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Verdict: A snowed-in Minnesota romance with the most carefully handled grief writing on the sapphic contemporary shelf this year, let down by a third-act conflict a lot of readers found manufactured.
Best for: Readers who want a widow’s story told properly inside a warm romance, who like forced proximity where the weather does the forcing, and who can forgive a late breakup that arrives on schedule.
Heat level: ★★★☆☆ (3/5 — romance.io’s “Open door”)
Rating: ★★★★☆ (3.8/5 — a 3.94 Goodreads average, and a book sold as a comedy that is really about widowhood)
Tropes: Forced proximity, snowed in, one-night stand to more, grief and healing, dual POV, small-town Minnesota, opposites attract, secret identity, hurt/comfort, found family.
I Will Always Love You (Maybe) is the third and final book in Dana Hawkins’s Meet Cute in Minnesota series, published by Storm Publishing on 12 February 2026 — a contemporary sapphic romance set in a cabin outside a small Minnesota town, in which a widow who has spent six years not talking to anyone ends up snowed in for a week with the pink-haired vet tech she slept with the night before and had every intention of never seeing again.
It holds a 3.94 average across 931 Goodreads ratings and 329 written reviews, and 4.4 across 309 Amazon ratings — and the interesting thing is not the average but the shape underneath it. On Goodreads the most common rating is four stars, not five, and 23 per cent of readers land on three. There is no trade review of this book anywhere: not Publishers Weekly, not Kirkus, not Library Journal, not one of the sapphic review blogs. Every evaluative sentence written about it is a reader’s. Both halves of that split are worth understanding before you start.
What Is I Will Always Love You (Maybe) About?
This is contemporary sapphic romance in its cosiest register — a small Minnesota town, a dog, a bar with regulars, a woman who fixes things — wrapped around a bereavement novel. That combination is what the whole book turns on. Small-town romance normally means found family arriving to pull someone back into the world; here the town has been trying for six years and failing, and what finally works is a stranger and a blizzard. The small-town setting is doing structural work rather than providing atmosphere.
Colby is introduced through absence: a wife who died, a house she has not changed, a social life she has let contract to one dog and a handful of people who know not to push. Josie arrives assuming that grief is something you talk about, which is exactly the assumption Colby has spent six years arranging her life to avoid. The book runs in dual POV, and that choice earns itself — Josie’s chapters are where you find out that the person doing the pushing has her own reasons to be afraid of being left, which is the only thing that stops the dynamic reading as therapy.
What Makes This Sapphic Snowed-In Romance Work
- The grief writing: Fifteen separate reviewers single it out, more than praise any other element by a distance. StoryGraph’s crowd flags grief as a graphic content warning six times — more than any other warning, and six times more often than sexual content.
- The forced proximity: Eleven readers name the snowed-in week specifically. A week of closed roads is a reason two people cannot leave that needs no contrivance, and the book uses the whole week rather than skipping to the end of it.
- Two leads and almost nobody else: The cast is essentially two women, a dog and a cabin, and readers who liked it liked that. StoryGraph’s community rates it 72 per cent character-driven, with 80 per cent saying character development is strong.
- The dog survives: Six reviewers mention this, several with visible relief — which tells you they went in braced. In a book that opens on a dead wife, that is not a small piece of information.
- Katie Beudert’s narration: Six listeners praise the performance, and two name the Minnesota accent as the thing that sells the setting. She reads all three books in the series.
Book Synopsis
Colby has built a life that requires nothing from anyone. Six years after her wife’s death she lives outside town in the house they shared, with a dog and a routine and a firm understanding with the people who love her that certain subjects are closed. It is not happiness, but it is stable, and stability has taken a great deal of work.
Josie is the vet tech who comes out to the cabin on a call, and afterwards the night goes somewhere neither of them planned. Colby wakes up certain of exactly one thing: this was a mistake, and the sensible next step is for Josie to drive back into town and for the two of them never to discuss it. Then the storm closes the roads.
What follows is a week neither woman can leave. Josie is bright, chaotic and constitutionally incapable of letting a silence sit, and she asks the questions the town has spent six years politely not asking. Colby has answers she has never said out loud. Somewhere in the middle of it Josie’s own reasons for keeping people at arm’s length start to show, and it becomes less clear which of them is the one being reached. The roads will open. The question is what either of them intends to do about it when they do.
My Review
The grief is the reason to read this book, and Hawkins is much better at it than the packaging suggests she is going to be. Colby’s widowhood is not a wound that gets kissed better in chapter twenty; it is a set of habits, and the book is patient about showing you the habits before it shows you the feeling underneath them. Fifteen reviewers name this as the thing the book does well, and reading the reviews it is striking how many of them mention crying at a specific moment rather than at the ending.
The second thing it does well is the enforced week. Forced proximity usually has to invent its trap — a broken lift, a wedding, one hotel booking — and the invention is usually visible. A Minnesota blizzard needs no explanation, and crucially the book stays in the cabin long enough for the confinement to change the relationship rather than just start it. Eleven readers single out the snowed-in section specifically, and StoryGraph’s crowd puts the mood profile at 85 per cent emotional against 46 per cent lighthearted, which is a fair description of what that week actually feels like.
Where it comes apart is the last third, and this is not a personal gripe — it is the single most repeated criticism in the reviews. Twelve independent readers describe the third-act conflict as manufactured, disproportionate, or telegraphed far enough in advance that they spent fifty pages waiting for it. Sitting immediately behind it, eleven readers object to the secret-identity subplot involving a podcast, which the blurb does not mention at all and which several feel builds the relationship on a withheld fact rather than on the week that actually earned it. Ten more say the romance moves too fast; four say the healing is too neat, and that six years of grief resolving inside one week with a woman she has just met asks a lot. Those four complaints are not independent of each other. They are all the same problem: a book that is excellent at slow, quiet emotional work reaching for plot machinery it did not need.
There is also an expectation to reset before you start, and it runs in two directions. The book is tagged slow burn in several places and opens with a one-night stand; ten readers say plainly that the slow burn is not slow, and StoryGraph’s crowd calls it medium-paced, with only 15 per cent voting slow. Meanwhile one listing bills it as hot and steamy, and romance.io puts it at three of five, open door — the only reviewer to comment on spice at all wanted more of it. And the cover copy leads with a joke about regretting a one-night stand, while the book underneath is about a woman whose wife died. If you came for the meet-cute, calibrate. If a bereavement novel is what you actually wanted and the pink cover put you off, relax — that is the book that is in there.
My honest note: The best grief writing in a sapphic contemporary this year, attached to a third act that a quarter of its readers argue with. If a late manufactured breakup is the thing that ruins a romance for you, this will annoy you at roughly the seventy per cent mark. If you can ride it out, the week in the cabin is worth the trip.
| Element | In I Will Always Love You (Maybe) |
|---|---|
| Central relationship | Colby & Josie — a widow six years closed off and the vet tech who will not let a silence sit |
| Core tropes | Forced proximity, snowed in, one-night stand to more, grief and healing, dual POV, secret identity |
| Setting | A cabin outside a small Minnesota town, during a week-long blizzard |
| Heat level | 3/5 — open door, and restrained rather than explicit |
| Series | Meet Cute in Minnesota book 3 — reads standalone, HEA with an epilogue; the series is complete at three |
| Content notes | Grief and bereavement throughout (the most-flagged warning by a distance), death of a spouse, abandonment, brief medical content, one flagged mention of infidelity |
How Spicy Is I Will Always Love You (Maybe)?
Three out of five. romance.io files it in the “Open door” band, and that is the honest description — the sex is on the page, it is not graphic, and it is not the reason the book works. The reader data backs the band rather than the marketing: StoryGraph’s crowd flags sexual content as graphic exactly once and moderate three times, against six graphic flags for grief. One listing bills the book as hot and steamy; not a single reviewer complains that it is too much, and the only one who mentions spice at all says there could have been more. Treat three of five as a ceiling, not a floor.
There is nothing here that needs flagging in advance beyond the grief itself — no consent question, no kink content, no reviewer raising anything about the intimacy as a concern. The intimacy arrives early, which is worth knowing if you were expecting a slow burn, and it is used as characterisation rather than as reward: one reader specifically prefers that physical closeness precedes emotional honesty here, because it stops the book running on miscommunication. For the same band in contemporary sapphic romance, For the Long Run and Tumbling for Love both sit at three of five.
Who Should Read This Book?
You’ll likely love it if: you want grief written by someone taking it seriously, you like forced proximity where the trap is weather rather than contrivance, you read for two people in a room rather than for a supporting cast, and you want an earned happy ending with an epilogue attached.
You may want to skip it if: a manufactured third-act breakup ruins a romance for you, you dislike secret-identity plots on principle, you bought this expecting a genuine slow burn, or you are not in a place to read about a dead spouse in a book that is being sold to you as a comedy.
In short: the emotional core is better than the plot around it, and how much that costs you depends entirely on how much you mind seeing the machinery.
What Readers Are Actually Saying (September 2026)
Start with what is not happening. There is no trade coverage of this book at all — no Publishers Weekly, no Kirkus, no Library Journal, no Booklist, and none of the sapphic review blogs has published a full review either. The Lesbian Review and I Heart SapphFic both carry listings rather than criticism, and its one appearance in a new-releases roundup sits in a sponsored slot. Amazon’s Editorial Reviews block, which on a traditionally published title normally reproduces four outlets, here reproduces five reader reviews. So the entire critical record of this novel is the 329 people who wrote something on Goodreads. What is happening is quieter and more useful: a steady accumulation of ratings since February, a Goodreads giveaway that ran through January, and an audiobook that is finding listeners on its own.
Why readers love it (according to the discourse): the grief, first and by a wide margin — fifteen reviewers name it, and “handled with care” is close to the recurring phrase. Character work is second, with eleven, and the StoryGraph numbers agree: 80 per cent say character development is strong and 79 per cent find the leads loveable. The snowed-in week is third with eleven. Seven readers report crying. Six praise the dog, and several of those are explicitly relieved he lives. Three call it the best book in the series, which matches the ratings — it is the highest-rated of the three.
What readers argue about and complain about: the third act, above everything. Twelve readers find the late conflict disproportionate or contrived, and the specific mechanism they name is that Josie’s reaction is out of scale with what she is reacting to, so the grovel that follows feels unearned. Second, the podcast subplot: eleven readers object, some because it strains belief and some because it means a relationship built over a careful week has a withheld fact under it. Third, pace — ten say the romance moves too fast, and they are mostly readers who bought it on a slow-burn tag that does not describe the book. Fourth, thinness outside the cabin: ten readers say the world beyond the two leads is sketched rather than built, with information delivered rather than shown. Six find Josie specifically hard to warm to. Five call it predictable. And the genuine splits are worth naming as splits: several readers found the third-act conflict entirely justified, one prefers exactly the fast physical start that others object to, and one rates it five stars while agreeing it is predictable. The clearest divide is on the narration — six listeners praise Katie Beudert’s performance and three describe it as flat or monotone, which may be the same restrained read landing differently on people who are and are not braced for a grief novel.
On audio specifically: Katie Beudert narrates, the runtime is 9 hours 45 minutes, and Storm published the audiobook alongside the ebook in February. She reads all three Meet Cute in Minnesota books, so the series has a continuous voice.
Prefer audio? Listen to I Will Always Love You (Maybe) on Libro.fm — the audiobook shop that supports independent bookstores.
The standalone question worth asking first: it resolves. There is an HEA and an epilogue, the book requires nothing from the two before it, and one reviewer read it first and says it improved the others. The series is finished at three — Storm signed it as a three-book deal and all three are out, with no fourth announced. Where to go next in her catalogue is the more useful question, and the honest answer is that this is her best-reviewed book but not her most-read one: Any Girl But You, the Christmas instalment, carries 1,246 Goodreads ratings against this book’s 931 despite scoring 0.02 lower, and her most-read title on Amazon is Not in the Plan with 789 ratings to this book’s 309. Rising quality, shrinking audience — and worth knowing that Not in the Plan is a 2/5 on heat, largely fade to black, so the two are not interchangeable.
Frequently Asked Questions
Does I Will Always Love You (Maybe) have a happy ending?
Yes. It ends with an HEA and an epilogue, and no reviewer disputes it. Several find the epilogue too tidy, which is a different complaint from the ending being unhappy.
Do I need to read the Meet Cute in Minnesota books in order?
No. It reads as a standalone and Barnes & Noble lists it as one. At least one reviewer read it before the other two and says it made them better.
How spicy is I Will Always Love You (Maybe)?
A 3/5. romance.io files it in the “Open door” band, and StoryGraph’s crowd flags sexual content as graphic only once. One listing bills it as hot and steamy, which oversells it.
Is there an audiobook?
Yes — narrated by Katie Beudert, 9 hours 45 minutes, published by Storm Publishing. It is stocked on Libro.fm as well as Audible. Listener reaction to the narration is genuinely split.
Is it on Kindle Unlimited?
Not when we checked on 2 September 2026 — the Amazon listing showed no Kindle Unlimited badge, despite one community listing claiming otherwise. Enrolment changes without notice, so check the product page before you rely on it.
Is it really a slow burn?
No, and this is the most common mismatch readers report. The book opens with a one-night stand, StoryGraph’s crowd calls it medium-paced with only 15 per cent voting slow, and ten reviewers say the romance moves too quickly for the tag.
If You Loved I Will Always Love You (Maybe), Read These Next
For the same trap at higher stakes, Snowbound by Cari Hunter puts two women in the same weather with a body count attached. For the winter setting with a lighter touch and no bereavement underneath it, One Walk in Winter by Georgia Beers is the comfort read this book is often mistaken for. And for the same premise at novella length, Cabin Fever is a one-cabin romance that resolves in a single sitting. More in small-town lesbian romance and across our book reviews.
The Bottom Line
Hawkins set out to write a romance about a woman who has stopped expecting anything, and the parts of that ambition she reaches are genuinely good: the grief is handled with more care than the packaging promises, the snowed-in week earns its confinement, and two leads carry a book with almost no supporting cast. The parts she does not reach are all in the last third: a conflict twelve readers call manufactured, a secret-identity subplot eleven of them did not want, and a recovery four say arrives too neatly for six years of loss. If you read for emotional honesty and can tolerate visible plot machinery, this is worth your evening; if a late contrived breakup is the thing that breaks a romance for you, go in knowing it is coming. Check I Will Always Love You (Maybe) on Amazon →
The Eikna Overall Ranking
On the Eikna scale, I Will Always Love You (Maybe) ranks as a quietly serious small-press sapphic contemporary — emotionally honest and well observed, held back by a third act that reaches for machinery it did not need, and best approached for the week in the cabin rather than for the plot that follows it.
The Evidence Scorecard
Overall ★★★★☆ 3.8/5
- ✓ 3.94 average across 931 Goodreads ratings
- ✓ Grief writing praised by 15 reviewers
- ✓ Highest-rated of the three Minnesota books
- ✓ Third act contested by 12 independent readers
Romance ★★★★☆ 3.7/5
- ✓ Snowed-in week named by 11 readers
- ✓ Dual POV gives Josie her own fear
- ✓ Physical intimacy used as characterisation
- ✓ 10 readers say it moves too fast
Characters ★★★★☆ 3.9/5
- ✓ 80% say character development is strong
- ✓ 79% find the leads loveable
- ✓ Carries a book with almost no secondary cast
- ✓ 10 readers find the world outside thin
Writing ★★★★☆ 3.6/5
- ✓ Grief rendered through habit, not speeches
- ✓ 72% read it as character-driven
- ✓ No editing complaints in the reviews
- ✓ Telling over showing flagged repeatedly
Emotional Impact ★★★★☆ 4.4/5
- ✓ 85% of StoryGraph readers mark it emotional
- ✓ Grief is the top graphic content warning
- ✓ Seven reviewers report crying
- ✓ Four say the healing resolves too neatly
Heat Level ★★★☆☆ 3/5
- ✓ romance.io band: “Open door”
- ✓ Sexual content flagged graphic just once
- ✓ Nobody complains it is too explicit
- ✓ One listing oversells it as hot and steamy
Ending ★★★★☆ 3.5/5
- ✓ HEA plus epilogue, undisputed
- ✓ Closes a three-book series cleanly
- ✓ Requires none of the earlier books
- ✓ The single most-criticised stretch of the novel
Re-read Value ★★★★☆ 3.6/5
- ✓ 9h45m audiobook is a genuine second pass
- ✓ Comfort-shaped once the plot is known
- ✓ Standalone, so no re-reading required first
- ✓ Five readers call it predictable
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