I’m exhausted by all the different versions of myself I’ve spent years trying to be.
Dutiful stepdaughter, polished girlfriend. The woman who keeps smiling through dinner parties and business meetings while feeling absolutely nothing underneath.
So I sell my share of my late father’s business, and leave Toronto for Maplewood. All I bring with me is a bag of clothes, my mother’s sparkly heels, and the blue-tipped hair I only dyed because my stepmother hated it.
Maplewood is supposed to be my fresh start. A quiet little town where nobody expects me to be anyone but myself.
Then I meet Evan Prince, a grumpy firefighter who definitely isn’t charming—though his five-year-old daughter Elle certainly is.
Soon I’m falling into their mornings filled with penguin-shaped pancakes, their quiet afternoons beside the lake, and a midnight date that has Maplewood feeling less like a place I escaped to, and more like somewhere I belong.
Somewhere I want to stay.
But when one terrible night leaves our lives tangled in grief, every fear of being unlucky for the people I love comes rushing back.
The problem is, a cinder still glows after everything else turns to ash.
And firefighters run toward things worth saving.
It’s been over twenty-four hours since I finished Cinder, and I’m still carrying it around with me.
The grief. The hope. The joy. The ache.
Some books break your heart just to see if they can put it back together again, and somehow this one managed to do exactly that.
I know it because I’d stand in the ashes of every bad thing that’s ever happened to me again, if it meant finding Penny still glowing at the end of it.
Penny has spent years shrinking herself to fit everyone else’s expectations. After losing her father, selling her share of the family business, and escaping a lifetime of emotional manipulation from her stepmother, she lands in Maplewood looking for a fresh start. What she doesn’t expect is to meet Evan Prince—a grumpy firefighter, devoted single dad, and the father of one of the most lovable children I’ve ever met in a romance.
I adored Evan.
He’s exhausted, stretched impossibly thin, and carrying the weight of raising five-year-old Elle on his own, but that never hardens him. Instead, it makes him thoughtful. Protective. Patient. He’s careful about who he lets into their little world because he can’t bear the thought of losing the only family he has left. Watching him slowly realize that Penny wasn’t someone to guard against, but someone who made their lives brighter, was one of my favorite parts of the book. He might honestly be one of my favorite book dads ever.
And then there’s Penny.
She was impossible not to root for. After years of believing she was somehow responsible for every bad thing that happened around her, watching her discover a community that simply accepted her for exactly who she was felt incredibly comforting. She never tried to be anyone other than kind, and that kindness naturally spread to everyone around her.
But let’s be honest…
Elle completely stole this book.
Her endless penguin facts, her giant heart, her hilarious personality, those penguin-shaped pancakes… every scene with her felt like pure sunshine. I especially loved that she wasn’t just there to fulfill the single dad trope. She was the emotional center of this story. Penny loved her effortlessly, and the relationship they built together made the romance even more meaningful.
“Penguins give pebbles to their wives. They pick the best one because it means they love them the most.”
The found family in Maplewood deserves just as much love. Evan’s fellow firefighters felt less like coworkers and more like brothers, and the station brought so much warmth, humor, and comfort to every scene. The ongoing debate about the best Spice Girl had me laughing out loud, and I already need every single one of these firefighters to get their own books.
I also loved the fractured Cinderella elements sprinkled throughout the story. The pumpkins. Midnight. Gus Gus. The little nods were clever without ever taking over the story, allowing Cinder to stand firmly on its own while still honoring the fairytale that inspired it.
One thing I appreciated so much was how mature the romance felt. Evan and Penny communicated. They respected each other’s boundaries, especially with Elle involved. Nothing felt forced or manufactured for unnecessary drama. Every step of their relationship felt earned, making the slow burn all the more satisfying.
This should feel reckless, but it doesn’t. Penny doesn’t.
And when that burn finally ignited…
Excuse me, Mr. Firefighter.
The chemistry simmered for so long that when it finally exploded, I was absolutely not prepared. Let’s just say Evan’s mouth deserves its own honorary mention, and that mirror scene? Yeah… you’ll know it when you get there.
“Hold on, sweetheart. I’m gonna make this bed creak, but you—,” My voice drops. “You keep those pretty noises where only I can hear them. Think you can do that?”
Then…
This book chose violence.
I’m not saying another word because everyone deserves to experience that moment completely blind, but please trust me when I say to have tissues nearby. The emotional turn hit me like a freight train, and I genuinely sat there wondering how Hailey Rodger expected me to just continue existing afterward. The grief felt authentic. The healing felt earned. And through all of it, the story never lost sight of hope.
“And you know what firefighters do when something matters?”
“What?”
“We run toward it. Even if it’s dangerous, even when we’re scared. If it matters, it’s worth the risk.”
By the time I turned the final page, I wasn’t ready to leave Maplewood. Somewhere along the way, these characters stopped feeling fictional and started feeling like people I wanted nothing but happiness for.
Cinder is a beautiful reminder that sometimes home isn’t a place you leave behind—it’s the people who teach you that you’ve been worthy of love all along.
If this is what Maplewood has in store, I will happily move in and never leave.