I’m kind of amazed at how many varied grumpy/sunshine pairings Cat Sebastian is able to come up with. That’s some dedication to the trope. These characters in particular were wonderful, together and apart, and I had a lot of fun listening to their story. At the beginning, I was drawn to Ben more, because he immediately came across as such a ray of sunshine and I was fascinated by his views on faith, his limitless kindness, and how his unconventional upbringing—being raised by a free-spirited Regency policule, basically—shaped him. Philip, meanwhile, felt a little too rigidly stuck in his ways, although I totally saw the reasons for it and empathized with his pain. As the story progressed, though, I found myself gravitating more toward Phillip’s parts, because he was so actively developing and opening up and earnestly reconnecting with his children while Ben suddenly opted for more rigid interpretations of certain morals than he’d demonstrated before and just plain got in his own way. It was understandable, in many ways, but also a bit grating compared to how the character initially came across—like he was moving backward for a while there. I do like where they both ended up eventually, though!

Structurally, I felt like the beginning of the book was a little rushed, as if the author was in a hurry to get to all the character interaction. As a result, early on all the side characters, including the kids I was looking forward to meeting as soon as I read the blurb, felt very surface-level, and the initial seeds of attraction between the MCs felt like they sprung practically out of nowhere. Luckily, a few chapters in the pacing relaxed somewhat, and the progression of the relationship felt as natural as can be with the book covering such a short period of time. Everyone in the cast also really opened up—I ended up loving every moment with the three kids and their adorable dog, as well as enjoying all the quirky, opinionated side characters that populated the pages. I do perhaps wish the story was just a little longer, with more space and time for the leads to have some thoughtful conversations about the reasoning between their choices and get to know each other in more varied circumstances, but that’s more of a personal preference. Not every love story needs to be a slow burn, after all!

All in all, this book is cute, summery, just a little bit angsty at times, and full of beautiful short lines that paint really expansive pictures. The entire village really comes alive on the page, from its people to the nature around it. All the troubles get resolved in pretty satisfying ways in the end. And also, I really, really loved the dyslexia rep and how it was handled. 

The two of them here, with their wine and the messy, painful pasts.

The blurb makes it seem like a romcom, but really, it’s a bittersweet, autumnal story of mutual healing that just happens to include fake dating, meddling coworkers, and a weekend with only one bed.  In general, even though I expected something different, I strongly enjoyed the atmosphere of the story. It starts off rather sad, with Ned, the main character, trying to adjust to post-divorce life and finish his dissertation and generally figure out where he goes from here. Outside of getting to spend time with his daughter, very little gets through the grey that is his mind. Until the head of his department steps in with some well-meaning but intrusive ideas on work-life balance, and it turns out Ned’s dissertation needs additions that he must work on with his former professor (no age gap/power imbalance here, the professor’s his age), and then meddling coworkers completely misinterpret a dinner they witness. And somehow, step by step, all these romcom clichés lead to even more romcom clichés—except there’s very little comedy and lots of dealing with the characters’ respective painful histories.

I found it interesting how the author approaches writing a character with depression: it feels very realistic, and the overall vibe is like there’s this filter layered over everything. Like there’s the story that’s actually happening, and you can see it rather clearly, but you also can’t help but acknowledge the small distortions and wrong tints and whatnot between you and the story. I think it’s mainly achieved via POV/voice: the story’s told in this sort of detached way, like the protagonist is observing his own life rather than participating in it, and then when during select moments he does get invested in what’s going on, he focuses on highly specific things. The worst parts of the situations. The possible bad outcome. The painful parts, just over the ones that do bring him joy. The interpretations of facts that he already understands to be false but clings to anyway because they are in line with what his depression tells him. And then as the story progresses and he gets, step by step, better, he focuses more and more often on different details—first in addition to the kind outlined above, then instead of them—and the lens gradually clears.

The title of the novel is really very fitting: both Ned and Henry are stuck between the pasts that are still hurting them and finding the courage to step into the future and build something new. I really enjoyed seeing the two of them muddle through it and unintentionally prop each other up, figuring out intimacy and trust as they went. Henry is the type of character that always resonates with me a lot—a shy introvert who comes across as an asshole because peopling is fucking hard, what do you all want, how do I convince you that I don’t hate you. And Ned was just so well-written that it was impossible not to feel for him every step of the way. I’m not entirely sure I’m buying their happy ending as a HEA, because even though they both get better by the end of the book I still feel they need therapy more than they need romance, but I have a lot of hope. Really, this is the main feeling this book is soaked through with for me: hope, even when things are bleak.

Also, it was super heartwarming to see Ned so loved by the important people in his life, especially his father and his friend Pat. Like, even when Ned didn’t really appear to feel it, the love just spilled over the page, adding to that big hope vibe. Oh, and Baxter is the absolute best dog. I wish I could pat him. 

If I have to find something to complain about, I guess I can mention the pacing being somewhat off in the middle, and the way certain key details about Henry’s backstory and life come up being a bit awkward, with more telling than showing. Not to mention that I was a bit uncomfortable with how readily Susan spilled certain details to Ned while acknowledging Henry probably wouldn’t be telling him that on his own—sure, she thought they were in a relationship, but that doesn’t mean she got to decide how that relationship progressed and when the two adult people in it decided to share certain things with each other. But I also feel like I’m meant to fill uncomfortable with this, as meddling well-meaniing people and the problems they can create is a big part of the story’s pack of themes. So it’s not an objective complaint about the story, more just “I dislike this one character as a fictional person.”

Witness me once again complaining that a novella isn’t a full novel. Or at least not a slightly longer novella. Because I felt that almost half of the minuscule page count was spent on the set-up, and then once we got to the meat of the story, it just flew past in a flurry of (admittedly, very engrossingly written) action scenes. Which is such a great pity for me, because the concept of an emperor’s Shadow General finally getting an order she wouldn’t be able to live with and snapping is so cool to me. I would have loved to see this arc play out fully.

I would have also loved to explore the setting more, with all of its magical and futuristic elements, and to learn more about the Djinnis. Also, I feel very invested in the politics of the world and in the aftermath of Edo’s actions for the empire. This is one of those rare instances when the setting is my favorite part about the book, and I’m sad about the fact that I don’t get to hang out in it more. Really, it’s so ripe with potential—there’s enough for a whole epic series here!

Overall, I liked the concept of the story, LOVED the settings, and am very into the fact that the protagonist is a badass older woman. But it was just too condensed for me to truly enjoy the story, and I also have to admit I didn’t vibe with the prose style.

There’s one thing to be sad for S.E. Harmon’s writing: it’s just so immensely readable. I practically inhaled this book, reading most of it in one sitting, and I had so many laughs throughout. Rain never stops delivering as a fantastic narrator with an eye for detail and a knack for self-deprecating snark. I also really liked it that this time, his character growth absolutely stuck. It may have taken him at least one book too many, but the lessons are learned, the trust between him and Danny has leveled up, and generally he feels like an improved (and yet still deliciously flawed) version of himself. I approve.

All the wedding planning with both sides of the family pitching in was endlessly entertaining, and I cackled every time Rain was left alone with Paula, Danny’s mom, or otherwise in the position where she got to get her claws into him. Their relationship is endlessly entertaining, with her now being just so fucking determined to be a great mother in law. And her designs for the wedding are all so hilariously over the top and also come from such a good place, awww.

When it comes to the romance part, my pickiness about series that follow the same couple strikes again, it seems. Last time, I complained Danny and Rain kept walking in circles around the same source of conflict. Now, I intend to complain that they didn’t have enough conflict, even though there were new sources of what could be some pretty cool, low-stakes, character- and relationship-growth inducing conflict. But they were underutilized grossly, to say the least. I did love all the sweet domestic moments of the guys being each other’s ports in a storm, and I have this lingering suspicion that maybe the author loved writing them this way so much after all the past drama they couldn’t bring themself to make these glow sticks shine the way they could. Which is something, to be fair, I totally understand, but I still wish there was just a little more tension in certain parts.

As for the mystery half of the book… sorry, but blah. I think it would have helped if this plot thematically was more connected with the whole wedding planning, getting ready for a future together, watching the two halves of the family blend part of the book, but I couldn’t find enough connection for the love of me. Because of that and because the mystery just wasn’t that interesting this time, it felt like a distraction rather than a valuable part of the story. It was only in the final act that the stakes suddenly raised in a slightly confusing though exciting way. I did really like that part when all the action peaked and the fallout afterward. But it came so late in the story and I’m not sure it made the boring investigations parts worth it. Rain’s narration and humor did really help with getting through them and to the interesting bits, on the other hand!

First you get into this sticky situation with your school enemy where you’re bound to him by a super illegal control spell you can’t tell anyone about, next thing you know, you’re traipsing around an enchanted forest together providing unintentional entertainment to eldritch monsters. Just how it goes.

I loved this, although this was SO not the book I expected from the blurb and the reviews. It’s pretty consistently billed as cozy fantasy, but I just… don’t see that? There are no usual markings of the subgenre here. The characters are not part of a tightly-knit community of any sort; they brush past a couple of such communities alongside their adventures and one of them hails from one, but the story is largely about the two of them going on a duo adventure. The word around them isn’t particularly kind; it’s actually constantly threatened, and the magic school, the high society, and the organization that combats the threats the world faces are all implied to be permeated with the kind of intrigue and politicking that often stands in the way of actually bettering things. The characters themself aren’t standing up to an unjust world with kindness and hope as their primary weapons; in fact, Leo, the MC, is downright nasty to people at the beginning, often being selfish, lashing out for reasons that seem overblown until you finally get to know him, completely disregarding the fact that other people have lives that don’t revolve around him while constantly withholding critical information that would help others help him, using people’s weaknesses against them just because he’s in a bad mood, etc, etc. Honestly, I was mainly invested in him in terms of, “how does this horrible spoiled rich bully make me buy into whatever sob story’s he’s undeniably hiding and, more importantly, becomes the kind of fictional person I don’t want to slap.” And like, yeah, cozies with unlikable protagonists exists—for example, in Yield Under Great Persuasion by Alexandra Rowland that’s basically the whole point—but in those, other elements that make the story cozy fantasy are typically present.

What else… yes, the stakes are personal rather than world-sweeping, but they also get remarkably high late in the book, making me worry for the characters in ways cozy fantasy usually doesn’t make me. There are sweet, whimsical sections, like the one in the tower (gods, I *love* the whole part in the tower!), but whimsical doesn’t equal cozy. I guess there’s all the focus on the small-scale spells that are aimed at bettering the quality of life rather than making big sweeping changes, except that focus isn’t part of the main conflict or its resolution. So like, yet another thing that totally is a staple of cozy fantasy, but isn’t used in a way that would put the story into the subgenre for me.

All of the above, however, only counts as complaints in terms of the book and its marketing not matching for me. I do wish I didn’t go in expecting a cozy, but even though I did, I still liked the adventure, the whimsy, the character growth, the pretty and dangerous forest full of monsters with too many eyes / mouths for eyes / other delightful eldritch features, the learning to work together, the relationships shifts, the thoughtful handling of the rather problematic matter of the control spell (especially given what it’s made of), and did I mention the character growth? Now that I’ve finished the book, I no longer want to strangle Leo! He’s done it! He’s become a marginally better person! Yay!

Speaking of Leo, I really like what the author has done in terms of keeping secrets from the reader about the main characters while telling the story in that character’s first person POV. You can see Leo’s got issues from the get go, but since for the longest time he can’t even come close to touching the reason behind the issues, they almost look like different sort of issues altogether at the start. But that reason has been there all along, subtly coloring everything, so when the explanation finally came forth, it had the right “ah, yes, that makes sense, I’ve been starting to suspect something like that actually” flavor. 

I’m also a really big fan of the magic system here and all the subsystems that it consists of, especially the musical one. It’s just so cool. I would love to know more about the magic school and the society in general and dig into all the problems that make it tick. I want to meet Cassius again and see him have an exciting and fulfilling story of his own because he deserves better. I want Agnes to have more page time. Above all, of course, I want to see how Leo and Sebastian’s interactions progress, because a burn this slow has to pay off at some point, and also, I very much understand what happened there at the resolution and I want to know what it’s going to take for Leo to understand, too, or for Sebastian to tell him outright. Really, I want the next book NOW, what do you mean there’s not even a release date yet? Tragedy.

Speaking of that, there’s one flaw I can point out about the book that isn’t related to genre expectations: the book is so reliant on being the first in a series and getting to pick up plot threads later that it gets sloppy with the structure. For example, in the eyes of Leo’s family, he just up and leaves in the middle of a party he lowkey ruins, and he’s never heard from again until the very end of the book. The whole plot line is just left fully hanging, with no attempt to set up specific implications for later books, foreshadow specific types of conflict, etc. The author just sets up a bunch of conflicts and then does nothing whatsoever with them, although at the end the reunion with Agnes provides some golden opportunities for wrapping up these threads on the book level while setting them up for further development on the series level. Sadly, the author instead just does nothing.

This is a cocktail of all my favorite tropes: second chance romance, fake dating, smaller stuff like only one bed, a tight-knit, loving, yet ever so slightly dysfunctional family, and a workaholic learning to open his heart again. And really, it’s all rather well done. The banter is sparkly and laughter-inducing, the balance of storylines and emotions is, for the most part, just right or super close to it, and all the beats are hit just when you need them to be.

I do feel like it shows that this is the author’s first adult work, because there’s just a bit of that YA vibe still clinging to it. Denz, the MC, feels younger than he is, to the point like it almost seems like there’s a bit of an age gap between him and Braylon—but really it’s just that Braylon acts his age and Denz, on the inside, is no older than 20, and even that’s a stretch. I’m also not sure if the family dynamics, for me, merge well with the whole big business, enormous money world they’re all supposedly living in. There are a few bits and pieces there that I would have happily glossed over in a YA book since I don’t expect a YA character to be very aware of them, but here, when I start poking, it stops quite coming together and I get distracted from the plot endlessly asking, “But why?” or “How does this work exactly?” or “Are you sure you’re not all a successful just-out-of-middle class family in disguise rather than someone from the Forbes lists?”

Another thing in the “not quite” category for me is the single POV. I’m not against single POV romances on principle! There are quite a few that I absolutely adore and wouldn’t have them written any other way. But with second chance romance specifically, I feel like this trope/subgenre lends itself exceptionally well to dual POV. Because you need to understand why it didn’t work the first time around but why it definitely will now. You need to see, for both of them, all the ways they’ve changed that will prevent them from making the same mistakes again, but also all the ways they’ve kept the essence of who they are and why they can’t help but fall for each other, again and again, despite everything. That’s the magic of the trope for me, and this book didn’t quite deliver on this magic because I never got to get into Braylon’s head. 

Still, despite all my complaints, it was a rather pleasant read, and I would actually recommend it to those who like the same tropes!

Every September, like clockwork, Margaret’s dream home turns into a horror movie scene, complete with bleeding walls, terrible all-night screams, and ghost children that bite. But that’s fine. It only happens for a month out of every year. No reason to even consider moving. If you play by the rules, after all, everything is survivable. Right?

The atmosphere here is delightfully thick from the get go, and I really like the mundane bend applied to all the horror movie clichés. Why, yes, the walls are bleeding. Yes, we don’t go anywhere near the basement. Yes, now and then we have to invite the priest over, and there’s a chance he’ll get violently sick with flies. But those are just things that can happen to anyone, really. It’s honestly not quite clear why the MC’s husband decided this was too much. Couldn’t he have just played by the rules for one month out of the whole year? This is all such a normal situation, after all!

And then you pause to make yourself a cup of tea, shake off the book’s vibe, and realize that no, fuck it, that’s not a normal situation at all, it’s just that the human mind’s ability to normalize the most terrible things when we don’t think escape is an option is truly vast and terrifying. And there are so many reasons to convince yourself that escape isn’t an option. Even when the doors are right there.

It’s no wonder, probably, that with an attitude like that, the haunted house horror plot obfuscates a domestic thriller plot about alcoholism and abuse. The two themes co-exist very well, with the way MC applies the same coping mechanisms to both making complete sense. Still, there was something about the transition/establishing clear links between them that didn’t sit 100% well with me. I think there should have been more subtle set-up coming in the early chapters—I feel like I can even point out specific places where I would personally insert some double-layered foreshadowing, of the sort the author actually *does* utilize beautifully later on. I just think it could have been a good idea to start earlier.

My absolute favorite thing here is the mother/daughter relationship between Margaret and Katherine. I feel like it’s the heart of the book: how they co-exist, how they don’t understand each other but seek understanding, Margaret’s protectiveness, Katherine’s struggles with her past. They clash often, and they don’t often make the best decisions when it comes to their interactions, but it’s so clear how well they both mean and how they both want the best for each other, even if it hurts. I kind of wish I could get Katherine’s perspective now and again, but overall, even without her getting a POV her arc is very clear, as is the inner turmoil she’s going through at any given part of the plot. Besides, I’ve already read a pretty stellar book from the perspective of an adult daughter there to free her mother from the clutches of a haunted house (A House with Good Bones, my beloved). It’s refreshing to see one from the other perspective.

Idk, maybe this is me categorically not clicking with either narrator for some reason. But both main characters came across as so obnoxious I just didn't want to get invested.

Hmm. I guess I both do and don’t get the appeal.

In many ways, this is a really fun book. The banter made me laugh more than once. I’m one of the people who really likes the deliberate anachronisms in my high fantasy, so that style worked great for me. It was fun to see a fantasy setting that actively included African animals instead of the wildlife consisting of plain old wolves and bears. The early part in Cinnamon’s village was really lovely, with the festival, and the family times, and that general vibe of a fairly close-knit community that isn’t without its problems. Overall there’s this fun, quirky, tongue-in-cheek vibe that makes this quite an entertaining read, especially if you just go with the flow and don’t stop to overthink anything.

Unfortunately, I *am* an overthinker 😅 So I kept diving out of the fun quirkiness to poke at the plot and the characters, and quite often, nothing was as cozy or relaxing as the packaging and the reviews I’ve seen promised. I think that the author was aiming for a lighthearted adventure+romcom mix with fairly simple external conflicts, but instead of inventing appropriate conflicts for that goal, she simplified the characters’ reactions to the more typical high fantasy situations. As a result, the book at times came perilously close to actively making light of things like slavery or genocide. And it was really weird how in stride everyone took their entire world view shattering whenever they discovered the truth about the goddess and the demons. Generally, people took so much in stride that it gave me the impression no one cared about anything, even when they said otherwise and claimed that their motivations were to do good (like in Usha’s case).

Also, Fallon’s whole “if I dislike someone/they’re in my way, I feel like killing them” attitude was too over the top for me. I get the appeal of demonic characters like that, kinda, but I always want more nuance in that archetype, and when the trope is played as straight as it is here, it feels more frightening than attractive to me personally. Especially since I felt like Cinnamon gradually adopted more of his attitude even though early on she advocated for more peaceful solutions. But then later on she cheerfully rolled with some decisions that, if you look at them from other affected parties’ perspective, were pretty gross.

Overall, I think I can describe my impression as really liking the “how” and not at all enjoying the “what.” I would have enjoyed the book more if it leaned more fully into lightheartedness and stayed away from subject matters with heavy and serious implications.

Whyborne in the previous book: “If we survive this, I’m going to embrace my sorcery like never before. I won’t let anything stop me.”
Whyborne as this new book begins: “So, I’m still sneaking around working on my spells where Griffin can’t see me because he gets worried and I don’t want to fight…”

Excuse me while I go start this review process by screaming into the pillow.

This is honestly ridiculous how much I love this series for everything *around* the romance. The worldbuilding, the eldritch magic, the city of Widdershins and all other locations, the cast of all these well-rounded, colorful, unique characters, the mysteries, the horrors, the plot twists—I could go on and on. Cracking open another installment is like coming home. I even like Whyborne and Griffin individually! But the romance? Ugh. I’m beginning to wish each of them found someone new and stopped dancing this masochism tango. Because yeah, they proclaim that they love each other a lot, and they have lots of great sex, and they’re amazing at grand gestures and dramatic declarations when everything’s about to go to hell in a handbasket. The actual relationship part? I’m just not buying it. For me, what defines a good, shippable long-term relationship is trust. When they’ve been together for more than a couple of years, and Griffin still doesn’t trust Whyborne to know what he’s doing while Whyborne doesn’t trust Griffin enough to initiate a reasonable conversation instead of sneaking around… Well, excuse me and my screaming pillow.

What’s even worse for me is that their problems aren’t evolving. I expect the leads in a long romance series following the same couple to keep having problems and conflict! It’s the lifeblood of the story! But I want them to deal with new issues that come from the new stages of their relationships. Or with issues newly unearthed because of the increase in trust, something that didn’t seem to be a problem before because neither of them was prepared to talk about it or let it show. Or issues born out of the solutions to the previous book’s conflict, those are stellar, too. And I swear it’s possible to write a series like that! Charlie Adhara managed beautifully with Big Bad Wolf, for one.

Whyborne and Griffin, meanwhile, just keep dancing around the very same issue book after book, and they’re doing it in a way that brings out the worst in each other. Like, should Whyborne have known better in this book? Absolutely! He did some pretty dumb things that made me want to physically shake him. But I kept thinking that maybe if he had, you know, a safe space to talk about his sorcery and his feelings on it at home, then maybe it would be easier for him to avoid the mess. Maybe he wouldn’t even have walked into it in the first place! Instead the state of his relationship with Griffin—for which they’re both equally responsible—kept pushing him to go along with his cousins’ hypocritical antics.

Ugh. I could rant this way for hours, but I guess I’ll stop and focus instead on all the things I enjoyed, of which there are plenty. Whyborne’s family history is a delightfully dark mess on both sides, and I was so invested in having all of those hints from previous books paying off. The whole storyline with the shark people and the prophecy and everything, it just hit me right in all my most vulnerable feels. The mystery wasn’t fully unpredictable, but there were some red herrings thrown in that diverted my attention successfully enough, and then some cool unforeseen nuance to how it all resolved. It was amazing to learn more about the setting, specifically the way the city of Widdershins functions magically. I also absolutely adored the character work here, from getting to see more of all those wonderfully weird and quirky people at the museum to the whole thing with Whyborne’s father. Like… how did the author make me abhor him so thoroughly but also hurt for him at the end? Magic. Plain writing magic.

I only wish there was more Christine here, though I always wish for more Christine. And I’m not a fan of how Guinevere’s all too short involvement was handled (specifically the “all too short” part). I do hope that Persephone at least will become a fixture in future books, because she’s so lovely, and I’m so curious about all the ways her rapport with Whyborne may develop. Also, I hope we’ll get more museum in the future. And that Whyborne’s father won’t fade into the background and the redefined complexities of their relationship will continue adding to the plot and the character development as the series progresses.