A romance writer who no longer believes in love and a literary writer stuck in a rut engage in a summer-long challenge that may just upend everything they believe about happily ever afters.
Augustus Everett is an acclaimed author of literary fiction. January Andrews writes bestselling romance. When she pens a happily ever after, he kills off his entire cast.
They’re polar opposites.
In fact, the only thing they have in common is that for the next three months, they’re living in neighboring beach houses, broke, and bogged down with writer’s block.
Until, one hazy evening, one thing leads to another and they strike a deal designed to force them out of their creative ruts: Augustus will spend the summer writing something happy, and January will pen the next Great American Novel. She’ll take him on field trips worthy of any rom-com montage, and he’ll take her to interview surviving members of a backwoods death cult (obviously). Everyone will finish a book and no one will fall in love. Really.
I’ve heard a lot of great things about this book, so I was excited to delve into it. However, I’m sad to say I didn’t enjoy it as much as other readers, and a lot of that hinged on the author’s lack of execution when it came to anything but the romance. I appreciate the direction she was going, but I don’t think it was well-written enough to make a lasting impression on me. This is a romance book between two writers who cover different topics: January writes romances with happily-ever-afters, and Gus captures tragic stories through his literary fiction. They find themselves neighbors, and hijinks ensue in the small beach town that they live in. There are adorable moments between the two, between moments of tension in regards to their relationship and past tragedies. Both moments worked, but I never found myself letting go of the ‘tense’ aspects, especially when it came to January.
Continue reading “Beach Read by Emily Henry Review | I Didn’t Know A Beach Read Could Be So ~Angsty~”
I was happy to be here, doing nothing with Gus, and even if it was temporary, it was enough for me to believe that someday I’d be okay again. Maybe not the exact same brand of it I’d been before Dad died – probably not – but a new kind, nearly as solid and safe.