I picked this up on the recommendation of a friend, who referred to it as a “cozy mystery.” I don't know if that is an actual genre, but if so, this book is certainly its poster child. Cups of tea and fluffy slippers abound, and that really is a stuffed pink rabbit you see on the cover. His name is Reginald, and he is a character. And our protagonist, who, of course, starts out being prickly and studiously non-domestic, ends up just as warm and cuddly as her stuffed bunny and provides us, on the last page, with a (really tempting) recipe for oatmeal cookies. So. Yeah. Cozy.
Now, having confirmed the “cozy” part, I will quibble a little with the “mystery” part of the appellation. Technically, I suppose, there is a mystery, but it isn't really very mysterious. I'm not a mystery reader, and I'd figured out how things would be resolved well before I hit the halfway mark. What this really is is a romance, and even there the obstacles to our lovers' happy union are very minimal. He is utterly devoted from the get-go, and perfect in every way (Atherton makes him adorably unathletic, as if this makes him believable), and our heroine, who is well educated, pretty, and a size eight (I don't recall ever being provided with a character's clothing size before), has only to overcome some minimal trust and self-confidence issues, and true love and a delightful, jet-setting life are hers. Because “cozy” here means tea, crumpets, and Rolls Royces. Our characters have mansions, servants of Jeeves-like attentiveness, and just generally spend money like crazy. And, since our heroine is in straitened circumstances at the beginning of the book, she can marvel at length over all the lovely expensive things in her new situation. (Early on I felt like I was reading the cozy mystery version of “Pretty Woman,” but that aspect did ease up, thank goodness.) For all I know it is typical of the genre, but I'm just not used to so many descriptions of what people are wearing, and I found it a little tiresome.
Still, complaints aside, this was a quick, “fluffy” read, and by the end I really was feeling the cozy thing. Our hero is like a big, absurdly friendly puppy, and even though our heroine is a little self-absorbed and immature for a thirty year old, she has magically enhanced baking skills and is a spiffy dresser, and if the hero is willing to put up with her moodiness, who are we to argue?