B- / 3.5 stars for the narration, C- / 2.5 for the story - 3 stars total.
I have an on/off relationship with Lily Morton’s books – and admittedly, these days, it’s mostly ‘off’ – while I loved many of her early books, her more recent stories and characters have become too formulaic and her humour feels like she’s trying too hard. I do pick up the occasional book of hers now and again, just in case something has changed, but mostly I come away a bit disappointed, which is probably on me. I suppose it’s just hard to accept that an author I used to enjoy is probably not for me any more.
I picked up The Player in a recent Audible sale; it’s a novella and I liked the premise of a young widower falling for his late husband’s best friend, but it quickly became apparent that there’s nothing new here in terms of plot or characterisation – which would have been fine if the execution had been more than simply average. As it is, the we get recycled characters (hot, older, seemingly unattainable man meets younger, snarky, gorgeous-but-doesn’t-know-it man with low self-esteem; hot older man is head-over-heels for younger snarky man, who is totally oblivious) in similar situations (annoying boyfriend who treats hot older man like crap, the snark that misses the mark and the cheesy bedroom talk that is cringy rather than hot) and the story feels like it’s been phoned in, honestly.
The Player is a friends-to-lovers romance featuring Frankie, a twenty-seven-year-old widower, and Con, his business partner and late husband’s best friend. The whole story is told from Frankie’s PoV, but the author does a good job of showing us, right away, that Con has had a thing for Frankie for quite some time, but has resigned himself to just being the bestie because Frankie isn’t interested in him as anything else. Which was true, until recently, because Frankie has found himself noticing Con more and more and slowly realises that he’s actually attracted to him – but Con has decided he needs to move on, so when he returns to the small Cotswold village** they live in after a business trip, with a good-looking guy in tow, they both think they’ve missed the boat.
But thanks to an interfering colleague they discover they haven’t missed anything; they just need to have a proper conversation (which gets delayed a ridiculous number of times, obviously just for the sake of it) – smut ensues; ILYs happen; guy-in-tow is revealed never to have been a boyfriend; more smut happens; The End.
The Player is perfectly inoffensive, but that’s the best thing I can really say about it. I admit there are two or three laugh out loud lines in there, but most of the banter feels forced and inauthentic, and the ‘dead husband was a bad husband’ trope isn’t one I’m especially fond of. Authors tend to either villanise a dead spouse in order to paint the new love interest in a more flattering light, or turn them into a saint that the new love interest feels they can’t possibly live up to. And the ‘evil ex’ trope always makes me wonder why on earth the character was with them in the first place. To be fair, Lily Morton does actually try to contextualise it by explaining that dead hubby was a fickle person who would go all out to get what he wanted and then get bored quickly, and have Frankie admitting that had he not died, they probably wouldn’t have been together much longer. But it still didn’t work for me.
Joel Leslie has narrated all of Lily Morton’s books, and is a good fit for them – he gets her humour, he’s an excellent vocal actor and is always able to find a wide variety of different vocal characterisations for the leads and secondary cast, so there’s never any confusion as to who is speaking. He has a good repertoire of accents and does a particularly good line in ‘older ladies who don’t give a shit’ – and his performance is well-paced and technically polished. I can’t say I was all that fond of his portrayal of Frankie, though; he’s opted to give him what I’d call an ‘Estuary’ accent (widely found in London and fairly close to my own accent) but the constant use of very obvious glottal stops was really annoying, and having the occasional ‘t’ sounded would have been nice.
I really need to remember why I stop reading an author’s books and that picking one up every now and then is unlikely to leave me anything but disappointed. The Player is sweet, sexy and (occasionally) funny, and if the author’s formula still works for you, you might enjoy it more than I did.
** given the price of property in most small Cotswold villages, these guys must be worth a mint!