🍂 A cosy, fun, spicy autumn romance set in the heart of the Lake District 🍂 "Jessie Sloane is the British Emily Henry!" Reviewer.
When Lauren’s London life goes spectacularly wrong, she swaps spreadsheets for forests, deadlines for campfires, and her cramped flat for a tiny wooden cabin at Buttercup Campsite. She only plans to lick her wounds, sip hot cider, and maybe get some peace.
Instead, she finds herself torn between two very different men.
Jamie, the grumpy-but-gorgeous campsite manager, is all rolled-up sleeves and brooding stares, with sawdust in his hair and a secret dream of opening a bar by the lake. Then there’s Leland Stone—charismatic, whimsical, and a little too famous for his own good—whose art (and charm) bring colour to the autumn woods.
Between misty mornings, golden leaves, late-night campfires and stolen kisses, Lauren’s retreat soon turns into something much more complicated—and much more tempting. And when her best friend shows up and plants a kiss on one of the men she’s falling for, Lauren’s escape threatens to unravel entirely.
Funny, heart-fluttering, and with just the right amount of spice, Fall At The Lake is a destination romance brimming with autumn vibes, impossible choices, and the kind of love that feels like coming home.
Perfect for fans of Emily Henry, Carley Fortune, and Lucy Score!
Very spicy consensual scenes, talk of suicidal thoughts, stress-related work breakdown.
BookSloth has a weakness for autumn settings. Add the Lake District—specifically Coniston—and resistance becomes entirely theoretical.
There is something about that slate-grey water under a low sky, the copper burn of bracken on the fells, the smell of damp leaves and woodsmoke...
Sigh.
Told in dual POV through Frankie and Jamie, Fall at the Lake explores what happens when you pause long enough to realise you’ve been living… but not really living.
Frankie has dedicated her life to work.
Not casually. Not part-time devotion. Proper, full-throttle, identity-level commitment. The kind where career becomes structure, purpose, proof of worth. The kind where being busy feels safer than being still.
And then she speaks her mind.
And it costs her.
Placed on “gardening leave” after saying what she really thinks, Frankie is suddenly suspended between versions of herself—the high-functioning professional she’s always been and the uncertain woman who doesn’t quite know what comes next.
Jamie?
Jamie works outside. He's the manager at Buttercup Camp.
And BookSloth maintains that anyone who works outside—in boots, in weather, in actual daylight—is automatically upgraded to Hot. It’s simply science.
But he's not just in the story to be the grumpy to Frankie's sunshine. He escaped the corporate London life after it broke him down, burned him out. He knows what that life extracts.
BookSloth will admit something upfront: she is not usually a fan of love triangles. They can feel contrived. Manufactured tension. Team-this versus Team-that energy that distracts from the emotional core.
But Fall at the Lake handles it differently.
This isn’t about pitting two men against each other in dramatic showdowns. It’s about contrast. About what each relationship represents at a particular moment in Frankie’s life. One offers intensity—spark, ego, spectacle, the thrill of being chosen. The other offers steadiness.
It's hot, banter-filled, and works because it isn’t really about rivalry. It’s about Frankie confronting her own wants.
A highlight of this triangle is how it plays with attraction. There’s definite chemistry. Immediate, physical, undeniable. But Sloane doesn’t leave it there. Leland, with his deliberately eccentric energy, shows the difference between intensity and substance. Through this dynamic, the novel quietly asks: is this heat… or is this foundation? Is this wanting, or is this choosing?
Also, underneath the romance sits a deeper wrestle:
What do we do when the life we’ve built starts to feel like a cage? How much of ourselves have we handed over to “should”? And what would it mean to choose differently?
Overall, a sharp, autumnal romance full of crackling banter and genuinely hot, open-door spice. 🔥
Four sun-deprived sloths, currently googling cabins near Coniston with an outdoor shower and questioning several life choices.🍁