
Between Salt and Sky
About the Story
Salt-sprayed mornings and weathered timbers frame a coastal town on the brink. Nell Rivers returns to her father's boathouse to settle an estate and faces Jonah Hale — a childhood friend turned architect — whose redevelopment plans put memory, livelihood, and their shared past at stake.
Chapters
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Ratings
Reviews 5
A restrained, nicely written small-town romance. The prose in the excerpt is economical but evocative — the lane that opens "like a breath," the boathouse described as a "crooked hat" — and the author knows how to build atmosphere quickly. Nell’s return is credible: the duffel in the backseat, the careful gait of her father, the specificity of smells and sounds. Introducing Jonah as an architect with redevelopment plans smartly raises stakes beyond the personal and into community preservation. If the rest of the novel keeps this balance between interior emotional beats and the broader social conflict, it should land well with readers who like their romances anchored in place and purpose.
I wanted to like Between Salt and Sky more than I did. The opening is beautifully observed — the lane, the cedar siding, Tom’s careful footsteps — and the author clearly has a gift for small, tactile details. But the setup leans hard on familiar tropes: prodigal daughter returns, aging father, childhood friend/architect with redevelopment plans threatening the town. By page one the central conflict feels telegraphed rather than complicated. Jonah’s role already reads like a rhetorical device rather than a fully rounded character: is he a villain, a mirror, a heartbreak waiting to happen? The excerpt hints the novel will be about preservation versus progress, which is promising, but I worry about the pacing — the prose sometimes luxuriates in description when it should be pushing plot forward. I also caught a few moments where emotional beats are signposted rather than earned (Tom's stiff embrace telling us 'this is why you came' feels explicit where subtlety would serve better). There’s potential here — the setting is vivid and the stakes could be deep — but I need more surprises and more complexity from Jonah and the town’s response to truly care.
Okay, I’m officially hooked. That opening — gulls, low stone walls, the harbor like a held breath — gave me instant homesickness (in a good way). Nell’s quiet return, Tom’s stiff hug, the boathouse smelling of oil and rain… chef’s kiss. Jonah as the architect/antagonist-turned-love-interest? Classic second-chance vibes and I’m here for the drama and the slow burn. Also, can we please get more of that bell-at-the-chapel imagery? It’s deliciously cozy and fraught at the same time. Bring on the town meetings and the salty confrontation scenes. 😍
Pretty prose, but a bit too beige for my taste. The seaside descriptions are cozy — gulls, salt-stunted grass, a boathouse like a crooked hat — yet there’s a yawning predictability to the setup: Nell comes back, father’s frail, childhood friend/architect has big plans, cue inevitable rekindling. The line about the town having "a tautness… like a tuned string waiting for a bow" reads like purple-prose wallpaper to me — lovely image, little bite. If you’re here for comfort reads and scenic slowburns, this will do the trick. If you want sparks or actual stakes that surprise you, don’t hold your breath.
I loved the way Between Salt and Sky immediately pulls you in with sensory detail — the salt-sprayed mornings, the cedar siding turned driftwood grey, the smell of lemon soap and cigarettes when Tom greets Nell. That opening scene of her driving slowly into town (hands light on the wheel) felt like a physical exhale; you can almost taste the sea and hear the chapel bell. The book handles nostalgia without being saccharine: the boathouse isn’t just a setting, it’s a character that holds memory and grief. Jonah’s redevelopment plans set up a believable, high-stakes conflict that ties neatly to the romance: it’s not just about two people reconnecting, it’s about what a community loses when progress ignores history. The moments that stood out were small — Tom’s sparse wave, the dog barking twice then softening, the way Nell hesitates before entering the boathouse — but they say everything about who these people are. The pacing felt right to me: deliberate but never dull, with an undercurrent of tension that kept me turning pages. If you love second-chance romances with a strong sense of place and characters who ache in realistic ways, this one’s for you.

