I was three hours into a logo redesign for a local bakery - ironic, considering - when Flora started describing the smell of fresh-baked cheese scones wafting through her family's dusty pink café. Diego jumped onto my keyboard (thanks, buddy) and I just... stopped working. Made myself tea. Stared out the window at Austin's February gray and let myself be transported to a Scottish island I'll probably never visit.
This book felt like a hug from someone who knows you're not okay but doesn't make you talk about it.
The Messy MacKenzie Boys Made Me Miss My Brothers
Flora's return to Mure isn't some triumphant homecoming. It's awkward and painful and full of brothers who can't figure out a washing machine. Colgan nails that specific discomfort of going back to a place that remembers every embarrassing thing you've ever done. Flora's trying so hard to be London Flora - ambitious, polished, desperately in love with her oblivious boss - but Mure keeps pulling at her edges until the real her starts showing through.
The brothers are chaos incarnate. Loud, well-meaning disasters who've been running on autopilot since their mother died. There's something so tender about watching Flora slowly stop resenting them and start... mothering them? Feeding them? It's complicated family stuff, the kind that doesn't resolve neatly.
And her father. Oh, her father. The grief between them is so quiet and so heavy. Abuela would have understood that - the way loss can make a whole family forget how to talk to each other.
Sarah Barron's Colton Voice? Chef's Kiss
The narration is mostly lovely - Sarah Barron has this warm, slightly wry delivery that fits Flora's internal monologue perfectly. But the real standout? Colton. The American client Flora's been sent to help. Barron gives him this earnest, slightly clueless enthusiasm that had me grinning every time he appeared. You can hear the privilege and the genuine sweetness all tangled up together.
I did notice some listeners had issues with the child character's voice, and... yeah, I can see that. It's not terrible, but it pulled me out a couple times. The American accents waver occasionally too - though honestly, as someone who's heard plenty of Texans attempt Mexican accents, I'm not throwing stones.
The Scottish voices though? Lovely. Warm and grounded and exactly right for this windswept island setting.
Where's the Romance Though?
Here's the thing - and I say this as someone who reads romance like it's oxygen - this is barely a romance. It's marketed as one, it's got that gorgeous cover that screams "summer love story," but the actual romantic elements are... thin. Flora's crush on her boss is more sad than swoon-worthy. The potential love interest on the island is sweet but underdeveloped.
I wasn't mad about it, exactly. The book gave me other things - the café restoration, the family healing, Flora finding herself through cooking. But if you're coming for the love story specifically? Temper those expectations.
The vibes are immaculate though. Truly. This is a rainy Sunday book, a "wrapped in a blanket with tea" book, a "I need something gentle today" book.
The Food Descriptions Made Me Hungry for Hours
Colgan writes food like poetry. The cheese scones, the seafood, the simple hearty meals Flora starts creating - I could taste them. There's something so healing about watching someone discover they're good at something, especially something as nurturing as feeding people.
Bonus: there are actual recipes at the end. I haven't tried them yet but Diego and Frida have been giving me pointed looks every time I open my kitchen cabinets.
Who Gets to Escape to Mure (And Who Should Stay Home)
This is for you if: you want gentle escapism, you love found-family stories, you're okay with romance being a side dish rather than the main course, you need something cozy without being saccharine.
Skip it if: you want a proper love story with actual romantic development, you need fast pacing, or flat-out unlikeable protagonists drive you crazy (Flora can be... a lot, especially early on).
Sometimes You Just Need a Cheese Scone and a Good Cry
I didn't ugly-cry at this one - it's not that kind of emotional. But I did feel something loosen in my chest while listening. Sometimes you don't need catharsis. Sometimes you just need to spend ten hours on a fictional Scottish island, watching someone rebuild their life one cheese scone at a time. Though when I do need that catharsis, I turn to something with higher stakes—Heart of Darkness delivers that intensity, even if it's a completely different kind of journey.
Abuela would have loved this one. She'd have complained about the lack of drama, asked why Flora doesn't just tell the boy she likes him, and then quietly requested the scone recipe.
Miss you, Abuela.
