Jake has fallen head over heels for Dandelion. The only problem? Dandelion is dead.

When Poppy discovers unanswered messages from a charming stranger in her late sister’s dating app, she makes an impulsive choice: She’ll meet him, just once, on what would have been Dandelion’s fortieth birthday. It’s exactly the kind of wild adventure her vivacious sister would have pushed her toward.

Jake is ready to find something real—and not least because his ex-wife’s twentysomething boyfriend has moved into their old family home. When he meets the intriguing woman who calls herself Dandelion, their connection is undeniable, and he can think of little else.

As their relationship deepens, Poppy finds herself trapped in a double life she never meant to create. Every moment with Jake feels genuine, electric, and totally right—despite the fact they’re tangled in deceit. As the lines between grief and love blur, Poppy faces a choice: keep her sister’s memory alive through her lies, or risk everything for a chance at her own happiness?

With sparkling wit and aching tenderness, debut author Rosie Storey gives us a modern love story about the courage it takes to live again after loss and finding hope in the most unexpected places.

This book arrived on my doorstep months after I preordered it, and I had completely forgotten it was coming. In a way, that felt fitting, because this book took me by surprise more than once. It wasn’t what I expected, though I’m not sure I could have clearly defined those expectations going in. What I can say is that this is a quietly complex, emotionally layered novel that took time to settle into, but ultimately left me glad I stuck with it.

On the surface, this story might look like it’s about grief and bad decisions. Poppy has lost her older sister, Dandelion, and seems stuck in a cycle of impulsive choices she can’t quite escape. One being that she can’t seem to move on. She visits Dandelion’s flat daily, continues to speak with her and even carries her phone with her. When she discovers unanswered messages on Dandelion’s dating app, she makes a reckless decision. She’ll meet one of those matches, just once, on what would have been her sister’s fortieth birthday. She introduces herself as Dandelion, stepping into a life that isn’t hers.

Poppy is not an immediately likable character, and I think that’s intentional. She’s awkward, defensive, and makes awful choices that are easy to judge from the outside. As the story unfolds, though, we begin to understand that her idolization of her sister was built on an incomplete picture. Dandelion, the woman she worshipped, was just as complicated, flawed, and human as Poppy herself. That slow unraveling of who Dandelion really was adds depth and emotional heft to the story.

We also get chapters from Jake’s perspective, which I appreciated. Jake is a successful man professionally, but emotionally, he’s a bit of a mess. His ex-wife has moved on in a very visible way, and his desire to feel wanted and chosen drives many of his decisions. Like Poppy, Jake isn’t someone I immediately warmed to. He can feel needy, passive, and a little sad. Over time, though, his vulnerabilities became clearer, and I found myself extending him the same grace the book asks us to give Poppy.

The relationship between Poppy and Jake is the emotional engine of the novel, and it’s complicated by deception from the start. Poppy’s double life creates tension, but the book resists turning that tension into melodrama. Instead, it leans into discomfort. Every genuine moment between them is shadowed by the lie, which makes their connection feel both electric and fragile. The longer it goes on, the more inevitable the reckoning feels.

What really worked for me is how the book allows its characters to be misunderstood. Poppy and Jake don’t fit neatly into familiar molds. They’re messy, reactive, and sometimes frustrating. But they’re also deeply human. The story doesn’t rush to redeem them or excuse their behavior. It simply lets us sit with them long enough to understand why they are the way they are.

The writing is thoughtful and restrained. This isn’t a fast-paced plot-driven book. It’s character-forward, emotionally driven, and willing to linger in uncomfortable spaces. That may not work for everyone, and it took me a bit to adjust to its rhythm. Once I did, though, I found myself fully invested.

By the end, I realized how much my feelings had shifted. I didn’t just tolerate these characters. I accepted them. Their flaws, their grief, their bad choices, and their longing all felt earned.

This is a nuanced debut about loss, identity, and the complicated ways we try to keep the dead alive. It asks for patience, but it rewards it. If you’re open to a love story shaped by grief and imperfect people, this one is well worth your time.