No one in the town of Eternity expected widowed, middle-aged Twyla Banneker to partner with her neighbor and best friend, Frank Ellis, to join the Tanrian Marshals. But that was eight years ago, and Twyla and Frank have rewarding careers patrolling the strange land of Tanria, despite the misgivings of her grown children. Hey, it beats the alternative; the domestic grind of an empty-nester mother whose sons think she has nothing better to do than be a free babysitter.
Fortunately (or unfortunately) a recent decrease in on-the-job peril (see the first book in the series, The Undertaking of Hart and Mercy, for the story there) has made their job a lot safer … and a lot less exciting. Maybe they’ll retire and start up that coastal Bed & Breakfast/equimaris ranch sooner rather than later. Of course, that all changes when they discover the body of one of their fellow marshals near an enormous footprint—and Frank finds himself the inadvertent foster dad to a baby dragon (who he promptly names Mary Catherine, for reasons unknown to anyone.)
Soon, they and the dead marshall’s partner, Penrose Duckers, wind up ensnared in a nefarious plot that goes far deeper than any lucrative Tanrian mineshaft. But as danger closes in and Twyla and Frank’s investigation becomes more complicated, so does their easy friendship. And the dashing and so “British-coded without actually British” dracologist that shows up doesn’t help. What’s a middle-aged mother of three to do when dragons may be the least complicated thing in her life? (Please ignore that Twyla is the one who makes her life complicated; she certainly will.)
Because you’re you. You mop floors on a regular basis and bring cheesy potatoes to funerals.
So because I do housework and cook comfort food, I’m not allowed to make mildly offensive jokes?
That sounds about right.
I enjoyed this book, as long as it stayed as far away as possible from the romance. Because in my opinion, that is where the book starting to fall apart. I am all for older romances. I am all for people not following conventional HEAs. Heck, I have no problem with discussions of post-menopausal hot flashes, bladder issues, and sometimes a woman needs something that require batteries along with a man; heck, I didn’t even have that much of a problem that one of the love interests had no personality other than “nice enough, solid, dependable, inoffensive option”. What broke me was the actual romance scenes, because they were so rote. The fire, the heat, the tearing of clothing within seconds of first kissing. It was the use of the phrase “hind end”, when it wasn’t butt, rear, or derriere; seriously, pick one. It was this line of dialogue:
She ground against him in approval, and he growled, a sound that made the tightening pleasure of her core ring like a bell.
I almost put the book down at that point. It was the Romantasy trope that honest conversations happen in other books, because what is a Romantasy without the misunderstanding that occurs when no one actually talks? Or the temporary breakup that occurs when you don’t mention what’s bothering you until it bursts out at the worst possible moment and ten times more vitrol-filled then it had to be?
Never mind that almost all the men fall into the category of “selfish, oblivious weaponized-incompetence man-babies”. The only men who don’t (or not completely) that are significant parts of the book are:
Frank, who twists himself into knots as to not make Twyla a chair, at the expense of making himself a chair. (If you read the book, that would make sense)
Dr Quill Vanderlinden, the dracologist, who faints a lot, is understanding, yet veers closer to the “selfish and oblivious” category
Penrose Duckers, the flirtatious, somewhat has his life together gay who can talk about his problems with Twyla, but not apparently his lover
and
Zeddie Birdsall, the aforementioned lover, also brother of the FMC from Hart and Mercy, who is apparently a needy, clinging vine of a lover (or maybe he’s reasonable; who knows, we only think of him as clingy because Duckers says he is because Duckers can not apparently have a conversation with him)
To be frank (pun not intended), the best three relationships in the entire book are the established lesbians, the couple from the previous book, and Twyla’s daughter who does not want to end up like her mother, and her blink-and-you’ll-miss-him fiance.
Other than the romance, the mystery is simultaneously important to the plot, introduced incredibly late in the book, and not the focus whatsoever. The villain came out of left field, and the motive behind their actions was almost as annoying as they were. And then was promptly dealt with because we had to go back to the romance. Always with the romance. (I know, I know: this is a Romantasy, and if I don’t like Romantasy don’t read it. But surely even a Romantasy can have more to the plot than enjoyable framework to hold up the romance?)
There are pluses though; the dragons are absolutely adorable, especially with the fact that they spit glitter. A lot of glitter. So much glitter. It is so out there I absolutely love it. Someone gives Twyla relationship advice that I’m sorry wasn’t in the book longer, because they would have definitely been helpful at other times. Plus, they’re the type of woman I want to be when I’m older. Twyla and Frank are also written as realistic fifty-somethings; neither one of them has the body of a 20-something gym rat/Peloton influencer. Their friendship is adorable; they break into duets of bad country western songs whenever the conversation suits it. Are they the greatest singers? No. Do they care and have a hell of a good time anyway? Yes. I want that kind of carefree indifference to public opinion and confidence in myself. They bicker, and fuss over each other, and every two minutes they tell people
. It’s great, except for when it gets old.
Her children and grandchildren, however? I would probably drop kick every single one of them at various times in the book. Especially Wade, the incompetent man-child who can’t hang up laundry, yet lectures his mother about not setting a good example for her grandchildren, his own kids.
I would still recommend the series (and this book). The first one was based on You’ve Got Mail, which despite being far from my favorite movie, made a highly enjoyable book. And this one, as I said, if you ignore the romance, is a really good read also. I’m definitely going to pick up the last book, The Undercutting of Rosie and Adam, if for nothing else because the FMC appeared in this book and I think I’m going to love her even more when she’s the main character. But you do have to read this series in order, otherwise the plots will not make complete sense.
