Book thirty-seven in the series—which might explain why I felt like I’d walked into a party mid-conversation. Maybe if I’d read the other 36, I’d have been more invested. As it stands, this one didn’t give me much incentive to go back and catch up.

The writing felt stilted, and Lisa Flanagan’s narration—while clear—had a “grandma reading bedtime stories” vibe that didn’t help sell the romance. I couldn’t stop picturing the couple as elderly, which is not the spice I was hoping for.

That said, diehard Argeneau fans may still find what they’re looking for here. For me, it was just okay.

Wow, insta love. Like I meet someone and automatically start making out. It was an interesting storyline. I feel like the end of the book just leaves your hanging. The main character is house/pet sitting for her boss. The dog digs up human remains. The detective coming to investigate feels like the girl is his soul mate. I liked the tug and pull of the situation. How the friend could read her mind and attempt to help the guy out.