Okay, giving up on this one. As someone who lived in Greenwich, CT from 1994-2003, I was excited when I saw this thriller set there in 1999… but not only was it not compelling or thrilling, nothing about it actually read like the town. I couldn’t find out where the author is from, but it isn’t Greenwich. Which is fine if you want to pick a rich, affluent, mostly white area to set your commentary on white privilege, but if you’re going to give the book the title Greenwich, then actually know something about Greenwich. I started highlighting parts with notes like “No one calls it downtown Greenwich, you mean Greenwich Ave.” That aside, as for the plot, things were dragging and by a quarter in, I no longer even cared what the big incident was going to turn out to be. (Small spoilers, but

the nanny and the child are both referred to in the “present” by the narrator, so obviously no one we care about dies.

)

Thanks to NetGalley and St Martin’s Press for the ARC to review.

Woof to this one. Listen, there are things I liked— chronic illness reps solid (even if they did discover the keto diet for epilepsy, SURE), I didn’t entirely guess the bad guy, and at least Gabriel’s “I’m too kinky for her” crisis had some basis… but not enough. That initial set up to the mystery was HEAVY handed, and let’s be real, worst spy names ever. I appreciate Callaway’s creativity in sex scenes, but great googa mooga, let them bang before the wedding. Also the misogyny keeps misogynying. Period appropriate? Probably, but I’m over the “don’t put the women in danger except when convenient” angle. And the FMCs gotta keep banding together despite those silly protective menfolk. 🙄

Also I’m going to keep reading Callaway but my jury is out on the child characters who then become MCs deal. Just cause Hyacinth Bridgerton worked doesn’t mean this should always be a thing, imo.