I thought I was going to hate this book.
Look, I've watched exactly three episodes of The Bachelor in my life, all at my friend's house while drinking too much rosé and yelling at the screen. Reality dating shows are not my thing. So when I started this audiobook during a 2 AM design deadline—cats passed out on my keyboard, coffee going cold—I figured I'd give it maybe an hour before switching to something else.
Eleven hours and forty-three minutes later, I was ugly-crying into my third cup of reheated coffee while Frida judged me from across the room.
When the Format IS the Story
Here's what got me: this isn't just a romance novel with a reality TV backdrop. Kate Stayman-London actually structures the whole thing like you're watching the show AND reading the internet's reaction to it simultaneously. There are transcripts of the show segments. Text message chains. Podcast episodes where hosts dissect every rose ceremony. Twitter threads dragging Bea for her outfit choices or defending her against trolls.
And Kristen Sieh? She performs ALL of it with different voices. The snarky podcast hosts sound like actual snarky podcast hosts. The text messages have this casual, clipped delivery that feels like someone reading their phone. When she shifts into "official show transcript" mode, there's this slightly artificial, produced quality to her voice that captures exactly how reality TV is edited to seem spontaneous but obviously isn't.
I didn't expect the format to hit this hard. But it made me feel like I was consuming media the way we actually consume media now—fragmented, multi-platform, everyone having opinions at once. Abuela would have been so confused by the Twitter parts, but she would have LIVED for the drama.
Kristen Sieh Made Me Believe in Reality TV Romance
Kristen Sieh has catapulted into my favorites list on this performance alone. Her Bea is insecure without being annoying about it—there's this vulnerability underneath the fashion-blogger polish that she conveys through tiny vocal hesitations. When Bea is performing for the cameras versus when she's genuinely falling apart, you can hear the difference.
Now, I'll be honest—some of the accents are... choices. There's this one contestant (I think he's supposed to be from somewhere vaguely European?) where I genuinely couldn't tell if the accent was intentionally bad as a character trait or just Sieh struggling. It pulled me out a couple times.
But the emotional moments? WOW. There's a scene—I won't spoil it, but it involves Bea finally confronting why she's so terrified of being loved publicly as a plus-size woman—and Sieh's delivery cracked something open in my chest. I had to pause my work and just sit there for a minute. Diego came over and headbutted my arm like he knew.
The Messy, Wonderful Heart of It
What surprised me most is that this book doesn't let Bea off easy. She's not a perfect fat protagonist who exists to prove fat people deserve love (though she does, obviously). She's petty sometimes. She makes decisions based on fear. She pushes away genuinely good men because being hurt on national television sounds worse than being alone.
That kind of messy, self-sabotaging heroine is exactly what drew me to Secret Book of Flora Lea too—flawed women making understandable-but-infuriating choices because grief and fear wear a lot of different costumes.The romance is a slow burn—you're not sure who she's going to end up with for most of the book, and honestly? The chemistry with multiple contestants felt real enough that I kept changing my mind. There's this tension between what makes good TV and what makes a real relationship, and the book never fully resolves that tension because life doesn't either.
I ugly-cried twice. Once during a conversation about body image that hit way too close to home. Once at the end, which I refuse to discuss because spoilers.
Who Should Listen (And Who Should Swipe Left)
If you need your romance heroines to be confident girlbosses from page one, this might frustrate you. Bea spends a lot of time in her own head, and some of that internal monologue is repetitive in the way insecurity actually is repetitive. Some listeners found it exhausting. I found it painfully relatable, but your mileage may vary.
This is for anyone who's ever felt too much or too visible or too scared to want things publicly. It's for people who guilty-pleasure watch reality dating shows and also hate themselves a little for it. It's for anyone who needs a book that says you can be a mess AND worthy of love AND still figuring your life out.
The vibes are immaculate. This is a rainy Sunday book, or apparently a 2 AM deadline book if you're unhinged like me.
Abuela Would Have Been Team Sam
I started this book thinking I'd mock it. I finished it with mascara on my cheeks and a genuine appreciation for how hard it is to be seen—really seen—and still choose to show up anyway.
She would have loved this one. I just know it.
