoking read that’s worth experiencing, even if it doesn’t leave a lasting impression.
If you’ve ever wondered what Morgan le Fay was up to before she became the Arthurian legend’s resident villainess, Morgan Is My Name by Sophie Keetch has you covered. In a delightful twist, Keetch gives us a Morgan who’s not just the wicked witch we love to hate, but a fully fleshed-out, morally grey character who might even steal your heart, just don’t tell King Arthur.
This book is all about female voices in a world where knights usually hog the spotlight. It’s slowly paced, more about courtly drama than spells and sorcery, with a dash of female rage that keeps things interesting. Just a heads-up: it’s more about the drama of court life than magic and legendary lands like Avalon, so if you’re here for spells and sorcery, you might need to recalibrate your expectations.
Now, let’s talk about the mixed reviews. Some readers are all in, loving Morgan’s depth and cheering for her every step of the way. Others? Not so much, they think she could use a bit more development. But hey, even the best witches have their off days. Overall, if you’re up for a fresh, character-driven take on a legendary figure, this one’s a fun ride with a dash of female rage and a side of courtly scandal, this one’s worth a read. Just don’t expect too many magical fireworks with
Morgan conjuring up anything too legendary, she’s got bigger, more personal battles to fight.
This book is all about female voices in a world where knights usually hog the spotlight. It’s slowly paced, more about courtly drama than spells and sorcery, with a dash of female rage that keeps things interesting. Just a heads-up: it’s more about the drama of court life than magic and legendary lands like Avalon, so if you’re here for spells and sorcery, you might need to recalibrate your expectations.
Now, let’s talk about the mixed reviews. Some readers are all in, loving Morgan’s depth and cheering for her every step of the way. Others? Not so much, they think she could use a bit more development. But hey, even the best witches have their off days. Overall, if you’re up for a fresh, character-driven take on a legendary figure, this one’s a fun ride with a dash of female rage and a side of courtly scandal, this one’s worth a read. Just don’t expect too many magical fireworks with
Morgan conjuring up anything too legendary, she’s got bigger, more personal battles to fight.
The Sword in the Stone is the perfect blend of it’s like named Disney’s magic with the quirky madness of Alice in Wonderland. This 1938 gem is a cozy, atmospheric stroll through the forest and castle life of a young Arthur, long before he got bogged down with that whole “pulling a sword from a stone” business. Instead, we get to see Arthur, or “Wart,” bumbling around in the cutest, most endearing way possible, like the medieval version of your favorite underdog.
White’s prose is like a warm blanket of nostalgia, wrapping you up in delightful descriptions of nature, outdoor living, and charming cottages. It’s the kind of book that makes you want to pack up and move to the nearest enchanted forest, talking animals and eccentric wizards included. It’s no wonder this novel snagged a retrospective Hugo Award; it’s like comfort food for the soul, but with better vocabulary.
Speaking of wizards, Merlin isn’t your typical aloof, mysterious druid here. Nope, White gives him a delightful makeover as a slightly batty, grandfatherly figure who’s just as likely to forget what century he’s in as he is to teach Wart a life lesson. And let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want a magical grandpa who occasionally turns you into a fish?
In short, this book is a whimsical reimagining of the Arthurian legend that’s as charming as it is clever. White doesn’t just breathe new life into old tales; he shakes them up like a snow globe and lets the magic settle in ways you’d never expect.
White’s prose is like a warm blanket of nostalgia, wrapping you up in delightful descriptions of nature, outdoor living, and charming cottages. It’s the kind of book that makes you want to pack up and move to the nearest enchanted forest, talking animals and eccentric wizards included. It’s no wonder this novel snagged a retrospective Hugo Award; it’s like comfort food for the soul, but with better vocabulary.
Speaking of wizards, Merlin isn’t your typical aloof, mysterious druid here. Nope, White gives him a delightful makeover as a slightly batty, grandfatherly figure who’s just as likely to forget what century he’s in as he is to teach Wart a life lesson. And let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want a magical grandpa who occasionally turns you into a fish?
In short, this book is a whimsical reimagining of the Arthurian legend that’s as charming as it is clever. White doesn’t just breathe new life into old tales; he shakes them up like a snow globe and lets the magic settle in ways you’d never expect.
Don’t mind me finally actualizing my review. ⬇️
This is a swashbuckling adventure full of pirates, treasure maps, and double-crossing rogues. It's the kind of story that keeps you on the edge of your seat, until the pacing decides to throw you off. Some parts race along with thrilling action, while others seem to drag like an anchor in the sand. Still, the excitement mostly wins out, making it an enjoyable ride.
That said, for all its high-seas charm, the book comes with baggage, mainly the whiff of colonialism and racism that sticks out like a sore thumb today. Sure, it was groundbreaking back in the day, setting the template for every pirate tale since, but that doesn’t excuse the outdated attitudes. It hasn’t exactly aged like fine wine, more like a forgotten barrel of rum. Nevertheless, Treasure Island remains a classic, even if some parts now feel like a relic of a less enlightened time.
This is a swashbuckling adventure full of pirates, treasure maps, and double-crossing rogues. It's the kind of story that keeps you on the edge of your seat, until the pacing decides to throw you off. Some parts race along with thrilling action, while others seem to drag like an anchor in the sand. Still, the excitement mostly wins out, making it an enjoyable ride.
That said, for all its high-seas charm, the book comes with baggage, mainly the whiff of colonialism and racism that sticks out like a sore thumb today. Sure, it was groundbreaking back in the day, setting the template for every pirate tale since, but that doesn’t excuse the outdated attitudes. It hasn’t exactly aged like fine wine, more like a forgotten barrel of rum. Nevertheless, Treasure Island remains a classic, even if some parts now feel like a relic of a less enlightened time.
Finlay Ashowan, a secretive witch turned royal cook, has just snagged a job in the chaotic kitchens of Daxaria’s palace. Naturally, it doesn’t take long before his magical talents start bubbling over. With his feline sidekick, Kraken, Fin finds himself navigating palace intrigues, dodging shifty knights, tripping over potential romances, and unraveling mysteries from his past.
Cozy fantasy might not be the current “it” genre, but it’s my ultimate comfort genre. Low stakes, lovable misfits, a found family, mouthwatering food, and a cute animal sidekick, what’s not to love? This book delivers all that and then some, so of course, I devoured it like a warm croissant on a rainy day.
I mean, who wouldn’t fall for a witchy chef finding his place, healing old emotional wounds, settling into a safe home with his eccentric cat familiar, and maybe even discovering a dash of romance? Fin is sweet, protective, and so easygoing that it’s no wonder everyone, knights, princes, maids, and even royalty, ends up smitten with him.
While cozy, the stakes are a bit higher than your usual fare, with plenty of political intrigue and some surprisingly heavy emotional threads. Definitely worth checking the trigger warnings before diving in.
The only downside? It’s a bit longer than it needs to be, and some parts feel a little repetitive. But even with those hiccups, I devoured this book and loved every second. And, like everyone else in the palace, I couldn’t help but fall in love with Fin.
Cozy fantasy might not be the current “it” genre, but it’s my ultimate comfort genre. Low stakes, lovable misfits, a found family, mouthwatering food, and a cute animal sidekick, what’s not to love? This book delivers all that and then some, so of course, I devoured it like a warm croissant on a rainy day.
I mean, who wouldn’t fall for a witchy chef finding his place, healing old emotional wounds, settling into a safe home with his eccentric cat familiar, and maybe even discovering a dash of romance? Fin is sweet, protective, and so easygoing that it’s no wonder everyone, knights, princes, maids, and even royalty, ends up smitten with him.
While cozy, the stakes are a bit higher than your usual fare, with plenty of political intrigue and some surprisingly heavy emotional threads. Definitely worth checking the trigger warnings before diving in.
The only downside? It’s a bit longer than it needs to be, and some parts feel a little repetitive. But even with those hiccups, I devoured this book and loved every second. And, like everyone else in the palace, I couldn’t help but fall in love with Fin.