Book: Sugar Spells by J.M. Grosvalet
Reviewed by Weird | weird.reads.books
Rating: 5/5
If “gothic cozy” sounds like an oxymoron, Sugar Spells proves it’s a perfect vibe. Think candlelit apothecary shelves, flour-dusted dawns, and magic that smells faintly of buttery lemon shortbread—all wrapped around a rivals-to-lovers arc that goes down sweeter than a fresh croissant. I savored this over a few days and immediately wanted a pastry, a coffee, and a reread.
We follow Maude, a prickly, freshly grieving witch who inherits a worse-for-wear apothecary from her late mentor and father figure. You can feel the storm cloud of grief cloaking her and the shop like a second blanket… hardly great for business. Enter Wesley, the infuriatingly cheerful baker across the street. His shop opens to a rush of eager customers, souring Maude’s mood even further. When a sabotage spell backfires, their shops literally merge , trapping them in forced proximity and an uneasy truce. Watching their partnership shift from barbed banter to careful collaboration had me grinning into my mug and kicking my feet.
The prose strikes that sweet spot: playful banter threaded through tender, honest grief. Grosvalet balances heavy and light notes so well the whole thing sings. Maude’s found family rounds out the warmth. They’re the people who show up for her even when she’d rather keep everyone at arm’s length.
And the food writing? Delectable. I wanted to bake every other chapter. The descriptions leave you salivating and wishing you could laminate dough as effortlessly as Wesley.
Watching these two move from rivals to friends to lovers was genuinely magical and paced so it never feels rushed. Sugar Spells is grief-gentle, pastry-forward, and brimming with charm. Add it to your TBR and clear some counter space—you’ll want to bake after this one.