On the one hand, our first-person point-of-view protagonist is the same everywoman we see in a lot of romance novels, but on the other hand, the male love interest, Vincent Rossi, is a much richer character than we usually get to enjoy.
By “richer character”, I mean in terms of richness of character; he’s not the vain billionaire control freak we see increasingly often in romance novels—and nor, for that matter, is he prone to the emotional outbursts associated not only with archetype, but also with many other male love interests in romance novels, included to show sensitivity and such.
Instead, Vincent is understated from start to finish. He’s quiet, but not timid. Even-tempered, but not cold. Strong, but not arrogant. Profound, but not self-absorbed.
For that matter, he’s physically attractive, but neither he nor the narrator are preoccupied with looks. Notwithstanding the abs on the front cover (I think it is now required by law to have abs on the front of romance novels that have at least one male character?), we’re given enough information about his looks to imagine him physically, and the rest conveyed by his bearing, and we care much more for his slightest smile than we do for his jawline, or for a flicker of feeling in his eyes than we do for the thick eyelashes we’d be hearing about a male protagonist having in another romance novel.
Anyway, as I’ve talked about Vincent for four paragraphs (I think he sells the book though, in fairness), I’ll close with a note in the story itself: the action and mystery part was to me neither especially exciting nor mysterious, but I don’t think readers are reading the book for this.