Half grounded slice of life, half wish fulfillment religious fantasyland, 100% unfuckably boring.
Let the record show that I'm a massive fan of slowburn romance stories. They are, by volume, the thing I spend reading the most, especially when it comes to fanfiction, and I love them to death. I also love it when an author messes around with romance fiction's typically conservative gender roles in some way. This story, with its moderately compelling setting premises and shy male lead, absolutely should have been a slam dunk for me, but no.
This is another 'slow burn' story that has little to nothing going on under the hood. It's not that there's some seemingly insurmountable problem the couple must navigate before they can be together, or because they seem incompatible yet are drawn together into a fiery tryst before their personalities bounce them back apart. They don't even lack for romantic tension, just that in between those moments, nothing compelling happens.
Others have called it a slice of life romance, but it has nothing to ground it in a particular time or place - what's there is somewhere in America, vaguely modern, and in the vicinity of an Irish bar. Bearing in mind that one of my favorite novels is literally just about a writer going on holiday and getting sick, it's safe to say I don't hate slice of life. It's more that the characters are one long, ambulatory wholesome moment with little in the way of drive or interests, so I don't really have any reason to care about them. I'd liken it to one of those saccharine Hallmark Christmas movies where everyone is religious and hypercompetent and nothing bad ever happens, but with werewolves.
It kinda boggles me that, in a book titled 'the werewolf nanny', there were people who got confused that the typical male lead character, Finn, wasn't endgame. Like, guys, Finn isn't a nanny. He's signposted so clearly to be attractive but not what Sue wants/needs, and... just... reading comprehension. Jesus.
Anyway, speaking of Finn, I didn't like him. Is it possible to be a magical negro while being an enormous, white, absolutely perfect (to the point of pure wish fulfilment) Irishman? Because whatever the magic negro trope is doing for American racism, Finn is doing that for Irish people, and it's real cringe, like he's some pseudo-mystical alien witch doctor. When you peek behind the curtain of Irishness, which he mentions constantly, there's nothing going on. He exists to be thirst-trap daddy for an endless parade of side characters, effortlessly solve problems that the couple would be agonizing over in a story that had narrative tension (e.g. what to do about Ginny's mom), and just generally annoy me.
The book would be 100% improved if he just didn't exist to make life unrealistically easy for those around him. If the point of him was that a sense of community is an antidote to our society's current ills... good lord did that message get lost in the weeds. Also, mentioning that said community can and does murder people and feed them to the pigs, sort of offhandedly in the middle of this saccharine family story, kind of makes our werewolves seem like trigger-happy cops dispensing street 'justice' to anyone who looks at them funny. Ew lmao.
That said, I liked Lucan. He's shy but capable of putting his anxiety aside for things he really cares about. He's a bit of a mess, which is a trait that I feel male leads often don't get to be, because they need to be seen as 'in control of the situation' at all times lest we stop finding them hot, and it was nice to see something different. Probably the only thing I disliked about him as a character was the attachment to the 'submissive' worldbuilding. Look, I'm hardly an experienced kinkster, but can we stop tying BDSM terminology to authors' made up biological caste systems? This is yet another story that ties submissiveness in the bedroom to being psychologically meek, almost like a man needs to be meek as some kind of explanation for why he's submissive, and fuck me, I'm so tired of that.
I'll spell it out: being dominant in the bedroom has nothing to do with who can physically or socially overpower the other. Dick ownership, and size, has nothing to do with who is dominant in the bedroom - just ask the female doms. Wanting to get stepped on has nothing to do with your ability to assert boundaries. I could go on, but I doubt it will make a difference at this point. Is it wrong of me to find it gross and mildly offensive how every romance author under the sun has started turning kinks they don't understand into their own fantasy gender system now that it's no longer in vogue to be sexist?
Like, just... give him an anxiety disorder. Make Lucan a hot werewolf man who has separation anxiety, and also happens to be submissive in bed. He looks up to and defers to Finn because he's basically Finn's adoptive little brother, and that's how wolf families work. There. Done. No need for him to be biologically hardwired to act like he's in a 24/7 BDSM dynamic with everyone in the room. If I wanted that, I'd be reading omegaverse.
Others have mentioned Ginny's plot cul-de-sac being uncomfortable, and I agree. The thing where it mentions her curves in the same breath as her abuse, from Sue's point of view no less, is purest ick. Romance stories by teen boys often have this plot point where their love interest is being abused by an evil dad (or whatever) and Ginny is 100% that trope, just from a parental point of view. She exists to provide wish fulfilment and catharsis for parents, and it doesn't really come across like Amanda Milo knows what she's talking about when it comes to abuse victims. Again, much like Finn, she's a sugar-coated stereotype of an abuse victim - a beautiful, brilliant girl hiding her bruises under a tattered hoodie, who was secretly special all along.
All in all, despite lining up to be exactly what I'd want from a romance book, The Werewolf Nanny took one look at my already low expectations and limbo danced under that bar. The result reminds me a lot of His Secret Illuminations, another book trying hard to do something less stereotypical with the roles of its protagonists while also falling back into other forms of stereotyping and drowning any semblance of plot or character in kitschy, artificial 'wholesome' moments. Ditto for the gratuitous 'foreignness' of some of its characters, with Spanish culture being used in HSI, and Irish here, with the result feeling more like a gimmick than any attempt at understanding the culture.
It's not a bad book, just overly long, and overly average about it. 5/10.