I was grading papers at 11 PM—the usual stack of half-hearted essays on The Great Gatsby that my juniors clearly summarized from SparkNotes—when I decided I needed something that required absolutely zero literary analysis. Something my students would probably love and I'd never admit to reading. Enter Landon, a British playboy in Vegas with daddy issues and a fake fiancée scheme.
My students would hate this. Wait, no. They'd devour it. I'm the one who's supposed to hate this.
I didn't hate it.
The Narrator Problem Nobody Warned Me About
Here's the thing about dual narration in romance: it's supposed to give you both perspectives, right? Joe Arden and Maxine Mitchell split duties here, and the contrast is... stark. Arden's British accent—proper English, not Hollywood-British—sells Landon's aristocratic background instantly. When he shifts from his arrogant boardroom voice to something softer with Claire, you can hear the character arc happening in real time. Joe Arden does something similar in Countdown to a Kiss, though I'd argue that performance is a notch below what he pulls off here—this is him at his most commanding. His tone changes aren't subtle, they're theatrical in the best way. Like he understands that romance audiobooks are performance art for people who want to feel things.
Maxine Mitchell, though. Look, I've taught enough students to know the difference between someone who prepared and someone who's reading cold. Her Claire sounds the same whether she's terrified of being discovered or falling in love. The emotional peaks and valleys that should distinguish those moments? Flattened. By hour three, I started checking the chapter titles to figure out whose head I was in.
This isn't a minor quibble. The whole plot hinges on Claire's secret—something from her past that could destroy everything—and when that revelation lands, you need to hear the weight of it. Arden would've crushed that delivery. Mitchell makes it feel like she's reading a grocery list with slightly higher stakes.
Fake Dating Done Shamelessly Right
I teach Austen. I've read approximately four thousand variations on the "pretend relationship becomes real" premise. Frankie Love isn't reinventing anything here. Fiery Cross reminded me how exhausting it gets when a book takes that same premise too seriously—sometimes shameless is the right gear. She's just... committing to the bit with zero shame.
Landon needs a "proper" fiancée to convince his stuffy English family he's worthy of the family business. Claire needs $250,000 for reasons she won't explain. The setup is pure soap opera, and the book knows it. What surprised me—genuinely surprised me, red pen still in hand—is how the emotional beats actually land. There's a scene where Claire's past literally crashes into Landon's world during some kind of performance Jack is giving, and the tension of watching her secret unravel while she's supposed to be playing the perfect fiancée? That's good structure. That's conflict with actual stakes.
The spice is, well. Let's just say the book's description promises you'll "want to ride something yourself" and Frankie Love delivers on that promise with enthusiasm. My wife Denise walked by during one particular scene and I had to pretend I was very invested in comma usage in a sophomore essay. (I wasn't.)
Who Should Hit Play (And Who Should Keep Scrolling)
If you're looking for literary merit, character complexity that rewards rereading, or prose that deserves to be savored at 1.0x speed—this isn't it. I listened at my usual pace because I'm stubborn, but honestly? Speed it up. This book runs on momentum, not nuance.
But if you want something that pairs well with mindless tasks, something that scratches the itch of watching two pretty people pretend they're not falling for each other until they absolutely are, something that knows exactly what it is and executes without apology? This works. Skip it if uneven narration drives you crazy or if you need your romance with a side of substance.
The dual narration is genuinely frustrating, though. Arden alone would've been a better experience. Mitchell's sections feel like commercial breaks you can't skip.
The Final Grade
Not quite worth pausing the faculty meeting for. But worth grading papers to? Absolutely. This is cotton candy—sweet, insubstantial, gone in a moment, and sometimes that's exactly what you need after your fifteenth essay that opens with "In today's society, The Great Gatsby is still relevant."
Just maybe skip to 1.25x during Claire's chapters. You won't miss anything.
