A mediocre book, boasting good writing; an incredibly slow story, inducing yawns along the way; and a stereotypical American small town, so idyllic as to be totally unbelievable. The heroine is colorful but inconsistent. One moment she is a sharp New York attorney, the next – a helpless, silly maiden, unable to control her blushes. One moment she is a snobbish woman, competent in almost every area of life – from real estate to dart throwing to music – the next she is a stumbling ditz, making major decisions and pompous declarations while roaring drunk. And then there is a huge amount of unnecessary botanical details and flower names scattered throughout the novel, enough to fill a herbarium. An excess of details can be a curse, as this book demonstrates.