Lizzie Blake knows that she’s a lot. A lot of energy and enthusiasm. A lot of creativity and vibrant warmth. But also a lot of mess and chaos. Her attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder can make things difficult, given that she lives in a world built for people whose brains don’t function like hers. After a lifetime of being labeled a disappointment by her stuffy, judgmental parents, it’s clear to her that “a lot” translates to “too much” for most people, particularly when it comes to long-term romance. She sticks to one-night stands until a birth control screw-up during a fling with Rake, a gorgeous Australian on vacation, results in a very permanent relationship—with the baby she decides to carry to term. When Rake insists on moving stateside so they can coparent, Lizzie knows that the smart move would be to avoid getting attached to him. But that proves trickier and trickier when they start living together, then sleeping together and then falling in love in spite of themselves.

Mazey Eddings’ Lizzie Blake’s Best Mistake doesn’t shy away from the very real problems that the titular character’s ADHD causes. You understand why Lizzie’s boss gets aggravated with her chronic lateness and her habit of losing track of important projects. You flinch a little on behalf of her roommate when Lizzie admits to losing yet another borrowed item. But Eddings also explores the depths of shame that Lizzie feels every time she’s made aware of another mistake. It’s easier for Lizzie to dwell on what she’s doing wrong instead of what she’s doing right, and it takes a lot of soul-searching—and a lot of encouragement from Rake—for her to realize that the ratio between her wrongs and rights isn’t what she thought.

Despite his own internal conflicts, including a commitment-phobic approach to romantic entanglements, Rake’s main role in the story is to open Lizzie’s eyes to all she has to offer. Even when she sees herself as a mess, he sees her as beautiful, charming, clever and endearing. Is he a little too perfect? Perhaps. But readers turn to romance novels because we want to believe that there are men like Rake out there: gorgeous, kind men who will come through even when things get messy; thoughtful and insightful men who will love their partners the way they deserve to be loved. Though the romance is a bit unbalanced—Lizzie doesn’t spend an equal amount of time showing Rake that he deserves to be loved as well—it’s hard to complain about seeing a woman who doubted her own value get showered with love, appreciation and respect.

Kerry Winfrey’s light, sprightly romance Just Another Love Song follows high school sweethearts who get a second chance at love 15 years after their post-graduation breakup.

Hank Tillman and Sandy Macintosh once planned on leaving their tiny town of Baileyville, Ohio, and following their dreams together. In the years after high school, Hank became a famous country music singer, but Sandy, who wanted to be an artist, never left home. Even though she let her painting fall by the wayside, she’s discovered happiness in other areas, namely in running her greenhouse and helping out at her parents’ bed-and-breakfast. Everything changes, however, when Hank comes back to Baileyville for their 15-year high school reunion.

Just Another Love Song is full of quirky characters who provide plenty of colorful commentary on Hank and Sandy’s relationship. It’s delightful but also distracting at times, because those townspeople take up space in the narrative that could have been dedicated to the main couple. Winfrey is the queen of charming and cozily sweet contemporary romances, and it’s clear that the foundation Hank and Sandy built as teenagers is still there, so it’s no surprise that their journey back to each other is low on angst. But one of the most interesting aspects of Just Another Love Song is Winfrey’s illustration of how the hopes and dreams of youth can be not only encouraging but also overwhelming and debilitating. Hank and Sandy have a much better chance of making things work now that they’re in their 30s, with life experience to balance the stars in their eyes.

Although this slow-burn romance may unfold a bit too sedately for some, Winfrey’s trademark snappy dialogue and well-paced character development provides much to enjoy along the way.

The Emma Project concludes Sonali Dev’s series of contemporary Jane Austen retellings with a gender-flipped version of Emma. In it, Vansh Raje is the jet-setting youngest child of the illustrious Raje family, a famously wealthy and tightknit clan descended from Indian royalty and based in California. Dev’s Mr. Knightley equivalent is formidable entrepreneur Knightlina “Naina” Kohli, a decade-older family friend who’s been a beloved mentor to Vansh for most of his life.

Naina is the mature grump to Vansh’s playful sunshine. As an Indian American woman who’s fought for the well-being of countless others and gone to extremes to secure her own independence (she once faked a long-term relationship to appease her difficult parents), she’s grown to resent the Rajes’ seemingly easy paths through life. Tensions ratchet up between Naina and Vansh when they compete for funding from the same donor, funding Naina desperately needs for her microfinance foundation. Going head-to-head ignites a heady combination of long-standing trust blended with newfound lust.

While Dev expertly grafts the age gap, charming meddler and grumpy-sunshine tropes from Emma onto her sprawling contemporary update, there is a sharp difference in tone. Emma is a true precursor to the modern romantic comedy, but The Emma Project, like most of Dev’s work, is an emotionally heavy story. Naina is not just stern; she’s been hurt by her severe and volatile father, who has wreaked havoc on his family over the years. Dev’s darker take on the character gets especially tricky in Naina’s attitude toward Vansh, which can seem excessively harsh given his sincerity.

Handsome and relentlessly gregarious, Vansh dealt with dyslexia and the sting of comparison to his academically adept older siblings growing up. He’s keenly aware of his own privilege; he “wasn’t hypocritical enough to see his life as anything but charmed.” He also understands that his most obvious assets, apart from his family, are his looks (“Vogue had declared him the most gorgeous of his siblings”) and his easy way with people, and he’s more than made peace with that. Determined to stand out in his own right, Vansh has worked hard to build a substantial philanthropic network by leveraging his strengths. He has earned the implicit trust of his friends and that social capital has meaningful rewards.  

Dev endows Vansh with wonderful depth, making him a more substantive Emma, while giving Emma’s petty jealousy to Naina, who is a more severe Knightley. This makes the gender flip of The Emma Project interesting, but it’s dissatisfying to see the female character, especially a female version of a character as beloved as Knightley, get the short end of the stick. 

Despite these somewhat disappointing adaptation choices, Vansh and Naina’s story is compelling in its complexity. These are multilayered characters, and the drama is well earned. Plus, The Emma Project‘s many callbacks and cameos from previous books in the series firmly tie the novel into the larger series. It’s intriguing to contemplate how gender impacts this classic age-gap romance, especially when complicated by a contemporary setting and family dynamics.