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philantrop's reviews
1786 reviews
Dashing All The Way by Chelsea Curto
emotional
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
I don’t like novellas. They’re mostly too short to make any kind of impact and simply aren’t enough of a “bite”. At best, they’re like chewing gum.
So it was out of pure curiosity that I decided to read “Dashing All the Way”, a novella by Chelsea Curto, after it got heartily endorsed by Samantha Brinn (whom you should know as an author for her great “When I'm with You”).
The story is simple: Being told what she cannot do by her now-ex-boyfriend, Jeremy, Margo moves to accomplish just that, and, in the process, falls for his father, Finn—just in time for Christmas.
What follows is the warm-hearted, sometimes raw, and always honest tale of how a one-night stand evolves into something very different over the course of two weeks. It is nicely told, well-paced, and very, very steamy.
Nothing feels out of place, everything makes sense, there’s just enough story to satisfy my reading needs, and an amusing inevitable ending. What more could I wish for?
Five stars out of five.
Evil Games by Angela Marsons
Mother Teresa’s legacy is deeply problematic and undeserving of uncritical reverence. She glorified suffering instead of alleviating it, denying patients proper medical care and hygiene in her facilities. She opposed contraception and abortion, worsening poverty and systemic suffering, and accepted donations from corrupt individuals while mismanaging funds. Her theology prioritized suffering “martyrdom” over real solutions, and her approach to "charity" often perpetuated misery rather than addressing its root causes.
dark
sad
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.0
I was very much looking forward to reading “Evil Games” by Angela Marsons, having just discovered what an interesting detective Kim Stone is. Sadly, this second instalment in Marsons’ long-running series didn’t hold up the promise of its predecessor.
There are actually two mysteries in “Evil Games” and both are completely unrelated, making the novel feel somewhat disjointed. While in the first storyline, Kim and her team have just apprehended a child molester, in the titular storyline Kim is going solo after a rogue psychiatrist.
Both storylines leave much to be desired: The case of the child molester is pretty much solved from the beginning and the team is trying to find a secondary perpetrator. There is no suspense in that part, especially since very basic procedures, e. g. comparing DNA found at the crime scene against easily accessible samples, are not even thought of. The solution pretty much occurs to Kim at the last possible moment in the novel and it’s kind of a “deus ex machina” moment of dubious probability (just like the culprit themself…).
The investigation against the psychiatrist is even worse: Said psychiatrist, Alex, is not only depicted as a genius-level manipulator who in the course of one single session can talk people into committing major crimes. She also seems to have almost everyone in her pocket under threat of revealing dark secrets. Miraculously, Alex finds out everything about everyone in very short periods of time, gets access even to violent inmates of asylums and easily coerces the staff into violating their confidentiality obligations with just a bright smile.
I just cannot buy into that kind of super villain outside of superhero stories.
Kim herself knows full well that Alex could unravel her completely, and yet ignores the advice of a former psychiatrist and mentor of hers and doesn’t make use of his expertise in any meaningful way. Kim keeps getting triggered by Alex in each and every meeting of the two but at a pivotal moment, she seemingly effortlessly ignores even the worst possible of Alex’ attempts to trigger her.
Considering Alex’ super villain status, that completely defied even the already implausible premises of the novel.
And there’s one more thing that really annoyed me:
»Kim refilled her coffee mug thinking, Jesus, I’m trying to nail Mother Theresa.«
(The misspelling is the author's.)
Mother Teresa’s legacy is deeply problematic and undeserving of uncritical reverence. She glorified suffering instead of alleviating it, denying patients proper medical care and hygiene in her facilities. She opposed contraception and abortion, worsening poverty and systemic suffering, and accepted donations from corrupt individuals while mismanaging funds. Her theology prioritized suffering “martyrdom” over real solutions, and her approach to "charity" often perpetuated misery rather than addressing its root causes.
Many still view this despicable and disgusting person as a saint, but in reality, her actions often caused harm. Her legacy should be a cautionary tale about blind hero-worship and unaccountable humanitarian work.
Overall, this was a mediocre read, earning three stars out of five.
Just for the Summer by Abby Jimenez
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
If you came here looking for the third instalment of Abby Jimenez’ “Part of Your World” funny and fluffy romance series, you’d be both right and wrong. While starting out on a fun premise, “Just for the Summer” evolves into areas that are anything but fun and light, and—for me—Jimenez pulled it off really well.
Justin and Emma both feel “cursed” - they date someone and once it’s over, their respective ex meets their “soulmate”. When they realise they share this, any romance’s direction is clear: they have to date each other to “break” the “curse”, and, afterwards, meet their respective soulmate.
During the early parts of the novel, they meet, they like each other, and proceed to date—it’s all nice, light, and (mostly) easy…
»I dropped to one knee.
She sucked in air. “Uh, what are you doing?” she said, her eyes darting around.
“Romance.”
“Justin, stop it,” she whispered. “Get up! Get up!”
I took her hand and did my best to make my face straight. People were already stopping to watch. I made my voice low so only she could hear it. “Emma, would you do me the honor of delousing my family with me?”«
She sucked in air. “Uh, what are you doing?” she said, her eyes darting around.
“Romance.”
“Justin, stop it,” she whispered. “Get up! Get up!”
I took her hand and did my best to make my face straight. People were already stopping to watch. I made my voice low so only she could hear it. “Emma, would you do me the honor of delousing my family with me?”«
Emma is a travelling nurse, taking temporary jobs all over the US with her best friend, Maddy, always at her side. From early on, there is a feeling of unease about her—something feels not quite right…
Justin seems to lead a successful professional life, has a good relationship with his mother and his siblings—but there is also some avoidance, much anger, and a lot of hidden tension…
The typical romance would have gone on to scratch the surface of these issues, create some drama based upon them, thrown in a few common tropes, and secured a happily-ever-after (HEA). This is what I expected and came for.
When times are difficult, romance with its guaranteed HEA is my refuge.
Instead, Jimenez takes time to explore Emma’s constant travelling and detachment, as well as Justin’s own issues of a different kind. She does incorporate a few typical romance traits like some (very short-lived) miscommunication, a third-act breakup (even though it’s very different from the usual annoying ones), but, towards the middle of the novel, she really starts exploring her characters. And that’s where my perspective and expectations were turned upside down.
»She shrugged. “You don’t have to forgive [...]. You can still love someone that you’ve decided not to speak to anymore. You can still wish them well and hope for the best for them. Choosing a life without them doesn’t mean you stop caring about them. It just means that you can’t allow them to harm you anymore. But if you don’t think your life would be better without them in it, then accept that they have cracks. Try to understand how they got them and help fill them with something that isn’t ice.” She peered at me. “If you can choose anger or empathy, always choose empathy, Justin. It’s so much healthier than anger. For both of you.”«
Slowly and sensitively, Jimenez lets her story evolve, and I realised that my coveted HEA was far from assured. From the moment of this realisation onward, I practically became glued to my Kobo. I became immensely emotionally invested in both Emma and Justin as well as their families. Because the author carefully depicts not only our heroes but also the secondary characters. Especially Justin’s family was so relatable and likeable that I couldn’t help but root for them as well.
Just like them, I simultaneously hated and understood Justin’s and Emma’s third-act breakup. It was the mature and sensible response to their respective discoveries about themselves and, thus, a departure from the usual crap a third-act breakup is. Both of them took their responsibilities to themselves, their respective families and each other very seriously and Jimenez found a great way to show us.
“Just for the Summer” with its carefully handled issues of panic attacks, anxiety, PTSD, depression, depictions of undiagnosed mental health issues, a toxic mother, and past child neglect is not typical for the romance genre and especially not for Abby Jimenez. It surpasses its roots and while I understand the criticism “not a romance”, I applaud this successful attempt to create something that expands on the traditional romance genre—a romance, though, it is.
I also happen not to agree with those who reject this as “depressing chick-lit”: While parts are certainly not fun at all, the approach Jimenez chose is consistently and coherently life-affirming, though not always easy on the reader.
Furthermore, I take issue with the term "chick-lit” as it is dismissive and condescending. It trivializes its targets, by framing them as light, insignificant, or less valuable than other books. Plus, it assumes these books are only for women, which I find completely unfair. As a man, I’ve read and enjoyed many novels that get slapped with this label, and it frustrates me how it perpetuates gender stereotypes about storytelling and readership. It discourages diverse readership, and marginalizes stories that center women's experiences, unfairly implying they're frivolous or less universally meaningful.
Furthermore, I take issue with the term "chick-lit” as it is dismissive and condescending. It trivializes its targets, by framing them as light, insignificant, or less valuable than other books. Plus, it assumes these books are only for women, which I find completely unfair. As a man, I’ve read and enjoyed many novels that get slapped with this label, and it frustrates me how it perpetuates gender stereotypes about storytelling and readership. It discourages diverse readership, and marginalizes stories that center women's experiences, unfairly implying they're frivolous or less universally meaningful.
Just like love is love (between consenting adults), a good story is a good story, regardless of who writes it or who reads it.
I would have loved to read a little more about what happens after the ending and at some points, I wished for a slightly faster pacing. On the other hand, the writing was good (albeit not great) and, ultimately, for daring to rise beyond the usual confines of its genre, while also having to apply slightly more rigorous standards for that reason, I award this four stars out of five.
The Paradise Problem by Christina Lauren
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
lighthearted
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
I’ve been in need of some light reading entertainment lately and “The Paradise Problem” by Christina Lauren certainly fits that bill. Due to Anna, its strong, independent, smart, self-confident, and down-to-earth female lead, it felt surprisingly fresh and real.
At its core, “The Paradise Problem” is a delightful blend of wit, charm, and a touch of the absurd, anchored by an emotional resonance that feels authentically raw. While it veers slightly from their earlier works, such as “The Unhoneymooners” (which I also enjoyed), it still boasts that inimitable Christina Lauren spark, albeit with a stronger focus on individuality and the intricacies of self-discovery. The setting—a tension-filled reunion with Liam’s dysfunctional family—only heightens the stakes, making me appreciate the story even more.
Centred on Anna, our brilliant and self-possessed protagonist, the novel immediately strikes a balance between lighthearted banter…
[After Liam asks her not to use certain words]
»“You’ve just ensured that these words will now be staples in our marital relationship.”«
… and poignant moments of genuine vulnerability. Anna’s relatability is what makes her so engaging—she’s smart, confident, and real, yet still grappling with the chaos that life throws at her. One of my favourite moments from early in the book is perfectly encapsulated in Anna’s excitement over impending chaos:
»She leans forward and hugs me. “This is going to be a disaster. I’m so excited!”«
This clever perspective on calamity helps establish Anna’s resilience and wit, making her both hilarious and human. While Christina Lauren often excels at crafting relatable heroines, Anna stands out with how she handles the challenges of navigating family drama and new romance—all while grappling with “robot luggage”:
»I’d love to change but I have no idea where my robot luggage is. I assume it’s followed us of its own volition somehow.«
Compared to other works by Christina Lauren, “The Paradise Problem” feels slightly more introspective. While it retains their signature romantic element, it’s not all swoon-worthy grand gestures. Instead, the book champions quieter, more meaningful demonstrations of love, as Anna beautifully reflects in the epilogue:
»The world tells girls we should want romantic, flashy grand gestures, and those can be great. But if I had given it deeper thought, I know I’d have dreamed up something just like this—an offer given with honesty and communication and mutual respect—over anything showy.«
This simple thought reflects perfectly the kind of relationship Anna and Liam formed, as wonderfully written by Christina Lauren. I also appreciated the slow evolution of Liam, Anna’s romantic counterpart. His personality, shaped by a strict father and rigid upbringing, pales at times in comparison to Anna's dynamism. Yet, his growth feels earned, inspired by Anna’s influence. Still, I found him a touch overshadowed by Anna’s vibrance, his evolution, however, felt natural.
If you’re looking for a feel-good read with some substance and just the right amount of emotional depth, I highly recommend this one. Anna’s journey is ultimately about finding joy and authenticity, and by the end, it’ll likely leave you cheering her on.
Five out of five stars.
A Very London Christmas by Sara Madderson
emotional
lighthearted
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.0
Sara Madderson’s “A Very London Christmas” certainly attempts to wrap readers in a festive embrace, complete with sparkling lights and — sometimes — cosy corners of London. However, as enchanting as the premise might sound, the execution left me cold. While marketed as a heartwarming seasonal read, it’s more akin to a tin of biscuits that looks promising but offers only the plainest, already-crumbling, and dry selection once opened.
The most glaring issue is the utter superficiality of the characters and plot. Operating on a schematic level, the people populating Madderson’s London feel less like real individuals and more like archetypes hastily thrown together.
Additionally, there’s a complete lack of innovation here. Every twist, from misunderstandings to the eventual conclusion, feels plucked from genre clichés. That said, I reluctantly admit a few redeeming qualities. I appreciated the absence of the typical third-act breakup — a trope overused to death in romances. Madderson avoided it, which felt refreshing amidst the otherwise predictable fare.
Still, these positives can’t outweigh just how hollow the reading experience is. While serviceable as a bit of forgettable fluff, “A Very London Christmas” fails to either uplift or inspire.
Two out of five stars feels fair.
Man kann auch in die Höhe fallen: Roman by Joachim Meyerhoff
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Aus dem Scheitern erwächst Größe – Ein literarischer Höhenflug voller Herz und Verstand!
Joachim Meyerhoff hat sehr viel erlebt und darüber schreibt er in seiner Reihe “Alle Toten fliegen hoch”, die — mit Ausnahme seiner “Hamster im hinteren Stromgebiet” — für mich zu den Höhepunkten deutschsprachiger Literatur gehört.
In den “Hamstern” schrieb er über seinen Schlaganfall; im vorliegenden Band nun verarbeitet er in gewohnter und doch immer wieder begeisternder Art seinen Rückzug von Berlin aufs Land zu seiner 86-jährigen Mutter. Eigentlich gekommen, um mit ihr auch über ein wirklich übles Geschehnis zu sprechen, kommt Meyerhoff erst ganz am Ende des Buches dazu.
Vorher erfahren wir von seinen Versuchen, zu sich selbst zurückzufinden, zum Schreiben zurückzukehren und, nicht zuletzt, viel über seine bemerkenswerte Mutter. Mit viel Humor, von subtil bis grotesk, schreibt er sich frei und gewinnt damit seine Souveränität, seine Lebensfreude und zumindest diesen Leser zurück.
Von der ersten bis zur letzten Seite habe ich dieses Buch genossen, inhaliert und geradezu begierig verschlungen. Meyerhoffs Schreibstil, seine episodischen Erzählungen, seine entwaffnende Offenheit — all das lädt geradezu dazu ein, bis tief in die Nacht zu lesen und seine Lesezeit nur ungern von so etwas Banalem wie Arbeit zwecks Broterwerbs unterbrechen zu lassen.
Wer “Alle Toten fliegen hoch” kennt, wird sich schnell heimisch fühlen. Wer Meyerhoff noch nicht als Schriftsteller kennt, dem würde ich eher empfehlen, die Reihe von Beginn an zu lesen, obschon auch “Man kann auch in die Höhe fallen” einen guten Eindruck seines schriftstellerischen Schaffens bietet.
Der Titel ist dabei ebenfalls wunderbar passend, denn mit diesem Buch und dessen Inhalten beweist Meyerhoff eindrucksvoll, wie man aus dem eigenen Scheitern (an sich selbst) neue (literarische) Höhepunkte schaffen kann.
Dafür kann es nur fünf von fünf Sternen geben.
The Sign of the Devil by Oscar de Muriel
adventurous
inspiring
lighthearted
mysterious
relaxing
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.5
Redemption Through Fire: A Triumphant Farewell
I’m currently reading books from the depths of my Kobo - things that haven’t been on my radar for a long time or which I was afraid to read. “The Sign of the Devil” by Óscar de Muriel was one from the latter category.
The previous two instalments simply stank: bland stories, bad writing, character regressions instead of development — it was Murphy’s Law materialised as a book.
And yet, I needed closure — “all will be revealed”, de Muriel promised for this final novel in his Frey and McGray series.
To my immense surprise, not only did he keep his promise, but he actually wrote a fast-paced, interesting, suspenseful, yes, even thrilling swan song for both his eponymous protagonists and even some side characters. First among the latter is, of course, Ms. Amy “Pansy” McGray (nothing will be revealed here, though!).
Like the phoenix from the ashes, de Muriel rises and shines: The writing is finally engaging again, the story expands at breakneck speed which is extremely fitting as this time, it’s — sometimes literally — a race against time, and Frey is back at the top of his game and changed by it…
»‘And I am sure Nine-Nails will be a bottomless pit of information on the odd and ghostly!’
‘Do not say it so disparagingly. You must know almost as much as he does by now.’
‘Hardly,’ I lied, the ingredients for a witch’s bottle at once coming to mind.«
‘Do not say it so disparagingly. You must know almost as much as he does by now.’
‘Hardly,’ I lied, the ingredients for a witch’s bottle at once coming to mind.«
… whereas McGray finally starts developing a character that doesn’t comprise just his signature “Och nae”.
»McGray poked my sternum quite harshly. ‘Don’t milk it, Percy. I ken yer balls’ve finally dropped, but patience is nae my strongest suit.’«
Much of what made me like the early novels is back, and the lengths, illogical and nonsensical actions are gone. We’re back to something that actually resembles (to some positive extent) a police procedural with a better balance between science and the “supernatural”.
Much of what made me like the early novels is back, and the lengths, illogical and nonsensical actions are gone. We’re back to something that actually resembles (to some positive extent) a police procedural with a better balance between science and the “supernatural”.
This is one of the kinds of farewells that I for one wish for: for the characters, the readers, and, of course, the author. For any fan of this series, this is most certainly a must-read. For newcomers, start with the first novel, make sure to ignore the mere existence of books five and six, and head to this seventh one instead. Nothing of value, story-wise, will be lost.
For me, this book is very likely the last one by Óscar de Muriel I’ll ever read since his inclusion of the “supernatural” in the first place always was a gripe of mine and, ultimately, neither his writing nor his stories entice me enough to keep up with whatever he’s going to write next.
Still, this novel garners a full five stars out of five.
On a Quiet Street by Seraphina Nova Glass
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
1.0
Big drama, little substance, no suspense.
Seraphina Nova Glass's “On a Quiet Street” was, frankly, not for me. I gave it a genuine attempt, making it to 33%, but ultimately, I had to DNF. The novel starts with a mix of intrigue and melodrama, but it quickly veers into territory that felt clichéd and overly contrived – more akin to a soap opera than a compelling thriller.
The premise had potential: a gated community told about through multiple points of view, revolving around Paige and her devastation over the hit-and-run death of her son, Caleb. Yet, rather than diving deep into authentic, layered characters or gripping tension, the book becomes bogged down by outlandish twists and unconvincing developments. For instance, Paige’s emotional descent pivots to her seduction of Finn – her best friend Cora’s husband – in a toilet at a ball no less. That moment was more cringe-worthy than dramatic. Meanwhile, Cora eyes Paige’s estranged husband, Grant, and Georgia, supposedly agoraphobic, turns out to be a prisoner of her controlling judge husband. It’s all a bit much.
The writing was mostly mediocre at best, and the pacing felt like a dying snail on a steeply ascending slope. With four perspectives that sound strikingly alike, none of the characters felt distinctive or gripping either.
At 33%, still mired in shallow drama and soap operatic antics, I decided to cut my losses.
One star out of five.
Because of You by Samantha Brinn
emotional
hopeful
lighthearted
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
I came to reading this by way of alleviating my fear of being let-down by my next read because the previous one had been so perfect. A good plan (thanks, Berengaria, for looking this up and letting me know!) — till it met with the reality of this novel, “Because of You”, Samantha Brinn’s debut novel and the first instalment of her “Laws of You” series.
“Because” features some of the same strength the second novel has: No third-act breakup, a very nice, kind, and even somewhat cosy friends-to-lovers story with Hallie, another strong and independent lawyer, at its centre. Her love interest is her life-long best friend Ben who comes across as a very likeable, decent, and down-to-earth man.
Their path to each other is, just as Brinn mentions in her acknowledgements, “a warm hug of a story” and I read for long stretches under a soft, warm blanket in extremely comfortable armchairs.
There was some non-relationship drama, but there were no real disappointments — just not the kind of sensitivity and other highlights I found in “When I'm with You”.
Maybe I should have expected it since I do love my coloured spreadsheets as well and one of my former bosses (hi, Thomas!) once called a “Methoden-Monster”, meaning “Problem-solving Machine”. I’m less of a people pleaser like Hallie and more of a workaholic and problem-solver like Julie - so how could I not like her book more than Hallie’s? ;)
Either way, if you’re looking for a sweet contemporary romance “Because of You” will likely not disappoint. If you want to read one that’s slightly more evenly paced, fewer sex scenes than in this one (which had more than just one too many), features the most root-worthy couple, and has an ending that even surpasses “Because of You”’s lovely and fitting one, take a look at “When I’m with You”. They can be read independently of each other and in any order.
Four stars out of five.
When I'm with You by Samantha Brinn
»“I’m afraid you’ll walk away once you hear what I have to say.”
“I won’t.” I’m starting to think there is nothing on earth that would make me walk away from this man. He could tell me he killed someone, and I would grab a shovel to help bury the body, law license be damned. “I swear I won’t. You’re safe with me too, you know. We can be safe with each other.” I feel the truth of those words more deeply than I have felt anything in my life. I want to be his safe place, because he is absolutely, undoubtedly mine.«
It was such a joy to read their well-written, sensitively depicted story, I became worried about my usual gripes: A third-act breakup (usually badly handled, for nonsensical reasons, or just plain unnecessary), communication breakdowns (yes, people can be bad at that but don’t make it a major plot device!), badly presented smut (intimacy is, obviously, an important aspect of adult life so handle it carefully) — in contemporary romance one usually encounters at least one of those.
adventurous
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
I read my first romance novel at the tender age of 43. I had realised I couldn’t claim to read anything till I had tried romance at least once. It was fun, light, spicy, and provided a nice diversion. Since then, I’ve read a lot of the “big names” in romance and enjoyed a good lot of them.
Along on my Goodreads feed comes “When I'm with You” with a mediocre cover by Samantha Brinn — a name that was completely unfamiliar to me. On a whim, I decided to make it my next read, since I was looking for a pleasant diversion. What I got was a novel that actually plays in a completely different league than pretty much any other romance I’ve read so far.
From page one to the very last one, I was captivated: Both Julie (30), a sharp-tongued, quick-witted, strong, fierce, meticulous lawyer, and Asher (31), a football quarterback (don’t worry, I don’t know what that means and still don’t care) have their respective issues — and they both hide a lot; from themselves, the world and each other. Then Asher accidentally discovers one of Julie’s secrets and reacts so spectacularly well that she joins him on a road trip to visit his family.
What follows is an empathic, sensitive journey to the very core of their issues. There are the usual ingredients of a rom-com: banter, hilarious ideas, small mishaps. Step by step, though, Julie and Asher get to know each other and, shockingly, they communicate like the adults they are. Together, they find brilliant solutions to overcome their reservations, fears and inhibitions.
»“I’m afraid you’ll walk away once you hear what I have to say.”
“I won’t.” I’m starting to think there is nothing on earth that would make me walk away from this man. He could tell me he killed someone, and I would grab a shovel to help bury the body, law license be damned. “I swear I won’t. You’re safe with me too, you know. We can be safe with each other.” I feel the truth of those words more deeply than I have felt anything in my life. I want to be his safe place, because he is absolutely, undoubtedly mine.«
It was such a joy to read their well-written, sensitively depicted story, I became worried about my usual gripes: A third-act breakup (usually badly handled, for nonsensical reasons, or just plain unnecessary), communication breakdowns (yes, people can be bad at that but don’t make it a major plot device!), badly presented smut (intimacy is, obviously, an important aspect of adult life so handle it carefully) — in contemporary romance one usually encounters at least one of those.
None of that is here: There is some drama but in the context of the story, every single part of it makes sense. There’s no breakup but “organic growth” with each other, towards each other and independently of each other. It was glorious to read this till the last page — and I’m worried about my next read now because I’m pretty sure it won’t reach this level of greatness…
Yes, there is the usual one-bed-only part — but does it play out the usual way? Absolutely, yes, and absolutely not, no. Even in the small details, Brinn writes so sensitively and empathetically that I smiled, laughed, and cried and experienced everything in between. I have never rooted so intensively for any fictitious couple before.
In a romance, I prefer an open bedroom door — and I got it here. The scenes of their growing intimacy were so tender, empathic, wholesome even, and deeply human — and all the more smoking hot for it.
Not only are our protagonists well-written but the secondary characters - the families and friends - are beautifully depicted as well and I loved reading about the interactions between each and every one of them.
A parent of three amazing adults myself, I also found myself deeply sympathising with these book parents.
»You never know, as a parent, whether you’re making the right decisions at the time, and sometimes you only figure it out years later. I’m sorry for that, Jules. I should have done it differently.«
Maybe this is, in part, a wish fulfilment fantasy (“a man written by a woman” as the novel puts it) but either way: I sincerely wish for every single person out there to find this kind of love. (And am happy to report, my wife and I did 25 years ago.)
Maybe you’re thinking I’m not critical enough now but while the “perfect book” doesn’t exist, this comes pretty close: The pacing is on-point. The usual tropes are skillfully avoided and, if they exist, handled with such almost unprecedented care and in a way that makes them feel entirely different. Maybe there’s precisely one intimate scene too many but I for one can easily forgive that.
I lost sleep over “When I’m with You” and it garners the easiest and most heart-felt five stars out of five in a very long time.