I don’t normally read contemporary romance, since I don’t find it as engaging as paranormal or historical romance, but the first book in this series was suggested to me due to the aromantic main character, something that’s extremely rare in a genre based around romantic connections. After devouring that book, I immediately purchased the next book in the series.

Reverb is the third and final installation in the Twisted Wishes saga, and it more than lives up to the promise of the first two books. I fucking adore David, and I adore the way Anna Zabo writes him. There are so many—hints isn’t the right word, since it’s not a secret, or a twist, but—subtle details that make it obvious he’s trans from the very beginning of the book, without explicitly mentioning it until a good way into the novel. It’s very clear that this book is written with a trans audience in mind. Lots of questions a cis reader might have remain unanswered. The sex scenes are about celebrating the beauty of a trans man at home in his body, rather than describing the mechanics in a way for cis people to understand.

The entire series is unapologetically queer. Homophobia, transphobia, and bi erasure crop up, but not as major plot points, just as an acknowledgment of the difficulties queer people often face. It’s all handled in a very respectful manner, more likely to invoke feelings of fellowship than to trigger traumatic memories.

The found family dynamic of the band is to die for. Mish’s relationships with her bandmates are portrayed as just as important as her relationship with David, and during the “boy loses girl” portion of the story, he also loses the friendships he’s forged with the rest of the band. The acceptance he finds with the band is as relevant to the plot as the love story.

The main conflict in Reverb centers around a stalker who has been targeting Mish Sullivan, the band’s bassist. The hero has been hired as security; it’s literally his job to protect her. But he doesn’t make the mistake of thinking she’s fragile or otherwise weak for needing a bodyguard. It’s an excellent example of how to leverage the bodyguard trope without falling into the trap of perpetuating misogyny or glorifying uncomfortable power dynamics. Clear, continuous, enthusiastic consent is present every step of the way.

The energy of a touring band vibrates on every page. That, more than anything, is what keeps me coming back for more. There’s never a boring moment. This book will keep you up past your bedtime, desperate to find out what happens next. Five out of five stars.