Y’all!! This book was a solid 4.5 stars!! I am here to say and claim, this is an Alisha Rai stan account. She is phenomenal! She takes all the tropes we know and love and does wonderful things to them. Sometimes you can’t predict what’s going to happen and I love to see it! ( )

I liked the first book in this series, but hated the male reader who reads all the books in this series. I knew if I was going to return I would have to read rather than do the audiobook. I like to listen to romance for the most part, so it took me a while to get back to the series. That delay was perhaps made longer by my interim decision to read one of the author's books from another series (the Right Swipe) which I did not like at all. Finally though I did get here. I curled up with my Kindle and read book 2 in the Forbidden Hearts series, and I liked it. I liked its frank non-performative feminism (from the women and the men), its broad representation of people from the Asian and Pacific Islander constituency, and its complicated frustrating family relationships held together by a bedrock of love which trumped anger, resentment, betrayal, and simple disagreement about how to live.

The principals in this story are Sadiya and Jackson. I don't know how to talk about who they are without giving away the stories of this and the first book, but I will say Sadiya is a bisexual Pakistani woman, a young widow with 7-year old, a business her husband left her, a second job at a bar, and a family filled with doctors who don't really "get" her. Jackson is a chef and her former best friend from childhood who abandoned her 10 years ago without a word for reasons she does not understand. Jackson is also the brother of her dead husband, and of her co-best-friend (who was the star of book one.) Surprisingly as complicated as all that is, the relationship is way more complicated than that.

Jackson is the strong silent type, and I prefer verbal people, but that is me and not a fault of the book. Rai's writing can be a little awkward and she makes her points a bit too hard. One example: There is a kumbaya scene with Sadiya and her sisters near the end where instead of ending tension stemming from a family argument slowly and by degrees Rai has the sisters inexplicably act in ways wholly inconsistent with what we have previously been led to believe were their personalities and values in order to reunite as some sort of Pakistani Power Puff Girls collective, and it was just so bad. Another bugaboo: Other than Murakami no one spends as much time describing nipples as Rai. I have issues with it when Murakami does it, and he does it more, but at least he does not, like Rai, keep reusing the word "puffy." Its a little creepy. Rai also uses the word "penis" a lot which, while correct, is also not sexy. Again, these are personal issues, you might groove on frequent references to puffy dark brown nipples and the word "penis" and if so this should float your boat.

Overall, I liked this, did not love it but liked it enough that I expect I will read book 3 quite soon. ( )

This book deals with modern love and family dynamics in a thoughtful fashion. Sadia's family has to grapple with some issues I've seen in my own- what happens when you can't do what your parents want you to do with your life? Her relationship with her dead husband is also complicated in a way I have seen in several couples. Jackson is a lovely hero with his selflessness and shyness. It doesn't stop him from taking action in his life, and it makes his feelings seem more real, because they are so risky. I think the most interesting character, though, may be Jackson's mother, Tani. She has a lot of trouble expressing herself, even if she means well and values her children highly.
I guess I also can't resist the trope old friends falling in love. ( )

Sadie and Jackson.
I would advise reading the first book before starting this one as some topics are explained from book 1.
A good story. ( )

Reread w/ Gaufre 12/18. Still a 4. I find this a more enjoyable offering than book 1.

Original Review

I’m dealing with a pretty solid book hangover. Both from staying up later than I normally do (why oh why do hours matter so much in your late 30s, ouch), and from this book.

I promised myself I wouldn’t compare. I love both books. They are just different flavors. Though this was still rife with tension, I would say the level of angst wasn’t quite the same. The feel was similar, but not as intensely…painful? This book had a couple weaknesses, although it’s wasn’t enough to steer into 3 star territory or anything…

By now, most of us know this book is of Sadia and Jackson, and how the heck are they going to get together. Jackson’s been MIA and silent for years despite his best friend Sadia and sister needing him. He finally arrives for his sister. We find out a bit later why he couldn’t come to his brother’s funeral. Because if we are led to believe that Jackson is a consistent character (we are), we quickly realize he’s a rock. We just don’t know the motivations that led to his prolonged absence and ultimately abandonment of his family and the people who loved him. Jackson’s closed himself off, made his world black and white, shut himself down.

That’s what he was, what he’d aspired to be. Alive, but unfeeling. His heart beat, his blood pounded, his organs functioned.
That was it. That was enough.
Or he’d thought it was enough.

It doesn’t take long to realize this is because Jackson doesn’t make connections easily, and when he does, they run deep.

And don’t worry, his motivations were brilliant. How could this brother, who we know held Livvy through her darkest days, disappoint? He didn’t. That he hated being the center of attention and that it was his worst nightmare post accusation, that he had to leave for his own sanity? So brilliantly done. That he is so shy in the extreme, he never wanted to make a thing about him. Loved it.
It had been quiet whispers, not screams, no demands he leave, that had driven him from this place.
The baggage he carries…ugh. I love a hero who shows love through his actions. I love a hero who carries a torch. And when it makes sense, like it does with a shy, hurt hero, it’s so much better.

….but that was a lie. Because a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, he’d loved Sadia with all his soul.

The lack of smooth talk in Jackson really allows for his actions to shine through to the other characters. It’s also why they all must have felt so incredibly hurt when he left. And though he fumbled through saying the wrong things (like he did with Livvy) like “perfect,” he at one point, prior to a very uniquely hot scene…says exactly the right thing. I swear I flushed at it.

Sadia was an equally deep character. Though she and Paul had a difficult last couple of years, her love and respect for him is evident. What grabbed me about Sadia? This idea she wanted to be seen as a woman, not a mother or widow. So relatable. What else? I am with Sadia on men’s hands. Like 1,000% with her.

some women were seduced by a voice or a touch or a look. For Sadia Ahmed, it was hands.

Sadia is a planner. An over-planner: down to the minute, to keep control over her life, where she’s incredibly thinly stretched. Her fear of failure is understandable, as the seeming under-achiever in a family of MDs. Her devotion to family is what can only be described as mama-bearish. Sadia, too, is incredibly easy to understand. She has fear, but it’s not debilitating. She’s classy as hell and doesn’t gossip. Her family was also brilliantly drawn. And Rai once again does some sneaky “just is” diverse characters, in a solid and meaningful way rather than shallow and stereotypical. *Salutes Alisha Rai for giving us what we need and want.*

Oh, but watching this relationship develop. Their internal monologues both so relatable and understandable. I think Jackson, in particular, is the one who had me biting my nails. I could just feel his discomfort, understand him in social situations, yes, but also in those little vulnerabilities.


Oh god no, he couldn’t use her kitchen. If touching her waist and staying above her garage felt intimate, cooking at the stove in her house, for him, would be the equivalent of seeing him naked.

He felt like a kid jumping from couch cushion to couch cushion, unable to touch the floor. If he touched the floor, lava would get him. If he stopped kissing her, he’d start thinking…He knew what was coming. The lava.

There are other subtle and not subtle references, really well done, to mental health, to “accomplishments” to the struggle and joys of the grind.
I got through another day.
I showered.
I got out of bed.
I combed my hair.
This was from Sadia’s point of view. Sadia’s panic and anxiety didn’t strike me as dominant parts of her character, as in Livvy’s story, but the idea that this list is made of accomplishments makes many of us with mental health issues say “yep, been there.”

So, if this slow growing, friends-to-lovers, torch-carrying hero, second-chancey romance isn’t perfect, why not? Because, frankly, it is fucking close. The self-possessed widowed mother, or the action-oriented chef and it adds up to a really really wonderful book. And it is a wonderful book, but some things irritated me.

The side characters came off as too perfect. I said I wouldn’t compare, but bear with me. Anyone who faced redemption in the first book now became some kind of relationship expert, with platitudes and wisdom that far exceeded their grasp or pride before Livvy and Nicholas got together. In addition, the author clearly can not let the romance of the first couple go and I fear how often things would center around the non-central characters. As more characters in this complex family romance are redeemed, I fear more will become one-dimensional and the strength of these novels has been in how multi-dimensional the family and their issues are.

I keep these quotes here for me, but I would recommend skipping them if you haven’t read the book:

He wanted to give her everything and anything.
Because you love her.
The realization didn’t come on him like a thunder clap, but a gentle whisper, because of the love had always been there, lurking under the surface, even if he’d been terrified of verbalizing it.

…
My dream for you is to let me love you. ( )