I’m really quite sad to say that I didn’t enjoy A Winter in New York. I’d had it sitting on my shelf for over a year, and I actually started reading it last year but put it down after a few chapters — I can’t even remember exactly why. This time, I decided to give it another try, hoping it would finally capture me, but in the end, I was rather disappointed. For me, there was no real sense of tension or excitement; the story just felt flat and, honestly, quite dull overall. Some readers have described it as a touching exploration of grief and loss — particularly the main character’s struggle after losing her mother — and I could certainly see those themes coming through. However, I didn’t find them particularly relatable or convincing, perhaps because, thankfully, I haven’t personally experienced such a loss. I went into the book expecting a heart-warming, romantic Christmas story — something cosy and atmospheric that would put me in a festive mood. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of that at all. The “Christmas spirit” was barely there, and the romance didn’t really sweep me away either. All in all, it just didn’t live up to what I was hoping for, which is a shame, as I really wanted to love it.