A Curious Woman Review — Is It Worth Reading?

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Verdict: A genuinely funny Australian cozy mystery with a very good ice queen in it — and a romance so light that five separate readers went out of their way to warn you about it.

Best for: Readers who want a murder mystery first and a slow, chaste, prickly attraction second, and who like their small towns eccentric and their chickens territorial.

Heat level: ★★☆☆☆ (2/5 — romance.io bands it 3/5 “Open door” from seven ratings; a detailed reader account reports one light sex scene in a 100,000-word book)

Rating: ★★★★☆ (3.7/5 — a 3.93 Goodreads average across 664 ratings, the widest platform gap in this cluster against a 4.5 on Amazon, and marked down because the romance readers were promised is barely present)

Tropes: Cozy mystery, ice queen, grumpy and sunshine, small coastal town, opposites attract, amateur sleuths, Australian setting, large ensemble cast, slow and very light romance.

What Is A Curious Woman About?

A Curious Woman is Jess Lea’s first full-length novel, published by Ylva Publishing on 2 April 2019 and now book one of the three-part Murder Under the Gum Trees series on Amazon. It runs about 100,000 words — 304 pages in the Kindle edition — and it is set in Port Bannir, a windswept coastal town in Australia where almost everybody is slightly ridiculous and one of them is a murderer.

Bess Campbell has moved there to start again, and is doing it with a hip gallery, a tiny house, a stack of self-improvement books and some aggressive chickens. Margaret Gale runs the town’s austere maritime museum and her staff with equal severity, and has no patience for Bess, her gallery or her bicycle. Their first real encounter is an argument about an antique collectible dildo. Then someone is murdered, both women are implicated, and they have to cooperate.

The numbers tell a story of their own, and it is the most interesting thing about this book’s reception. Goodreads has it at 3.93 across 664 ratings with 155 written reviews. Amazon has it at 4.5 across 205, with a histogram of 66 percent five stars, 25 percent four, 9 percent three and nothing at all below. That is a gap of well over half a star between two audiences reading the same book — the widest we have measured in this cluster — and it is not noise. It is two different sets of expectations meeting the same novel.

It is on Kindle Unlimited, verified on the Amazon listing on 20 August 2026.

What Makes This Sapphic Cozy Mystery Work

The writing. This is the one thing nobody argues about. The reviewer who gave it 3.25 stars and disliked most of the book’s choices says flatly that the writing itself was good. A reader who found it hard going opens her bullet-point verdict with the observation that Jess Lea writes very well. A five-star ARC reader quotes an approving maxim about making every sentence worth reading. When detractors and enthusiasts agree on the prose, the prose is real.

A Curious Woman by Jess Lea book cover

The humour is the second thing. Multiple readers use the same vocabulary — quirky, dark, witty — and the tone stays light despite the corpse. Reviewers describe the cast as over the top yet grounded enough to be real, which is exactly the register a cozy mystery needs and is harder to hit than it looks. An argument about an antique collectible dildo as the leads’ meet-hostile is a good indication of what you are in for.

And the mystery works as a mystery. Readers report not guessing the culprit and being kept guessing, which is the actual job. One says the story does not begin as a mystery and grows into one, which is a structural choice worth knowing about but not a flaw.

Margaret is the draw. romance.io readers tag the book grumpy/ice queen more than any other trope, and the ice queen here is a museum director with a harpoon in the opening line rather than a CEO in a glass office. That is a more interesting version of the archetype than the shelf usually supplies.

Book Synopsis

Bess Campbell has relocated to Port Bannir on the Australian coast to rebuild her life, and is throwing herself into it — a contemporary gallery, a small house, several chickens with strong opinions, and a self-help regime. Margaret Gale has run the town’s maritime museum for years, keeps her staff in line by force of personality, and regards Bess and everything she stands for as an irritant.

Their mutual contempt is well established by the time the town is shaken by a murder — and by the time both of them are among the people it could plausibly be pinned on. Clearing themselves means working together, which means spending time in each other’s company, which turns out to be a more complicated proposition than either expected.

My Review

If you take one thing from this review, take this: A Curious Woman is a cozy mystery with a romance in it, not a romance with a mystery in it, and the difference is the entire reason for the ratings gap.

Five separate readers in a thirty-review sample raise the same point unprompted. One says there is no or very light romance and counts a single light sex scene. One describes a very slight romance between an ice-queen-ish character and a bohemian free spirit. One went in blind and was surprised to find this was not just an F/F romance but a cozy mystery. One says there was very little amount of romance. One says the romance is very light and she was missing chemistry. A sixth calls it a romance which does not look at all like a romance but arrives at the idea of a happy ending. That is not a minority reservation; that is the book’s defining characteristic, and the publisher’s own copy hints at it with the phrase “a sweet serve of lesbian romance” — a serve being, notably, a portion.

Read that way, the Amazon rating makes sense. Amazon shelves this in LGBTQ+ Mystery and sells it to people who want a mystery; they give it 4.5 and no ratings below three stars. Goodreads reaches a much larger sapphic-romance readership, many of them through Ylva’s ARC programme, and they give it 3.93 with 39 ratings at two stars or below. Same book, different promise.

The other consistent criticism is the cast. Several readers report getting confused — one says she usually loses track when there are this many players, another describes leaping forward hundreds of pages and finding herself lost. Two readers independently say the characters are not very likeable, and one ties that directly to not caring how the romance turned out. A cozy mystery can carry a large eccentric ensemble; it cannot carry one you cannot tell apart.

What is left is very good. The prose is the best I have read on this page. Margaret is a properly written difficult woman. The town is funny in a specific, Australian, faintly grim way. And the mystery keeps its secret. If those are the things you want, the low Goodreads average is telling you about other readers’ expectations, not about the book’s quality.

How Spicy Is A Curious Woman?

Low, and the reader evidence is more specific than the aggregator.

romance.io bands the steam at 3 of 5, “Open door”, from seven ratings — a thin sample by that site’s standards. Against it: a reader who wrote a detailed numbered breakdown of the book reports one light sex scene, and five readers describe the romance itself as very light or barely present. I Heart SapphFic’s entry for this title would not load for us on the day of writing.

Our reading is two out of five. There is a sex scene, it is not fade-to-black, and it is one scene in a hundred thousand words. If you are choosing this book for heat, choose something else — and if you were avoiding it for heat, you have no reason to.

Who Should Read This Book?

Read it if you want a cozy mystery. That is the honest recommendation. Read it if a funny, slightly bleak Australian coastal town with a large cast of oddballs sounds like a pleasure rather than a chore. Read it for Margaret, who is the best-drawn ice queen on our enemies-to-lovers page and nothing like the corporate default. And read it if you want to keep going — it is book one of three, with A Curious Visit and A Curious Journey both published.

Do not read it for the romance. Five readers said so before we did. Do not read it if you need a small, easily held cast. And do not expect the enemies-to-lovers arc to run the way it does elsewhere on that page; the hostility is real and funny, but the resolution is quiet and comes late.

On content: nothing is enumerated on the Amazon listing, and romance.io carries no reader-added content warnings for this title at all. The book turns on a murder and its aftermath in a small community, and reviewers describe the treatment as light in tone despite the subject. That is an absence of reports rather than an all-clear.

What Readers Are Actually Saying (August 2026)

Our thirty-review Goodreads sample splits six five-star, fourteen four-star, nine three-star and one one-star — an unusually flat, four-star-heavy shape. Across all 664 ratings the pattern holds: 289 four-star ratings against 188 five-star, which is the signature of a book people like rather than love. Amazon, reaching a mystery-first audience, produces the opposite shape entirely.

The praise is for the prose, the humour and the puzzle. Readers describe dark humour running through the whole thing, witty exchanges between the leads, a cast that is over the top and somehow still grounded, and a culprit they did not see coming. Several mention the setting with real affection.

The criticism is threefold and consistent: the romance is too slight for readers who came for one, the cast is too large to keep straight, and the leads are not especially likeable. The single one-star review is a matter of taste rather than craft — the reader knew from the opening sentence that this book was not for her, and says so without malice.

Discovery here runs through the publisher rather than social media. Ylva Publishing distributed ARCs and several sampled reviews disclose them; one reviewer says she came to the book because Lee Winter mentioned it, which is how a mid-list sapphic press actually moves books. We found no trade coverage. The book’s Amazon sales rank is deep — past a million in the Kindle Store overall — so the Kindle Unlimited listing is not where its readership lives; the audiobook and the publisher’s own channels are.

Prefer audio? Listen to A Curious Woman on Libro.fm — the audiobook shop that supports independent bookstores. It is narrated by Cat Gould, published by Tantor Media, and runs eleven hours and forty-three minutes. For a book whose main problem is keeping a large ensemble straight, a single narrator giving each of them a distinct voice is a real advantage.

Frequently Asked Questions

Is A Curious Woman actually a romance?

Only partly. Five readers in our thirty-review sample describe the romance as very light or barely present, and one reports a single light sex scene across roughly 100,000 words. Amazon shelves it in LGBTQ+ Mystery. There is an attraction, it develops, and it resolves — but the murder is the plot.

How explicit is it?

Low. romance.io bands it 3/5 “Open door” from seven ratings; the more detailed reader account reports one light scene. We put it at 2/5.

Why is the Goodreads rating so much lower than the Amazon one?

Because the two platforms sell it to different people. Goodreads reaches a sapphic-romance readership expecting a romance and returns 3.93 across 664 ratings. Amazon files it under LGBTQ+ Mystery and returns 4.5 across 205, with nothing below three stars. The gap is about expectation, not quality.

Is it a standalone?

It works as one — the murder is solved and the relationship resolves — and it is also book one of three. A Curious Visit and A Curious Journey complete the Murder Under the Gum Trees series, and both are on Amazon.

Is there an audiobook?

Yes — narrated by Cat Gould, published by Tantor Media, eleven hours forty-three minutes, and available on Libro.fm.

Is it on Kindle Unlimited?

Yes — verified on the Amazon listing on 20 August 2026. Kindle Unlimited availability is the publisher’s to change, so check the listing before you plan around it.

If You Loved A Curious Woman, Read These Next

If it was the mystery you wanted, An Exclusive Game is the suspense-forward pick on this site — much darker, much hotter, and only half a story. If it was the prickly professional woman, Beyond the Blue pairs an ice-queen medical examiner with a warm detective and gives the romance the space this book does not. And On the Same Page is the quiet, funny, character-led option if the tone is what appealed. More in our enemies-to-lovers Kindle Unlimited list and across all our book reviews.

The Bottom Line

A Curious Woman is better written than its Goodreads average suggests and less romantic than its placement implies. Jess Lea can write, Margaret Gale is a genuinely good character, Port Bannir is funny, and the murder plot does its job without telegraphing the answer. What it is not is a romance, and five readers took the trouble to say so — which is why a book Amazon’s mystery readers rate at 4.5 sits at 3.93 with a sapphic-romance crowd. Go in wanting a cozy mystery with a slow, dry, very light attraction running underneath it and you will have a good time. It is on Kindle Unlimited, and there are two more.

The Eikna Overall Ranking

On the Eikna scale, A Curious Woman ranks as a well-written, genuinely funny Australian cozy mystery with an excellent ice queen and a strong sense of place — mis-sold as a romance, carrying a cast several readers could not keep straight, and best approached by people who want the murder more than the kiss.

The Evidence Scorecard

Overall ★★★★☆ 3.7/5

  • ✓ 3.93 average across 664 Goodreads ratings
  • ✓ 4.5 on Amazon across 205, nothing below three stars
  • ✓ Published by Ylva, with a full three-book series behind it
  • ✓ The widest platform rating gap we have measured in this cluster

Romance ★★★☆☆ 2.8/5

  • ✓ The ice queen and sunshine dynamic is sharply written
  • ✓ The hostility is funny and specific rather than generic
  • ✓ Five readers independently call the romance very light or absent
  • ✓ One reader reports missing the chemistry entirely

Characters ★★★☆☆ 3.4/5

  • ✓ Margaret is a properly built difficult woman
  • ✓ The ensemble is over the top yet grounded, per one reviewer
  • ✓ Two readers say the leads are not very likeable
  • ✓ Several report losing track of a large cast

Writing ★★★★☆ 4.3/5

  • ✓ Detractors and enthusiasts both praise the prose
  • ✓ Dark humour sustained across a 100,000-word book
  • ✓ Strong, unusual sense of an Australian coastal place
  • ✓ Structure confused some readers mid-book

Emotional Impact ★★★★☆ 3.5/5

  • ✓ The humour lands consistently for most readers
  • ✓ The mystery keeps readers guessing to the end
  • ✓ Four-star ratings outnumber five-star on Goodreads
  • ✓ Readers who wanted the romance came away unmoved

Heat Level ★★☆☆☆ 2/5

  • ✓ There is an on-page sex scene; it is not fade-to-black
  • ✓ romance.io bands it 3/5 “Open door” from seven ratings
  • ✓ A detailed reader account reports one light scene
  • ✓ Heat is not what any reviewer is here for

Ending ★★★★☆ 3.9/5

  • ✓ The mystery resolves and the culprit surprises
  • ✓ One reviewer says it wraps everything up nicely
  • ✓ The relationship reaches a happy ending
  • ✓ The same reviewer was disappointed by how it got there

Re-read Value ★★★☆☆ 3.4/5

  • ✓ The humour survives a second pass
  • ✓ An eleven-hour audiobook is a genuine second format
  • ✓ Two sequels continue the series
  • ✓ A mystery loses most of its force once solved

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Ribbonwood Review — Is It Worth Reading?

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Verdict: An award-winning small-town enemies-to-lovers romance with the sharpest dialogue in this category and a genuinely dark undertow — let down by a last stretch that resolves too fast and too neatly for what it has raised.

Best for: Readers who want banter with teeth, a heroine with a reputation the town has decided for her, and a romance willing to carry serious content — provided you check the content notes first, because they are not decorative.

Heat level: ★★★★☆ (4/5 — romance.io bands it “Explicit open door”; readers report multiple scenes and strap use)

Rating: ★★★★☆ (4.3/5 — a 4.36 Goodreads average across 8,961 ratings and a GCLS Goldie award, with the final act the one thing readers keep pulling up on)

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, small town, return to hometown, queen bee and closeted athlete, town pariah, forced proximity, reputation and rumour, found family, burnout recovery, second look at an old rival.

Ribbonwood is Ruby Landers’s contemporary enemies-to-lovers romance, published in December 2024 and set in an Australian town of 907 people, in which a woman the whole town has agreed is a scandal — and possibly a murderer — is looked at properly for the first time by the classmate who used to be her enemy.

It has something almost nothing else in our Kindle Unlimited catalogue has: an industry award. Ribbonwood won the GCLS Goldie for Best Contemporary Romance in 2025, and the reader numbers back the jury up — 4.36 on Goodreads across 8,961 ratings with 1,101 written reviews, 4.6 on Amazon across 3,874, and 4.52 on romance.io. It is also a darker book than its cover and its category suggest, and the criticism it does attract is concentrated in one specific place. Both of those are worth knowing before you start.

What Is Ribbonwood About?

This is small-town romance in its least cosy register. The town is not a refuge here, it is a jury: 907 people who have collectively decided what Lara Bennett is, and who have been repeating it long enough that it functions as fact. That premise does the work the genre usually assigns to an external villain, and it is why the book can carry the content it carries without tipping into a different genre entirely.

Lara is introduced entirely through other people’s account of her — the woman you do not leave your husband alone with, the centre of every scandal, the one who more or less killed a man. Ollie Gabrielli is introduced through distance: she left Ribbonwood the moment school ended, she was the closeted soccer star to Lara’s queen bee, and she is only back for three months to recover from burnout and see her family. The novel is what happens when someone who has been away long enough to have stopped believing the story looks at the subject of it again.

What Makes This Small-Town Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Work

  • The dialogue: Banter and snark are what reviewers name first, and even the most critical review in our sample calls the dialogue terrific before it gets to its complaints.
  • Reputation as the antagonist: The obstacle is not a rival or a misunderstanding, it is a town’s settled opinion, which gives every scene a third party in the room.
  • It takes its own darkness seriously: Grooming, domestic violence and a death hang over the plot, and the book handles them as history with consequences rather than as backstory colour.
  • The heat is not decorative: romance.io bands it at 4/5, readers report multiple explicit scenes, and one critical reviewer calls the steaminess sublime while complaining about everything else.
  • Industry recognition, which is rare here: A GCLS Goldie for Best Contemporary Romance in 2025 is a rare thing for a Kindle Unlimited title in this category, and it means this book was read by a jury as well as by an audience.

Book Synopsis

Ribbonwood has 907 people in it and one story everybody knows. Lara Bennett is the woman other women watch their husbands around. She is at the centre of every scandal the town has had, she has ruined businesses and marriages and egos with a sharp tongue and no apparent interest in behaving, and underneath all of it sits the thing nobody says directly: that she more or less killed a man. Lara does not correct any of it. Correcting it would require the town to be listening.

Ollie Gabrielli left the moment she could. At school she was the closeted soccer star and Lara was the queen bee, which made them natural enemies in the way small towns arrange people, and Ollie has spent the years since building a life somewhere else. She is home for three months, and only because she is burnt out and her family is chaotic enough to be restful. Reconnecting with anyone from that classroom is not on the list.

What she finds is that the woman everyone warned her about is not behaving like the woman everyone warned her about, and that she cannot stop looking. The town’s account of Lara has a shape to it — who benefits from it, what it covers, who taught the town to tell it that way — and the closer Ollie gets, the more that shape matters. Sometimes there is a reason not to trust the story. Sometimes there is a reason the story exists at all.

My Review

The best thing here is the voice. Reviewers reach for banter and snark first, and they are right to — the dialogue in this book has a rhythm and a cruelty that most small-town romance never risks, because most small-town romance wants everyone to be nice. Lara is not nice, and the novel does not spend its length rehabilitating her into someone who is. It spends its length demonstrating that the town’s account of her was always doing a job for somebody.

Ribbonwood by Ruby Landers book cover

The second strength is structural. Making a town’s settled opinion the antagonist means there is no scene without pressure in it: every conversation happens in front of people who already know what they think, and Ollie’s outsider status is what lets the reader see the machinery. It also lets the book carry genuinely heavy material — grooming discussed across multiple scenes, domestic violence off the page, a death and the police interest that follows it — without the tonal collapse that usually results. This is a romance with a real crime and a real history underneath it, and for four hundred pages that balance holds.

Then it does not. The most detailed critical review we found tracks the problem precisely: five stars for the first ninety per cent, and then a late separation that is over almost as soon as it starts, with very little of Ollie’s perspective on it, followed by a resolution of the criminal thread that the same reader simply does not believe. Without spoiling the specifics, an investigation the book has taken seriously for hundreds of pages is dispatched in a way that reads as convenient. When a novel has spent that long establishing that this town has consequences, the ending needs to have them too.

Two smaller notes, both from readers who otherwise liked it. One found the relationship rushed and the build-up thinner than she wanted, which is a fair charge given how much plot the second half is carrying. And more than one reader reports formatting problems in the ebook — abrupt scene breaks, paragraphs stretched oddly, in one case badly enough that she gave up. That is a production issue rather than a writing one, but it is the kind of thing that costs a book stars and is worth knowing before you buy rather than borrow.

One expectation to reset, and it is the important one: this is not a comfort read. The cover and the category say small-town romance; the content notes readers have compiled include grooming, domestic violence, murder, police harassment, alcoholism and a brief off-page reference to rape. Nobody who has read it describes it as gratuitous, and the award jury clearly did not either. But if you came for cosy, calibrate hard. If the darkness is what interests you, this is one of the few books in this category that earns it.

My honest note: The sharpest small-town sapphic romance on Kindle Unlimited for ninety per cent of its length, and a rushed last act. Read it for Lara and the dialogue; forgive the ending or do not, but do read the content notes first.

Element In Ribbonwood
Central relationship Lara Bennett & Ollie Gabrielli — the town’s designated scandal and the closeted soccer star who left, back for three months
Core tropes Enemies to lovers, small town, return to hometown, reputation and rumour, forced proximity, found family
Setting Ribbonwood, Australia — population 907, and one story everybody has agreed on
Heat level 4/5 — explicit open door, multiple scenes, strap use reported by readers
Series Standalone with an HEA; no cliffhanger reported. GCLS Goldie winner, Best Contemporary Romance 2025
Content notes Grooming (past, discussed repeatedly), domestic violence (off page), murder and a death, police harassment, alcoholism and alcohol, drink driving, death of a parent, rape (off page, brief mention), PTSD and trauma themes, misogyny, explicit sexual content including public sex — compiled by readers, as no publisher list exists

How Dark and Spicy Is Ribbonwood?

Four out of five on heat. romance.io files it as “Explicit open door” across 58 ratings, and reader accounts line up: multiple scenes, on the page, with strap use named in the content notes readers have compiled. Even the critical reviews concede this part — one calls the steaminess sublime in the middle of an otherwise unhappy write-up.

Darkness is the more useful question here, and it needs answering plainly because the packaging does not. Readers who have catalogued the content list grooming discussed at multiple points, domestic violence off the page, a murder, police harassment, alcoholism, drink driving, the death of a parent, a brief off-page reference to rape, and sustained misogyny. No reviewer describes any of it as gratuitous, and none of it is written for shock. But this is a small-town romance with a criminal history at its centre, and it should not be picked up cold. For comparison on the site, Precious Red Pearls is darker still at 5/5 heat, and Make Your Move is the same 4/5 band with none of the weight.

Who Should Read This Book?

You’ll likely love it if: you want dialogue that draws blood, you like a heroine the town has already convicted, you want small-town romance with actual stakes rather than casseroles, and you have read the content notes and are fine with them.

You may want to skip it if: you want a cosy small-town read, grooming or domestic violence in a romance is a hard no, you need the final act to be as carefully built as the rest, or ebook formatting problems ruin a book for you.

In short: the best-written small-town sapphic romance on Kindle Unlimited, and the one that most needs a content-warning check first.

What Readers Are Actually Saying (August 2026)

This book has both kinds of validation, which is unusual. It won the GCLS Goldie for Best Contemporary Romance in 2025 — jury recognition that almost no self-published Kindle Unlimited title in this category receives — and it has the audience to match: 8,961 Goodreads ratings with 1,101 written reviews, 3,874 on Amazon, 58 on romance.io, and a Kindle rank still inside the top ten in Australian and Oceanian Literature. There is an audiobook, narrated by Katherine Littrell, whose Australian accent readers mention adjusting to and then praising; it is not stocked on Libro.fm. What is genuinely notable in the discourse is how much of it is readers doing the publisher’s job for it — the most useful content-warning list for this book was compiled by a reviewer, not issued by anyone.

Why readers love it (according to the discourse): The dialogue, first — banter and snark are the words that recur, and they recur inside negative reviews too. Second, Lara herself: a heroine who is not softened, not apologised for, and not rehabilitated into likeability. Third, the setting, with readers repeatedly naming this as a favourite sapphic small-town romance specifically because the town is hostile rather than warm. Fourth, the heat. And fifth, a point several readers make explicitly — that they were frightened off by the content warnings, read it anyway, and found the difficult material handled with care.

What readers argue about and complain about: The last stretch, and the complaints cluster tightly. The most detailed critical review gives the first ninety per cent five stars and then objects to two things: a dramatic separation that is too short to land and gives almost nothing of Ollie’s point of view, and a resolution to the criminal thread that she finds implausible on its own terms. Second, pacing of the romance — one reader found the relationship rushed and the tension under-built. Third, and unusually, production: multiple readers report ebook formatting problems, abrupt scene breaks and stretched paragraphs, with one abandoning the book over it. Fourth, and from a single voice, that the middle tips too far toward sex once the characters are established. Note what is absent — nobody criticises the prose, the dialogue or the characterisation.

The standalone question worth asking first: Ribbonwood resolves, has an HEA, and no reviewer in our sample reports a cliffhanger. It requires nothing else first. Where readers go next is to the author’s other work — a substantial number of these reviews come from people who arrived having already read her earlier books and say so, which is the clearest sign available that the voice, rather than the premise, is what people are following.

Frequently Asked Questions

Does Ribbonwood end on a cliffhanger?

No. It resolves with an HEA and stands alone. Several readers do object that the final act — both the separation and the criminal thread — is resolved too quickly to satisfy.

What are the content warnings for Ribbonwood?

Readers have compiled: grooming discussed at multiple points, domestic violence off page, murder and death, police harassment, alcoholism and alcohol, drink driving, the death of a parent, a brief off-page reference to rape, PTSD and trauma themes, and misogyny. No publisher list exists, which is why this one comes from reviewers.

How explicit is Ribbonwood?

A 4/5. romance.io bands it “Explicit open door”, and readers report multiple on-page scenes including strap use.

Did Ribbonwood win an award?

Yes. It won the GCLS Goldie for Best Contemporary Romance in 2025, which is rare recognition for a Kindle Unlimited title in this category.

Is there an audiobook?

Yes, narrated by Katherine Littrell. It is not stocked on Libro.fm.

Is Ribbonwood on Kindle Unlimited?

Yes, verified on the Amazon product page. Kindle Unlimited availability changes without notice, so check the listing before you rely on it.

If You Loved Ribbonwood, Read These Next

Precious Red Pearls is where to go if the darkness rather than the small town was the draw — a captivity premise played straight, at 5/5 heat. Make Your Move shares the same heat band and the same interest in a woman with a public reputation, without the weight. And The Chef is the exact opposite prescription if what you want after this is something gentle. More in our best sapphic Kindle Unlimited list and across all our book reviews.

The Bottom Line

Ribbonwood sets out to write a small town as a jury rather than a refuge, and for most of its length it is the best thing of its kind on Kindle Unlimited: the dialogue is genuinely sharp, Lara is allowed to be unlikeable, the reputation plot gives every scene a third party, and the heavy material is handled with care rather than for effect. What it does not manage is an ending built to the standard of the rest — the separation is too brief, the criminal thread resolves too conveniently, and the ebook has production problems readers keep flagging. If you want small-town romance with real stakes, and the content notes do not rule you out, it is worth every page up to the last fifty. Check Ribbonwood on Amazon →

The Eikna Overall Ranking

On the Eikna scale, Ribbonwood ranks as an award-winning small-town romance with a crime novel inside it — sharply written and unusually brave about its content, held back by a final act that resolves faster than it earns, and best approached with the reader-compiled content notes read first.

The Evidence Scorecard

Overall ★★★★☆ 4.3/5

  • ✓ 4.36 average across 8,961 Goodreads ratings
  • ✓ GCLS Goldie, Best Contemporary Romance 2025
  • ✓ 4.6 on Amazon across 3,874 ratings
  • ✓ Final act rushed by consistent report

Romance ★★★★☆ 4.2/5

  • ✓ Enemies footing survives well past the turn
  • ✓ Town’s opinion works as a third character
  • ✓ Chemistry named in almost every review
  • ✓ One reader finds the build-up thin

Characters ★★★★★ 4.6/5

  • ✓ Lara never softened into likeability
  • ✓ Ollie’s outsider distance well used
  • ✓ Supporting town genuinely populated
  • ✓ Ollie’s POV thin in the separation

Writing ★★★★★ 4.6/5

  • ✓ Banter and snark named first by reviewers
  • ✓ Praised even inside negative reviews
  • ✓ Heavy content handled without tonal collapse
  • ✓ Ebook formatting problems widely reported

Emotional Impact ★★★★☆ 4.3/5

  • ✓ Grooming history given real weight
  • ✓ Reputation damage written convincingly
  • ✓ Readers report being moved despite the warnings
  • ✓ Late resolution undercuts accumulated tension

Heat Level ★★★★☆ 4/5

  • ✓ romance.io: “Explicit open door”, 58 ratings
  • ✓ Multiple on-page scenes reported
  • ✓ Strap use named in reader content notes
  • ✓ One reader finds the middle sex-heavy

Ending ★★★★☆ 3.6/5

  • ✓ Complete HEA, no cliffhanger
  • ✓ Standalone requiring nothing else
  • ✓ Reunion itself satisfies most readers
  • ✓ Criminal thread resolved implausibly

Re-read Value ★★★★☆ 4.1/5

  • ✓ Audiobook read by Katherine Littrell
  • ✓ Dialogue rewards a second pass
  • ✓ Top-10 category rank two years on
  • ✓ No Libro.fm edition; formatting issues persist

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Late Bloomer Review — Is It Worth Reading?

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Verdict: A cottagecore sapphic rom-com with some of the warmest neurodivergent representation in the genre, undercut by a story that never finds anything for its leads to fight about.

Best for: Readers who want two anxious, tender women falling in love among the dahlias, and who need no conflict or stakes to keep turning pages.

Heat level: ★★★★☆ (4/5 — explicit open door)

Rating: ★★★★☆ (3.6/5 — a 3.65 Goodreads average across 18,685 ratings, far below what a starred Kirkus review would predict)

Tropes: Opposites attract, grumpy-sunshine, forced proximity, roommates with benefits, neurodivergent leads, found family, flower farm, dual POV, first time, queer joy.

Late Bloomer by Mazey Eddings is a standalone sapphic contemporary romance published by St. Martin’s Griffin in April 2024, set on a failing flower farm outside Asheville, North Carolina, where Opal Devlin — chaotic, accidentally rich, and unable to say no to anyone — buys the place sight unseen and arrives to find Pepper Boden, granddaughter of the woman who owned it, living in the cabin and refusing to go anywhere.

It has a 3.65 average across 18,685 Goodreads ratings, a starred review from Kirkus, and a gap between those two facts that is the most interesting thing about the book. Both halves of that split are worth understanding before you start.

What Is Late Bloomer About?

Late Bloomer is a contemporary sapphic romance and a rural one — a small-town book in the sense that the farm, the growing season and a tight circle of neighbours do the structural work a city setting would hand to jobs and plots. Amazon files it under Romantic Comedy, and that is the register: warm, silly, heavy on banter, allergic to villains.

Opal arrives with money and nothing else — no training, no plan, no boundaries, and a lifetime of people helping themselves because she cannot bear to disappoint anyone. Pepper is already in possession: she knows the soil, the buckets and the accounts, and assumes on sight that the woman with the cash is one more person about to take something from her. The book runs on dual first-person POV, which is where its ambition sits: both women are neurodivergent, and each narrates a nervous system the other must learn to read.

What Makes This Neurodivergent Sapphic Rom-Com Work

  • The representation: The most-praised element by a distance, named by more reviewers than anything else. Kirkus singled out the mental-health and neurodivergence material as growth on the author’s part, and readers who share the diagnoses repeatedly say they felt seen.
  • The setting: Thistle and Bloom does real work — the flowers carry the metaphor, the seasons carry the pacing, and the cottagecore texture is what readers name when they recommend it.
  • The characters as people: 83% of StoryGraph readers call the cast loveable and 75% say the character development is strong — rare on a book rated 3.65.
  • The found family: Opal’s sisters and Pepper’s neighbours get enough page time to matter, and the found-family warmth is much of why people finish it happy.
  • A clean standalone: One book, one couple, an on-page happily-ever-after, nothing else to buy.

Book Synopsis

Opal Devlin wins the lottery and it goes badly almost immediately. The money does not fix the dead-end job, the friends who treat her like an ATM or the exes who circle back the moment the news travels; it only makes the demands louder, and Opal has no defence against being asked for things. So she does the one decisive thing of her life: spends most of it at once, sight unseen, on a failing flower farm in the North Carolina mountains.

Pepper Boden is standing in the driveway when Opal pulls up. She grew up on that farm, buried her grandmother, and has kept the beds alive on stubbornness and no money since. There is no will, and the woman who has just bought her home has no idea what a dahlia tuber is. Pepper is not leaving. Opal, whose entire personality is an inability to make anyone leave, does not make her.

What they arrive at is a cohabitation arrangement neither believes in: Pepper keeps the farm running and teaches Opal to be useful, Opal underwrites the season and turns the cabin into a studio, and both behave as though the other were a logistical problem. That holds exactly as long as two lonely, misunderstood women can share a small house without noticing each other. The question is not whether they will fall into bed. It is whether either can survive being wanted by someone who has actually read the manual.

My Review

The representation is the reason to read this, and it is genuinely unusual. Eddings writes two neurodivergent women without making either a lesson or a quirk, and lets their brains be why the romance works rather than the obstacle it clears. Opal’s inability to hold a boundary and Pepper’s inability to ask for help are the same wound facing opposite directions, and the moments where they recognise that in each other are the best writing in the book.

Late Bloomer by Mazey Eddings book cover

The farm is the other real pleasure. Thistle and Bloom has a working calendar — what gets cut, what gets sold, what dies if nobody shows up — and the flowers are a language rather than set dressing. The book is best in the ordinary hours: two people doing physical work side by side, getting fluent in each other.

Where it struggles is structure, and this is not my private gripe — it is the loudest thing in the reviews. Reader after reader uses the same words: directionless, meandering, nothing happens. There is no antagonist, no ticking clock, and the ownership dispute the premise sets up is defused so early that the middle of a four-hundred-page book has nothing to push against. The rest stacks on top: the physical relationship starts before the emotional one is built, so several readers report a lot of sex and little reason to believe in it — “zero chemistry between the two of them” is one Goodreads reviewer’s summary, and she is not alone. Four separate reviewers lost track of whose chapter they were in. And conflicts get resolved by kissing rather than by anyone saying a sentence out loud, which the Lesbrary’s otherwise five-star review flags as running almost to the last chapter.

There is also an expectation to reset. This is packaged as a gentle cottagecore comfort read — pastel flowers, a soft title, a rom-com shelf — and the sex in it is explicit, frequent and central. One reader says outright the cover did not prepare her for the spice. If you came for a cosy low-heat farm romance, calibrate; if explicit content is what you wanted, the packaging undershoots the book.

What I keep circling back to is the disagreement between the trade and the readers. Kirkus starred it; Publishers Weekly, Booklist and Library Journal all ran positive notices; the reading public put it at 3.65 across 18,685 ratings. Kirkus praised the leads’ “easily distinguishable voices” — the exact quality four separate reader reviews say it lacks. When the two split that cleanly on one craft point, readers describe the experience and the trade describes the intent.

My honest note: A five-star book about being loved as you are, wrapped around a three-star plot that never turns up. If you read romance for the two people, it is worth your afternoon. If you need a story to happen to them, it is four hundred pages of pleasant nothing.

Element In Late Bloomer
Central relationship Opal Devlin & Pepper Boden — chaotic lottery winner and guarded flower farmer, opposites attract
Core tropes Opposites attract, grumpy-sunshine, forced proximity, roommates with benefits, neurodivergent leads, found family
Setting Thistle and Bloom Farms — a failing flower farm outside Asheville, North Carolina
Heat level 4/5 — explicit open door
Series Standalone — one book, complete arc, on-page HEA, no sequel
Content notes Explicit sexual content, grief and bereavement, parental abandonment, emotional abuse and a toxic friendship, alcoholism in a parent, ableism

How Spicy Is Late Bloomer?

A 4/5. romance.io places it in its “explicit open door” band — one step below the top rating it reserves for the most explicit titles in the genre — and readers corroborate it while reporting the frequency as higher than that band implies. The sex is graphic, it recurs, and it starts early: the arrangement these two strike is roommates-with-benefits rather than a slow burn, which is why “too many sex scenes” recurs even among readers who liked the book.

The one thing worth flagging is that the physical relationship runs ahead of the emotional one by design, so if you need longing before payoff, the order will feel wrong. Beyond that, no reviewer I found flags specific kink content, and the first-time scene is handled tenderly rather than as a set piece. For the same band elsewhere, Delilah Green Doesn’t Care and Written in the Stars both sit at 4/5 on the same romance.io scale.

Who Should Read This Book?

You’ll likely love it if: you want neurodivergent leads written from the inside, you read romance for two people rather than a plot, you like a low-angst book with no villain, and cottagecore is an active draw rather than wallpaper.

You may want to skip it if: a book with no central conflict bores you, you need the emotional groundwork before the bedroom scenes, you want two distinct voices in a dual-POV romance, or the cover promised low-heat cosiness and explicit content would spoil it.

In short: the best-drawn pair of neurodivergent women you will meet in sapphic romance this year, in a book that gives them almost nothing to do.

What Readers Are Actually Saying (August 2026)

This is not a book that broke out on BookTok. Searching the title and author turns up retailer listings and blog reviews rather than viral video, and I found no evidence of a hype moment — my Reddit pass was cut short by rate-limiting and should be read as incomplete. What it has instead is the thing sapphic romance rarely gets: full trade backing. Kirkus starred it, and Publishers Weekly, Booklist and Library Journal all reviewed it on publication. Amazon made it an Editors’ Pick for Best Romance, and it still ranks inside the top 1,500 in LGBTQ+ Romance. Macmillan Audio released an audiobook narrated by Ellie Gossage running 9 hours 31 minutes, and listeners single out her performance for giving the leads the vocal separation the page does not.

Prefer audio? Listen to Late Bloomer on Libro.fm — the audiobook shop that supports independent bookstores.

Why readers love it (according to the discourse): The neurodivergent representation, first and by a distance — six or more of the most-liked Goodreads reviews name it, and the recurring note is that the portrayal is specific rather than diagnostic. Then the comfort: StoryGraph readers tag it lighthearted 77% of the time, emotional 65% and funny 64%, and 83% call the characters loveable — a warmer profile than the 3.72 average there suggests. The flower farm and seasonal detail get named constantly, and the found family, Opal’s sisters in particular, draws real affection. The audiobook has its own following, with Gossage credited for making the two POVs distinguishable.

What readers argue about and complain about: Plot, above everything. Six of the low-star reviews and four of the most-liked ones independently describe the book as directionless or meandering; the ownership conflict the premise promises is settled early, and after that there is no engine. Second: the sex-to-story ratio. Around five reviewers call the scenes frequent, repetitive and unearned, arriving before there is any reason to care — really the first complaint in different clothes. Third: the dual POV. Four reviewers say the narrators are indistinguishable and that they had to check whose chapter they were in, which is exactly what Kirkus praised. Below those sit conflicts resolved by kissing rather than conversation, an implausible sight-unseen property purchase, and dialogue several readers call corny and pop-culture-heavy. There is also a real split on the representation: most readers call it validating, while roughly four call it stereotyped, reading Opal’s impulsivity as a plot device excusing itself as ADHD. Both sides speak from experience.

The standalone question worth asking first: it is a genuine standalone. One book, one couple, an on-page happily-ever-after, no sequel and nothing withheld — and StoryGraph’s did-not-finish rate is only 5%, so the people who start it overwhelmingly finish it. The more useful question is the author’s catalogue. Eddings averages 3.68 across roughly 100,000 Goodreads ratings, and Late Bloomer‘s 3.65 sits squarely in that band: her most-read book, A Brush with Love, is 3.62 across 25,277 ratings, and her highest-rated, the young-adult Tilly in Technicolor, is 4.06 across 5,505. The rating here is not a verdict on this book. It is what her trade-off — enormous emotional generosity, light plotting — reliably produces.

Frequently Asked Questions

Is Late Bloomer a standalone?

Yes. It is a complete standalone with an on-page happily-ever-after for Opal and Pepper, no cliffhanger and no sequel announced.

How spicy is Late Bloomer?

A 4/5. romance.io rates the steam level “explicit open door,” and readers report the scenes as frequent as well as graphic. The physical relationship begins well before the emotional one does.

Is Late Bloomer actually a romantic comedy?

Yes in tone, but a very low-conflict one. Amazon shelves it under Romantic Comedy and Booklist called it a “low-stakes, low-angst” read — praise from one angle and the most common reader complaint from another.

Is the neurodivergent representation good?

Mostly, and it is the most-praised thing in the book. Both leads are neurodivergent and Kirkus credited the mental-health material specifically, though a minority of readers find Opal’s portrayal stereotyped.

Is there an audiobook of Late Bloomer?

Yes — narrated by Ellie Gossage for Macmillan Audio, running 9 hours 31 minutes. Listeners praise her performance, and several say she separates the two narrators more clearly than the text does.

Did Late Bloomer get professional reviews?

Yes, unusually many for a sapphic romance. Kirkus starred it, and Publishers Weekly, Booklist and Library Journal all covered it — which makes the 3.65 Goodreads average the outlier here, not the trade support.

If You Loved Late Bloomer, Read These Next

Amazon’s own “frequently bought together” pairing is telling, and both picks have reviews here. Delilah Green Doesn’t Care runs the same grumpy-sunshine small-town engine at the same 4/5 heat, with the plot machinery Late Bloomer declines to build. Here We Go Again matches its queer-joy register and its tenderness about damaged people, but gives them real stakes. And if the enforced cohabitation was the draw rather than the flowers, The Roommate Arrangement is the same premise with the conflict left in.

For more in this register, browse our complete forced-proximity reading list or the full Book Reviews collection.

The Bottom Line

Late Bloomer sets out to prove two neurodivergent women deserve a love story exactly as they are, and it succeeds at that completely. The representation is specific and generous, the flower farm is beautifully used, the found family is genuinely warm. It is also plotless in a way readers notice, front-loaded with sex the emotional arc has not earned, and written in two voices too many readers cannot tell apart. Whether that trade is worth it comes down to one question: do you read romance for the story or for the people? If it is the people, this is one of the kindest books on the shelf. Check Late Bloomer on Amazon →

The Eikna Overall Ranking

On the Eikna scale, Late Bloomer ranks as a warm, low-conflict sapphic comfort read — outstanding on neurodivergent representation, thin on story, and best approached for the two women rather than for anything that happens to them.

The Evidence Scorecard

Overall ★★★★☆ 3.6/5

  • ✓ 3.65 average across 18,685 Goodreads ratings
  • ✓ Starred Kirkus plus three trade notices
  • ✓ Only 5% did-not-finish on StoryGraph
  • ✓ Plotlessness is the dominant complaint

Romance ★★★☆☆ 3.4/5

  • ✓ Two wounds that genuinely fit together
  • ✓ Tender, unhurried domestic intimacy
  • ✓ Opposites-attract dynamic pays off late
  • ✓ Around five reviewers report no chemistry

Characters ★★★★☆ 3.9/5

  • ✓ 83% on StoryGraph call them loveable
  • ✓ 75% say character development is strong
  • ✓ Neurodivergence written from the inside
  • ✓ Four readers cannot tell the narrators apart

Writing ★★★★☆ 3.5/5

  • ✓ Floral imagery does real narrative work
  • ✓ Kirkus starred the mental-health material
  • ✓ Funny in 64% of StoryGraph tags
  • ✓ Readers flag corny, pop-culture-heavy dialogue

Emotional Impact ★★★★☆ 3.8/5

  • ✓ Grief and abandonment land honestly
  • ✓ 65% of readers tag it emotional
  • ✓ Being loved as you are
  • ✓ Conflicts resolved by kissing, not talking

Heat Level ★★★★☆ 4/5

  • ✓ romance.io band: explicit open door
  • ✓ Graphic and frequent, not decorative
  • ✓ First-time scene handled with care
  • ✓ Arrives before the emotional groundwork

Ending ★★★★☆ 3.6/5

  • ✓ Complete standalone, on-page HEA
  • ✓ No cliffhanger and no sequel bait
  • ✓ Found family gets its own resolution
  • ✓ Third-act conflict lands as contrived

Re-read Value ★★★★☆ 3.7/5

  • ✓ Comfort reading is its core function
  • ✓ Gossage’s 9h31m audio rewards a second pass
  • ✓ Seasonal farm detail rewards a revisit
  • ✓ Little plot to come back for

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Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date Review — Is It Worth Reading?

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Verdict: A funny, warm fake-dating finale with the strongest central couple in the Bright Falls series, undercut by a supporting cast readers keep calling decorative.

Best for: Readers who want a sex-positive heroine and an anxiety-disorder love interest written from the inside, and who can forgive a third-act breakup they will see coming.

Heat level: ★★★★☆ (4/5 — explicit open door)

Rating: ★★★★☆ (3.9/5 — the highest-rated Bright Falls book at 4.08, with the loudest complaint aimed at everyone except the leads)

Tropes: Fake dating, one-night stand gone wrong, forced proximity, small-town found family, opposites attract, anxiety representation, bisexual heroine, theatre setting, sunshine and shy, series finale.

Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date by Ashley Herring Blake is the third and final book of the Bright Falls trilogy, a Berkley-published contemporary sapphic romance set in small-town Oregon, in which a romance novelist who has built her identity around not dating collides with a panic-prone actor who needs a fake girlfriend badly enough to ask the woman she already had a catastrophic one-night stand with.

It carries a 4.08 average across roughly 48,000 Goodreads ratings, four positive trade reviews, and a set of low-star reviews all complaining about the same thing — which is not a thing any of those four outlets mentions. Both halves of that split are worth understanding before you start.

What Is Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date About?

Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date is a contemporary small-town rom-com and the closing volume of a trilogy, which means it does two jobs at once: telling a self-contained love story and giving four previous main characters a curtain call. Small-town romance implies found family, and Bright Falls spent two books building one, so the third arrives with a support system already assembled and accumulated goodwill to spend.

Iris is the last single member of that group and militantly happy about it. She writes romance for a living, she is bisexual, she likes commitment-free hookups, and what she lacks is not a partner but anyone willing to accept that. Stevie arrives from the opposite direction: a stage actor with generalised anxiety disorder, an ex now dating her closest friend, and an assumption that being visibly fine is the price of being tolerated. The fake relationship lets each one’s assumption about herself fail in front of the other.

What Makes This Sapphic Fake-Dating Rom-Com Work

  • The central pairing: The most-praised element by a distance. Reviewers repeatedly rank Iris and Stevie as the most fully realised couple in the trilogy, and chemistry is the recurring word.
  • Stevie’s anxiety: Written from inside the disorder rather than described from outside — the catastrophic spirals, the inability to say no. Reviewers with the diagnosis call it accurate.
  • The comedy: 69% of StoryGraph readers mark the book funny, and the banter is singled out even by readers who disliked other things.
  • A heroine who is not being fixed: Iris is sex-positive and childfree by choice, and the book takes that seriously rather than treating it as a wound.
  • It closes the series: All three Bright Falls couples get a final scene together, and Publishers Weekly singles that out as the book’s best trick.

Book Synopsis

Iris Kelly is the only person in her life satisfied with her life. Her best friends have paired off, her siblings have paired off, her parents remain revoltingly in love, and all of them treat her contentment as a phase she will grow out of. Iris writes romance novels for a living and has no intention of living in one. She has hookups, a deadline she is avoiding, and a family that keeps setting a place for a girlfriend who does not exist.

Stevie Scott has the opposite problem. She is an actor who has spent her life managing a generalised anxiety disorder by never asking for anything, and she has just watched her ex start dating one of her closest friends. Her friend group decides the cure is to get her back out there, which is how Stevie ends up attempting a one-night stand — and how that becomes the most humiliating night of her adult life, with Iris on the other side of it.

They should never see each other again. Instead Stevie’s theatre company casts Iris in a production, and Stevie, cornered at a dinner party into claiming she is seeing someone, names the one woman in the room. Iris agrees because it is a good story and she needs the material. The arrangement has an end date, a set of rules, and two women who each decided in advance exactly what they are capable of wanting. The question is which decision breaks first.

My Review

The couple at the centre of this book is the best thing Ashley Herring Blake has written in the series, and I want that on the record before the criticism starts, because the criticism is real and it is not about them. Iris performs certainty; Stevie performs stability. A fake relationship means both performances have to hold in front of the one person who can see through them, and Blake gets most of the comedy and nearly all of the feeling out of that.

Iris Kelly Doesn't Date by Ashley Herring Blake book cover

Stevie is the specific achievement. Anxiety in romance is usually a texture — a character is described as anxious and then behaves like everyone else. Here it drives the plot: Stevie cannot say no, so she agrees to things that hurt her, and the book treats that as a mechanism rather than a quirk. Readers with the diagnosis say so repeatedly, and StoryGraph flags panic attacks and mental illness as graphic content.

Where it struggles is everyone standing behind the leads, and this is not my personal irritation — it is the single most repeated criticism in the low-star reviews. The objection is that the supporting cast is introduced by identity marker and then dropped: a character’s queerness, transness or ethnicity is stated, often in a clause built for the purpose, and the character never returns with anything else attached. Around that sit two real secondary problems: a third-act miscommunication break several readers saw coming from the structure alone, and a rushed resolution for Iris and Stevie, because the final chapters are giving the previous two couples their send-off.

One expectation to reset. The cover and the subtitle say laugh-out-loud rom-com, and it is funny — but StoryGraph readers mark it emotional slightly more often than lighthearted, and the top reviews are full of people reporting that they cried. If you came for froth, calibrate; if you came for a book that takes an anxious woman seriously, you are in the right place.

My honest note: The best couple in the trilogy, surrounded by a cast the book does not bother to finish. If you read romance for the two people at the centre, this is the strongest Bright Falls book; if background characters existing as labels bothers you, it will bother you throughout.

Element In Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date
Central relationship Iris Kelly & Stevie Scott — romance novelist and anxious stage actor, fake dating after a disastrous one-night stand
Core tropes Fake dating, one-night stand gone wrong, forced proximity, opposites attract, found family, series finale
Setting Bright Falls, Oregon — small town, local theatre company and the friend group built across two previous books
Heat level 4/5 — explicit open door
Series Bright Falls book 3 of 3 — the trilogy is complete; HEA delivered and all three couples resolved
Content notes Explicit sexual content, panic attacks and generalised anxiety disorder, mental illness, alcohol, a toxic friendship, vomit, and minor infidelity, emotional abuse and homophobia

How Spicy Is Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date?

A 4/5. romance.io places it in the “explicit open door” band across 135 reader ratings — one step below the top “explicit and plentiful” tier — and that lands about right. The sex is on the page and it is not brief, Publishers Weekly notes the series signing off with more spicy sex than before, and StoryGraph lists sexual content as a graphic warning. What separates it from a top-band book is frequency, not explicitness: the scenes are unambiguous but spaced across 416 pages.

The thing worth flagging is not a kink but a context: Stevie’s anxiety is present during intimacy and the book does not sanitise it, so the scenes carry more emotional load than the packaging suggests. No reviewer I found flags content beyond the warnings list. For this band elsewhere, Delilah Green Doesn’t Care sits in the same tier with the same cast, and D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding runs a fake engagement at the same heat.

Who Should Read This Book?

You’ll likely love it if: you want mental-health representation written from inside the condition, you read fake dating for the moment the performance stops being one, you have read the first two Bright Falls books and want the reunion, and you like a heroine whose sexuality is not a problem to solve.

You may want to skip it if: shallow background diversity angers you rather than mildly disappointing you, a miscommunication third-act breakup is a dealbreaker, you are starting the series here and do not care about four characters you have never met, or you wanted the frothy rom-com the cover is selling.

In short: the strongest central romance of the trilogy, in a book that spends its last chapters on other people’s happy endings.

What Readers Are Actually Saying (August 2026)

The most useful number here is not the rating, it is the readership. Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date holds a 4.08 Goodreads average — higher than Delilah Green Doesn’t Care at 4.04 and Astrid Parker Doesn’t Fail at 4.01 — but it has roughly 48,000 ratings against book one’s 131,000. The best-rated book in the trilogy has been read by about a third as many people, so its average comes from an audience that already liked the first two. StoryGraph corroborates at 4.06 across 19,411 reviews; Amazon runs its usual half-star high at 4.5. BookTok activity is organic rather than author-driven, though this is 2023 backlist rather than anything viral. My Reddit pass did not complete, so I make no claim about its footprint there.

Why readers love it (according to the discourse): Iris and Stevie, first and by a wide margin — the recurring claim is that this is the most developed relationship in the series, and chemistry is the word that keeps appearing. Then Stevie’s anxiety, which readers with the diagnosis describe as accurate in a way romance usually is not, and praise for showing her functioning rather than incapacitated. The humour is near-universally credited: 69% of StoryGraph readers mark the book funny, 92% say character development is strong, 90% call the characters loveable.

What readers argue about and complain about: The supporting cast, above everything. More independent low-star reviewers raise this than any other issue: side characters are given an identity and nothing else, introduced with a descriptive clause and then absent. The words used are performative and tokenistic. Second, and genuinely split: Stevie’s anxiety. The same portrayal the majority praises is described by a minority as her entire personality, one-note and exhausting — a disagreement that divides on whether you want the condition foregrounded or integrated. Third, the third-act breakup, a miscommunication conflict several readers call the most predictable thing in the book, and which one enthusiastic blog reviewer flagged as a habit across Blake’s novels. Fourth, a rushed ending, plus copy errors from a smaller group. And one minority objection worth naming: some readers experience Iris’s arc as a childfree, deliberately-single woman being argued out of her own position.

What the trade reviews did not mention: Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, Booklist and Kirkus all reviewed this book, all four were positive, and not one raises the supporting-cast objection that dominates the reader complaints. Kirkus goes the other way and praises those characters as eclectic and diverse — the exact element readers call decorative. When professional and reader consensus diverge this cleanly on one point, that point is the thing to decide about in advance.

On audio, Kristen DiMercurio narrates for Penguin Audio across 11 hours 52 minutes, a Libro.fm bookseller pick recommended for the anxiety writing.

Prefer audio? Listen to Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date on Libro.fm — the audiobook shop that supports independent bookstores.

The series question everyone should ask first: Bright Falls is finished. Three books, no fourth announced, and this one resolves its own romance and closes the other two. You can read it alone, but a good part of the final act is payoff for couples you will not know — read it third. What comes after is the useful part: Blake’s next series opener, Dream On, Ramona Riley, sits at 3.70 across nearly 14,000 Goodreads ratings, nearly four-tenths below this book. The backlist is the safer bet than the follow-up.

Frequently Asked Questions

Does Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date end on a cliffhanger?

No. It delivers a happily-ever-after for Iris and Stevie and closes the Bright Falls trilogy. Readers do complain the couple’s resolution feels rushed, because the final chapters also wrap up the two previous couples.

How spicy is Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date?

A 4/5. romance.io rates it “explicit open door,” one band below its top tier. The scenes are explicit but spaced across 416 pages, and Publishers Weekly noted more spicy sex than in earlier entries.

Can I read Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date as a standalone?

Technically yes — the fake-dating romance is self-contained. But much of the ending is a send-off for the couples from books one and two, so reading it third gets you considerably more.

Is the Bright Falls series finished?

Yes, it is a completed trilogy with no fourth book announced. Publishers Weekly described this one as the third and final Bright Falls romance.

Is the anxiety representation good?

Most readers say yes, strongly — including reviewers with generalised anxiety disorder who call Stevie’s spirals accurate. A vocal minority says the anxiety becomes her only characteristic. StoryGraph flags panic attacks as graphic content either way.

Is there an audiobook?

Yes — narrated by Kristen DiMercurio for Penguin Audio, running 11 hours 52 minutes. It is stocked on Libro.fm as a bookseller pick, recommended for the anxiety writing.

If You Loved Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date, Read These Next

The obvious next stop is backwards: Delilah Green Doesn’t Care starts the trilogy with the same small-town cast at the same heat level. For the fake-relationship engine at the same explicitness in a completely different texture, D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding stages its fake engagement on a reality show. And for the emotional register underneath the rom-com packaging, Here We Go Again delivers it at lower heat and higher grief. We have no review of Astrid Parker Doesn’t Fail yet, so for the middle book browse our contemporary lesbian romance collection or the full Book Reviews archive.

The Bottom Line

Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date sets out to close a beloved trilogy and give its last single character the book she deserves, and on the parts that matter most it succeeds. The central couple is the most convincing in the series, Stevie’s anxiety is written with unusual precision, and the comedy is real. It also carries a supporting cast readers describe as labels rather than people, a miscommunication breakup you can see arriving, and a final act too crowded to give its own couple room. If you have read the first two books, this is the strongest of the three. If you are starting cold and background tokenism ruins a book for you, start with book one. Check Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date on Amazon →

The Eikna Overall Ranking

On the Eikna scale, Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date ranks as a top-tier traditionally published sapphic fake-dating rom-com — carried by its central couple and a rare, precise portrait of anxiety, held back by a decorative supporting cast, and best approached for the two women in the middle rather than the town around them.

The Evidence Scorecard

Overall ★★★★☆ 3.9/5

  • ✓ 4.08 across roughly 48,000 Goodreads ratings
  • ✓ Highest-rated of the three Bright Falls books
  • ✓ Four positive trade reviews, no dissent
  • ✓ Loudest complaint recurs across low-star reviewers

Romance ★★★★☆ 4.3/5

  • ✓ Named the series’ most developed couple
  • ✓ Fake dating exposes both leads’ performances
  • ✓ Chemistry is the recurring praise word
  • ✓ Third-act breakup runs on miscommunication

Characters ★★★★☆ 3.8/5

  • ✓ 92% of StoryGraph readers say strong development
  • ✓ Stevie’s anxiety drives plot, not texture
  • ✓ Iris stays sex-positive and unapologetic
  • ✓ Supporting cast reduced to identity labels

Writing ★★★★☆ 3.8/5

  • ✓ 69% of StoryGraph readers mark it funny
  • ✓ Banter praised even by critical reviewers
  • ✓ Kirkus, Booklist and Library Journal all positive
  • ✓ Identity exposition reads stilted to many

Emotional Impact ★★★★☆ 4.2/5

  • ✓ 75% of StoryGraph readers mark it emotional
  • ✓ Panic attacks flagged as graphic content
  • ✓ Top reviewers report crying at it
  • ✓ Manufactured conflict undercuts the last act

Heat Level ★★★★☆ 4/5

  • ✓ romance.io “explicit open door” across 135 ratings
  • ✓ Publishers Weekly notes more spicy sex
  • ✓ Sexual content flagged graphic on StoryGraph
  • ✓ Spaced across 416 pages, not constant

Ending ★★★★☆ 3.6/5

  • ✓ HEA delivered, no cliffhanger
  • ✓ Closes all three Bright Falls couples
  • ✓ Trilogy complete, nothing left dangling
  • ✓ Central couple’s resolution repeatedly called rushed

Re-read Value ★★★★☆ 3.9/5

  • ✓ DiMercurio’s 11h52m audio is a strong second pass
  • ✓ Series finale pulls readers back to book one
  • ✓ 90% call the characters loveable
  • ✓ Predictable third act blunts the reread

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In the Event of Love Review — Is It Worth Reading?

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Verdict: A queer Hallmark Christmas movie with the sex left in — snowy, warm and genuinely explicit, undercut by a narrator a large minority of readers cannot stand and a conflict the book repeats rather than resolves.

Best for: Readers who want holiday comfort, a tree farm in the snow and open-door heat, and who care more about atmosphere and found family than about whether the central misunderstanding holds up.

Heat level: ★★★★☆ (4/5 — explicit open door)

Rating: ★★★★☆ (3.5/5 — a 3.56 Goodreads average across 9,783 ratings, and 45% of them are three stars or lower)

Tropes: Second chance, friends-to-lovers, small-town Christmas, save-the-farm, found family, bisexual leads, grief and family repair, first-person POV, big-gesture ending.

In the Event of Love by Courtney Kae is the first of two Fern Falls novels, a Kensington-published contemporary sapphic romance set in a small Californian mountain town at Christmas, in which LA event planner Morgan Ross, retreating home after a tabloid blow-up, finds that the fundraiser she has taken on is meant to save the tree farm of Rachel Reed — the best friend she kissed once, seven years ago, and has not spoken to since.

It has a 3.56 average across 9,783 Goodreads ratings, a Publishers Weekly review calling Kae’s debut delightful, and a spread rougher than the average suggests: 45% of those ratings are three stars or lower, and 4,138 StoryGraph reviews put it lower still at 3.46. Both halves of that split are worth understanding first.

What Is In the Event of Love About?

It is three books at once, and the reviews make more sense once you separate them. It is a holiday romance, meaning the full Hallmark apparatus — the fundraiser, the snow, the tree farm, the developer, the speech to the whole town. It is a small-town romance, so the town is a character and its survival the real stakes, carried by an ensemble of neighbours and an entirely unremarked queer community. And it is an adult romance with the door wide open — the one thing the form it imitates cannot do.

Morgan comes home with none of what she needs: a career she has just set fire to, a father whose drinking she has spent years not discussing, and no practice at asking rather than assuming. The novel is narrated in the first person by Morgan, and no reviewer I found mentions a Rachel chapter, so you spend the book inside the head of the woman doing the assuming — which buys the comic voice and costs plenty else.

What Makes This Sapphic Holiday Romance Work

  • The town: Fern Falls is the most consistently praised element by a distance. Readers name the tree farm, the snowed-in main street and the small businesses first, and the town’s ordinary queerness right after.
  • The secondary cast: Ben the baker, Adam the mechanic and Morgan’s friend group collect more affection in the reviews than either lead — enough that book two gives Ben and Adam their own book.
  • The heat: romance.io files it in the “explicit open door” band, 4 of 5, and reviewers treat the spice as the whole point of difference from the films it pastiches.
  • The bisexual representation: both leads are explicitly bisexual on the page, which blog reviewers repeatedly flag as rare in second-chance holiday romance.
  • The grief: Morgan’s dead mother and her father’s drinking are where the comedy stops, and The Lesbian Review singles those scenes out as the book’s most affecting writing.

Book Synopsis

Morgan Ross plans events for people who can afford to be photographed at them. One tabloid-worthy night later, her Los Angeles firm needs her elsewhere for a while — and elsewhere, inconveniently, is Fern Falls, the mountain town she left at eighteen. Her boss frames the trip as a rest. Morgan reads it as a sentence.

The job waiting for her is a fundraiser, and the client is the Reed family Christmas tree farm. Which means Rachel Reed, Morgan’s best friend right up until the night they kissed and the whole thing came apart. Rachel runs the farm now, hauls Morgan bodily out of the freezing mud on her first day back, and appears to carry none of the grudge Morgan has carried for seven years. The farm is in trouble, and so is the town: a developer with a personal history in Morgan’s family wants the main street flattened for an outlet mall, and the Reeds’ land is the last thing in the way.

So Morgan does the one thing she is good at. She plans. Vanilla lattes, acoustic guitars, a barn under the pines, the best event of her career staged where she swore she would never return. What she has not planned for is how fast seven years of silence turns into something neither woman will say out loud, or what happens when the misunderstanding that broke them at eighteen walks back in wearing a Christmas sweater.

My Review

Fern Falls is the reason this book has nearly ten thousand ratings. Kae builds the town with real affection — the farm, the snowbound main street, the café, neighbours who know each other’s business — and, more unusually, as a place where being queer is unremarkable. No coming-out plot, no menace, no homophobia as cheap tension. For a lot of readers that is the whole appeal.

In the Event of Love by Courtney Kae book cover

The other genuine pleasure is that the book is not chaste. It performs a Hallmark Christmas movie on purpose and then puts explicit sex inside it, which is exactly what the form it copies will never do. Underneath the comedy runs a seam of real grief: Morgan’s mother is dead, her father drinks, and those pages are the novel’s most convincing writing.

Where it struggles is Morgan, and this is not a private irritation of mine — it is the single most repeated criticism in the reviews. Reader after reader calls her immature, presumptuous, exhausting, and the mechanism they name is precise: nearly every conflict in the novel exists because Morgan decides she knows what someone else is thinking and acts on it without asking. That could be a flaw the book works with, except the book runs on it. Multiple reviewers point out that the misunderstanding which separated Morgan and Rachel seven years earlier recurs almost unchanged, with both women reacting as they did the first time, and is cleared up without either having meaningfully moved. One sums it up: there is not a lot of talking, and that is a problem for the characters and for the story. The knock-on is the one that matters most in a romance — a striking number of readers report feeling no chemistry at all between two women who lust before they re-acquaint.

One expectation to reset. It is sold on Casey McQuiston and Alexandria Bellefleur comparisons and an Ali Hazelwood blurb promising a slow burn, and it is neither: it is a fast, sentimental Hallmark pastiche, and StoryGraph readers put 90% of the pace votes at medium or fast against 9% at slow. If you came for a literary romcom in the McQuiston register, calibrate down. If you want the Hallmark movie explicit, this is exactly that, and the corniness people complain about is the genre doing what the genre does.

My honest note: A warm, well-built town wrapped around a narrator a large share of the readership cannot stand. If a protagonist who assumes instead of asking ruins a book for you, this will ruin it. If you are here for snow, spice and a queer town where nobody has to explain themselves, it delivers.

Element In In the Event of Love
Central relationship Morgan Ross & Rachel Reed — an LA event planner and the tree-farm owner she kissed once at eighteen
Core tropes Second chance, friends-to-lovers, small-town Christmas, save-the-farm, forced proximity, found family
Setting Fern Falls, a fictional Californian mountain town, and the Reed family Christmas tree farm
Heat level 4/5 — explicit open door
Series Fern Falls book 1 — complete HEA, reads as a standalone; book 2 is male/male and the series ends there
Content notes Explicit sexual content, parental death, alcoholism and adult-child-of-an-alcoholic dynamics, grief, abandonment, divorce, briefly referenced cancer and a car accident

How Spicy Is In the Event of Love?

A 4/5. romance.io files it under “explicit open door” — one band below its top rating — and readers treat the heat as the reason to pick this up rather than watch the film it resembles. The scenes are fully on the page, they recur, and more than one reviewer notes the book is far more explicit than its illustrated cover implies.

The element worth flagging is tonal rather than a content question. The sex scenes are the part of the prose readers argue about hardest: several call them cringeworthy, others name them the best thing in the book. No reviewer I found flags specific kink content or raises a consent question. For the same band elsewhere, Delilah Green Doesn’t Care and Written in the Stars both sit at 4/5 explicit open door.

Who Should Read This Book?

You’ll likely love it if: you want a Hallmark Christmas movie with the sex left in, you read for setting and found family more than plot logic, you want two openly bisexual leads in a town with no homophobia in it, and you want a complete happily-ever-after.

You may want to skip it if: a narrator who assumes rather than asks will exhaust you, you need a romance’s obstacle to be something other than a failure to talk, you were promised a slow burn and will feel cheated by immediate attraction, or big sentimental speeches make you wince.

In short: a genuinely warm queer holiday romance built on a narrator and a misunderstanding that a substantial minority of readers refuse to forgive.

What Readers Are Actually Saying (August 2026)

There is no viral moment here and there never was one. What this debut had instead was institutional support in unusual quantity: a Publishers Weekly review in June 2022 calling it a delightful debut, a Library Journal notice praising the banter, blurbs from Ali Hazelwood, Helen Hoang and Alison Cochrun, and holiday-list placements at Buzzfeed, Book Riot and Autostraddle. Kensington and the author’s press page both call that PW review starred; PW’s own listing carries no star marker. That machinery is why the book holds 9,783 Goodreads ratings, five times the sequel’s — and part of why the average sits where it does, because plenty of readers who would never otherwise pick up a sapphic Christmas romance were handed one. Two caveats: searches for organic BookTok activity turned up nothing, and I could not complete a Reddit read this session, so treat that as unverified rather than empty.

Why readers love it (according to the discourse): The town, first and most consistently — Fern Falls, the tree farm and the snow, with the queer community woven in and never explained. Then the secondary cast, which draws warmer notices than the leads. The heat is named as a feature rather than a garnish, and blog reviewers single out the bisexual representation as the thing this book does that its shelf-mates do not. Notably, a minority praise exactly what the majority attacks: at least one blogger calls Morgan’s narrative voice fun and well-judged throughout, which suggests the biggest complaint here is taste rather than craft failure.

What readers argue about and complain about: Morgan, above everything. Immature, presumptuous and annoying are the recurring words, and the mechanism is always that she assumes instead of asking. Second, the conflict engine: reviewers note repeatedly that the seven-year-old rupture repeats in the present with the same reactions and no growth in between, and that the communication problem is never resolved. Third, chemistry — a striking number say they felt nothing between two women lusting after each other long before they know each other again. After that they spread out: a developer subplot resolved with no effort at all, thinly drawn side characters, speeches used to move people, cringe at the sex scenes, and an epilogue at least two independent reviewers call bolted on. That last is a genuine split — Audible listeners tag the epilogue “satisfying” often enough for it to surface as a highlight on the product page.

The standalone question worth asking first: this one resolves. Morgan and Rachel get a full happily-ever-after, the town plot closes, and readers consistently treat it as a standalone. Fern Falls book two, In the Case of Heartbreak, arrived in April 2023 and gives Ben and Adam their own romance — a male/male book, so it does not continue the sapphic thread, and the series stops there with no third announced. It scores 3.53 across 1,656 ratings: the same number on a sixth of the readership. If audio is your route in, Melissa Moran narrates for Tantor across nine hours twenty-four minutes, rated 4.37 by 290 Audible listeners — three-quarters of a star above Goodreads.

Frequently Asked Questions

Does In the Event of Love end on a cliffhanger?

No. Morgan and Rachel get a complete happily-ever-after and the town storyline resolves in the same book. Readers consistently describe it as a standalone.

How spicy is In the Event of Love?

A 4/5. romance.io rates the steam level “explicit open door,” one band below its top rating. The scenes are on the page and they recur, and readers treat the heat as a main draw.

Is In the Event of Love a slow burn?

Not really, despite the blurb. The attraction is live from the reunion onward, and StoryGraph readers put 90% of the pace votes at medium or fast against 9% at slow.

Do I need to read the Fern Falls books in order?

No. Book two, In the Case of Heartbreak, follows two secondary characters and is a male/male romance rather than a continuation. The series is two books and no third has been announced.

Is there an audiobook of In the Event of Love?

Yes — narrated by Melissa Moran for Tantor, running nine hours twenty-four minutes. Listeners rate it 4.37 across 290 Audible ratings, well above the Goodreads figure.

If You Loved In the Event of Love, Read These Next

Readers wanting the same second-chance engine with a surer hand land most often on Here We Go Again, Alison Cochrun’s road-trip romance between two women who were inseparable as teenagers. If the coming-home-to-a-town-that-knows-you plot is the draw, Delilah Green Doesn’t Care does a sharper version at the same 4/5 heat. And Written in the Stars is by Alexandria Bellefleur, one of the two authors this book is sold against — the fairest test of whether the comparison holds.

For more in this register, browse our full sapphic second-chance romance list or the complete Book Reviews collection.

The Bottom Line

In the Event of Love set out to be the queer Hallmark Christmas movie that did not exist, and on atmosphere it managed it: the town is lovely, the community is warm and unremarked, the heat is real and on the page. It is also built on a narrator who assumes instead of asking, a conflict that repeats rather than resolves, and a villain plot that evaporates when the book needs it gone. Whether that trade works depends on how much you need a romance’s obstacle to make sense — but if you want snow, spice and a queer small town for a December weekend, it delivers. Check In the Event of Love on Amazon →

The Eikna Overall Ranking

On the Eikna scale, In the Event of Love ranks as a mainstream sapphic holiday comfort read — warm, snowy and genuinely explicit, held back by a narrator and a conflict readers argue with, and best approached for the town and the tree farm rather than for the logic of the romance.

The Evidence Scorecard

Overall ★★★★☆ 3.5/5

  • ✓ 3.56 average across 9,783 Goodreads ratings
  • ✓ Setting and queer community carry it
  • ✓ Publishers Weekly reviewed the debut warmly
  • ✓ 45% of ratings are three stars or lower

Romance ★★★☆☆ 3.3/5

  • ✓ Second-chance premise is well chosen
  • ✓ Heat lands and readers say so
  • ✓ Reunion attraction is immediate, not slow
  • ✓ Chemistry is the most-disputed element

Characters ★★★☆☆ 3.4/5

  • ✓ 70% on StoryGraph call the cast loveable
  • ✓ Secondary cast warmer than the leads
  • ✓ Ben earns his own sequel
  • ✓ Morgan is the loudest complaint in the reviews

Writing ★★★★☆ 3.6/5

  • ✓ Publishers Weekly calls the debut delightful
  • ✓ Library Journal praises the banter
  • ✓ Comic narration wins genuine defenders
  • ✓ Speeches and sex scenes draw cringe complaints

Emotional Impact ★★★★☆ 3.7/5

  • ✓ Dead mother and drinking father land
  • ✓ 57% of StoryGraph readers marked it emotional
  • ✓ The Lesbian Review singles out the grief
  • ✓ Villain subplot resolves without cost

Heat Level ★★★★☆ 4/5

  • ✓ romance.io’s explicit open door band
  • ✓ Fully on the page and recurring
  • ✓ The point of difference from Hallmark
  • ✓ Scene-level prose divides readers

Ending ★★★☆☆ 3.4/5

  • ✓ Complete HEA, no cliffhanger
  • ✓ Works as a standalone
  • ✓ Audible listeners tag the epilogue satisfying
  • ✓ Developer plot collapses in a few pages

Re-read Value ★★★★☆ 3.6/5

  • ✓ Seasonal comfort re-read every December
  • ✓ Audiobook rated 4.37 by listeners
  • ✓ Town and tree farm reward a return
  • ✓ Sequel switches to a male/male pair

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Forget Me Not Review — Is It Worth Reading?

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Verdict: A sapphic YA amnesia romance with near-unanimous emotional force and a small-town Pennsylvania setting of real specificity, let down by an ending that arrives too fast.

Best for: Readers who want a closed-door queer love story built on longing rather than heat, and who can forgive a resolution that ties itself off in a hurry.

Heat level: ★★☆☆☆ (2/5 — romance.io’s “behind closed doors”)

Rating: ★★★★☆ (4/5 — a 4.23 Goodreads average across 12,176 ratings, marked down for the forty pages every complaint lands on)

Tropes: Amnesia, second chance, secret relationship, small-town claustrophobia, forbidden love, queer awakening, first love, love letters, coming out, the other guy.

Forget Me Not by Alyson Derrick is a standalone sapphic contemporary lesbian romance for young adults, published by Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers in April 2023 and still the only novel Derrick has written alone, set in a small ultra-conservative Pennsylvania town where Stevie and Nora have spent two years hiding a relationship and saving for California — until a fall erases those two years and leaves Nora the only person alive who knows what they were.

It has a 4.23 average across 12,176 Goodreads ratings, a longlisting for the 2023 National Book Award for Young People’s Literature, a starred Booklist review, and a review section where the enthusiasm is near-unanimous and the objections all cluster in the same final stretch. Both halves of that split are worth understanding before you start.

What Is Forget Me Not About?

Forget Me Not is young adult contemporary fiction doing three jobs at once: it is a second chance romance, a coming-out story, and a small-town novel about the arithmetic of being queer where you cannot afford to be found out. The amnesia is not the obstacle here — the town is. The plan was always to graduate, work, save and disappear to California, and the book is precise about what that costs two teenagers with no money and no adult in their corner.

Stevie wakes in a hospital bed missing everything that made the plan possible: her sexuality, her girlfriend, her estrangement from a devoutly Catholic mother, and every reason behind choices she can no longer account for. Nora has lost nothing and can say nothing, because outing the relationship would out them both. The book runs in Stevie’s first person with Nora’s unsent letters between chapters — not a dual point of view, but close enough that you always know how much is being withheld and from whom.

What Makes This Sapphic YA Amnesia Romance Work

  • The emotional load: 93% of StoryGraph readers tag the book “emotional” — the highest reading I have logged on a young adult title, and the thing every positive review names first.
  • Nora: The love interest is the standout rather than the prize. The Lesbrary calls her charming without being one-dimensional, and her letters carry the half of the story Stevie cannot narrate.
  • The setting: Kirkus singled out the small-town Pennsylvania rendering, and Derrick grew up in that kind of town. The diner shift, the community college, the burn barrels — lived rather than assembled.
  • The amnesia is used, not deployed: Reviewers who say outright that they dislike amnesia plots are among the book’s strongest advocates, because the question it asks is whether Stevie chooses Nora again with no reasons attached.
  • It resolves: A standalone with a real happily-ever-after and nothing to buy afterwards, rarer in sapphic YA than it should be.

Book Synopsis

Stevie has two years of secrets and a shoebox to keep them in. She has a girlfriend she cannot mention, a savings tally she checks obsessively, and a departure date: after graduation she and Nora leave the Pennsylvania town they grew up in and drive west, to a California where nobody has to be told anything. Her mother would call the relationship a sin. Her father would call it a phase, loudly, over the television. Stevie has learned to be two people, and decided the cost is temporary.

Then she falls. When she comes round, the last two years are simply not there. She is younger in every way that matters — closeted without knowing it, close to her parents, at ease with a friend group she had quietly outgrown, and mystified by the life she has apparently been living. She does not know why she has been picking up shifts. She does not know what the money was for. She does not know Nora at all.

Nora knows everything and can say none of it. The truth means outing herself where that is not survivable, and asking a girl with no memory of loving her to take it on faith. So she writes letters she does not send, and waits, and watches Stevie steered gently back toward the life she had escaped — including toward Ryan, the boy at the diner her friends are cheerfully certain she had a crush on. The question is not whether Stevie remembers. It is whether remembering is what she needs.

My Review

The premise could have been unbearable and is not. Amnesia in young adult fiction has every opportunity to become a soap plot, and Derrick sidesteps it by refusing to make the memory loss the point. What Stevie loses is not a set of facts about Nora; it is the two years of nerve it took to become someone who could love Nora in that town. The facts are recoverable. The nerve is the book. That is why readers who open by saying they hate amnesia plots keep turning up at five stars.

Forget Me Not by Alyson Derrick book cover

The second strength is structural. Nora’s letters do what a dual point of view could not: they give you her grief without giving her a voice inside the plot, which is exactly her problem. She cannot speak, so she writes, and you read what Stevie never will. It carries most of the book’s ache. The characterisation holds up around it — 91% of StoryGraph readers call the cast loveable, and Booklist, in a starred review, called the book “a punch to the gut in the best way.”

Where it struggles is the ending, and this is not my private objection — it is the most repeated criticism in the low-star reviews and it recurs at three stars too. Readers describe the last forty pages as carrying more story than the two hundred and fifty before them. The flashpoint is the parents, who travel from the position that made the California plan necessary to something like acceptance in a span most readers found unearned. Around that sit flat friends, antagonists tipping toward caricature, and prose a steady minority finds juvenile. Some of that is adults reading a book written for teenagers. The ending is not.

One expectation to reset. This arrived on BookTok with a guarantee attached — that it would make you cry — and a measurable number of readers report that it did not. Forget Me Not is sad rather than devastating, and its best passages are small: a shoebox, a letter, a girl working a shift for a reason she has forgotten. If you were promised annihilation, calibrate. If annihilation put you off, relax.

My honest note: A four-star book that spends three hundred pages earning its ending and then rushes it. If a hurried last act ruins a book for you, this one will cost you a star. If it does not, this is the most emotionally intelligent thing Derrick has published.

Element In Forget Me Not
Central relationship Stevie & Nora — secret girlfriends of two years, second chance after one forgets
Core tropes Amnesia, second chance, secret relationship, forbidden love, queer awakening, first love
Setting A small ultra-conservative town in Pennsylvania, with California as the escape plan
Heat level 2/5 — behind closed doors
Series Standalone — complete arc, an HEA, nothing to read next
Content notes Homophobia and a homophobic slur, racism and racist micro-aggressions, child abuse and a teenager thrown out for being gay, hospital and head-injury content, toxic friendship, underage drinking

How Spicy Is Forget Me Not?

A 2/5, and unusually for a young adult title there is a proper source for the number. romance.io does have an entry and rates the steam level “behind closed doors” — the second of its five bands, a step above the 1/5 it gives Derrick’s co-written She Gets the Girl. Two other sources agree on placement and disagree on emphasis: the Junior Library Guild, which selected it for grades nine and up, flags “strong sexual content/themes”, while StoryGraph readers log sexual content as minor. Sex exists here and the door closes on it.

What is worth flagging in advance is subject matter rather than explicitness. The warnings readers submit most often are homophobia, racism and child abuse, all three logged as graphic on StoryGraph, one covering a side character thrown out of home for being a lesbian. No reviewer I read flags anything beyond a closed door. In the same band, Last Night at the Telegraph Club carries the identical romance.io rating and Under the Udala Trees sits at 2/5.

Who Should Read This Book?

You’ll likely love it if: you want a love story where the obstacle is a place rather than a misunderstanding, you read for emotional weight over heat, you like a structural device doing real work, and you want a standalone that finishes.

You may want to skip it if: a rushed final act ruins a book for you, you need antagonists with interior lives rather than positions, plain young-adult prose pulls you out of a story, or you have no patience for amnesia as a premise.

In short: three hundred pages of carefully earned feeling, and forty pages that spend it faster than they should.

What Readers Are Actually Saying (August 2026)

Three years on, this book has an unusually settled reputation. The Goodreads distribution is the striking thing: 43% five stars, 39% four, under 3% at one or two. StoryGraph agrees almost exactly at 4.22 across 3,853 reviews and reports a 1% did-not-finish rate — as low as anything I have logged, against the 9% that made Her Spell That Binds Me a flight risk. People who start this book finish it. The institutional reception matched the popular one: a National Book Award longlisting, a Goodreads Choice nomination, a Junior Library Guild selection and four positive trade reviews, one starred. BookTok activity is real and largely organic, driven by independent creators rather than the author’s own account, which she shares with her wife and co-author Rachael Lippincott — though at least one widely shared post carries a Simon Teen partnership tag, so some of the early lift was paid. My Reddit read did not complete this session, so treat the absence of Reddit evidence as unmeasured rather than as a finding.

Why readers love it (according to the discourse): The feeling, first and by a distance — “sob” is the recurring word, and 93% of StoryGraph readers tag the book emotional. Then Nora, consistently named the better-drawn of the two leads, and the letters that carry her. Then the setting, which readers from small conservative towns call accurate rather than atmospheric. A notable minority arrives hostile to the premise and converts, opening by saying amnesia plots do not work for them and closing at five stars. Natalie Naudus’s narration has its own following, and Kirkus, reviewing the audiobook, credited her with catching Stevie’s playfulness.

Prefer audio? Listen to Forget Me Not on Libro.fm — the audiobook shop that supports independent bookstores.

What readers argue about and complain about: The ending, above everything. The mechanism they name is compression — the last forty pages carry more plot than the two hundred and fifty before them, and the parents read as a reversal rather than an arc, with several reviewers putting the turnaround inside the final few pages. Second, the supporting cast: Stevie’s friends get called bad friends as a craft complaint, and the adults tip toward caricature, one reviewer summarising that every straight white person in the book is villainous. Third, the prose, which a steady minority calls juvenile — one reader notes it is indistinguishable from the novels Derrick co-wrote, which cuts either way. One reviewer who identifies as a traumatic brain injury nurse questions the plausibility of Stevie’s recovery; a single voice rather than a theme. Opinions divide hardest on the parents — the arc the low-star reviews call unearned is the one Jude in the Stars praises for its care.

The standalone question worth asking first: it is a true standalone. One volume, a complete arc, an HEA, nothing announced and nothing owed. Where readers go next is Derrick’s co-written work with Rachael Lippincott, and the numbers are worth knowing: She Gets the Girl, the bestseller that made her name, carries a 4.07 average across roughly 78,000 Goodreads ratings — six times the audience and a lower score than her solo book. The co-writes are lighter and far less interested in hurting you.

Frequently Asked Questions

Does Forget Me Not have a happy ending?

Yes. It is a standalone with a complete arc and a happily-ever-after, no sequel and nothing left open. The most common complaint is that the ending arrives too quickly, not that it disappoints.

How spicy is Forget Me Not?

A 2/5. romance.io rates the steam level “behind closed doors,” its second band, and StoryGraph readers log sexual content as a minor warning only. Sex exists in the book; none of it is on the page.

Is Forget Me Not part of a series?

No. It is a standalone and Derrick’s only solo novel. Her other books — She Gets the Girl, Make My Wish Come True and the novella Joy to the Girls — are co-written with Rachael Lippincott.

Is there an audiobook?

Yes — narrated by Natalie Naudus for Simon & Schuster Audio, about 7 hours 44 minutes, released on publication day in April 2023. Kirkus reviewed the narration separately and praised it, and listeners rate it the better way in.

Is Forget Me Not sad?

Sad rather than devastating. StoryGraph readers tag it emotional 93% of the time and hopeful 70%, which is the accurate balance. A measurable number of readers arrived expecting to sob because BookTok said so, and did not.

If You Loved Forget Me Not, Read These Next

The obvious next step is She Gets the Girl, Derrick’s co-written debut with Rachael Lippincott — the same sapphic YA voice at a lower heat level and a lighter emotional register. For the same closed-door band with the same small-community pressure driving the romance, Last Night at the Telegraph Club moves it to 1950s San Francisco. And if the small-town-queer-kid-with-a-plan engine is the draw, You Should See Me in a Crown runs it as comedy rather than grief.

For more in this register, browse our sapphic second chance romance reading list or the full Book Reviews collection.

The Bottom Line

Forget Me Not asks whether love survives the loss of its own reasons, and for three hundred pages it answers with real care. The emotional writing lands, Nora is a genuinely good character, and the small-town Pennsylvania setting is specific in a way most young adult fiction does not bother with. It is also rushed at the close, built around a supporting cast thinner than its leads, and written plainly enough that some adult readers will bounce. Whether that trade works depends on what a hurried last act costs you — but the reader who absorbs it gets a complete, unusually well-observed queer coming-of-age with nothing to buy afterwards. Check Forget Me Not on Amazon →

The Eikna Overall Ranking

On the Eikna scale, Forget Me Not ranks as a high-reception sapphic YA tearjerker — emotionally precise and well made, held back by a compressed ending, and best approached for the letters and the setting rather than the amnesia hook.

The Evidence Scorecard

Overall ★★★★☆ 4/5

  • ✓ 4.23 average, 12,176 Goodreads ratings
  • ✓ National Book Award longlist, starred Booklist
  • ✓ 1% did-not-finish rate on StoryGraph
  • ✓ Ending is the one loud complaint

Romance ★★★★☆ 4.2/5

  • ✓ The obstacle is the town, not a misunderstanding
  • ✓ Choosing her again with no reasons left
  • ✓ Letters carry the longing
  • ✓ Almost too perfect, says The Lesbrary

Characters ★★★★☆ 4.4/5

  • ✓ 91% of readers call the cast loveable
  • ✓ Nora named the standout throughout
  • ✓ Stevie’s disorientation written from inside
  • ✓ Friends and antagonists stay flat

Writing ★★★★☆ 3.8/5

  • ✓ Kirkus praises the small-town rendering
  • ✓ Letter interstitials a smart formal choice
  • ✓ Booklist starred it for earned choices
  • ✓ A steady minority finds the prose juvenile

Emotional Impact ★★★★★ 4.6/5

  • ✓ 93% of StoryGraph readers tag it emotional
  • ✓ “A punch to the gut in the best way”
  • ✓ Homophobia and racism carry real weight
  • ✓ BookTok oversold the crying

Heat Level ★★☆☆☆ 2/5

  • ✓ romance.io band: behind closed doors
  • ✓ JLG flags strong sexual themes
  • ✓ StoryGraph logs sexual content as minor
  • ✓ Nothing explicit reaches the page

Ending ★★★★☆ 3.5/5

  • ✓ Complete standalone arc, earned HEA
  • ✓ No cliffhanger, nothing to buy
  • ✓ Parental reconciliation genuinely divides readers
  • ✓ Last forty pages carry too much plot

Re-read Value ★★★★☆ 3.9/5

  • ✓ Naudus narration a strong second pass
  • ✓ Nora’s letters read differently on a reread
  • ✓ Short enough for a single sitting
  • ✓ The central mystery does not renew

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Delilah Green Doesn’t Care Review | Ashley Herring Blake | Is It Worth Reading?

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Verdict: The book that made small-town sapphic romcom a category, with a found-family cast readers adore and real heat, undercut by a heroine the story never quite holds accountable.

Best for: Readers who want unapologetically queer contemporary romance with a prickly artist, a single-mother bookseller and a whole town of friends, and who can forgive a lead who behaves badly for most of act one.

Heat level: ★★★★☆ (4/5 — romance.io’s “explicit open door”)

Rating: ★★★★☆ (3.8/5 — a 4.04 Goodreads average across 131,075 ratings, with a very consistent objection to Delilah herself)

Tropes: Grumpy sunshine, hometown return, forced proximity, friends with benefits, secret relationship, single mother, found family, class difference, third-act breakup, HEA.

Delilah Green Doesn’t Care is Ashley Herring Blake’s first adult romance and the opening of the Bright Falls trilogy, published by Berkley on 22 February 2022, set over a wedding week in a small Oregon town, and built on the collision between Delilah Green — a New York photographer who left Bright Falls and has no intention of being sentimental about it — and Claire Sutherland, her stepsister’s best friend, who runs the town bookshop and is raising a teenager.

It holds a 4.04 average across 131,075 Goodreads ratings and a 4.04 across 46,550 StoryGraph reviews, and it was a Goodreads Choice Awards nominee in Romance in 2022 with starred reviews from Library Journal and BookPage. The averages sit on top of a split that is unusually personal: readers do not disagree about the writing so much as about whether they can stand the protagonist. Both halves of that split are worth understanding before you start.

What Is Delilah Green Doesn’t Care About?

This is contemporary romance in the small-town found-family mode, and the label carries a specific promise: a town that functions as a character, a friend group that survives past the last page, and a couple whose obstacle is their own history rather than the world’s disapproval. Bright Falls delivers all three. Nobody in this book is closeted or in danger, and the queerness is simply the water everyone swims in — which is precisely what a large share of readers say they came for.

Delilah is introduced through refusal: she does not want the job, does not want the town, does not want the stepfamily who made her feel like a guest in her own house after her father died. Claire is introduced through obligation — the responsible one, the friend who organises, the mother who has arranged her life around a daughter and an ex who drifts in and out. The novel runs in third person past tense across both viewpoints, which matters because Delilah’s behaviour is a great deal easier to take when you can see what it costs her.

What Makes This Sapphic Small-Town Romance Work

  • The unapologetic queerness: The most-praised element by a distance. There is no coming out, no explaining, and no straight reader being ushered gently in, and readers name that as the reason they trusted the book.
  • The found family: 87% of StoryGraph readers call the cast loveable, and the friend group is what carried the trilogy — two of these characters got their own books.
  • Characters left unsanded: Blake lets people be difficult. Delilah is genuinely unpleasant early on, Astrid is genuinely cold, and readers who love the book love it for refusing to smooth them.
  • The chemistry: romance.io rates it 4/5 explicit open door, and the balance of sweetness and heat is the single most repeated compliment in reader reviews.
  • Ruby: Claire’s teenage daughter is one of the best-written kids in the subgenre, and she is a person rather than a plot device.

Book Synopsis

Delilah Green has spent eleven years getting out of Bright Falls, Oregon, and building a career photographing people who are not her family. She is not doing well — the art world is expensive and unimpressed — so when her stepsister Astrid offers actual money to shoot her wedding, Delilah takes it, mostly for the money and slightly for the chance to be a problem at close range.

Claire Sutherland has known Astrid and Iris since childhood, runs the bookshop on the main street, and is raising thirteen-year-old Ruby largely alone. She remembers Delilah as the furious teenager who left. What she meets at the rehearsal is someone considerably more interesting, and the two of them fall into an arrangement that both are careful to describe as strictly nothing.

Meanwhile Astrid’s fiancé is turning out to be exactly what Delilah suspects, the wedding party is a minefield of old resentments, and Ruby has opinions. The question the book spends its second half on is not whether Delilah and Claire want each other. It is whether Delilah is capable of staying anywhere, and whether Claire can afford to find out.

My Review

The thing this book got right, and the reason it launched a whole shelf of imitators, is the texture of its queerness. Nobody is closeted. Nobody has to explain anything. The stakes are family, money, art and old wounds, and every single character in the friend group is queer without the book pausing to be pleased with itself about it. Coming after a decade of sapphic romance in which the obstacle was almost always the world, that was a genuine shift, and readers responded to it in numbers that made Berkley commission two more.

Delilah Green Doesn't Care by Ashley Herring Blake book cover

The second strength is Claire, who is doing more work than the title suggests. She is a single mother in her thirties running a small business, and Blake writes the specific exhaustion of that — the scheduling, the ex, the way a teenager’s opinion can reorganise your week — without ever making her a martyr or a punchline. Ruby is a real thirteen-year-old rather than a prop, and the scenes where she and Delilah simply talk to each other are the best-written pages in the book. The romance works because Claire’s life is genuinely full and Delilah has to fit into it rather than rescue it.

Where it struggles is Delilah, and this is the dominant complaint rather than my own dislike. Across the one and two-star reviews the objection is consistent and specific: she actively sabotages her stepsister’s wedding events, and the narrative frames her self-pity sympathetically while she treats people badly, without ever really requiring her to account for it. One reader’s summary — that Delilah’s internal monologue is a running complaint about everyone being mean to her while she is unpleasant to everyone — is the version I saw most often. Stacked on that are two secondary problems the three-star reviews return to. The first is that the friend group’s conflicts are resolved by pranks rather than conversation, which reads as adults behaving like teenagers; the Eyrie review, which liked the book overall, still called one prank scene excessively juvenile. The second is that both leads keep insisting it is only sex, so a real contingent of readers finish without ever seeing the emotional case for the happy ending built on the page.

The expectation worth resetting is the tone. The cover and the marketing say frothy romcom; the book contains parental death, grief, an emotionally abusive mother, a widowed spouse and a genuinely nasty family dynamic, and Dear Author made the sharpest structural point about it — that the second half sands the edginess away and gets less full-bodied as it goes, wrapping a very thorny setup in too tidy a bow. If you want light, calibrate. If the word romcom made you expect nothing serious, it is more substantial than that.

My honest note: A genuinely important book for the subgenre with a likeability problem at its centre, and whether that problem is a flaw or the point depends entirely on your patience for a character who is awful because she is frightened. If you need a heroine to deserve her ending, this will grate; if you want a town you can move into, Bright Falls is one of the best on the shelf.

Element In Delilah Green Doesn’t Care
Central relationship Delilah Green & Claire Sutherland — a prickly New York photographer and the hometown bookseller raising a teenager
Core tropes Grumpy sunshine, hometown return, forced proximity, friends with benefits, single mother, found family, third-act breakup
Setting Bright Falls, Oregon — a wedding week, a bookshop and a house full of old resentments
Heat level 4/5 — romance.io’s “explicit open door”, several on-page scenes
Series Bright Falls book 1 of 3 — trilogy complete, each book a different couple with its own HEA
Content notes Death of a parent and of a spouse, grief, an emotionally abusive parent, childhood neglect, past infidelity, divorce, alcohol, cancer, explicit sexual content

How Spicy Is Delilah Green Doesn’t Care?

A 4/5. romance.io files it as “explicit open door” and there are several on-page scenes, described in detail, beginning fairly early once the no-strings arrangement is struck. StoryGraph’s community warnings put sexual content in the graphic tier, above grief and death of a parent, which is a fair reflection of how present it is. Reviewers who normally find romance marketing overstated tend to agree the label is honest here, though at least one noted the book is less sex-focused than the steamy branding implies.

The element worth flagging in advance is the framing rather than the content: both women repeatedly describe the arrangement as just sex, and a real slice of readers report that this is why the romance never fully convinced them — the intimacy is on the page but the emotional case is not. No reviewer flags any kink or content beyond that. For the same explicit band on this site, The Headmistress and Hotel Queens also sit at 4/5, both with a great deal more delay before they get there.

Who Should Read This Book?

You’ll likely love it if: you want a queer world rather than a queer plot, you like difficult women who are not softened for you, you enjoy a friend group you will want to follow into sequels, and you want heat that arrives early and often.

You may want to skip it if: a lead who behaves badly without consequence will sour you, pranks-instead-of-conversation reads as childish, you need the emotional case for the couple built rather than asserted, or the third-act breakup is a structure you avoid.

In short: the book that set the template for the modern sapphic small-town romcom, with the least likeable protagonist of any of them.

What Readers Are Actually Saying (August 2026)

Four years on, this book occupies an unusual position: enormously read, widely credited with opening a lane, and lightly decorated. It was a Goodreads Choice Awards nominee in Romance for 2022 and did not win, and it was not a Lambda Literary finalist or a GCLS Goldie finalist — which is worth knowing if you have seen it described as award-winning. Its critical credentials are two starred trade reviews, from Library Journal and BookPage. The Bright Falls trilogy finished in 2023 with Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date, Blake has moved on to a new series, and no film or television option has been announced anywhere we could verify. What keeps the ratings climbing is word of mouth in exactly the terms readers use for it: the queer small-town one with the bookshop.

Why readers love it (according to the discourse): The unapologetic queerness comes first and comes up most — the recurring formulation is that the book never explains itself to a straight reader. Second is the found family, and specifically that the friend group has its own life rather than existing to service the couple. Third is that the characters are allowed to be damaged and are not sanded down for likeability, which several romance novelists have praised in blurbs and which readers echo. Fourth is the chemistry, described as the right mix of sweetness and heat. Fifth is the self-acceptance arc, which is the emotional engine under the romance. Sixth is the dialogue, which is genuinely funny. Seventh, and its own cluster, is Kristen DiMercurio’s narration. The minority view worth flagging cuts directly against the main complaint: a substantial group argues that Delilah’s awfulness is the whole point, that she is a woman who was made to feel like a guest in her own family and is behaving accordingly, and that demanding she be pleasant is asking for a different and worse book.

What readers argue about and complain about: Delilah, above everything. The mechanism is accountability rather than behaviour — she sabotages her stepsister’s wedding events and the narrative sympathises with her without ever making her answer for it, so the reader is asked to root for someone the book will not judge. Second is that the adults behave like teenagers: the group’s response to discovering something serious about Astrid’s fiancé is a prank campaign rather than a conversation, and the Eyrie review corroborated this from outside the reader pool. Third, and the most damaging to the romance, is that the relationship is carried by sex rather than by demonstrated compatibility, because both leads keep labelling it as nothing — readers report finishing without being able to say what these two like about each other. Fourth is subplot sprawl: family conflict, a career opportunity, motherhood and two exes crowd the central couple out of their own book. Fifth, and lower frequency: a slice of readers simply find the sex scenes awkwardly written. Dear Author, which graded it B minus, made the structural version of all of this — that the second half smooths the edges away and the beats get familiar, and that after that much childhood tension the ending is tied off too neatly.

The series question everyone should ask first: Book one is a complete romance with its own HEA and no cliffhanger, so you can stop here safely. The Bright Falls trilogy is finished — Astrid Parker Doesn’t Fail (2022) and Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date (2023) — each following a different woman from the friend group, and the Lesbrary called book three a satisfying end to the series. That matters practically: if the friend group is what you liked, the sequels give you more of it with fresh couples, and Astrid in particular is a much more sympathetic protagonist than Delilah, which some readers find fixes their main objection to book one.

The audiobook is narrated by Kristen DiMercurio and runs 11 hours 42 minutes from Penguin Audio, and her distinct voices for the friend group are cited often enough that a number of readers say they rated the book higher after listening.

Prefer audio? Listen to Delilah Green Doesn’t Care on Libro.fm — the audiobook shop that supports independent bookstores.

Frequently Asked Questions

Does Delilah Green Doesn’t Care have a happy ending?

Yes. It is a genre romance with a full HEA for Delilah and Claire, arriving after a third-act breakup. Each Bright Falls book resolves its own couple.

How explicit is it?

A 4/5. romance.io files it as “explicit open door” with several detailed on-page scenes, and StoryGraph puts sexual content in the graphic tier. The heat arrives early once the arrangement is struck.

Do I need to read the Bright Falls books in order?

It helps but is not essential. Each book follows a different couple from the same friend group, so reading in order means meeting people before they become leads, and the trilogy is complete.

Is it a romcom or is it heavier than that?

Heavier than the cover suggests. Parental death, grief, an emotionally abusive mother and a widowed spouse are all on the page, and Dear Author‘s main criticism is that the second half smooths that complexity away rather than that it is not there.

Is there a third-act breakup?

Yes. If that structure is a dealbreaker for you, know it is coming; it is one of the specific things reviewers who otherwise liked the book flagged.

Is there an audiobook?

Yes. Kristen DiMercurio narrates the Penguin Audio edition at 11 hours 42 minutes, and it is one of the better-regarded narrations in contemporary sapphic romance.

If You Loved Delilah Green Doesn’t Care, Read These Next

Try Here We Go Again for the same friends-to-something-else engine with far more emotional weight behind it; D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding for the same explicit heat in a lower-angst, higher-communication register; and The Headmistress if the grumpy half of grumpy-sunshine is what you actually came for. More in Contemporary Lesbian Romance and across our Book Reviews.

The Bottom Line

Delilah Green Doesn’t Care set out to write a small-town romance where being queer is the least interesting thing about anybody, and three things carry it: a town and a friend group readers genuinely want to live in, characters who are allowed to stay difficult, and heat the marketing does not overstate. Three things hold it back: a protagonist the narrative excuses rather than examines, a friend group that solves problems with pranks, and a relationship both leads insist is nothing until the book needs it not to be. If you want the book that opened this lane and you can put up with Delilah for a hundred pages, it earns its place. Check Delilah Green Doesn’t Care on Amazon →

The Eikna Overall Ranking

We rank Delilah Green Doesn’t Care at 3.8/5 — a genuinely influential sapphic romcom with a likeability problem it never quite resolves.

The Evidence Scorecard

Overall ★★★★☆ 3.8/5

  • ✓ 4.04 average across 131,075 Goodreads ratings
  • ✓ Starred by Library Journal and BookPage
  • ✓ Goodreads Choice Awards Romance nominee, 2022
  • ✓ The lead’s likeability is the dominant low-star complaint

Romance ★★★★☆ 3.7/5

  • ✓ Chemistry balances sweetness and heat convincingly
  • ✓ Claire’s full life forces Delilah to fit into it
  • ✓ Clear HEA after a genuine reckoning
  • ✓ Both leads call it just sex, so the case is underbuilt

Characters ★★★★☆ 3.9/5

  • ✓ 88% of StoryGraph readers report strong development
  • ✓ 87% find the cast loveable across the friend group
  • ✓ Ruby is a real teenager, not a plot device
  • ✓ Delilah is never held to account for the sabotage

Writing ★★★★☆ 4/5

  • ✓ Two starred trade reviews on a debut adult romance
  • ✓ Dialogue is genuinely funny throughout
  • ✓ Queerness written as environment, not as subject
  • ✓ Dear Author: the second half gets less full-bodied

Emotional Impact ★★★★☆ 4/5

  • ✓ 65% of StoryGraph readers mark it emotional
  • ✓ Grief and childhood neglect carry real weight
  • ✓ 74% mark it lighthearted despite that material
  • ✓ The tidy resolution blunts the family reckoning

Heat Level ★★★★☆ 4/5

  • ✓ romance.io files it as explicit open door
  • ✓ Several detailed on-page scenes, starting early
  • ✓ StoryGraph puts sexual content in the graphic tier
  • ✓ A slice of readers find the scenes awkwardly written

Ending ★★★★☆ 3.6/5

  • ✓ Full HEA with the town and the family resolved
  • ✓ Sets up two sequels without withholding anything
  • ✓ Delilah’s career thread lands rather than vanishing
  • ✓ Reviewers call it wrapped in too tidy a bow

Re-read Value ★★★★☆ 3.8/5

  • ✓ The friend group rewards revisiting before each sequel
  • ✓ Delilah’s early behaviour reads differently once explained
  • ✓ A standard comfort reread in the subgenre
  • ✓ The prank sequences do not improve on a second pass

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Payback’s a Witch Review — Is It Worth Reading?

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Verdict: A hidden-magic-town rom-com with a lovely autumn setting and a complete HEA, held back by a sapphic romance that keeps losing the page to the ex-boyfriend it is supposed to be taking revenge on.

Best for: Readers who want cozy witchy atmosphere and a small town with rules above all else, and who can forgive a couple that gets less room than the man they are getting even with.

Heat level: ★★★☆☆ (3/5 — open door)

Rating: ★★★★☆ (3.5/5 — a 3.57 Goodreads average across roughly 47,000 ratings, with the romance itself the thinnest thread in it)

Tropes: Small-town return, hidden magical town, revenge alliance, shared ex, magical tournament, found family, bisexual leads, opposites attract, single first-person POV, cozy autumn atmosphere.

Payback’s a Witch by Lana Harper is the first of five Witches of Thistle Grove books, a sapphic paranormal romance from Berkley set in a hidden magical town in Illinois where Emmy Harlow comes home after nine years to arbitrate a spellcasting tournament — and finds that the woman she cannot stop looking at, Talia Avramov, was wrecked by the same ex-boyfriend she was.

It has a 3.57 average across roughly 47,000 Goodreads ratings, two starred trade reviews and a New York Times bestseller run — and a reader consensus that diverges from the professional one on the most important question a romance can be asked. Both halves of that split are worth understanding before you start.

What Is Payback’s a Witch About?

Payback’s a Witch is a small-town paranormal rom-com, and the small-town part is not decoration. Thistle Grove is a hidden magical settlement founded by four families, each with its own domain — Harlow scholarship, Avramov necromancy, Thorn growing things, Blackmoore illusion — and every fifty years they fight a tournament called the Gauntlet for the town’s magical primacy. That machinery gives the book its shape: an inherited hierarchy, a family everyone has written off, and a heroine who referees rather than competes.

Emmy Harlow is introduced through what she lacks: a weak witch by Thistle Grove standards, gone to Chicago at eighteen so she would not have to be measured, her magic thinning ever since. Talia Avramov arrives as what Emmy assumes she is — intimidating, unimpressed, very good at the magic Harlows do not do. The book runs on a single first-person voice, Emmy’s throughout, which is where much of its charm lives and where its central problem lives too.

What Makes This Cozy Sapphic Witch Rom-Com Work

  • The town: Thistle Grove is the most-praised element by a wide margin. Readers reach for Practical Magic, Halloweentown and Hocus Pocus over and over, and Amazon’s review summary leads on atmosphere before it names a character.
  • The four-family system: Giving each bloodline a distinct magic makes the tournament legible, explains the class resentment under the cozy, and gives the cast somewhere to stand.
  • The autumnal prose: Kirkus singles out the “lush language” used on the setting, and admirers name the sensory writing first — the same prose other readers call overwritten, which makes it taste rather than craft failure.
  • Bisexual leads, both of them: Emmy and Talia are both bi and the book treats that as unremarkable. Reviewers who care about it notice specifically.
  • A complete, standalone ending: Romance and tournament both resolve, and there is an HEA. Four more Thistle Grove books follow and not one is required reading.

Book Synopsis

Emmy Harlow has spent nine years not going home. Thistle Grove is a town where magic is real and hierarchical, where four founding families have held their positions since the settlement began, and where the Harlows have always been the administrators rather than the powers. Emmy is a weak witch even by Harlow standards. She left for Chicago, built a life curating other people’s beautiful objects, and let her magic thin out to almost nothing.

Then the Gauntlet comes around. It decides which family runs Thistle Grove’s magic for the next fifty years, and a Harlow has to arbitrate it. Emmy is the Harlow whose turn it is, so she goes back for a month she intends to survive rather than enjoy.

What she finds is Talia Avramov — a witch whose family handles the things nobody else will touch, who is furious in a way Emmy recognises, and who was until recently involved with Gareth Blackmoore. So was Emmy’s best friend, Linden Thorn. So, nine years ago, was Emmy. Three women, one man, and a tournament in which he is a contestant and Emmy holds the rules. The alliance forms almost immediately. What takes longer is Emmy admitting that the reason she cannot stop watching Talia has nothing to do with the plan.

My Review

The town is the best thing here and it is not close. Thistle Grove feels like somewhere with a history that existed before the plot arrived — a hierarchy that inconveniences people, shops and rituals and grudges. Harper is very good on autumn, and if you came for the sapphic-Practical Magic feeling the cover sells, you will get it. The four-family structure is the smartest construction in the book, because it makes the setting a system rather than a mood.

Payback's a Witch by Lana Harper book cover

Emmy is a good narrator when the book lets her be one, funny and observant, and the coming-home thread has real feeling in it. The supporting cast is unusually solid for a romance this length — the Avramovs especially, whom continuing readers name as the reason.

Where it struggles is the romance, and this is not my private objection — it is the single most repeated criticism in the reader reviews, recurring independently at every star level. Gareth Blackmoore, a man who is not in the pairing, is the organising principle of the book: why Emmy left, why the alliance exists, why Talia is in the plot at all. One blog reviewer titled the problem “Too Much Man.” Under that sits the second complaint — Emmy and Talia turn quickly and without much friction, and romance.io’s own tag list includes insta-love.

Two smaller things stack on top. The Gauntlet is thinner than the premise implies — readers wanted more tournament and got more town, and Kirkus agrees the contest takes a back seat. And the revenge is mild; one reviewer called it a device to get the leads into the same room, which is deflating if you came for John Tucker Must Die with witches.

So here is the expectation to reset: this is packaged as a sizzling sapphic revenge rom-com and reads as a warm hometown novel about family and belonging that happens to contain a romance. BookPage, in a starred review, said the quiet part out loud — the true romance is with the town. If the town is what you want, you will be happy. If you came for two women falling for each other, calibrate down.

My honest note: A five-star setting wrapped around a three-star romance, and lovely company for an October evening regardless. If you read romance for the couple, the ex will drive you up the wall; if you read it for the world, Thistle Grove is one of the better ones in sapphic paranormal.

Element In Payback’s a Witch
Central relationship Emmy Harlow & Talia Avramov — a fading Harlow arbiter and an Avramov who works the darker magic, allied against a shared ex
Core tropes Small-town return, revenge alliance, shared ex, hidden magical town, magical tournament, found family, opposites attract
Setting Thistle Grove, Illinois — a hidden magical town run by four founding families, during the once-in-fifty-years Gauntlet
Heat level 3/5 — open door
Series The Witches of Thistle Grove book 1 of 5 — complete arc and an HEA; the series finished in 2024 and each book follows a different couple
Content notes Sexual content, alcohol and cursing on the page; infidelity, a toxic relationship and some violence at moderate weight; misogyny and classism in the background

How Spicy Is Payback’s a Witch?

A 3/5. romance.io bands the steam level at three of five and labels it “open door” — the middle of its scale, meaning the door is open but the book is not built around what is behind it. That matches what readers report: the sex is on the page rather than implied, it arrives late, and there is not much of it. StoryGraph’s warnings list sexual content at the graphic tier, so “open door” means explicit when it happens, not frequent.

Nothing here needs flagging in advance. No reviewer I found names specific kink content, and nothing in the sex drew objections beyond a wish for more of it. The infidelity in the content notes belongs to Gareth before the book opens, not to the central couple. For the same band elsewhere, The Honey Witch and The Accidental Bite both sit at 3/5.

Who Should Read This Book?

You’ll likely love it if: you want a hidden magical town with real internal rules, you read cozy fantasy for atmosphere first and plot second, you want bisexual representation handled without fuss, and you would rather have a complete standalone than a five-book commitment.

You may want to skip it if: you need the couple to hold the centre of the book, you want a magical tournament that delivers on its stakes, you have no patience for a heroine still processing a high-school relationship at twenty-six, or you were promised revenge and will feel short-changed by mild consequences.

In short: an excellent place, a likeable narrator, and a romance that never quite gets the space it was sold as having.

What Readers Are Actually Saying (August 2026)

The most interesting thing about this book’s reception is how far the professional verdict sits from the reader one. It took two starred trade reviews — Publishers Weekly, which said it “bewitches from the very first page,” and BookPage — plus a warm Kirkus, a School Library Journal write-up and a New York Times Book Review notice, and it was a New York Times bestseller. Not one of them raises the complaint that dominates the reader reviews. There is no BookTok wave either, and for a book with 47,000 Goodreads ratings the Reddit footprint is almost invisible: an r/RomanceBooks FF Book Club pick that drew four comments, and on r/sapphicbooks only appearances in other people’s recommendation lists. The one live industry development is a 2022 option — Village Roadshow Television took it for a series called Witches of Thistle Grove — and four years on there is no network and no production news.

Why readers love it (according to the discourse): Thistle Grove, first and by a distance. “Cozy” and “atmosphere” are the recurring words, and the comparisons are remarkably consistent — Practical Magic, Halloweentown, Hocus Pocus. StoryGraph readers call it lighthearted at 74% and the characters loveable at 81%, a very high number that says the book delivers comfort reliably. The four founding families draw specific praise, the Avramovs especially. And a real minority defends the prose everyone else objects to — Kirkus among them.

What readers argue about and complain about: Gareth, above everything. The ex-boyfriend is not in the romance and is nonetheless the book’s centre of gravity, and independent reviewers at one, two and three stars all land on it. Second and connected: the romance is thin and fast, with readers unconvinced by how quickly Emmy and Talia turn and one one-star reviewer saying flatly there is no chemistry whatsoever. That is where the genuine split lives — Smart Bitches, Trashy Books graded it a B and called the chemistry sizzling. Third: the prose, which detractors call purple and over-adjectived and admirers call lush. Fourth, the Gauntlet underdelivers, its challenges less elaborate than the premise promised. Beyond that: Emmy reads immature for twenty-six, the dialogue is YA-coded for an adult novel, and the revenge is too mild to justify it.

The standalone question worth asking first: this one is easy. Payback’s a Witch resolves completely, delivers an HEA and requires nothing after it. The series ran to five books, finished in 2024, and each follows a different couple in the same town. Most people stop here: book one has around 47,000 Goodreads ratings and book two, From Bad to Cursed, around 14,800 — roughly two-thirds did not go on. The ones who did rated it higher, 3.73 against 3.57, with book three at 3.71. If Thistle Grove is what you liked and the romance is what disappointed you, the sequels are the better bet, not the worse one.

On audio, all five books are read by Jeremy Carlisle Parker for Penguin Audio, book one running ten hours and fourteen minutes and released alongside the print edition in October 2021.

Prefer audio? Listen to Payback’s a Witch on Libro.fm — the audiobook shop that supports independent bookstores.

Frequently Asked Questions

Does Payback’s a Witch end on a cliffhanger?

No. The romance resolves, the Gauntlet resolves, and Emmy and Talia get a happily-ever-after. The series continues for four more books, but each follows a different couple.

How spicy is Payback’s a Witch?

A 3/5. romance.io bands the steam level at three of five and labels it “open door.” The sex is explicit when it arrives, but it arrives late and there is not much of it.

Is the Witches of Thistle Grove series finished?

Yes. Five books published between 2021 and 2024, ending with Rise and Divine. Each centres a different couple, so you can read them in any order or stop after this one.

Is it really a sapphic romance, or is it about the ex-boyfriend?

Both, and that is the book’s most divisive quality. Emmy and Talia are the couple and they get their HEA, but Gareth Blackmoore drives most of the plot, and the most repeated reader criticism by a wide margin is that he takes space the romance needed.

Is there an audiobook?

Yes — narrated by Jeremy Carlisle Parker for Penguin Audio, running ten hours and fourteen minutes, released in October 2021 alongside the print edition. Parker reads all five Thistle Grove books.

If You Loved Payback’s a Witch, Read These Next

If Thistle Grove was the draw, The Honey Witch runs the same cozy-witchy atmosphere at the same 3/5 heat with a slower, sadder centre. If you wanted the couple to get more of the page and more heat with it, A Witch for Solstice is the spicier version of this exact appeal. And if it was the small town rather than the magic, In the Event of Love is a hometown-return sapphic rom-com with no spellcasting at all.

For more in this register, browse our complete small-town lesbian romance reading list or the full Book Reviews collection.

The Bottom Line

Payback’s a Witch set out to be a sapphic revenge rom-com in a hidden magical town, and it is unambiguously excellent at one of those three things. The town is superb, the magic system is smart, the ending complete and warm. The revenge is mild, the tournament underused, and the romance — the part a book with this cover is bought for — spends too much of its length orbiting a man neither woman wants. As an autumn comfort read it earns its 47,000 ratings; as a sapphic romance it is the weakest thing in its own book. Check Payback’s a Witch on Amazon →

The Eikna Overall Ranking

On the Eikna scale, Payback’s a Witch ranks as a top-tier cozy sapphic setting novel — warm, atmospheric and reliably comforting, undercut by a central romance that never gets the room it needed, and best approached for Thistle Grove rather than for Emmy and Talia.

The Evidence Scorecard

Overall ★★★★☆ 3.5/5

  • ✓ 3.57 average across 47,000 Goodreads ratings
  • ✓ Two starred trade reviews and a NYT bestseller run
  • ✓ Only 5% did-not-finish on StoryGraph
  • ✓ Weakest element is the romance itself

Romance ★★★☆☆ 3/5

  • ✓ Both leads bi, handled without fuss
  • ✓ Allies-against-an-ex is a fresh engine
  • ✓ Smart Bitches graded the chemistry a B
  • ✓ The ex outweighs the couple on the page

Characters ★★★★☆ 3.8/5

  • ✓ 81% call the characters loveable on StoryGraph
  • ✓ Emmy’s narrating voice is funny and warm
  • ✓ Four founding families give the cast somewhere to stand
  • ✓ Emmy reads immature to many readers

Writing ★★★★☆ 3.6/5

  • ✓ Kirkus praises the lush autumnal language
  • ✓ Sensory detail is what admirers name first
  • ✓ Publishers Weekly starred the adult debut
  • ✓ Detractors call the same prose purple

Emotional Impact ★★★☆☆ 3.4/5

  • ✓ The coming-home thread genuinely lands
  • ✓ Family legacy and belonging carry weight
  • ✓ BookPage starred it for community and family
  • ✓ 74% lighthearted, so the stakes stay low

Heat Level ★★★☆☆ 3/5

  • ✓ romance.io bands it “open door”
  • ✓ Explicit on the page when it arrives
  • ✓ StoryGraph flags sexual content as graphic
  • ✓ Late and infrequent against the marketing

Ending ★★★★☆ 3.9/5

  • ✓ Complete arc, HEA, no cliffhanger
  • ✓ Works fully as a standalone
  • ✓ School Library Journal called the HEA unexpected
  • ✓ Gauntlet resolution reads anticlimactic

Re-read Value ★★★★☆ 3.7/5

  • ✓ Built for an annual autumn reread
  • ✓ Parker’s audiobook is a strong second pass
  • ✓ Four more Thistle Grove books to fall into
  • ✓ Two-thirds of readers never continued the series

Affiliate disclosure: Lesbian Romance Reads participates in the Amazon Associates Program and the Libro.fm affiliate program. If you buy through a link on this page we may earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you.

Small-Town Lesbian Romance: The Complete Reading List

Small-Town Lesbian Romance: The Complete Reading List

Small-town romance is about coming home, staying put, and falling for the person who never left — or the one who came back. The pace is slower, the community tighter, and the conflict often comes from everyone knowing everyone’s business. It’s one of the most comforting subgenres in sapphic fiction, without sacrificing real emotional stakes.

What Makes Great Small-Town Lesbian Romance

The town itself has to function almost like a character — its size, its history, its gossip network all shape what the couple risks by falling for each other. The best entries use that closeness to raise real stakes (reputation, family, belonging) rather than just as a cozy backdrop.

The Essential Reads

Perfect Rhythm — Jae

A rising country music star returns to her hometown and falls for the local nurse caring for her grandmother. One of the most widely read entries in sapphic small-town romance, and often cited as a genre starting point.

Highland Fling — Anna Larner

Set in a small Lake District town, this follows a stressed-out Londoner who escapes to the countryside and falls for a woman entirely rooted in local life. Followed by a companion novel, Highland Whirl, for readers who want to stay in the same setting.

Changing the Script — Lee Winter

A journalist is sent to cover a small town’s local theater scene and finds herself drawn into a much more personal story than the one she came to report. Lee Winter is known for sharp, competent-women dynamics, and this entry brings that same precision to a smaller-scale setting.

Perfect Pairing — Rachel Spangler

Set around a small-town winery, this follows two women whose professional collaboration turns personal. Rachel Spangler is one of the most established voices in small-town sapphic romance, and this is frequently recommended as a comfort read.

The Different Setups Behind Small-Town Romance

The homecoming setup sends someone who left (usually for fame or a career) back to where they grew up, as in Perfect Rhythm. The fish-out-of-water newcomer setup flips it, dropping a city person into a small community they don’t understand yet, as in Highland Fling. The professional-assignment-turned-personal setup gives a visiting character a job to do — covering a story, running a project — that becomes something much more personal, as in Changing the Script. And the local collaboration setup keeps both women rooted in the same town already, building the romance out of working together, as in Perfect Pairing.

Why the Town Itself Matters

A small town isn’t just scenery in this trope — it’s the reason the stakes feel real. Everyone knowing everyone’s business means a relationship can’t stay quiet for long, reputation and family history follow characters everywhere they go, and leaving isn’t as simple as it would be in a big city. The best entries use that closeness to create genuine tension rather than just cozy atmosphere.

Who This Trope Is For

Small-town romance suits readers who want comfort-read warmth without sacrificing real stakes — community, reputation, and belonging instead of external danger or high-concept premises. It’s a strong choice for readers who want a slower pace and a strong sense of place.

Small-Town vs. Second Chance Romance

These tropes overlap often, since “coming home” setups like Perfect Rhythm frequently double as second-chance stories with an ex or a road not taken. The difference is focus: small-town romance is defined by its setting and community, while second chance romance is defined by a specific prior relationship that has to be resolved. If you love the homecoming angle here, our Second Chance reading list is a natural next stop.

Frequently Asked Questions

What makes small-town romance different from other tropes?

The setting itself functions almost like a character — the town’s size, history, and social network directly shape what the couple risks by getting together, rather than serving as simple backdrop.

Is small-town romance always low-angst?

It tends to run gentler than tropes built on danger or high-concept premises, but community stakes like reputation, family expectations, and gossip can still create real emotional tension.

Are there companion books in this subgenre?

Yes. Highland Fling has a direct companion novel, Highland Whirl, set in the same town, which is common in this subgenre since readers often want to stay in a beloved setting.

Where should I start?

Perfect Rhythm is the most widely read entry point and sets the tone for what makes the trope work: real community stakes wrapped around genuine warmth.

Where to Start

New to the subgenre? Start with Perfect Rhythm — it’s the most widely read entry point and sets the tone for what makes small-town romance work: real community stakes wrapped around genuine warmth.

Looking for other lesbian romance subgenres? Explore the full Lesbian Books hub page for nine more curated recommendations across every trope in the genre.

Find out how small-town compares to other tropes in our genre-wide trope analysis.

Affiliate disclosure: Lesbian Romance Reads participates in the Amazon Associates Program and the Libro.fm affiliate program. If you buy through a link on this page we may earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you.

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