starry's reviews
44 reviews

Last night had felt like falling into a deep well filled with stars. Jess could have stayed in his arms for hours without coming up for air.

The Soulmate Equation was an utterly unique story from Christina Lauren, beautifully weaving this story of family and love and science and fate, while grounding it all with imaginary data and a healthy does of doubt. Even at the most imaginative and the most science-y parts, they never lost the human element that is being afraid to have your heart broken, even (especially) by the person who is theoretically your perfect match.

In this story, Jess is a statistician and a single mother who lives in a multi-generational household with her grandparents in San Diego. After being not-raised by her flighty, unstable mother, Jess's main focus is making sure her seven-year-old daughter Juno never feels that same sting. When Jess's best friend Fizzy recruits her to give a DNA sample to the DNA-based dating app startup GeneticAlly run by the cute guy from their favorite coffee shop, Jess agrees on a whim. When she's called in by the board to look at some numbers, Jess assumes it's for her statistics prowess — only later realizing the DNA profile in her hand is her own, and that it's a 98% match for the CSO, River. The closest match in history by 5 percent. What starts as a financial agreement (smile for the cameras, be my fake girlfriend for company publicity) very quickly spirals into the most consuming love either of them have ever known. But how much faith are they willing to put in these numbers? Especially when Jess has Juno to consider, and she'll do anything to spare Juno the broken heart of losing someone she loves.

The Soulmate Equation had the richest sense of family in any of the CL books I've read, which I really loved. Similar to Love & Other Words and Something Wilder, the romance was only the driving force of the plot some of the time and other factors played a major role in shaping the story, something I've really loved from them. In this case, it's Jess's motherhood and River's commitment to the company he's built from the ground up. This book is science-y and we really get to see Jess in action crunching numbers and analyzing data which was super fun! Even in some of the STEM-based romances coming out lately, we haven't seen this much science on-page and I really enjoyed it here. Juno and Jess's grandparents felt like full, beautiful side characters which was a relief because kids can very quickly become props in stories like these. Juno felt like a real kid, which I loved.

I really liked Jess and I liked River, but there's a whole month of their relationship told mostly in reflection and brief asides, that I really would have loved to see pulled apart. I actually felt like River's POV epilogue filled in a lot of the domestic, everyday gaps I'd been missing. In the original novel, we see River and Jess weather enormous storms and support each other in the craziest of times, but I wanted more of what they were like in the little moments, too. I really liked this book, but I think with those extra moments of everyday softness, I would have fallen in love.

This book is mostly good. The romance is really sweet, and Luka and Stella broke away from the fake-dating standards in a way that was both beneficial to the story and really refreshing to read. In most of the fake-dating books I’ve read, especially best friends to lovers, the leads feel a need to be very distinct about what is part of the ruse and what isn’t. In the interest of protecting themselves and their dynamic, characters set up rules and lists, and work overtime to deny any real attraction. Luka and Stella did some of that at first, but around the 30-40% mark, the two of them decided to have a no-holds-barred week — to chase what felt right and do what came naturally, up to and including hooking up for the first (and second/third/fourth!) time. This felt so organic and true to their dynamic, and it made their story undeniably better.

I felt like everything else around them was lacking. Breaking from trope convention was good in the one instance, but when everything else started breaking from conventions too, the urgency of the narrative just kind of fell apart. Lovelight Farms has a pacing issue. There’s a masked stranger sabotaging Lovelight Farms at the same time that a mega-influencer is visiting as part of a contest — one with a $100,000 prize that could save Lovelight from bankruptcy. The saboteur plot contributes majorly to Stella’s financial stress, as he or she is stealing and destroying property at an alarming rate. If Stella doesn’t come up with something soon, she’ll lose the farm.

Enter: Evelyn St. James (a name practically lifted out of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo but I digress). This influencer is the whole reason Stella needs a fake boyfriend, but she doesn’t show up until about three quarters of the way into this book and her week-long trip goes by very, very quickly. By the time she’s arrived, Stella’s realizing that she might not even need the prize money anymore, completely negating the urgency of the novel up to this point. With all the challenges facing the farm resolved by the 75% mark, it leaves a lot of room on the back end of this novel that feels out of place.

The last 20% is misunderstanding-fueled relationship drama that is resolved with a single, tough conversation. I don’t mind the miscommunication trope, but it truly felt out of place here and I wish BK Borison had found another way to drag out the tension here (looking at you, masked saboteur and impending bankruptcy). Also, there was a HP reference in the second-to-last chapter, which always brings down my view.

The alternate-POV epilogue was definitely a bonus to this story, as single-POV, first-person romance novels are usually tough for me to dig into. Overall, I enjoyed this one (it was certainly a fun, easy read!) but the backdrop behind the romance felt unsteady in its necessity and unclear in its direction. This felt like a best friends to lovers story, with a bunch of other elements thrown in to varying degrees of success. I put holds on the other two books at my library though, and I'm excited to read them when they're available.

Regan and Rinaldo's story is unlike any other love story I've read. It waxes and wanes like the moon, and in the waning periods, it was like I could truly feel the moonlight slipping away. While I really enjoyed this book (the writing is truly impressive. I found myself wanting to write down some of these quotes and tape them to the inside of my ribcage), I never felt gripped by it, which is something I consider a must for me to truly love a book. 

I can't say why I wasn't as drawn in as I wanted to be. I read in a combination of audiobook and physical, and in both instances I found it hard to read longer than an hour or so. Blake's writing style is gorgeous but dense, especially in this book. It feels like every letter is there on purpose, which is a testament to her craft and level of detail, but it made this book feel at times claustrophobic. 

Their love was complicated and real, and delved into the kinds of questions we don't typically get to see in genre romance (so what if this isn't healthy? so what if we're codependent? if he stops loving me, will I be unmade? if I can't fix her, can I endure her for her sake?) and it didn't end tied in a bow. It ended messy and honest and vulnerable and hopeful and I closed the book believing Aldo and Regan would last, not just because the author said they would, but because they had each truly convinced me. I'm curious to see if I would like this more on a reread, but where it stands now, I enjoyed it but didn't love it. 

The first 25% of this book had promise! I really enjoyed the Finnish mythology aspect and liked that KH dropped us right into some pretty mind-bending action. Everything after she meets Death becomes this boring, pointless, circular slog that fails to define itself in any way from the other thousands of sassy paranormal romances overflowing the Kindle Unlimited shelves. The writing was lackluster, the characters felt poorly recycled, and the leads lacked all sense of chemistry. I won't be reading the next one.

I read this book in a single sitting because I just couldn't put it down. A fast-paced combination of fantasy romance tropes that St. Clair executes pretty well, but can't distract from the more troubling themes of racism and colonialism that are handled as poorly as is genre-typical.
King of Battle and Blood is like The Vampire Diaries meets From Blood and Ash and The Bridge Kingdom. Human Princess Isolde is betrothed to the Vampire King Adrian in exchange for the safety of her home kingdom from the Vampire King's terrorizing reign and rapid territory expansion. As she is fitted into her wedding gown, Isolde is gifted a golden dagger, and instructed to kill the king and save her home land, no matter the cost. This should be easy for someone who hates vampires as much as Isolde does — only, she can't deny the simmering attraction she feels for him. And the more she learns about Adrian's people and the centuries-long war between his kingdom and hers, the more conflicted she becomes. When attraction starts giving way to something more, will she still maintain the strength to kill her enemy and save her people? And is Adrian even her enemy anymore?
Here's what's up: almost nothing about this book was original. It was like Scarlett St. Clair dug into a mystery grab bag of fantasy romance tropes and then just strung a book together around them. But here's what's also up: I don't mind at all! I don't need my fantasy romances to be original anymore as long as they're fun and keep me engaged. And this book did that! I stayed home and canceled plans so I could keep reading this book. I finished it in a single evening because I didn't want to put it down. For that reason, I would recommend it to other readers of fantasy romance looking for something to scratch that itch. The marriage of convenience was a nice touch, and there's a very-present but unfortunately underbaked element of fated mates here too. 
This book has an extended plot for sure, but it is mostly a backdrop used to progress Isolde and Adrian's relationship. If you're looking for fantasy, this is not for you. This is a romance novel in a fantasy setting, similar to SJM, FBAA, etc. I liked the fantasy elements that were there, but a lot of it felt cobbled together. 
There are also some aspects to this story (like with SJM and FBAA) that were so troubling. First, Isolde is mixed race. Her father (the king) is white, and her mother (died in childbirth) was darker skinned and called "an island woman." We hear very little about the islands except that the people there are tan and love the sun, they exports shells and pearls, and by the end of the novel, they are all enslaved by another kingdom. These unpictured island people are as far as we are told, the only brown people in this fantasy world, except for Isolde's handmaiden who is also brown. Isolde never knew her mother and had no island influences in her life growing up. When she meets nobles of the vampire kingdom, she wonders if they find her less beautiful or less dignified for being islander. All of these aspects, especially coming from a white author, are super frustrating. Given the opportunity to design a world from the ground up (one with magic and monsters and unique political structures, etc etc etc), St. Clair still chose to enslave the only known kingdom of brown people. Like, what was the purpose? There was opportunity to make Isolde's mixed race heritage an active piece of her identity and personality, but instead it was only ever brought up negatively. 
The other majorly troubling factor for me was the pervasive theme of invasion, conquest, colonization. This seems to be a new genre fixture in this pseudo-feminist fantasy romance space where girlbossing is the goal. Thinking back to Aelin of TOG and Poppy of FBAA, the end goal seems to be to spread the good fortune of their kingdom to others, by violently invading other territories and subjecting them to foreign rule. It's a very white, very American view — that these girls can erase injustice by conquering other lands and dethroning their easily-identified-as-evil rulers. It takes a lot of black-and-white worldbuilding to try to justify colonization in your fantasy universe. To be in any way convincing, it also has to lack all nuance. It always leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and this book is no exception. This book ends with Isolde deciding she doesn't want to be a princess or a wife or an assassin or whatever else — she wants to be a conqueror. This is framed by the narrative as huge growth for her character. She's going to take down the enslavers and free her mother's people. She's going to reclaim her homeland and all the other human kingdoms so that she and Adrian can free the magic that has been suppressed and abused across the realm... or so they say. St. Clair doesn't justify her colonialism enough in this book for it to even hold up in-universe, much less outside of it. Adrian's kingdom is shown to be full of as much corruption and in-fighting as the human territories but somehow they're still more fit to lead? Isolde has no leadership experience, and when her own people question her or her motives, she belittles them or kills them. She is erratic in her leadership and abusive of her power, and while I admire her boldness (she kills a high-ranking lord's son on the dance floor of a highly-populated ball, because he touched her shoulder after she said no), I sincerely hope there is a reality check or a humbling of Isolde's character in the sequel. Moments of justice like the one mentioned can be fun, but they became repetitive over time and even began to feel cruel given the present imbalances of power. 
I will read the sequel, because I really do like St. Clair's writing style and I remember the Hades x Persephone saga getting better with time. This was definitely an addition to my mainstay fantasy romance shelf, even with the disappointing aspects. 

I really enjoyed Meet Me in the Margins! It features one of my all-time favorite tropes, which is the You've Got Mail-style two-person love triangle. One of my favorite aspects of this book was the way it didn't distance itself from the genre conventions, but it still felt really fresh and new. There were familiar scenarios here and there, but also pockets of unexpected novelty I hadn't seen coming!

Savannah finds herself sneaking off to the ARC room at her Nashville publishing house to read the notes left behind by a mystery editor who has discovered (and is invested in) her secret romance manuscript. At her upper-echelon-litfic-or-nothing publishing house, Savannah would sooner wear a scarlet letter than be discovered as a closeted genre fiction writer. Over the many weeks of editing her novel, she finds herself torn — she can't resist the pull she feels towards her new boss, the founder's son come from New York to save the drowning indie, but her heart may already belong to the mystery man who makes her feel undeniably seen with his thoughtful critique of her very personal manuscript. 

The romantic build between Savannah and Will was so lovely. It truly was a strangers to friends to lovers, which is my favorite progression. I didn't feel quite as wooed by the mystery editor as Savannah did until almost two thirds of the way through the book, but knowing it was Will endeared me to him more. I found the dynamic between Savannah, Olivia, and Ferris really odd, and I still think I needed a little more from Olivia in the end

(dating your sister's on-again-off-again ex of eight years is a NO-GO in my book. Getting engaged to him after three months? That would be a no-contact situation for me, and I don't think Olivia did nearly enough apologizing to her sister for that betrayal.)

All in all though, I really enjoyed this quick read, and loved that Ferguson was able to create fresh moments in such a saturated market. 

The longer I sit with this one, the less and less I like it. The main piece that let me down was the chronic illness portrayal, which was the main focal point of the novel, next to the marriage of convenience. Spoilers ahead!

Mia and Noah are childhood best friends, now coworkers. Mia gets the chance to go back to school with a great scholarship so she can pursue her dream of being a pediatric nutritionist. The problem is, she can't finish school on time as a full-time employee, and she needs her company's health insurance because she has a very, very rare genetic condition that affects her kidneys and requires weekly infusions. This kidney condition has been a part of her life for almost a decade and has been a major factor in Mia keeping people at a distance. Her parents lost their house in the ensuing medical debt after Mia's initial diagnosis and first years of treatment, something for which Mia feels immense guilt.

Her focus is very often on financial burden. Mia is terrified of her kidney condition hurting others. She doesn't want to be a burden on anyone. And while this is a valid aspect to explore in disability stories, it was unfortunately the only aspect we really saw. We never saw how Mia's illness affected her life — how any of the ups and downs of her condition made her feel, outside of her worry over what it would mean for Noah's feelings or her parents' feelings, etc. This disconnect was worsened by the fact that in the two instances Mia had a flare-up or experienced discomfort/pain, it was from Noah's POV. In both instances, the narrative centered Noah's anguish over Mia's physical pain — because he loved her so much that it was hard to see her suffer. These two things together painted an extremely limited, skewed picture of what life with chronic illness is like. 

This brings me to another aspect of this book I disliked. This novel felt very much like a stealth Christian romance, which I hadn't been expecting and reframes a lot of the chronic illness portrayal that both makes more sense and is in some ways more disappointing. This is a fade-to-black romance, which is fine, but not usually my thing. They had great chemistry anyway, but the attitude around sex in this book felt juvenile at times. Mia doesn't swear in this book, which seems like a silly thing to notice. But by comparison, Noah swears a lot. It might not have stood out as so intentional, except for the one time Mia almost swears. Noah says a line about "taking [his] fucking time" and Mia goes to mockingly parrot it back to him, but Noah cuts her off before she can say the curse word, leaving her saying "f—". This is the only time she even comes close to swearing, and he silences her before she can. Not necessarily bad, but definitely struck me as odd. In combination with the fades to black and some other mentions of the Good Lord and heaven, I gathered that this was more of a Christian book than I had anticipated. This reframes that chronic illness portrayal for me in a way that is very reminiscent of the "good Christian wife." Mia, though her illness is apparently very painful and should cause her great strife, takes it all in stride and minimizes her pain wherever possible. The only time she really does experience pain, we're reminded that it's actually more painful for her love interest.

Noah used to be an avid traveler, hiking and climbing mountains with his brother. The same week that Mia is diagnosed with her genetic condition, Noah's brother dies in a car accident while they're out on a climb. Noah believes it to be his fault, because he begged his brother to take him home to see Mia, terrified that she might die while he wasn't around to see her. It's been 9 years, and Noah hasn't traveled since, still terrified that something will happen to Mia while he's gone. 

The third act breakup occurs around the 80% marker, because Mia and Noah's fake marriage is outed by a jealous coworker. Noah knew this might happen for about seven months and never said anything about it to Mia, because he didn't want to worry her. Noah is put on probation by his employer and loses a major promotion opportunity. This fuels Mia's complex about being a burden — in her eyes, he got in all this trouble because she needed the insurance, and without her chronic illness this never would have happened. They stay married, but spend some time apart. Noah travels out of the country for the excursion he's been too afraid to take for the last decade. In that time, Mia gets the call that she is eligible for a kidney transplant. If successful, this would completely cure her condition. Rather than have to face her fears of being a burden and accept that her disability might always be there, that she can't let it keep her from living, that she is not less whole because she is disabled, all the other crucial opportunities for character development, Mia pursues the transplant and is cured. Noah rushes back when he hears the news, and they stay happily married with her cured and him having faced his fears of losing her by traveling.

This was yet another example of a disability story centering able-bodied bystanders' feelings over the disabled character's personal experience, and ending in a perfect cure that allows them to have a neat and tidy happily ever after. It felt cheap and disappointing, like Mia and Noah couldn't have their happy ending until she was "cured," which in turn implies that disabled people don't get their happy endings until their chronic condition goes away which simply isn't true.

If you're looking for a worthwhile story about chronic illness, chronic pain, disability, and falling in love, I absolutely recommend Talia Hibbert's Get a Life, Chloe Brown. This one was an absolute miss, and I will not be picking up any of Ashley's other books in the future. 

This book was not what I had been expecting! This is a largely-epistolary novella between two time-traveling, timeline-editing entities from opposing "agencies" who can not seem to refuse the intellectual battle they've developed in the form of physics-defying, ephemeral letters they leave each other across space and time. 
I had an audiobook copy and a physical copy, and I think without the aid of the audiobook to keep me engaged, I would have been in and out of this story a lot more. It made salient points about humanity and the things that might be the same across time "strands" in the braid of all timelines these two agencies seem intent on curating. Red and Blue's dance was interesting at first, then seemed to drag in act two before it picked back up near the finale. The prose was gorgeous, but at times felt obfuscatory just for the sake of being confusing. 
Overall, I enjoyed it but I don't think I'll pick it up again.

Let me start by saying that I absolutely loved this book once it picked up. The first third of this book was painfully, dreadfully difficult to wade through and I almost DNF'd multiple times. If it wasn't for the encouragement from mutuals and anons over on my blog (@acotars on tumblr!), I would not have continued. Which would have been an absolute shame because the vibes become impeccable. I've written in more detail about what eventually brought me back around on this book, and included it in spoiler tags in case anyone wants a fresh reading experience. If you, like me, are struggling to stick with this one, check out the spoilers! They might change your mind!

The book opens with Naomi, who now hates her fiance Nicholas. She feels trapped by him, and sees every single thing he does as an act of instigation and passive aggression. She wants to end their engagement, but doesn't want to look like the bad guy out of spite. She decides if she's miserable, she wants him to be too. Then, she starts to realize that this new game of chicken has been his angle the whole time and she's just been on the outs. It's a lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers set up where they are engaged the whole time. 

This enemies portion is thankfully contained to the first third. This was so painful to read that I was only reading a few pages a day for over a week. The enemies portion was overwhelmingly sad and upsetting to read. Nicholas felt irredeemable as a love interest to me if this was the open. Eventually though, we and Naomi learn that this game of chicken was almost entirely one-sided. That Nicholas loved her the whole time. At a certain point in their relationship, Naomi's insecurities took over and rather than talk about them openly with him, she projected her insecurities onto him, making her feel like he was the one thinking and feeling these things about her. Things like she was dead weight, she was going nowhere, she was too stupid and unskilled, etc. She began disassociating and withdrawing further and further into himself. Nicholas's mother plays a major role in this novel as an abuser of both Naomi and Nicholas. Naomi is so wrapped up in the abuse she endures, it becomes difficult for her to see Nicholas is just as much a victim. The competition she invents with Nicholas ends up being the spark that brings her back to life, so to speak. Then, over a few months, she and Nicholas become friends again, and fall in love with each other again. It was one of the most beautiful second chance romances I've ever ever read, but the beginning was painful, and unnecessarily long.

The first 80 pages really could have been about 8 pages and it wouldn't have changed the impact of the story. Because of this, I dropped it down a star. But this was a five star read for me in all other ways, and something I will absolutely recommend with a caveat in the future. 

Truly unfairly cute! I would follow Talia Hibbert to any genre, and I loved their YA debut. One of my favorite aspects of this book was seeing mental illness being painted with such a loving hand — and seeing mental illness representation in a boy character! In my own reads, it's very rare to see illness rep coming from the MMC and I found it really refreshing to see a male character talk about his OCD and its manifestations.