While "The Belle and the Beard" was laugh-out-loud funny at times, this book was so much more than just a rom-com. It featured incredibly well-developed, endearing characters and a complex enemies-to-lovers romance between new neighbors Linden Santillian and Jasper-Anne Cleary. After Jasper's career as a political strategist imploded on national TV, she retreated to her deceased aunt's ramshackle house in Massachusetts to regroup. She had to reinvent her entire life from scratch, but that was extremely difficult to do while also being confronted with a metric ton of baggage from her childhood and past relationships as well as trying to keep her aunt's house from falling down on top of her.
Jasper was used to being a fixer, jumping in and doing what needed to be done while everyone around her was still trying to figure out exactly what had happened, and she was also staunchly independent, refusing to ask for or accept help from anyone. That created quite a bit of conflict in her relationship with Linden, who had a tendency to be overprotective where Jasper was concerned. I appreciated that she wasn't afraid to call him on it, but he pushed back and made her realize that it was okay for her to accept help. Their banter along the way was fantastic and frequently made me laugh, and I loved their fiery chemistry as well. The slow burn over the first half of the book seemed like torture at times, but the payoff was totally worth it.
Overall, "The Belle and the Beard" gave me all the feels and I absolutely loved it. I highly recommend this story for all contemporary romance fans. It was the first book I've read by Kate Canterbary, but it certainly won't be the last.
*Review copy provided by the author/publisher via Grey's Promotions. All opinions expressed are my own.
About "The Belle and the Beard"
Jasper-Anne Cleary’s guide to salvaging your life when you find yourself publicly humiliated, out of work, and unemployable at 35—not to mention newly single:
1. Run away. Seriously, there’s no shame in disappearing. Go to that rustic old cottage your aunt left you. Look out for the colony of bats and the leaky roof. Oh, and the barrel-chested neighbor with shoulders like the broad side of a barn. Definitely look out for him.
2. Stop wallowing and stay busy. It doesn’t matter whether you know how to bake or fix things around the house. Do it anyway. Dust off your southern hospitality and feed that burly, bearded neighbor some pecan pie.
3. Meet new people. Chat up the grumpy man-bear, pretend to be his girlfriend when his mother puts you two on the spot, agree to go as his date to a big family party. Don’t worry—it’s only temporary.
4. Cry it out. Screwing up your life entitles you to wine, broody-moody music, and uninterrupted sobbing.
5. Get over it all by getting under someone. Count on your fake boyfriend to deliver some very real action between the sheets.
6. Move on. The disappearing act, the cottage, the faux beau—none of it can last forever.
Linden Santillian’s guide to surviving the invasion when a hell-in-heels campaign strategist moves in next door:
1. Do not engage. There is no good reason you should chop her wood, haul her boxes, or pick her apples.
2. Do not accept gifts, especially not the homemade ones. Disconnect the doorbell, toss your phone over a bridge, hide in the basement if you must, but do not eat her pie.
3. Do not introduce her to your friends and family. They’ll favor her over you and never let you forget it.
4. Do not intervene when she’s crying on the back porch. Ignore every desire to fix the entire world for her. By no means should you take her into your arms and memorize her peach-sweet curves.
5. Do not take her to bed, even if it’s just to get her out of your system.
6. Do not, under any circumstances, fall in love with her.
3. Meet new people. Chat up the grumpy man-bear, pretend to be his girlfriend when his mother puts you two on the spot, agree to go as his date to a big family party. Don’t worry—it’s only temporary.
4. Cry it out. Screwing up your life entitles you to wine, broody-moody music, and uninterrupted sobbing.
5. Get over it all by getting under someone. Count on your fake boyfriend to deliver some very real action between the sheets.
6. Move on. The disappearing act, the cottage, the faux beau—none of it can last forever.
Linden Santillian’s guide to surviving the invasion when a hell-in-heels campaign strategist moves in next door:
1. Do not engage. There is no good reason you should chop her wood, haul her boxes, or pick her apples.
2. Do not accept gifts, especially not the homemade ones. Disconnect the doorbell, toss your phone over a bridge, hide in the basement if you must, but do not eat her pie.
3. Do not introduce her to your friends and family. They’ll favor her over you and never let you forget it.
4. Do not intervene when she’s crying on the back porch. Ignore every desire to fix the entire world for her. By no means should you take her into your arms and memorize her peach-sweet curves.
5. Do not take her to bed, even if it’s just to get her out of your system.
6. Do not, under any circumstances, fall in love with her.
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