Red Card is one of those books that is easy to breeze through, does not demand much of you, and delivers the usual mix of romance, sports, and spice. Red Card is one of those books that is easy to breeze through, does not demand much of you, and delivers the usual mix of romance, sports, and spice. While it did exactly what it set out to do, which was entertain me for a few hours, it also confirmed that I probably need to step away from contemporary romances for a while because too many of them are starting to feel the same in a way that is not comforting anymore but just repetitive.
The setup was pretty fun with strong She’s the Man and She’s All That vibes. Cillian, a British rugby player with a bad attitude, gets a second chance at a US college team, while Rory, the coach’s daughter who knows the sport inside and out but somehow always ends up in the friend zone, asks him to teach her how to get the guy she wants. Their banter worked, the tension was there, the dynamic felt promising, and for the first half I thought I would be in for a good slow-burn payoff.
But once they kissed, the pacing just fell apart. The relationship moved so quickly that the emotional development never caught up. The chemistry was strong but had no time to build into anything layered, and it felt like we skipped the part where they actually connected on a deeper level, going straight to the physical in a way that made the rest of the romance feel rushed and a bit hollow.
There were moments where the book seemed to gesture toward deeper themes like grief and losing a parent, but they stayed in the background instead of becoming a meaningful part of the characters’ journeys. This was frustrating because they had the potential to add weight and nuance but instead felt like background props. Rory’s “one of the guys” persona, which is central to the plot, often read like a newer version of the old “I’m not like other girls” trope, which I have never loved, and her character did not develop much beyond that tomboy framing which wore thin the longer I read.
My favourite part by far was the friendship between Rory and Cillian before they got together. It had charm, banter, and that will-they-won’t-they tension I love. But once the romance kicked in, the balance shifted so heavily toward spice that it lost the emotional pull that made the first half work for me. I like spice in romance but I need it to be built on something more substantial, and with Maren Moore’s books I have noticed she tends to favour spice over substance, which works for a lot of readers but just does not scratch the itch I have for emotional stakes and genuine character growth.
That said, there were still fun touches. The team dynamics, the side characters, and the easy lived-in world of the book all kept it from feeling flat. But overall Red Card was quick, light, and fine, the kind of read I might reach for when I want something low-stakes and undemanding but not one I will think about once I have put it down.
Should’ve stayed friends. That’s my main takeaway from Friends to Lovers.
This book had so much potential, but the title alone sets up the wrong expectShould’ve stayed friends. That’s my main takeaway from Friends to Lovers.
This book had so much potential, but the title alone sets up the wrong expectations. It’s a trope, pure and simple. I’m honestly growing tired of books being named after tropes. If it weren’t for the comparison to People We Meet on Vacation and Happy Place, both books I loved, I probably wouldn’t have picked this one up at all. But here I am, disappointed.
I’m a huge fan of second-chance romance and friends-to-lovers stories, so I thought I’d be all in on this one. Unfortunately, by the time the romance kicked in, I couldn’t connect with it at all. The chemistry between Joni and Ren was strongest when they were friends—those were the moments I enjoyed most. But once they crossed into romance, it felt forced. It seemed like the book had to make them lovers because of the title, not because their relationship had naturally evolved into one.
The first half of the book had me hooked. The friendship dynamic was fun—sharing playlists, jokes, and the way their past was woven through the narrative. There was warmth in their connection, and I was hoping for a heartfelt story about the complexities of a second-chance friendship. But as the romance took centre stage, the emotional depth I had been anticipating never materialised. There was no slow buildup, no real emotional tension. It just happened. The shift from friends to lovers felt jarring, and I never bought into their relationship. The connection felt unearned, and it completely drained the magic from their dynamic.
The side characters didn’t help, either. They were either annoying or forgettable, serving no purpose other than to distract from the main storyline. Instead of enhancing Joni and Ren’s relationship, they felt like noise, pulling attention away from what should’ve been a more intimate, character-driven narrative.
The writing had its moments, but also felt forced at times. There were sections where it felt like the author was trying too hard to inject pop culture references and trendy slang into the story, and it just didn’t fit. These moments pulled me out of the emotional beats and made it harder for me to stay engaged with the characters.
And now, finishing the book and reflecting on it, I realise I don’t even have the words to describe Joni and Ren—not because they were poorly written, but because I never connected with them enough to really feel anything about them. I couldn’t understand their motivations or why I should care about their relationship. That, for me, is the biggest disappointment. Despite all the setup, I never felt like I truly knew them, and that’s where the book missed the mark.
Bottom line, this had a lot of promise, but the forced romance and lack of emotional connection made it difficult for me to enjoy. It could’ve been a powerful story about rekindling a deep friendship, but instead, it tried to squeeze in a romance that didn’t feel authentic.
This was such a cutesy romcom, and honestly, I’m just grateful it pulled me out of my reading slump! It has big Hannah Montana Movie energy: disgracedThis was such a cutesy romcom, and honestly, I’m just grateful it pulled me out of my reading slump! It has big Hannah Montana Movie energy: disgraced pop star returns to her roots, works on a ranch, reconnects with her culture, and inevitably falls for the brooding cowboy. It’s soft, light, a little ridiculous, and exactly what I needed.
The romance was cute and very standard romcom—predictable but charming. There’s a bit of enemies to lovers, forced proximity, and just enough emotional growth to make it land. That said, a lot of scenes were so over-the-top. It leans hard into the cheesiness, and some of the dialogue felt like a made-for-TV movie. The pop culture references were a bit much too—I tend to find those distracting, and there were more than a few here. Still, this book never pretended to be subtle, so I rolled with it.
What really made this worth reading was the Indigenous representation. Cowboy romances are everywhere in the romance world, but it’s incredibly rare to see them written by Indigenous authors about Indigenous characters. That’s what drew me to this book in the first place—and it absolutely delivered on that front.
The cultural elements aren’t tacked on or overly explained—they’re part of the fabric of the story. The ranch life, the family dynamics, the quiet process of reconnecting with identity—it all felt grounded and authentic. Books like this matter because they show Indigenous characters living full, ordinary, complex lives—not reduced to symbols or relegated to the past. There still aren’t nearly enough stories like this being published, especially in mainstream romance, and that’s a problem. Cowboy romances in particular often romanticise rural life without acknowledging the cultures that have always existed on that land. This book doesn’t do that—it centres those voices, and that makes a difference.
It’s not a perfect book. Some parts were clunky, and a few scenes made me cringe. But it has heart, it knows exactly what it’s trying to be, and it brings something to the genre that’s long overdue.
Driven by unapologetic, fierce feminine rage—if you love a heroine who refuses to play by the rules, this book is for you!
I honestly didn’t expect to Driven by unapologetic, fierce feminine rage—if you love a heroine who refuses to play by the rules, this book is for you!
I honestly didn’t expect to enjoy this as much as I did, but it turned out to be one of the most entertaining romantasy books I’ve read this year.
Set in an urban fantasy world, the story follows Lilith, a woman cast aside, stripped of everything, and hell-bent on taking down those who betrayed her. Surviving in the dangerous district of Nineveh in the city of Eden, she resorts to stealing to get by. When she stumbles upon a powerful blade with dangerous consequences, she’s thrust into a world of secrets, magic, and political intrigue. Forced to ally with Zahariev, the ruthless leader of the Zareth family, their search for hidden power sparks a tense, slow-burning chemistry between them.
Lilith’s fury is both raw and liberating. In a world that constantly tries to suppress or invalidate our anger, witnessing a woman embrace hers and channel it into something powerful felt incredibly freeing. Every day, reality offers new reasons to be angry, and seeing that fire fuel Lilith’s pursuit of justice, her fight for who she is and what she deserves, felt like it mirrored my own frustrations. Watching her transform that rage into unstoppable strength was nothing short of empowering.
I wasn’t familiar with the biblical Lilith before diving into this book, but the reimagining is brilliant. In traditional lore, Lilith refuses to be subservient to Adam, leading to her exile. This version, however, is more than just a victim—her anger is deeply personal, stemming from a fierce desire to reclaim what was taken from her. This isn’t a simple quest for revenge; it’s about breaking free from chains, reclaiming her identity, and toppling the system that oppressed her. Her journey is both empowering and cathartic, as she evolves from a broken survivor to an unstoppable force. That transformation is one of the most satisfying aspects of the story.
Zahariev is sooo hot. The embodiment of "touch her and die," an intense, calculated man who manipulates people to bend to his will and is probably one of the hottest MMCs I’ve ever come across. But with Lilith, he’s something else entirely. His protective nature and tender moments with her provide a perfect contrast to his darker, more controlling side.
The romance is slow burn, and it works. The tension simmers for a long time, and it makes every little shift in their dynamic feel earned. They go from grudging allies to something much deeper, and watching that relationship unfold felt like a reward in itself.
The pacing is slower at the beginning, and I can see why it might not work for everyone. It takes its time to build the world, introduce the characters, and set up the stakes. But for me, that was necessary—it allowed the story to breathe and made the payoff all the more rewarding when it picks up. Once the plot gains momentum, the emotional stakes follow suit, and I was so hooked.
The world-building, the author’s depiction of Eden, specifically Nineveh—is fantastic. Nineveh is a place of darkness and danger, where survival is intertwined with power and sin. The city feels on the verge of collapse, and the political intrigue between the ruling families, the church, and the oppressed masses raises the stakes. There’s an ever-present sense of danger that kept me on edge from start to finish. The world-building felt a bit underdeveloped at first, but considering this is the first book in the series, I’m excited to see how it’ll expand.
One of the book’s most striking aspects is its exploration of religious and political themes. In Eden, the church isn’t just a religious institution—it’s a mechanism of control. The way magic is passed down through bloodlines but seized off by men through marriage is a brilliant commentary on how power structures, particularly those rooted in religion, oppress women.
The book critiques how religion is often twisted by those in power to manipulate and control, especially the vulnerable. It’s not an anti-religious stance, but rather an anti-manipulation one, exposing how faith is weaponised for personal gain. If you’re not prepared to think critically about how religion can be exploited to oppress, this book may be hard to digest. But for those who are open to it, the political and religious commentary is sharp and well-executed.
Overall, if you’re a fan of grimdark fantasy with heavy political and religious themes, this book is a must-read. Definitely approved by me—now go read this book!! ...more
Listening to the audio for Rose in Chains was the longest 16 hours of my life.
I went in with high hopes—this is Julie Soto’s debut fantasy, after all.Listening to the audio for Rose in Chains was the longest 16 hours of my life.
I went in with high hopes—this is Julie Soto’s debut fantasy, after all. I didn’t love her contemporary romance Not Another Love Song, but I thought maybe the shift to fantasy would change things. I was wrong. I really struggled to get through this one.
I’m not judging this book based on its Dramione fanfiction roots (The Auction). I haven’t read it, and frankly, I’m not here to compare. I’m reviewing Rose in Chains as a dark romantasy on its own. And as it stands, I felt completely disconnected from everything about it. If you’re already familiar with the fanfic, maybe this works better for you, but for me, the world-building, the plot, the characters—it all felt like a confusing mess I couldn’t untangle. I kept waiting for something to click, and it never did.
The premise seemed promising: the dark forces have won, the kingdom is in ruins, and Briony Rosewood is captured and sold to Toven Hearst, a high-ranking officer from the conquering Bomardsun faction. The idea of forbidden romance, political intrigue, and magic had me intrigued at first. But honestly, that promise was completely squandered.
Let’s talk about the world-building. This is where the book completely lost me. It feels like the author just threw out a bunch of names, titles, and magic systems with zero explanation, expecting the reader to just catch up. Information overload doesn’t even begin to describe it. By the time I started trying to make sense of things, I was already too exhausted to care. It’s like the book assumed you knew everything already, which, for someone new to this universe, was a huge turn-off.
As for the magic system—I don’t mind Heart Magic vs. Mind Magic as a concept, but it wasn’t explored in a way that made it feel central to the story. It was just another element added into an already overloaded world, but without the depth to back it up.
The pacing was agonisingly slow. Not slow in the atmospheric, tension-building way—no, this was painfully slow. The first half dragged on so much that I seriously contemplated dnfing. When something important did happen, it didn’t have any emotional weight because none of the characters had been developed enough for me to care about their struggles.
Briony could’ve been an awesome protagonist. Instead, she was disappointing. Presented as a skilled fighter, a powerful magic user, but you wouldn’t know it by her actions. She reacts to everything—never takes charge of her own fate. I don’t need every heroine to be a warrior, but I do need to see growth. Briony didn’t offer that. She felt like a pawn in someone else’s game, and I spent the entire book waiting for her to show some agency, but that moment never came.
Briony and Toven’s romance was completely forced. I could never understand why Toven was drawn to Briony in the first place. The slow-burn tension between them wasn’t earned, it was just there because the plot demanded it. I love a slow-burn romance when it’s done right, but this one missed the mark entirely. The flashbacks meant to flesh out Toven’s feelings for Briony only felt like filler. It was like the author was trying to force a connection that just wasn’t happening.
So, would I recommend Rose in Chains? Honestly, if you’re into dark romantasy or already a fan of The Auction, this might work better for you. There’s definitely potential in the political intrigue, the romantic conflict, and the dark, forbidden elements. But for me? It was a slog.
This isn’t a bad book, but it didn’t work for me. I’m not sure if I’m just not the right audience for Julie Soto’s style, but as it stands, I’m not sure I’ll continue with the series.
This book is exactly the kind of story about real people that belongs in non-commercial fanfiction spaces like AO3, where, at the very least, such worThis book is exactly the kind of story about real people that belongs in non-commercial fanfiction spaces like AO3, where, at the very least, such works aren’t sold for profit.
This shouldn’t have been published in its current form, and certainly not for profit.
The book follows a touring backup singer who falls in love with the band’s lead singer. That summary alone isn’t alarming but what unfolds is something else entirely. The male lead, Halloran, is Hozier, unmistakably so. Not “inspired by” or fictionalised in any way. There’s no disguise or distance — Halloran is simply Hozier inserted whole into a romance novel, relying on readers’ recognition rather than character development.
Anyone remotely familiar with Hozier’s music would spot this immediately. I’ve seen performances and heard his songs enough to recognise the style and public image he carefully curates. The replication is blatant. The book depends on this recognition, expecting readers to project their own image of Hozier onto Halloran rather than building a unique character. That’s not just lazy writing, it’s invasive. The story functions only if readers mentally substitute a real person for its protagonist, feeling emotions the book itself never earns.
To be clear, I’m not a diehard Hozier fan. I like his music and respect his presence. That’s enough. Even from that limited perspective, the resemblance is overwhelming and increasingly uncomfortable. This book doesn’t explore fame or parasocial dynamics; it hijacks a real man’s likeness, known for his privacy and thoughtfulness, and uses him as fantasy fodder. There’s no self-awareness or commentary, just commercialised projection.
I’ve read fanfiction, including real person fiction. I understand the creative impulse behind it when it exists within the right context, transformative, boundary-aware, and non-commercial. But this isn’t tucked away in a niche community. It’s a product, packaged and sold, turning fantasy into commodity. Even Wattpad, for all its commercial drift, usually acknowledges that boundary.
And even if you could ignore all that, even if you separated Halloran from Hozier, the romance itself is flat. Clementine and Halloran have no development, no arc, no believable tension. Their connection is abrupt and empty. Their first kiss arrives so fast, with Clementine falling for him not because of any organic connection, but because the plot requires it.
Then there’s the writing. From Clementine’s POV, during their first kiss:
“He’s more of a man than any I’ve met. If he told me he ate tree bark and slept in caves, I’d believe him.”
I’m sorry, what?
Later:
“Scooting forward on my knees, I press myself between his spread legs. I’ve never thought myself exceptionally small, but from the floor, sandwiched between his humongous knees, I am a Tiny Girl™.”
Wtf am I reading?
The song lyrics scattered throughout are atrocious. The plot bored me to death.
What makes this book indefensible isn’t just awkward writing or hollow plot. As mentioned, the story only works with that mental substitution. Without it, there’s no dynamic, no emotional core and absolutely no reason for this book to exist. This isn’t a critique of fanfiction or real person fiction when it stays where it belongs: within communities where boundaries and ethics are understood. This is what happens when those fantasies are lifted without context and sold.
If you’re drawn in by the rockstar romance premise, you might expect escapism. But what you’re actually reading is something else. This book doesn’t blur the line between fantasy and personhood, it erases it, then asks you to follow. That’s not just uncomfortable. It’s wrong.
Lately, all of my recent reads have been so underwhelming that I honestly can’t tell if Riding the High was a bad book, or if I’m just stuck in2 stars
Lately, all of my recent reads have been so underwhelming that I honestly can’t tell if Riding the High was a bad book, or if I’m just stuck in a terrible reading slump. I went into this one with low expectations after struggling through the first two books in the series, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this one would turn things around. After all, Cole and Ginger’s dynamic seemed promising enough to keep me going. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, I just didn’t enjoy it. At this point, I’m not sure if it was the book’s fault or if I was just in the wrong headspace, but either way, it didn’t work for me.
The premise had a lot of potential: a small-town sheriff and the daughter of a congressman who accidentally get married after a wild weekend in Vegas. What’s not to love? They decide to keep their marriage a secret until their personal and professional lives settle down. As Ginger agrees to help Cole with his daughter that summer, their accidental marriage starts to feel more real. It could’ve been a cute, swoon-worthy romance with all the right ingredients, but somehow, it just didn’t hit the mark.
Instead, it felt like the plot dragged on without ever picking up momentum. It took me over a week to finish this book, and this is coming from someone who usually devours books in about 2-3 days. When it takes that long to get through a story that should have been quick and engaging, that’s never a good sign. Every time I picked it up, I found myself struggling to keep going. I almost wanted to dnf it several times, but I kept pushing through, hoping it would redeem itself. Unfortunately, it didn’t.
The romance—Let me be clear: I don’t mind smut in my romances. In fact, I’ve been known to enjoy it! But in this case, it was like the book was more about their physical relationship than about developing any emotional depth between the characters. Every major moment seemed to revolve around Cole and Ginger hooking up, and it started to feel repetitive. It wasn’t romantic—it was just smut for the sake of smut, and it completely overshadowed any potential for emotional growth. It left the plot feeling thin, and I just couldn’t get invested in the characters or their relationship.
If you’re someone who’s into steamy romances and doesn’t mind a light plot, you might find this book appealing. But for me, it just felt like the steam overtook everything else that could’ve made the story more meaningful. There wasn’t enough substance for me to connect with or care about their journey.
I’ve felt the same way about the entire series. I’m definitely not a hater when it comes to cowboy romances—I actually love them! But this series just hasn’t delivered. The characters have been one-dimensional, the plots thin, and each book has left me feeling underwhelmed at best. I keep hoping for something to really grab me, but so far, nothing has.
In the end, Riding the High felt like a missed opportunity. The premise was solid, and the characters had potential, but the execution didn’t work for me. If you’re looking for a romance that leans more heavily into smut than emotional depth, this might be a good fit. But if you’re after a story with true chemistry and character development, I’d say skip this one. I might pick up the next book in the series when it releases, but it won’t be out of excitement—more out of curiosity or if I’m just in the mood for something light and steamy.
All in all, I was left disappointed. It just didn’t resonate with me, and unfortunately, the whole series so far has been a bit of a letdown.
Thank you Penguin Random House Australia for the arc....more
I honestly don’t have much to say about this book, and I really didn’t want to give it a one-star rating, but I genuinely did not enjoy it at 1 star
I honestly don’t have much to say about this book, and I really didn’t want to give it a one-star rating, but I genuinely did not enjoy it at all. Everything that could go wrong in a romance book, unfortunately, happened here. It’s a crime for this monstrosity to have such an adorable cover.
Let’s start with the characters. If I’m being honest, they were a joke. I don’t even have the words to describe them, which, when you think about it, is a pretty bad sign. They had absolutely no substance. There was no chemistry, no build-up, no tension, no angst—nothing! It was just pure insta-lust, and it was done so poorly. I felt no connection to the characters at all, and frankly, I felt disconnected from the entire book.
I felt nothing. I didn’t get any vibes from the story, just flat words on paper. The writing made it even worse. It’s in third-person perspective, and while I don’t always mind that, I think the book would’ve fared much better if it had been written in the first person. At least then, maybe I would’ve felt something, anything, for the characters or the plot. As it stands, I felt zero emotional investment. This book has left me feeling slumpy, and I honestly wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.
Thank you Harper Collins for the arc.
Also, thanks to Cherie for buddy reading this with me! I’m so sad our first buddy read was such a fail....more