Helen Hoang has a real knack for taking a fairly fluffy genre and elevating it to something more.

It starts with the characters. Every single one of her characters feels so genuine and so sharp that they just jump off the pages, and Esme and Khai are no different. They each have their own problems, yet they remain so inherently kind and sweet throughout that I can't help but adore them.

Esme, in particular, resonated with me so much. She's an immigrant in a foreign land trying to make a better life for herself and her family. She doesn't know what to do a lot of the time, but she does know hard work will pay off and she doesn't shy away from it. She's fierce and determined, and even when things aren't going well, she doesn't give up. She's exactly the kind of female character I can look up to and cheer for.

And Esme and Khai's scenes together were so sweet and sizzling. This is a slow burn romance, so don't expect anything to happen too quickly. Instead, the respect and affection and trust slowly builds up between them, and it's so satisfying to see.

Hoang continues to win with her neurodivergent rep. Khai's character is so thoughtfully and lovingly constructed, you can't help but feel she must've drawn from personal experience and put a bit of herself in him.

But reader beware, for this story isn't all light and fun. In fact, there are some serious topics being tackled here, including the loss of a loved one and unresolved grief. So please tread carefully if you're sensitive to that.

This was such an easy story to fall into. The writing feels effortless, and the way the story unfolds so easily and organically, you're just pulled along for the ride. I totally inhaled it. I'm absolutely loving Helen Hoang's sweet and steamy romances, and I can't wait for more.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

Here I was, thinking I'm getting too old and cynical to enjoy a romance. And The Kiss Quotient comes along and totally blows me away.

In recent years, I've started to give up on romances. I pick up so many, yet only a few have managed to really grab me. The characters have gotten crazier, the tropes ever more outlandish, and the sheer amount of disbelief I have to suspend just to imagine that anyone could fall in love with these nutters has really tired me out.

When every book you pick up from a genre is middling, you start to wonder if it's you and not the book. Perhaps the time has come to face the fact that I've started to age out of this genre and that falling in love was so many years and decades behind me that I can no longer recall the feeling. But no, for here is a story that made me remember distinctly the heady, swooping, all encompassing joy of finding your soulmate.

There are many reasons I love this story, and the main characters are undoubtedly a big one. Helen Hoang meticulously and lovingly crafted them to life, and it really shows. There's something so special about Stella and Michael. They each have their own issues, yet they remain so intrinsically good, so sweet and kind and caring throughout, that I just wanted to hug them. I don't think I've ever cheered so hard for a couple to work out.

I absolutely love the neurodivergent rep in here. Sometimes the question comes up if an author has to be what they write. And the answer is, of course not as that would be very limiting. But there is only so much extrapolation, so much imagining you can do about a different way of thinking and a set of experiences you do not have, and to bring actual personal understanding into a character takes it to a whole other level. Stella is so clearly defined, her humanity and her autism so sharply sketched, because Helen Hoang is autistic herself.

Got to talk about the steam factor. I think this book first came out when the trend started of putting cartoony covers on spicy books, and readers everywhere were caught unawares. I don't think anyone reading it today would be surprised, but yeah, this is a steamy book. In fact, I would give it all the red chilly peppers. It's not that the content itself is super outrageous, but more that there is so much tension and sizzle embedded into just about every scene—and there are a lot of these scenes when the story is about a male prostitute teaching an inexperienced woman how to have sex—that you definitely need a cold shower or two afterwards.

Often the romance genre can feel a bit over the top with their pile-on of tropes, conflicts, and misunderstandings, all of which could be easily resolved with some simple conversations. Thankfully, I didn't find this story to be too out there. Yes, there were some issues that dragged on for longer than strictly necessary, but I stayed riveted throughout, mostly due to how genuinely sweet and earnest the characters were, bumbling though they may be.

I gobbled this up. In fact, this was my second time reading it, and I stayed up way too late because I still couldn't put it down. This old favorite definitely remains a favorite, so take that, romance genre!

At the end of the day, do we not all judge romances books by the simple barometer of does it make us feel like we're falling in love? And this story certainly does. But I would venture to say that even more than that, this story exemplifies the core characteristics of a real, happy relationship—that no matter what flaws or issues there may be, that we must remain kind and unselfish and give the best version of ourselves to the person we love. I adore that message so much, and I adore this book for it.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

I don't even know how to begin to rate or review this book because this isn't the story I signed up to read.

First and foremost, I do want to thank Helen Hoang for being courageous enough to write this story. It's clear that this is a deeply personal book for her, and in the author's note, she said as much, calling this "half a memoir."

I went into this expecting a sweet and heartfelt romance. I'd read both of Hoang's previous two books, and loved them for their diverse and nuanced depiction of people on the autism spectrum. For a condition that's fairly common, the representation of neurodivergent main characters in books and movies is woefully lacking, which is why I found Hoang's books particularly refreshing.

But that isn't the main focus of this book, not by a long shot. Instead, this book should've come with a long list of trigger warnings, including abuse and bullying from family members, gaslighting, emotional blackmail, going against a loved one's wishes during end of life, caregiver burnout, and suicidal thoughts, just to name a few.

The way Asian culture is portrayed in this book, in particular the way Anna's mom and sister disregarded her autonomy at every opportunity and actively worked to keep her mentally beaten down so that she would comply with their wishes, is so accurate as to be too much for me to handle. It hits too close to home. While reading this, I was so distraught I felt almost physically ill.

Can anyone actually remain emotionally in control while reading a story reenacting trauma they themselves have experienced or have watched people they love be subjected to and are still recovering from? If you can, you are a stronger person than I am.

How can I even think about this book in the context of a romance? Whenever Quan and Anna are together, it's beautiful, but other than the initial setup, it was just a few pages here and there. The romantic and sexy scenes, when they did show up, felt so jarring against the otherwise darkness that is this story.

I made it all the way to the end of this book, but I shouldn't have started. It reopened wounds I'm working hard to heal and move on from. I felt like I was being sliced open from the inside, and it was traumatic and distressing.

I think most readers will love this book and appreciate its unflinching and truthful portrayal. But my personal experiences make me unable to enjoy it.

Readaroo Rating: None