It is almost unprecedented that contemporary romance writer Emily Henry would have a rating under 4.0 on Goodreads for one of her books, but Great Big Beautiful Life is scoring a 3.99. It is even more rare for people to actually write “DNF” (did not finish) and discard one of her books before finishing it but, again, that has happened here. And yet, minus a few issues, it has been my favorite of her books to date.

Perhaps that is because I almost always want more than just the meet-cute, the enemies-to-lovers, the fake relationship, or whatever trope this genre’s authors employ while trying to make the rest of the story unique by the choice of professions for the protagonists or whatever other quirks they can throw in to make it distinctive. And this book has two story lines in it, each somewhat dependent on the other, that to me made it so much more interesting than the standard fare.

Alice Scott is a reliable writer of biographical stories and celebrity puff pieces for a reputable magazine. But she dreams of getting that big break that will take her to the next level and let her write more serious work, whether it’s articles or a book. Hayden Anderson just published his biography of a celebrity who struggled to capture his legacy as Alzheimer’s stole his memories, for which Hayden won a Pulitzer Prize. And now these two writers are in competition for a story that would be a huge score—the biography of Margaret Ives, the heir to a vast family fortune and an enduring social impact.

In her youth, Margaret lived a privileged existence as a frivolous and charismatic fixture of the society pages and the tabloids; but family tragedies and scandal drove her underground, and no one has heard from or about her in decades. Alice, however, fascinated by her for both personal and professional reasons, has tracked her down to a small island off the coast of Georgia, where she is living a secluded and anonymous life, and Alice has gone to see her, to pitch the idea of working with her to write her story. She has competition, however, that she didn’t count on, and is dismayed to discover that it’s a famous writer with a Pulitzer already under his belt. Margaret, both canny about the value of her story and also deeply distrustful of journalists (and people in general), offers them each an opportunity: Stay on the island for one month, meet with her regularly (and separately) to talk about her past and also to outline how each of them thinks her story should be told, and abide by her decision at the end of the month when she picks one of them with whom to move forward.

In addition to being in competition and not wanting to reveal their strategies to the other writer, Alice and Hayden are bound by airtight non-disclosure agreements they signed for Margaret, swearing not to talk to anyone about the contents of their meetings with her, including with one another. But it’s a small island with limited places to stay, eat, walk, and shop, and it’s inevitable they will run into each other; so they have to work out a relationship that is civil while avoiding all talk of why they are actually in this place. This proves challenging for several reasons. (Yeah, you see where this is going.)

The story switches back and forth between Margaret’s first-person reminiscences of growing up rich, famous, and beleaguered by notoriety, and the present-day thoughts and feelings of Alice and Hayden as they weather this month of testing by Margaret and their burgeoning feelings for one another. This is apparently what a lot of her fans didn’t like—both the jumping back and forth between past and present, and the intrusion of another person’s life story into the middle of their romance. But I found it an effective contrast and was caught up in both stories as they evolved.

In the contemporary story, we are much more involved with Alice, while Hayden remains a mystery. The story is primarily driven by Alice’s inner thoughts and by her encounters with and reflections on Hayden, which works with their personalities—Alice’s sunny and outgoing, and Hayden’s secretive and a bit dour. But ultimately we figure out what he’s thinking and feeling too, based on his actions and responses to her, and begin to hope that things might work out between them despite all the obstacles in their path. Picture, for instance, the feelings of a person in a relationship who loses out on a dream job to the person with whom they are involved. Also, they live in different places (Alice in Atlanta and Hayden in New York) and come from and pursue completely different lifestyles. But…there is a spark. More than a spark. So one way or another they have to figure it out.

There was only one thing that didn’t work for me about this story and, while it wouldn’t normally faze me, in this context I found it both inappropriate and awkward. It was all the sex. I wouldn’t normally believe I’d ever say something like that, but in this case I found it positively jarring in the way it distracted from the story. In fact, it was more than just a distraction—I felt like it flat-out didn’t work and shouldn’t have been there.

When Alice and Hayden figure out that they have feelings for one another, they make an agreement that it would be just too much, too weird, too tragic for them to get physically involved during their audition month with Margaret, because of what will happen at the end of that month. So they promise to “be harmless to one another,” and put off a physical relationship despite the attraction between them. That all makes sense. Then they (Alice in particular) do everything they can to test that resolve and flout every rule they make for themselves. I’m sure the author thought that making them irresistible to one another would be exciting, but for me it was offputting to see that they couldn’t stick to their resolve for a month, in the interests of not hurting the other person long-term. And the way that the physical relationship was portrayed was likewise distracting to the story, in that it “just happened” at strategic intervals, almost as if an editor looked over the manuscript and said to Emily Henry, “Oh, your readers won’t put up with no sex in a romance,” and Henry responded by writing calculatedly provocative scenes, and then counted off pages and dropped one in here and there almost out of the blue. It was so inorganic!

Don’t let my irritation with this stop you from reading this book; it’s interesting, and convoluted enough with its twists and big reveals to be a compelling story. But after you have finished it, see if your reaction was the same as mine, and let me know!