Aimee

I enjoyed this book for what it was: a lighthearted, Bridgerton-esque novel with a case of opposites attract. A strong-willed and outspoken woman meets rakish and confident Duke—let the building tension and ew I hate him but he's so gorg/she's scary but I love it dynamic commence!

At first, I was concerned that Cassandra (baddie that she is) was pushing this man to be something he's not; the age old trope of he's different, I can change him! Instead, she did, in actuality, see the person she thought he was and gave him the opportunities and space to re-learn and become that person. It was kind of wholesome—if wholesome leant more into the forcing-a-29-year-old-man-to-grow-up vibe.

That being said, I loved his character development; how reading a piece of feminist literature that she loved allowed him to see and understand her in a way no other had bothered to try, with the added (albeit kind of obvious) bonus of opening his eyes to some of the difficulties of women that he'd been previously ignorant to. 

“He'd read the book. He'd found passages he wanted to share with her.”

I don't think this story's for me, at least not at the minute. 

It did get to a point where I started to skim read for the cute parts, which is probably indication enough that it should be a DNF.

Things just felt too formulaic and glurgey for my current palette; too much drama that I found superfluous (the whole Jill thing??). I'm also, personally, just really tired of insta-lust and hypersexuality, and assumed that this would be a bit more of a proper slow-burn.

Overall: not for me. Maybe another time, or under a different mood.

Not what I want for the moment. My mood's not in it.

Will be picking this up at a later date! 

I was looking forward to reading this very much, but unfortunately it fell short for me in a lot of ways, thus it's a DNF for me. Also, full transparency: I started skim reading at ~60%/post-Chapter 22 before fully DNF'ing at 74%. 

My initial thoughts were that it felt like chapter one would've been better served as the prologue, and maybe the prologue as a later insight into Noah after the mystery's been built a bit. I was also not too sure how medically plausible/accurate it was, but it adequately served a purpose for the story.

Now, that being said, things started taking a nose dive for me relatively quickly. 
It may be a very minor thing in the grand scheme of things, but I felt like Lucien was very forthcoming with a lot of information—some of which I felt like Charlotte didn't need to be privy to. Again, it's probably just me being picky; I just didn't like how open people were to announcing and airing this guy's issues and vulnerabilities, regardless of whether it served a (weak, imo) purpose.
Also—and again, might just be a picky thing—I'm not too sure how realistic him having the bod of dreams is. His takeouts could well be healtheir meals, but for someone that's described as a bedroom-dwelling recluse with a love of audiobooks, I'm finding it hard to see how he'd be sculpted by the Gods, given he has a gym but is only referenced as having used it once. But hey, that's what suspension of disbelief is for—and you'll need it a lot, it seems.
As for more substantive issues that I had with the book, I was expecting Noah's hard shell to take longer to crack. The plot as a whole, I felt, needed more careful and consistent buildup. I know there were time skips (e.g., a month went by before any real progress), but narratively it felt like we went too fast for my tastes. For example, they touted taking things “slow”, yet barely a chapter or two later, they were hooking up! The plot setup would've worked great as a slow-burn, and I felt narrative focuses were misplaced and could've been used better. 

On a similar note, I can understand the connection they both have—to grief, to uncertainty, to fear, to loss—but it feels like trauma-bonding more so than a genuine connection to me, at least from Noah's perspective. That doesn't make the connection any less emotional or earned necessarily; it's just that it feels like he'd have fallen for anyone who showed him a bit of resilient understanding and pity-less compassion. I think this may be tied into the fast-pace of their relationship as a whole, where time wasn't taken to adequately develop a strong foundation beyond a few half-hearted and sparse (imo) points of connection.
Relating to that, I appreciate that Charlotte was the catalyst in starting the process of accepting his condition, but I wish there was more emphasis on him doing it for himself, not to be “worthy” of her or otherwise doing it FOR her. I'm tired of these narratives and want am seeking to find something beyond lazy attempts at progress and self-determination.
Overall, despite my grievances, the book's...okay-ish. It started off  promising, but I just felt too detached and lacked an interest/connection in the story.  It may very well get better, or grievances resolved, latter in the book, but at 74%—with a  lot of inconsistencies and lack of resonant buildup—I found very little promise in continuing to try.

I'll definitely be coming back to this. It's just not hitting what I need it to in my current and very specific mood :)

I was really keen to read this after ‘At Whit's End' being my first foray into the series and really enjoying it. But for multiple reasons, this fell short for me.

The biggest thing for me was how the DV past/trauma was utilised. It felt like  it was utilised only when it was useful, as opposed its influences being interwoven throughout. It felt like—beyond a few jumps here and there and some issues around physical touch—her past trauma had no bearing unless used as a (weak) plot device. I think this contributes  to why the insta-lust/attraction didn't work for me (disregarding that it's not something I like anyway); of course, survivors come in all shapes and sizes, and trauma manifests differently for each person, I just think that the initial presentation, alongside the inconsistent use of DV trauma, hindered more than helped the overall storyline. It feels too fast for me to believe that a woman who's been abused for years would leave after a very traumatic ordeal, having travelled hours to a place she's never been to, meeting people she doesn't know, and all of a sudden develops (sexual) attraction and fast relationship despite her history. I think this relates to why I felt that their connection felt a bit too try-hard for me, and repetitive elements at the start made it a rough read.

The second biggest thing was the hypersexualisation of absolutely everything. I understand that lust and sexual attraction feature quite heavily in romances, and I'm not one to shit on some good sexual chemistry, but I personally think it wasn't best used here. Why do these people get turned on by every little thing?? It's like they've just discovered sex in their thirties! The guy gets a boner after being informed she's survived DV and doesn't want to be alone, for God's sake. It feels weird and off-putting at best, downright inappropriate and icky at worst. Like why is being able to “fuck her better” brought up in a confrontation with her abusive ex??? This book had the perfect context for a slow-burn, and it just missed the mark for me completely. 

However, the disconnect in how Cecily was perhaps ready mentally and emotionally for a more physical relationship with Austin but physiologically wasn't, and how Austin caters to this, was lovely to see. 

Overall, this book would've been the perfect opportunity for a slow-burn, but it just fell so short for me personally. A pity, since I found ‘At Whit's End' to be pretty strong. There was so much missed/unfulfilled potential, mostly a result of too many inconsistencies—from pacing to character personalities to trauma manifestations, as well as the hypersexual nature that just doesn't feel appropriate in context—for me to give this more than a half-assed read.